• 1 •

 I step before the mirror. I pose, my gaze wanders up and down, critical, brutally honest. But I like what I see. A life full of sports laid a solid foundation. The last two years I perfected my shape with focused workout in a studio. Bodybuilding in its true meaning. No bodybuilding with raw bulk in mind, but careful shaping. I’m a sculptor and my statue at once and I want me to be my masterpiece.

I am stunningly beautiful. That sounds vain, but what sense does false humility make, when it’s the plain truth? Self-confidence only looks like arrogance from below.

“I wish I had a build like you.” Crissie. Her voice reveals admiration and some envy as well.

I turn towards her and strike another pose.

“You like what you see?” I ask grinning. Fishing for compliments in friendly competition.

Crissie turns to her side on the sun lounger, rests her head on her propped up arm and eyes me up.

“You look gorgeous!” she says. She isn’t an ugly duckling beside me, far from it. She is a ravishing beauty herself, but she’s my exact opposite. Where my skin is a dark ebon, hers is a smooth, light tan, my hair is raven black while she is a blonde. I stand proud 6 feet 1 tall, Crissie barely surmounts 5 feet. Not long ago, another friend told me that I appear like a Panther on the prowl; Crissie is a sweet cutie who triggers the protective instinct in men.

I dive headlong into the pool. I stay submerged as I pull myself through the water with powerful strokes, reach the opposite side, turn and make another full lane before I surface again. Then I backstroke another two lengths. At this time, only few people stay in the poolhouse, but I clearly feel every single pair of eyes on me. Incited, I start to crawl stroke, my favourite discipline. I race four lengths at full speed through the pool. At the pool’s edge I stroke back my hair and notice a guy standing before me.

“Very impressive!” he says and offers me his outstretched hand. I accept his help to get out of the pool. He’s a bit shorter than me, not very athletic, but no fatty either.

“Will you fetch my towel?” Just a hint of a smile in my otherwise friendly, but neutral expression is enough to make him rush. He not only delivers my towel like a holy artefact, he also conceives to bring my flip-flops. He doesn’t drop them carelessly to the floor, but bows down and places them before my feet. His shares just have risen in value; advertence is such an attractive trait.

“Thank you.” My voice is barely more than a whisper. The effect of this tone is known to me, in fact I carefully rehearsed it. I walk to my lounger beside Crissie’s. My admirer hesitates for a moment, then he follows. I ignore him behind me. Let’s rise the tension.

“May I treat you ladies to a drink?” His voice is so exerted casual, I can feel his nervousness like a wave.

“No.” I turn around. Just before disappointment strikes, I hold up a banknote. “We can pay for ourselves, but it would be kind if you fetch us two glasses of water with a dash of lemon.”

Take the drive from them and stir up new exaltation the next moment. That’s how this game is played, freshman.

“He’s not exactly your type of quarry, is he?” There is playful mock and honest wonder in Crissie’s voice.

“What is my pattern, then?”

Crissie shrugs and I lie down with a chuckle. A moment later, my new attender appears with the drinks. He asks politely for permission to sit down with us and soon we’re amidst a brisk chat. Marc is kind of nerdy, but funny and likeable. Once his nervousness is gone and he no longer tries to impress me, he proves to be pretty smart.

“What are you two doing in the club – I mean aside from swimming and relaxing?” Marc asks and I’m not sure if that’s phrasemongering. Time to see what he’s made of.

“Crissie did some Yoga, I attended the Jiu Jitsu class.” I know the common reaction to this, the mock announcement to be careful, the question how many men I’ve already clobbered. I hate it.

“Jiu Jitsu? That’s cool!” Marc just says.

What? No more statements? Is that real appreciation and if so – why?

“Why’s that cool?” I dig deeper and notice Crissie’s smug grin.

“Martial arts are a pretty balanced and holistic workout, I read. Why Jiu Jitsu?” That sounds completely honest. Man, you chose one of the very few acceptable answers. Not bad at all!

“I know that punching and kicking are elemental for fighting, but I’m much more appealed to throws, joint locks and holds. My legs scissor is infamous!” Marc smiles and nods.

“What are you doing in real life?” he asks.

“I attend the university. Literature and visual arts.”

“…and physics, math, history, philosophy, sports…” Crissie adds with an annoying giggle. Anyway, Marc seems more impressed than quizzical.

“Really?” he asks and his admiration appears to be out of place.

“Yah, I’m not certain by now.” I emphasize my words with a nod and a shrug. It’s not wrong to be indecisive at 20, right?

“I’m also not sure yet. I study electronics engineering, but there are so many more options to choose from.” Marc explains. Another student, hm? Let’s take the next step, then.

“Do you live on the campus?” His eyes visibly lighten up at this question and I feel my own smile widen. Be glad that you sincerely draw my interest; by now I could easily make you grovel before me with a plain look.

“Well, yes! House 4-2 West. Do you, too?” I can hear his voice quiver oh so slightly.

“Indeed!” I affirm and the subsequent silence elevating the tension. What an enchanting dance this game of philandering is – especially when I’m totally in control!

“South Campus, that is.” I discharge the tension, but not so much as to reveal everything. The way Marc releases his held breath is nonetheless a confession of his emotional roller coaster ride. I chuckle.

“Be that as it may, we need to leave now.” I get up lissom while Marc seems unwilling to break the spell I put on him. Time for some cinderella’in. While stepping into my sandal, I ‘accidentally’ kick it under Marc’s seat. He immediately retrieves it. I hold my foot up, just a little above the floor. As expected, my admirer bows down deep and slides the flip-flop on my foot, gentle, almost anxious he could break it. The shy smile I endow him is enough to make him blush. Good boy!

“Bye!” I purr and turn to leave.

“Can I have your number, please?” I cast a glance over my shoulder, both calculating and alluring – I know its effect all too well. Fear, hope and desire almost palpable, Marc stares at me.

“Sure!” You may call me frisky or impish, but not heartless. 

“Wait, I don’t have a pen…” He hectically looks around, as if writing utensils were the most common of things in a poolhouse. He’s really cute.

“I guess, if it’s really important to you, you won’t forget it, right?” I muster all my persuasiveness and lock my gaze with his, then I slowly tell him my phone number. When I finally blink, Marc winces.

“I look forward to your call.” I walk away and don’t look back once.

In the locker room, Crissie stems her fists into her hips and cocks her head, grinning wide.

“You nasty witch! I knew your cruel streak, but I never expected you to crush some poor nerd’s heart under your heel that merciless!”

“Oh? What makes you think I did that?” Surprisingly, I sincerely feel treated unjust. Then I shrug.

“When he calls and doesn’t talk himself into trouble, I’ll make a date with him.”

• 2 •

I love our quintet’s gatherings, especially when the day’s been dull. The quintet, that’s Crissie, Leah, Alex, David and, of course, myself. All of them are special friends, to me and among each other. That kind of friends you share your most intimate secrets and most clandestine thoughts with. Friends, you’d entrust your life to, knowing for sure they’d rather go down themselves than to buckle.

Leah is my training partner, a tall and athletic girl of Spanish descent with blazing eyes and a long auburn hair. Crissie is my neighbour in the dorm and my most trusted friend. David is from African ancestry, like me, but while my skin bears the typical chocolate tone of eastern ethnics, David is much more dark skinned. His features are slender and sharp and he looks like a 6 foot 5 tall decathlete. He is Leah’s former boyfriend and I thank the heavens that they managed to stay close friends when they split up last year. Alex is David’s best pal. He is slim and brown-haired, the archetype of the happy-go-lucky guy. He’s a jester by himself, but when he’s with David they’re like Laurel and Hardy, Riggs and Murtaugh. Alex had an affection for Crissie, but her fickle manner with choosing and changing boyfriends chilled him considerably.  

This evening we met in Crissie’s apartment, which means I had to go one door right from my own room. Crissie half lies on her bed, while Leah sits on an office chair. David and me loll on the sofa and Alex made himself comfortable slouched on the floor. We had a few beer and now drink softdrinks with liquor.

Crissie reports about her most weird childhood pal. Obviously, that’s been some featherbrained yet devoted boy, somewhere between a clumsy bear and a coarse ruffian who acted as her bodyguard and scapegoat. The story in fact isn’t very nice nor funny, but Crissie tells it with such cheerful enthusiasm that we others can’t help but rock with laughter.

“Who’s been your childhood oddball, Kim?” Crissie asks me when she has finished her tale.

“Tim! Tim Meyer.” I say without hesitation. Immediately, memories flood my mind, so many scenes and situations.

“Hello? Ground control to Kim? Was he a similar oaf like Crissie’s friend?” I must have zoned out, for David’s comment makes me snap back in.

“No, he was a cool cat!” I’m a bit annoyed when my childhood buddy is attacked like this, a reflex from back then.

“I remember when we met for the first time. We were 6 or seven years old, then, and I guess he’d never met a black girl before. He asked me if I were all dirty.”

“Ouch, that’s kinda badly racist!” Alex blurts out, but I immediately pitch in to defend Tim.

“No, not at all. It’s been a rural area where coloured people were highly unusual. I simply told him that my skin just had this colour, and he nodded, said ‘I like your colour’ and the thing was settled. The subject emerged never again. From that day, we were inseparable. We went to school together and spent our free time together. I suppose, he even would have joined me for ballet class if I’d asked.”

“Okay, fine rapport. But what makes him your most whimsical childhood friend?” Alex asks puzzled.

“Well, the longer we were friends, the more he acted like my puppy than my friend. I led, he followed. I named it, he did it. Without hesitation or second thought.”

“So… did you made him do something real silly or risky?” Crissie asks, but I just shake my head.

“Well, you had a devotee. That’s droll, but not that weird. Except for that ‘Kim and Tim’ thingy.” Alex openly shows his disappointment in my story and for a moment I’m inclined to tell more. But I claim the right to keep a few secrets myself.

“Dozy home, dozy childhood.” This last statement I provide with a shrug. That should do it.

“By the way, I know that you grew in a small town and stuff, but you never told much about your past.” David looks at me inquisitive. “And do not tell me there isn’t much to tell. Out with the infinitely boring facts!” he cuts me short, sensing my intent.

“Fine. My parents…”

I’m interrupted by Alex exaggerated snoring and everyone starts to laugh. I can’t hold back and fall in. I playfully kick at Alex shoulder, then I begin anew.

“My parents came to this country several years before my birth. We’re from Kenia, but my mother once told me that I’m ultimately from Nubian-Somali-Kisii-descent, a potpourri of east African genetics. My father studied mechanical engineering. After they immigrated here, my mother studied medicine. So I had a perfectly sheltered life. My parents are open-minded and they wanted to enable everything I wanted to do.”

“Have you ever been to Kenia?” Crissie is all immersed in my tale now.

“Two times, yes. The first time I can hardly recall because I was too young back then. The second visit was at my age of 16. Kenia sure is a nice country, but for holidays, not for living. My Dad owns the mannerism that he speaks of Kenia as ‘home’ and acts as if he’d surely go back one day. I heard many immigrants living abroad have this diaspora-thinking. To me, this is 100% my homeland, as I have no personal connection to east Africa and felt unfamiliar and alien there. Me and my Dad had some bitter arguments about that. The more he fits in here, the more he inflates African traditions and habits. That’s why he made me practice long distance running with marathon runs in mind. Long-distance running is national sport in Kenia and my father was an able runner in his youth. When I interested myself in martial arts much more, he was disappointed. He’s pleased that I still practice running, but he’d love to see me doing it for competition, not just for building stamina. My mom is more modern. She’s honestly arrived here and says herself that she’d never go back again.”

“Wow! So much for the xenophobic assholes, preaching that all immigrants are cadgers.” Despite his sour tone, Alex nods approving. “Though some verify the thesis…” he adds with a cheeky grin towards David. Immediately David is upon him and wrestles him down.

“Help! Help! The black man is trying to kill me!” he screeches laughing and everyone else joins in the laughter. Within a moment, they are a ravel of arms and legs rolling on the floor. Leah waves aside bored and steps over them to pour me another glass of Whiskey-Coke.

“Full grown men acting like schoolboys…!” she snorts. Meanwhile, Alex is sitting atop David, panting heavily.

“Do you expect us to behave like boring slowpokes?” His grinning fades as Leah grabs his arm and pushes him to the floor with no effort using an armlock. His face flat on the floor and completely unable to move, Leah bows down.

“I expect you to fight professionally, not like primitive brawlers.” she purrs, then let go of him and sits back down.

“By the way, did your admirer call you?” Crissie and her loose tongue! Now it’s said and everyone’s attention is on me again.

“Indeed, he called the same evening and we had a long talk.”

“Who is he? Where did she met him? Expose the cold truth!” Leah speaks to Crissie while David and Alex untangle. Yah, act as if I weren’t here, sillies!

“Kim’s been hit on by some guy in the indoor pool two days ago.” She looks at me from the corner of her eye and just smiles as I shoot her a stern look.

“I felt so sorry for the poor fellow. He watched the Kim body show drooling with lolling tongue and had to gather all of his courage to approach her. Our Kim reached into his chest, shackled his heart with a barbwire leash and made him her poochie. It’s been a massacre!” Crissie tells with obviously mischievous glee as the others press her to.

“That’s not true! He’s been courteous and I just took one step at a time. I’ve just been a bit flirtatious.” My protest sounds weak, even in my own ears. Despite objecting, I know that I controlled and directed the situation – and I enjoyed it. So far, Crissie’s depiction is exaggerated, but not untrue. I know that superbia is considered the most vile of sins, but it feels so good!

“So the two of you have had a phone talk. What now? Will you meet him again?” Leah asks smug after the ‘Oohs’ and ‘Uuhs’ faded away.

“As if I’d told you, you vultures!”

“I consider that a clear ‘yes’.” That last comment of Leah elicits more laughter from the others. I make a grimace and stick out my tongue, but truth be told: I sincerely look forward to our next meeting.

• 3 •

I relish the pleasant and well-earned exhaustion after a hard training. The hot shower, washing away the sweat and wonderfully relaxing my sore muscles, the laughter and happiness of like-minded girls in the locker room and finally the satisfaction of having taken another step to bring my body and skills to perfection. That is the pure joy of life.

As I leave the gym, Leah awaits me outside.

 “Are you going home by foot?” Leah asks as she unlocks her bicycle.

“Just a relaxed fifteen-minute-walk. Enjoyable conclusion of the day.”

Leah nods, bids farewell and speeds off. I walk into the opposite direction. Only few people roam the campus this evening. Spring comes with early warmth this year, but as soon as the sun sets, the air still gets a chilly sting.

I pass the library and see a familiar face in one of the lit workrooms. The guy is no friend of mine, but fortune put him in my study group in some literature course. I hesitate for a moment. Justin is one of those guys I find no connection to and I’d prefer to go on. But the deadline for our project paper is in two days and Justin’s the only group member who hasn’t delivered yet. Maybe this is a sign of fate.

I turn and enter the sparsely visited library. The workrooms are in the right section of the building and I easily find the one occupied by Justin.

“Hey Justin! Working on the project, or just hanging around?” I close the door behind me.

Justin twirls around and stares at me. I must have startled him, or something. 

“All the others reported that they’re finished. Only your input is missing. We’ve to hand it and a day for cross-reading and consolidating would be nice. Will you make it?”

“Errr… I tried to call you… or one of the others, but… I mislaid the note with your numbers.” The wide-eyed look he shoots me along with his babbling makes all my alarms go off.

“Yah, okay. I’m here now, you can tell me directly.” I try to stay calm as I expect no good.

“See, I overdid it this term. I face difficulties to…” He shrugs apologetically and I feel somewhat relieved.

“I see. If you need help completing your work, I’ll stay and help you. We have a long night, stick our heads together and are done in time.” Though I’d prefer to go home and sleep, I’m willing to spend some time for the good of our project.

“No, Kim, you don’t understand… I’m out!”

“Oh hey, Justin, the main work will be done with this work, you’re on the finish lane. Let’s complete this and we’re all happy with it.”

“No! I’m out, I already informed the professor.” He says loud, obviously upset.

“Ah, sorry to hear that. Your decision. Then we hand in the work without your paper.” I feel a bit annoyed. The work will lack the aspects Justin was supposed to examine, that might cost us a few points. He really could have informed us earlier.

“No, you can’t.” He mumbles and stares to the ground.

“We can’t – what?” I’m not sure if I heard him right, and even less what he might mean. As he looks up again, his eyes are ablaze with ire and mischief.

“You can’t hand in the work, since I already did so in another course. It’s registered and you’ll be charged with plagiarism if you do!” He’s risen and stands before me. An icy shiver runs down my spine.

“You did WHAT? Why?”

“I needed an advanced work in another seminar and this one did fit like made for me. Your silly course is optional to me, I don’t need it. Thus I couldn’t care less about it, especially when I could use the work for a much better purpose!”

“You took OUR work and passed it off as your own? That’s plain theft! The four of us will fail at the course, you asshole!” My voice gets gruff while I speak, and I feel my face getting hot.

“Aww, come on, failing a course isn’t that much of a drama. Happened to me, too.”

His callousness and skulduggery render me speechless. My scalp tingles, my muscles tense and my throat is suddenly dry like the desert. Justin obviously takes my silence as acceptance of defeat.

“Don’t cry, girl, take it as a chance to gain an even better grade next semester. You’re still a newbie, you’ll learn in time how things are handled here.” The patronizing tone, the complacent smirk…

The tip of my shoe connects roughly with Justin’s crotch. Never before did I kick somebody in the balls that hard. His eyes bulge out and his teeth gnash as his legs buckle and he sinks to the floor.

I step closer, desirous to punish him. I long to kick him again, to mash his impertinent face into a bloody mess. Loathing and spite threaten to overwhelm me as I stare down on him, writhing on the floor like a worm. Just as my head feels on the brink of exploding and my skin as if it’d ignite every moment, a gush of cooling calmness floods through me. I get some tunnel vision and my blood roars in my own ears. The surroundings appear somewhat unreal, like I see them through a haze.

Suddenly there is only a pile of clothing on the floor. Justin’s clothing. As if in trance, I bow down, pick them up and put them aside. Justin falls from the trousers to the floor, even shorter than my own hand. He blinks as he looks around, then his eyes widen as he stares up at me. I lift my foot, move it over him and carefully place it on Justin’s body. Without hesitation or thought, I step down. Though I feel the urge to tread him down with all my weight, I refrain from it. I fear if I did, his blood would splatter everywhere. I don’t want to leave any traces or clean up the room, though, and I wouldn’t get the stains from the white canvas shoes I’m wearing. A fraction of my strength is enough to finish him off. Through my sneaker’s sole I can hardly feel the crack as his body gives way under it.

I take my foot off him. Justin lies completely still and with closed eyes. Reason tells me, I should feel remorse or guilt, heck, it tells me this shouldn’t happen at all. But I keep utterly calm.

I turn towards his laptop. It’s running and unlocked. I check the ‘Sent Mail’ folder. There’s the message to the lecturer, telling that he’s abandoning the course, sent 3 hours ago. Another mail is addressed to one of the other workgroup members; Justin asked her to resend her article because he accidentally deleted it. Wait, this last message he sent later, about one hour ago. If he needed that input, it’s possible that he lied and hasn’t handed in the project work by now!

I open the folder with the received messages. Stephanie sent the requested input a few minutes later. I start the word processor and check the recently edited files. There is our project work, no doubt. He merged the individual articles into one text. The cover sheet verifies his explanation. He changed the title, the seminar information and he claimed authorship all alone. Filthy bastard!

It isn’t unlikely, that this version hasn’t left this hard drive yet. We could rightfully hand in our work as intended and hope for the best. But plagiarism is a serious affair. We all could lose our enrolment, without chance to ever study again, that is. We also could take our chances with the university’s arbitration tribunal, but then this incident would most likely turn up. I bite my lower lip as I ponder about it.

Damn, I sincerely wish I’d been more patient and had questioned him before I ended him.

I hear a sound from below. Right on cue, Justin starts to move between my feet. Almost eerie!

His eyes open. He regains consciousness, looks up and freezes. After a moment of shock, he struggles frantically to get up.

Coolly, I again set my foot on him and pin him down. He whimpers, scared stiff.

Staying silent for a moment, I let him realize his situation to its full extent. With just a few questions I verify my assumptions. Given his earlier haughtiness, the cringing abjection he shows now is most satisfying!

Again I use his computer. First, I edit the work so it bears the right cover sheet. Then I type an email, addressed to all other members of the workgroup, including myself. I explain in Justin’s words that he’ll leave the course and his reasons for this. Then I add the finished file to it and send it to all receivers. I delete the former versions of the file and clear the history. Visiting a video portal, I search for suicide videos and download a few of them.

Finally I shut the laptop. It’s click sounds like a final chime. My gaze wanders down and meets Justin’s eyes, stricken with fear. I feel no pity, only contempt. He must have sensed that, for he starts to whimper.

“Please, Kim, please… let me live!” A single tear runs from the corner of his eye.

“No.” The coldness of my voice comes of its own volition. A final sob emanates from his chest as I press my sole down on him. His head turns purple, no further sound escapes his gaping maw. Untouched, I watch him, his occasional spasmodic twitching, desperately tossing around of his head. At some point, our eyes meet again: mine, grim and determined; his, silently pleading for mercy. I realize, all I need to do to spare him is to lift my foot – in the same instance, he must have realized that this just won’t happen.

It crunches under my sole. The sound and feeling remind me of popcorn I stepped on at the cinema. Justin confirms the effect with a last intense convulsion, then he slackens. Somehow he recovered from my last tread on him, this time I make sure he stays down. Though he lies completely still, I keep up the pressure. Abandon all hope, Justin, I can be very patient. For good measure, I  grind and scrape my sneaker on him, not so hard to squish him, but firm enough to make sure his body is fairly shattered.

I put Justin’s clothes and stuff into my sports bag. Using a tissue, I snatch him from the floor and put him into my pocket. I leave the library and head towards Justin’s apartment. Along the way I feed his remains to some dog, roaming about the campus. In his room, I open the laptop and pour a can of cola over the keyboard and his cell phone. His clothing I stow away carefully into his wardrobe, then I turn off the lights and leave. His keys I throw into the river.

That much for this!

• 4 •

I awake somewhat fuzzy-headed. The events of yesterday’s evening are present immediately. Present doesn’t mean clear, though. I can’t even begin to explain what happened. It cannot have been a dream, for it’s been far, far too real.

I need a coffee first.

A huge cup of hot, strong, black coffee in hand, I climb back into bed. Several sips later, my brain seems to start up.

I killed Justin. No, not killed, I slaughtered him. Executed him. Snuffed him out of existence. In a most degrading manner. Though he begged for his life.

Surprisingly, I’m fine with it. No remorse, no regret. Quite contrary, when I concentrate on it, I almost feel him underfoot. Which makes me enjoy at least a vague recollection of the gorgeous sensation I felt last night.

I wonder if I’m brainsick. I know, I should feel guilty, but I’m just all right. Give me ten more Justin’s and I might try ten different ways to deal with them, but I’ll spare no single one.

Was it an overreaction to annihilate him for a simple project work? It wasn’t the work he died for. It’s been that he made my blood boil with his arrogance and recklessness.

So I killed him because I lost my temper? I’ve been calm and controlled as I finished him off. Even more so the second time.

I almost spew my coffee over the sheets. Why was there a second time? I heard his body snap and I felt it giving way under my shoe the first time, I’d swear black and blue. Assuming he survived that by sheer luck or marvellous resilience – which I doubt, because he seemed amazingly fit when he awoke again – his bones shouldn’t have cracked a second time! And the crucial question behind all this is: why was he at the size of a finger, suddenly?

I gulp down the coffee, lean back and close my eyes. Rubbing my temples feels good, but doesn’t help against the clutter in my thoughts.

What happened last night?

There must be answers, but I won’t find them in bed. I pour me another cup of coffee. On the floor lie the shoes I wore last night. I pick up the right one. A plain white canvas sneaker, nice and comfortable. About two weeks old and not worn much, yet. I turn it over, the sole is rubber with some simple stripe pattern with rough surfaces. Like the rest of the shoe, worn but far from worn out. I examine it closely for traces of the last night, but I can’t find any.

A cushy shiver runs down my spine. These shoes are so casual, so unspectacular, but for Justin they became larger-than-life, figurative and literally. What did he think when he realized that something this ordinary and innocent would become the instrument of his doom? I imagine his point of view, along the shoe, up my leg and torso to my face endlessly far above him, knowing that he’ll end with the same insignificance as a bug. The notion gives me the creeps so pleasureable, that I get goosebumps.

The sudden knock on my door almost make me hit the ceiling. I put the shoes away and open. Leah looks me over and grins.

“You forgot it, right?” She is dressed for a training run and I recall our appointment.

“Aww, I’m sorry! Gimme a few minutes, will you?” I enter the bathroom and with haste I get ready within 20 minutes. We’re going to run, after all, not to a prom.

“How comes you slept this long? Had another phone talk with your friend, exchanging lover’s oaths and stuff?” Leah sits cross-legged on my sofa, grinning amused. A mumble has to be enough of an answer. Last night was too strange to even tell about it.

The fresh air, the constant monotonous motion, the blood pumping vibrantly through my veins - the sheer joy of running wonderfully soothes my troubled mind. I feel more focused every minute. We run at a speedy yet relaxed pace. Relaxed to me, that is, Leah is sweating and breathing heavily. Deem it a cliché, but I’m an east African.

After six miles we reach our preferred training ground, some sunbathing area at a lake not much frequented at this time of the year. We do some stretching, then fall into our training routine. While we practice throws and joint locks alternately on each other, we chat about this and that. Nearly an hour passes like this, unnoticed by us.

“Warmup is done, time for some real activity!” I increase the pace on our way back, hard enough to make Leah going to her limit. Back at the dorm, she drops panting to the front lawn. Though I’m quite exhausted myself, I’m in better shape. I straddle on her tummy and grin down on her.

“I’ve worn you out, it seems!”

“Aww, Kim… I surrender!” Leah moans afflicted.

“Oh? So this is the day I can finally make you my pleasure slave?”

“Whatever, as long as you let me catch my breath.” Her indifference make me chuckle. She’s sincerely tuckered out.

“Boring! I thought you’d offer more of a fight.”

“Another day, then. Get off me if you don’t want to get puked all over.”

With a yelp I’m off her. As I stand beside Leah, her prone form before my feet, the events of the last night recur.

“Since you dragged me out of bed at some ungodly time, I haven’t had breakfast. Meet me in an hour at Toni’s?” The small Italian café offers wonderful dishes for small prices and an equally wonderful privacy for talking.

“Agreed, if you help me up, put me on my bike and give me a push that lasts until home.” Despite her words, Leah rises energetically. We hug, Leah gets on her bicycle and I wave her goodbye.

I make it to Toni’s just in time. The café is well patronized but not crowded, so I can reserve a small table. I sip an excellent Cappuccino while I wait. I take out my smartphone, open the browser and type ‘shrink person’. There’s a lot of results. Magic spells from P&P roleplaying games. Movies. Entries from dictionaries. Videos. Pointless scrap!

I use the term ‘reduce man’. The outcome is even more hilarious: the best ways to reduce a man’s boobs, buttcheeks, even nipples. Bullshit.

I need to search more methodical and specifically. Just as I think about the strategy, Leah enters the room. I wave and she slumps into the chair.

“Today’s run was 110% of my limit. I had to take magnesium and gulp it down with 2 litres of water. Your fault when I have to pee every 15 minutes!”

“Plentiful diuresis is healthy, I read.” I chuckle at her niggling.  

“I need some more input, then.” She beckons to the waitress and we order a couple of individual dishes and drinks. We chat about this and that before I can’t hold me back anymore.

“Have you ever heard of people shrinking? Not the loss a few centimetres with the coming of old age, I mean shrinking to dollsize.”

“You mean like in the eighties movies? Not really… I heard of a fetish some people have, to interact with a much larger partner. Why do you ask?” Her response is so mundane it impresses me.

“Somehow, yes. Have you ever heard something like that happen for real?” The questions so incredibly silly in my own ears that I’m really glad Leah’s reaction is just an amused smirk.

“Of course not, I even doubt it would be possible at all.” She stuffs another Croccanti in her mouth. “Would be cool beyond words, though. I’d love to have certain people dollsized at my disposal.” she adds munching.

My initial relief gets overlapped by the fevered sting her endmost words deal me.

“Would you utilise the power you possess over them?” I realise, her next answer could determine the course of our future relationship.

“Sure! What good is power, when it’s unused?” Her shrug emphasizes her factual tone. She sincerely means it! “Again: why do you ask?” This time she’ll not be distracted, I fear.

“Just some idea I had, lately.”

“No way! It’s not just some idea, it’s something very palpable to you. Don’t take me for a fool, out with it!” Her triumphant protest is quite demanding. Silly me, should have concocted a story before!

“Wait… Is your new friend one of those fetishists into this subject? Did you had a kinky phone call or chat last night?” Leah’s dirty imagination provides me a suitable loophole. I mumble something unintelligible and look away.

“Priceless! Lucky you, having a guy with a submissive streak is so much fun, and the BDSM slaves are very polite and servile. Enjoy it!”

After she assumes to have solved the mystery, Leah is satisfied and it’s no problem for me to change the subject.

Back in my apartment, I do some course work, but find it hard to concentrate. Two hours later I’ve written just one meagre page.

The phone relieves me from my misery. It’s my mother calling, retrieving the weekly report and delivering another bunch of good advice. She’s an intellectual, a high-class scientist, but when it comes to me, she’s as much a clucking hen like any other mom. How much I love her!

“Mom, you’re a doctor, may I ask you a question?” Of course, she assumes that I am ill or injured. She prepares for a full diagnosis in her best worried tone before I even have a chance to go on. I have to interrupt her with some insistence.

“Do you know any disease, incident or method that makes a human shrink down to just a few centimetres?”

I expect laughter, I get silence.

“Mom?”

“We’ll meet for lunch this Sunday. I send you an address near you where we’ll meet.” She sounds so grave and mysterious that I get a shiver.

“Don’t worry, luv, we get this straight. Bye!” She must have sensed my uneasiness and her words are indeed soothing, but not overly.

Baffled. That’s it, I was baffled before, now I’m additionally worried.

The day started strange and turned into bizarre.

• 5 •

I enter the gym with the best mood possible. Leah motions me to the counter. Without a word but an expectant smile she hugs me. There’ll be a Hojojutsu class and Leah endorsed both of us.

What an opportunity! Leah and me are both long time Jiu Jutsu practitioners on black belt level. We’ve taken techniques and movements in so entirely, that we can concentrate fully on their application in every situation imaginable. Also we seek to broaden our horizons as widespread as possible. Hojojutsu is very traditional and teachers are extremely rare. Attending to a class in our own gym is simply awesome!

We change clothes and scurry into the exercise room. There are only very few people. I shoot Leah a curious glance. As usual, she seems to read my mind.

“The attendance was strictly limited to twelve persons.”

After a moment, the instructor enters the room. He’s a giant of a man, he might even stand an inch over seven foot tall! He seems like 50 years or older, the face in his bald head furrowed with wrinkles, yet his heavily muscled body is brimming with vitality. The coeval woman following him appears dwarfed beside him, though she’s about 5’6” and well-built, too. She seems to be of Asian descent and is wearing a bright red silken suit.

“Good day, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Carl Grayson. I’m the owner of this gym and today we’re going to practice Hojojutsu.

Hojojutsu is a subdiscipline of the ancient Japanese martial arts, focusing on the moment after your opponent is defeated. It’s so efficient, it’s still widely used by nowadays Japanese police forces, even preferred to handcuffs.

Truth is, most martial arts cover a combat situation only to a certain point. Once you have subdued your enemy, you can either let go of him and hope he’s serious with his submission, or you can destroy him there and then. When none of that is an option, you have a problem. That’s where Hojojutsu comes into play.  It conclusively commits your foe at your mercy, to deal with him however you think best and – most important – whenever you see fit.”

I look at Leah and she grins back cheerily!

The next three hours, though, are pretty boring. I learn about the different types of ropes, how to fold them and how to stow them away ready to use. We learn about knots and loops and lots of handiwork suitable for some antiquated seaman. At first it’s a frustrating fiddly work, but once I get the knack, it becomes interesting, even fun.

With the first partner exercises the training gets really good. Leah and I always have this friendly competition when it comes to practice fighting. We support and cope with each other, thus inciting peak performance. We run through one routine after another, alternating, repeating drill after drill again and again.

The basic techniques are practiced while standing. When we proceed to their advanced usage, we lead in with some hold or another. Leah brings me down with a simple Kotegaeshi, a move I easily could have countered, but this time Leah is Tori and a fair receiver lets the performer play her game. I’m nevertheless amazed how easy, efficient and quick she binds my hands behind my back. The teacher steps beside me.

“Again! This time, put your knees on your partner’s neck and kidney to hold her down.”

Leah follows the instruction and I feel that it’d be almost impossible to free myself. One moment later I do the same technique to her. It’s thrilling to control her and render her completely helpless. I raise, look down on her and, following an impulse, put my foot on her back. The instructor’s eyes meet mine. He gazes for a moment, then nods, barely perceptible. Is that an approving smile I notice? His wife smiles openly, though.

For hours we practice, intense and concentrated. So intense, that the training day nears its end after what feels like a short moment. At the end of the session we go for the real combat application. Of course, I let Leah take me down easily. We’re exercising Hojojutsu, after all, not Jujutsu. But as soon as she has me in an initial position, I begin to fight back. Half a breath later, her foot slams down hard between my shoulder blades. She applies some serious pressure, obviously she leans forward, grabs my arms and wrenches them upwards with a cruel twist.  A second later she stands above me, both her feet planted firmly to the floor. In the same instance she applies a nasty lateral pressure to my ribcage while she holds my arms stretched out in that awkward position.

I sincerely stand no chance! It’s painful but bearable, yet I don’t doubt that Leah could easily force up the level of pain somewhere far beyond the pain threshold. She could fracture my arms or my elbows, dislocate my shoulders… Her hands work nimble as she ties my wrists behind my back, attaching them to a snare around my neck. Within a minute I’m immovable. Every attempt to wriggle free from the restraint results in the loop threatening to choke me. All I can do now is lie completely still.

I’m at Leah’s mercy and in this moment I’m very, very glad that I can entrust her my life because she`s even more dear to me than a sister.

Leah steps over me, places her shoes right before my face, then – slow and appreciative – sets her foot on the back of my neck. She doesn’t squeeze hard, but she openly enjoys controlling me.

“Gotcha, baby!” I hear her triumphant grin all the way down here. That vengeful bitch got her payback, obviously. I don’t resent her for that, of course. I would have done the same.

“Do you have a minute?” Later, I wrap up a used rope and turn around. The teacher and his wife stand before Leah and me. His face is unreadable, but something reveals his expectancy.

“We observed you closely today, both of you. Are you interested in personal tuition?”

That comes unexpected. I exchange glances with Leah.

“Don’t worry. It’ll cost you nothing, at least no money. To the contrary, I’ll set you to non-contributory membership here, since you’ll spend less time in the gym.” Carl seems to read our thoughts.

Leah appears as puzzled as I feel. Carl sits down cross-legged and motions us to sit down with him.

“Let me first introduce you to my wife, Kimora Grayson. I founded the gym about six years ago. I had the idea to pass my knowledge on to others. I found out something: one can learn the techniques to the peak of perfection. One can learn to fight. But what cannot be learned is true, genuine warrior spirit. What it takes to be a warrior either is within you or you’ll never have it.”

Wow. That either is a true revelation or esoteric nonsense.

“What do you mean by that? A born warrior, like described in this warrior gene discussion a few years ago?” Leah found her voice quicker than I did.

“No. That was completely wrong. I doubted it from the beginning and it’s widely refuted now. There is no such thing as a warrior gene. But most likely it has something to do with genetics. Have you ever heard of mirror neurons? They’re the parts in our brain that are responsible for empathy. But not solely, empathy is a more complex system. What makes you and me different from others is, that our empathy can be deactivated.”

Wait, I’ve heard that before and it’s… no way!

“That’s the definition of a psychopath! Switching empathy on and off like a lamp when needed is the attribute of a damned psychopath!” Somehow, this alarms me more than I would have thought – and I know the reason!

“Not like a psychopath! A psychopath uses generally no empathy and – even more reprehensible – uses it only to gain some advantage by it. That’s not how this works. We are normal people most of our lives, knowing compassion or sympathy all the time, in some extent even more than others. What makes us different is the ability to push it back when the need arises, to do what needs to be done. That’s what the warrior’s way is all about.” Carl’s sharp response shows plainly that I hit a nerve. I like his explanation. I have to stick to it, else…

“Okay, fine with me. What are we going to do and learn under your guidance?”

“Me and my wife moved all over the world to study under the greatest masters of their arts. What we’re going to teach you will be far beyond a single style. Staying true with one style at the beginning is a good way to bring your skills to perfection. At some point, though, it becomes a corset constricting further progress. We’re going to free you from it, teach you the art of genuine hand-to-hand combat, both techniques and their realistic application.”

Leah and I exchange glances and I see that she’s as excited as I feel. I’m weary from the hours of training, yet I burst to begin this new stage of martial arts – I’d love to start outright now!

“Don’t treat this lightly! You’ll learn things that’ll puzzle or even scare you. You’ll sometimes feel offended, humiliated and wretched. I know you’re both students, but don’t even think that I care for your test phases or any other sorry excuses. You’ll practice three times a week, at least eight hours in all. Half of your semester breaks belong to your training, full time, that is. These are the terms.” Carl must have read my thoughts. Yet if he tries to discourage me, he fails miserably.

“Accepted!” Leah’s and my voice resound in unison.

• 6 •

The restaurant my mother chose for our meeting is secluded and expensive. It took me 50 minutes to go there by bicycle, but even finding it made up for the major part of this time. I’m not surprised to meet both of my parents there. After a cordial greeting we are led into a discreet booth. We have some trivial small talk. In between the waiter takes orders.

“Did you have a nice evening, Kim?” My dad honestly tries to ease the slightly tense situation.

“Not too bad. I had a night out with a friend, but was absent-minded, I fear.” No need to beat around the bush. In fact, it’s been my first date with Marc and I’ve been some terrible company, my mind whirring about very different thoughts. In fact, except for my bodily presence I’ve barely been out with him at all. I’ve been rather surprised he even asked for another date.

 “Why did you ask that strange question, yesterday? Did something weird happen to you, something inscrutable, perhaps even impossible?” My mother comes to the point. That’s welcome. The question itself makes me mentally stumble, though. What does she know?

“What if?” I don’t know myself being this defensive and I don’t like it at all.

“Have we ever told you about your paternal grandmother?”

“She died before I was born, shortly before you left Kenya, right?” This is an unexpected turn.

“She was killed before we left.” My mother’s words sound ominous and a hint of pain flashes over my father’s face.

“She was a Mchawi, a kind of sorceress. She practiced supernatural arts her whole life. Alas, she was accused of witchery. A mob gathered, stoned and burnt her. After her murder your father and I fled, first to Nairobi and later to here.” Mom sounds hollow. She’s deeply moved, yet she fights hard to keep her composure.

I’m tempted to gainsay what she tells, but whatever for? I’d prefer to laugh about what I just heard as superstitious nonsense, but my mother – in fact, both my parents – are too much rational, too sober scientists to believe in fairy tales to frighten children.

“So, my grandma was a witch who got burnt? What the hell did she do to deserve that?” I hear my own voice trembling.

“She did what the chosen few of her nature did for hundreds, if not thousands of years! She healed the sick and comforted those in need. But she also hunted the miscreants and punished those who deserved it. Oh yes, she was terrible in her wrath, but she was so kind and caring to the needy. Don’t adjudge her for the malevolence she received in return!”

My mother berates me. I can’t even recall that this calm, patient woman scolded me ever before. My dad presses her hand and the hardness leaves her face.

“As you will already guess, the reason to tell you all this is the fact, that the gift is passed on through the generations. As your grandmother died, the essence of her craft was set free. We believe that the seed lies within all members of your family, and when that seed is fertilized by said essence, the bearer is gifted with the power to change things infinitely more profound than a common person.”

What’s that lump in my throat? Why are tears welling in my eyes? My mother reaches for me and seizes my hand. I can’t hold back a sob. All this is too fantastic, too unreal, too much for me. All I know is, that my life changes fundamental and entirely.

“When you asked me yesterday about shrinking persons, I knew it had happened. I witnessed that when I visited your grandmother. She held her captives in a shrunken state. And she did with them whatever she saw fit. Will you tell me what you did?”

Mom’s infinite forbearance and gentle affection – she’ll never condemn me, no matter what I did! While I tell her about the events of that evening, I weep freely. I don’t weep for Justin, I don’t weep for myself. I weep, because the unease of the last days and the revelation of this day are so far too much for me to comprehend at once.

Mom just nods as I finish my story, Dad even manages to display a faint smile. Their sympathy means so much to me.

Meanwhile, the waiter appears and serves the meal. I’m becalmed again and feel hungry. While we eat, my parents overwhelm me with advice.

“So it wasn’t the fury I unleashed upon my antagonist that released the spell?”

“No, no! You said you suddenly felt calm and determined. That’s it! In wrath, hatred or panic you can’t channel your powers. You need to concentrate and sincerely imagine the desired effect in detail. That’s how immediate effects are formed.” Mom sounds almost as excited as I feel.

“Does that mean I can do everything I can imagine?”

“Dear me, no! There are limits aplenty! Alas, no one can tell you what’s within your power, you have to find out yourself. Even if there’s no immediate or visible effect, you will sense when something happens. If so, you should try again and again until you mastered it. If nothing happens at all, a thing is most likely beyond your gift. That’s the way to explore your potential.”

Like this, we spend the whole afternoon. It’s about 4 p.m. when we finally say goodbye and part. I’m meeting up with Marc again this evening and want to pretty myself up as an excuse for the messed up last evening.  

I ride home on my bicycle. The day is sunny and warm, perfect for a tour. Cycling relaxes me and wonderfully clears my mind. I detour and take a longer, yet more beautiful route.

On my way, I reflect about the events in the light of the information I got from my parents. It’s still pretty much unclear and daunting, but the things already start to sort out and get straight. The longer I think about it, the more I realize the enormous potential I could contain within me. And the more I imagine my future possibilities, the more I enjoy the idea.

I get more confident. In fact, I can hardly wait to try something. I’m tempted to stop and do some magic, but I contain myself. Self-control is a crucial factor, Mom said, I better start to cultivate it outright. I can’t keep my mind from envisioning several things I want to try and enjoy. If this thing works nearly as well as I hope for, I’ll become a truly mighty woman.

The mental picture I draw of myself gives me a thrill of anticipation and makes me shiver in barely suppressed pleasure.

At home, I first hop into the shower. Though the hot water is highly pleasant, it scarcely soothes my inner turmoil. I’m about to burst from suspense, elation and drive. I dry and straighten my hair for some refined braided hairdo, but I almost immediately lose patience and bind a simple ponytail. I put on just some minimalist makeup. Just one minute before my open wardrobe and I could yank out its contents – a wardrobe filled to the bursting with nothing to wear! I try and discard one outfit after another. When I’m about to scream with a temper, I choose a simple dress and plain ballet flats.

Just dressed, it knocks on the door. He’s here on time. I rush to the door and tear it open. Marc seems startled by my vigorous approach. He stares at me with eyes like a terrified deer, and that look excites the predator in me. I grab his arm and yank him into my room. A kick slams the door shut.

I can batter him or screw him, either way I yearn to conquer him, bring him down, break him up and tear his heart out to keep it as my booty. I claim him and I will have my way with him.

I seize him by the neck and press my lips onto his. My kiss is like an assault and that’s what I intend it to be. Bewildered, he is like paralyzed and doesn’t return my tempestuous affection. I force my tongue aggressively between his lips and on into his mouth where his receives mine, hesitatingly first, then more lively. I cling my body firmly to his, my thigh pressed hard into his crotch. Marc’s initial torpor vanishes and his hands begin to feel out my back, timid and gentle.

But I’m not in a mood for gentleness. Abrasive and forceful I push him backwards, trip him up and rudely fling him down onto the sofa. I straddle him and plaster his neck with vigorous kisses. I grab his shirt and wrench it over his head. The sound of seams ripping apart prove that this garment isn’t rugged enough for my passion, but I couldn’t care less as I throw it aside. My lips work their way along his body, making sure my body is firmly pressed to his as I glide down. I attach my mouth to his nipple, suck hard and swirl around it with my tongue. Marc groans loudly and tries to sit up. With my left hand on the side of his face I harshly push his head back to the padding, while my right works frenetic to open his trousers. It slides into his undershorts, feels for his member already bulging and closes around his balls, kneading them.

Being in control, I nibble on Marc’s mamilla, first playful, then somewhat testier and finally I apply a lusty bite. He gives a yelp and again struggles, but I effortlessly hold him down with my superior strength, even easier when I squeeze his testicles menacing. The fact that I dominate him this clearly boosts my lust into frenzy.

I’m about to scream in fury as removing his pants proves to be awkward, but finally I deal with them. Marc’s dick stands upright like a brave little soldier. His member is beautiful in size and shape, his groin region is clean-shaved. Perfect!

Again I sit down on his chest, this time backwards. Gently probing his manhood with my fingers, I feel it twitch while Marc groans heatedly below me. I bow down and let my tongue circle around the rim of his glans, only very light, just shaving it. I wait for the change in the quality of his moans before I pull my lips over his member. I suck rather vibrantly and let my tongue stroke firmly, while my hands again gently massage his scrotum.

Before long, I feel Marc is about to get off, but I’m not willing to release him yet. I curb the pace and let him relax until his panting slows down and his writhing weakens, only to tucker him out again the next moment. I just love the kinky torture of tease and denial, and after the third round Marc’s moaning has become a frantic wailing between arousal and weeping.

Time for the finishing stroke!

Again I tease him halfway up, then I close my teeth around the tender flesh on the underside of his glans. Playfully pinching at first, I nibble harder each bite. I know what’s to come, so I tense up my whole body to hold Marc safely down, my hands pressing down his legs. I bite that hard into this delicate part of his glans, until I’m just on the brink of piercing through his skin.

Marc wails in pain and lechery, squirming. He fights me, but not forceful enough to risk ripping apart his penis. I have to struggle to keep him down, but that only spurs me on. I keep the pressure up for a long moment in which he sobs and whimpers.

Finally, I let go of him. Now I suck hard on his member, slowly moving my head up and down, while my tongue intensely rubs the sore spot I just bit into. Marc wheezes and pants so heavily now, I fear he might get a heart attack. For one short, nasty moment I relish the idea to stop now and just throw him out, but not even I could be so cruel.

Seconds later, he climaxes in several vigorous spasms. His hot load erupts into my mouth, so tremendous I have to focus on not choking. It tastes rather sweet and musky, so I have no restraint gulping it down, though the slimy texture is rather unpleasant. I don’t release him yet, but suck even harder as I continue stimulating him. Marc writhes as spasmodically and the sounds he gives off evidence his total ecstasy.

I sit up straight and turn my head. Marc half lies on the sofa like collapsed, eyes closed and gasping for breath. His climax has only increased my own arousal further. I’m greedy for pleasure now, and I want Marc to satisfy me! I raise and pull off my slip with trembling fingers. Then I grab Marc’s arm and pull him from the sofa that energetic he has no chance to get to his feet.

I slump on the sofa while Marc struggles to get up. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I have other plans. I grab his hair and forcibly push him between my legs. Cautious and gentle, his tongue explores my nether regions, too feeble for my liking. I squeeze his face firmer into my groin and wrap my legs around his head. He gets the message and starts licking zealous.

Wise choice, Sunshine, don’t make me introduce you to my infamous leg scissor!

Marc either is a complete newbie or an artist with a wicked streak. His tongue reaches all of my genitals, but he usually manages to touch all around the most sensitive parts. When I get frustrated, though, he exactly hits the spot and makes me figuratively leap for joy, only to go elsewhere soon. I get the impression he pays me back for my former game of denial. But then he fails to find my clit and I’m again convinced he does this for the first time ever.

Nonetheless, he acts with that much endeavour, I can sincerely enjoy it. I feel light-headed, my womb tingles most delightful and my pelvic floor muscles clench and unclench in erratic order. I’ve lost track of time and now I lose my patience as well. I stand up and force Marc down to the ground on his back. I step over him and straddle down on his face. His keen little tongue immediately starts licking again, but now I have some control as well!

Ah, this wonderful control already is half the fun! While he tries to do his best with his tongue, I use the protrusion that is his nose to rub my clit on. Yes, this is better! Following an inpulse, I press my crotch harder on Marc’s face and rub it with relish on it until he starts struggling for the lack of air. Yes, boy, even my womanhood is able and willing to dominate you!

I let go of him, but now I reach orgasm, too! Powerful convulsion of sheer passion surge in waves through my tummy and up my back. I see the stars and feel like I’m about to step out of my body. Suddenly I notice that I ram my pelvis on Marc’s face again and again, and I fear I might knock him unconscious. Panting hard, I get up on shaky legs.

Marc blinks up to me, pleased but also taken aback. Obviously he just got to know the fact of the female ejaculation. I turn, grab a bottle of water and gulp down plenty of it. Then I toss the bottle to him.

He also drinks greedily, then he slumps back again. I watch him while I recover.

“Sorry, but I fear any reservation you might have made is expired.”

Marc chuckles wearily at this groaner.

“Never mind!” He stands up cumbersome like an old man. He dresses, then regards me.

“I don’t know what to say, Kim, but this was…” Is he going to reproach or harass me? No, he won’t thank me, would he? How embarrassing!

“Say naught! Go now. If this hasn’t frightened you off, we’ll talk later.” With gentle emphasis I turn him around and lead him to the door. He turns to speak again, but I push him out of my room and close the door behind him.

Have I lost him with my dismissive attitude? I hope not, but that’s some subsidiary issue to me at the moment. I can’t focus on Marc’s emotional ambivalence since I really have my own matters to deal with.

After all, my pent-up tension is gone!

• 7 •

Linear algebra. The more time I spend with mathematics, the more I doubt that my future lies in this field. The professor explains squeeze mapping, something I already understood in the preparatory course.

I just love the plain truth of mathematics, the elegant simplicity of number theory. The mathematical proof is the only proof worth bearing that name, other than the empirical proof that only means that so far no one found an exception from a rule. A mathematical proof, though, is valid to all eternity – were it not for Gödel’s incompleteness theorems, but that’s another matter.

But all these tools of the trade are wearing me out, somehow.

I try to suppress a yawn, but to no effect. I stare at the monitor of my open laptop before me. After a moment I google for ‘shrunken man’. More than eight million results. Videos, porn sites and a seemingly endless cache of pictures, most pretty amateurish, but some stuff is also well made. I try ‘giantess’ and get more than thirteen million results. With this mass of respective material available, I sincerely doubt that this fetish is so eminently exotic or even rare. Surprising and interesting at once.

I look at my fellow students around me. How many of them might secretly dream of some interaction with someone much smaller or bigger? By probability, there should be a few. At least one. Aside from me, that is.

What if Justin was one of them? Did I unwittingly satisfy a secret wish of his by shrinking him and maybe even by putting him underfoot? It came to me as a perfect natural impulse, there and then. When I look at this stuff before me, feet do play an important role, it seems. I remember how desperate he pleaded for his life and can’t help but chuckle. With certainty, I did teach him the difference between wish and reality. And still not a scintilla of remorse in me.

Somebody flops into the seat beside me, placing his feet up on the backrest of the forward row.

Graham Stark. He grins audaciously at me, then peers at my computer.

“Aaah, thinking about your future career as a goddess? Goddess Kim – sounds good to me. I sure wouldn’t mind to grovel at your feet.” He gives me a wink, does a finger pistol and clicks his tongue.

I narrow my eyes in suspicion as I turn to look at him. He’s a handsome guy with a blithe spirit. His bold and forward bearing is somewhere between offensive and ambiguous, but he wears it that charmingly, it always lifts my spirit. Right now, I can’t show this, though.

“For what infernal reason you’re pestering me now, twerp?”

“You slap me with words like steel, most revered Lady! What have I done to deserve such harsh penalty?” His camp reaction is so hilarious, I snort and have to check myself hard to not burst with laughter.

“I’m sure you’re discussing algebra, Mr. Stark, but I’d be most grateful if you did so after the lecture – as grateful as the janitor when you put your feet to ground now, thank you very much indeed.” Professor Houten is obviously bugged by Graham’s disruptive chatter, but I receive a venomous glare from him, too.

“Thanks a lot, moron!” I drive my elbow nastily into Graham’s ribs. He barely suppresses a moan and sits upright.

“Ouch! You’re lucky I’m wearing my rubber ribs!”

Another upset glance by Professor Houten slows his momentum.

“I’m sorry, chief, just been expressing my excitement!” Graham calls towards him placatory.

I click through the pictures on the screen. Now and then I enlarge one for a better view. A close-up of a blonde with her head thrown back, dangling a shrunken guy above her mouth opened wide. I point at it and cast a questioning look at Graham. He pouts and waggles his hand, signalling a ‘better not’. The next one shows a tiny man fleeing from a giantess chasing him. Graham nods affirmative. Then I enhance a picture of a shrunken male kneeling, applying a kiss to a bare female foot. This time he gives me double thumbs up. A close shot of a black flat, crushing a tiny man under its sole with blood and guts oozing out, makes Graham grimace, but I’m sure there was a short flash of excitement before. Highly interesting…

All things come to an end, and so does this lecture.

 “Care to join me at the canteen?” Graham’s question jolts me out of my thoughts.

I cram the rest of my stuff into my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I glare at him for a long moment. Again, this grin of his as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He’s cheeky and presumptuous, but damn, he’s such a cute lout.

“Why, in the world, would I want to have lunch with a one like you?” No need to make this too easy for him.

“Am I unworthy? Impure?” His overexaggerated hangdog look again makes me chuckle.

“These are no categories to me. No, doofus, you simply annoy the hell out of me!”

“Annoy? Wow, you’re a forbearing woman, I thought I were in enrage mode already. You should witness me inducing a frenzy…”

My laughter emerges from deep within. I playfully shove him towards the exit.

“Get a move on, then! But if someone’s asking, we’re not going together but into the same direction by accident.”

The ten-minute-walk to the canteen is fairly amusing. When we sit down with our food trays, I’m in ebullient spirits.

“So, what are you doing when you’re not busy ignoring Professor Houten?” Ah, Graham’s opening the game by reading off my leisure time activities.

“Oh, then I ignore someone else.” I shrug and smile defiantly.

“Obviously you’re very much into sports. Synchronised swimming? Curling?”

“Extreme chequers. I tried freestyle chess last year, but suffered a meltdown from the stress.”

“Aww, poor pumpkin!” He taps my hand sympathetically. “Anything except sports and studying? Mastering the art of the whale song, perhaps? Creating sculptures from week-old cream pies? Odd mattress gymnastics?” The latter he accentuates, arching his brows.

Yah, man, that’s where you wanted to be from the very first moment, hm? Not so fast, lil’ cricket…

“Nope. I vowed chastity. After the university I plan to become a nun.” That hit home! I must perform pretty good, for his smile falters visibly for a moment before he regains his composure.

“Sh’ya right! You a nun - that’s a good one!” His smile is even broader now and I can sense some true relief.

I just keep a straight face and stuff some grilled chicken breast in my mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

Again, Graham seems a bit rattled. He stares at me, cocking his head. Then he laughs out again.

“Kudos! You almost got me. If you have an actress’ career in mind, you’re on the best way.”

I shrug and keep on eating wordlessly.

“Okay, put up or shut up: why were you looking for that giantess stuff?” His tone is still casual, but with more tenseness than before.

 “Plain interest.”

“No…? No! There’s more about it.” He looks inquisitively and I enjoy having him in the defence now. “You have a boyfriend or at least met someone else who’s into it.”

“Why can’t I be interested in this all by myself?”

“Oh, you can, but meeting a girl who’s really into this kind of fetish stuff is a jackpot. Usually, it’s a male thing.”

“I’m not quite sure if this can be considered sexism.” As expected, he shrugs my objection away. Graham launches into another question and I silence him with a single motion.

“No. My turn to ask. Why do you know about this stuff? Are you into it yourself?”

“Kind of, yes.” He nods carefree and his frankness baffles me. I motion him to go on, though.

“I’ve been into trampling my whole life. By my opinion, this giantess thing is very close to it.”

“Okay, trampling means… a girl treading on you and, well, trampling on you? Barefoot or with her shoes on?”

“Both is okay for me. See, when I was a boy, we used to aggravate the girls. You know that childish stuff, I suppose. When they chased us, I often ‘accidentally’ stumbled and fell and then they pounced on me, kicking and stomping. One girl, Sarah Olsson – she was huge for her age – often placed her foot on my back or stomach and held me down while the other girls blistered me. Gawd, it’s been wonderful!”

I cast some disconcerting look at Graham, but right now I wish I could do a swap with those girls.

“Okay, let’s leave it at that, for now. Why do you think that’s related with the giantess thing? I mean, if you were that tiny and a girl stepped on you, you’d most likely get crushed underfoot. Is dying the thrilling part of it?” I hope my voice doesn’t quiver, for that’d surely betray my own commotion.

“No, that’s a bit more complicated. A few years back, I persuaded a girl to trample me. I had chosen her, for she was a tall and heavy woman. Not obese, but sturdy built and voluminous. I was eagerly raring to feel her on me. In my imagination, she was perfectly suited. When she tread on me, though, I immediately feared she’d crush me gravely and I panicked. Truth is, she was far too heavy for me. My desire wanted much, much more than I could take for real.”

So what? This is no answer at all. I shrug and shake my head questioning.

“In our fantasies we want much more than we could possibly handle in reality. For your question this means, the thrilling part would be, for example, watching the giantess crush another tiny guy; thus, you know she’s able and willing to do so. I’m no suicidal lunatic, so: no, I don’t want to get killed, I want her to spare me. But the thought that she could squish me like a bug at any time is highly thrilling indeed!”

I chuckle candidly amused. If you just knew, boy… For a second I’m tempted to tell him, but then I check myself.

“You seem not completely disgusted. May I hope…?” Graham stares at me and for the first time ever I see him insecure but sincere.

“Hope for what?”

“May I allure you to trample me? I’d love to be your rug!” He sounds so keen and craving, I just have to let him dangle.

“I don’t know…” Neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ – I’ll keep you in suspense until you freak out.

“You’ll never know if you like it until you tried.” He almost manages to appear impervious. Almost…

“It’s not that you don’t deserve to get kicked until you gasp for forgiveness. I just fear that I get myself into it and you falter and whine like with the rubenesque woman you mentioned. For if you were under my feet, I doubt I’d be gracious.”

His look is priceless! I virtually have him drooling with desire now.

“Would you kneel down before me and kiss my shoes?”

“Absolutely! I’d love to, I mean, during a game it’s…” Graham’s overanxious to please me. How far will he go?

“I mean: here and now!”

From one second to the next, his head is bright crimson. Humiliating himself before me in the well-frequented canteen isn’t something he planned, obviously. He gawks stunned and struggles for words.

“Tell you what: think about it and ask me again the next time we meet.” I stand up, cast my sweetest smile at him and walk off. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s staring behind me, I can feel his gaze burn a hole in my back.

So much for being cocky. Another one bites the dust!

• 8 •

“Only a full-fledged sadist will schedule a lesson at this hour! At the weekend!” I’m no big fan of getting up early, too, but Leah’s grumpy carping even manages to cheer me up.

Dressed for training, we leave the dressing room and enter the dojo. The sight is impressive!

The dojo of our new sensei could be used as a prop for Tiger & Dragon, just this one looks even more sturdy, stylish and dignified than any film set could ever be. I hesitate to step on the polished hardwood floor with my shoes and consider to take them off. This moment, our hosts enter the room themselves and they’re both wearing shoes, too.

“Good morning, dear ladies. I’m pleased to see that you both made it in time for our first training session.” Carl Grayson’s calm bass resounds pleasantly through the hall.

After the formal greeting, we start with the usual warmup, but what a kind of! Tai chi never really attracted me, but under expert tutelage it soon shows its quality. Trying to imitate the slow-motion shadow boxing Kimora Grayson is performing before us, while her husband corrects Leah’s and my movements, my muscles soon burn like after the hardest workout possible. Not only the focused elegance of Kimora is impressive, she also is supple like a silken ghost in her white, richly embroidered Wushu suit. Many of the impossible angles she bends her limbs into we can only try to mimic measly.

Okay, my ambition is roused, if it’s that what you intend.

“Well done, ladies. Line up, we start with throws and joint locks.” Kimora’s voice, other than the bearlike one of her husband, is soft and lyrical, but nonetheless exudes absolute authority – an art of its own I’d also like to master.

“Excuse me, Sensei, throws without mats?” Leah expresses my thought perfectly.

“How do you make sure that there is always a mat ready when you have to fight? Carrying one with you?” She answers calm and smiles mildly. “You know how to fall. You did that a million times. You will handle it.”

Kimora motions us to begin. First, we start overly cautious and our teacher lets us do so. Soon, though, she orders us to put more verve into the techniques. Surprisingly, it’s far less painful than expected. Given, every flaw exacts vengeance with pain and small bruises and it takes a lot of concentration all the time, but I have to admit that I learn rapidly. Within half an hour we practice at our usual severity and I feel genuine pride.

Carl enters the room with a group of guys of different age. Most of the men sit down at the wall, while two of them step up to us.

“It’s time to start what we’re all here for: your realistic combat training. These gentlemen kindly have volunteered as training opponents.” He allocates us in pairs with enough space for free fighting.

I assess my training partner. He’s a man in his mid-thirties, about my own height. His body is that of a former athlete but seems a bit slack, as far as I can perceive through his clothing. He’s neither handsome nor ugly, a pretty ordinary guy. He smiles a bit shy at me.

“Hi, I’m Kim, nice to meet you.”

“You can babble later. For now, it’s training time. Fight!” Kimora is calm but determined.

Without hesitation, my opponent comes at me. The first two straight fists to my midsection surprise me, so I can barely ward them off, and not before they make contact. I slide back and rally. He goes for a kick. His technique is underdeveloped and I clearly see it begin. I kick plainly to his shin and break his attack. I lunge and throw a punch myself. It perfectly hits his metasternum and makes him cringe. He immediately tries to counterattack with a straight right. I turn out of his strike, intercept his wrist and perform a joint lock. In one fluid motion I bring him face down to the floor, straddle on his torso and punch downward at his mandible angle, drawing back at the last moment.

Yes, man, this one would have ruined your day if I had pulled through.

I relax and start to rise. Suddenly, my opponent whirls around and grabs the back of my neck with both hands. He drags down hard and I fall. I almost slam to the floor face first but manage to bring my shoulder down. A sharp pain radiates from it a second later. He clings to my head like a limpet and tries to force it to the floor. Grabbing his wrist with my left, I put my right palm under his corresponding elbow and push hard. His shoulder gets twisted and his grip loosens.

I’m upset because of his devious attack after the fight was ended. I could just dislocate his shoulder now, but this is just training, after all.

He places his foot at my stomach and pushes me forcefully away. Spinning around, he delivers a kick with his other foot to my ribs. I manage to catch his leg, tuck it under my arm and jump up. I employ a nasty and especially painful hold to his leg, pressing my lower arm bones into his Achilles tendon. With legs spread, his genitals lie open to attack. I raise my foot.

On impulse, I almost stomp his manhood, vexed as I am. I put my foot on his other leg, though, pinning his knee down. A painful and definite submission hold like this should end this fight, finally.

Indeed, my opponent squirms and moans in pain, but he doesn’t tap out. I apply more force. The man throws back his head and screams agonized, yet he still doesn’t give up!

“What’s up, Kim? Are you going to ruin his leg now? What are you waiting for? It’s cruel to make him suffer like this.” Kimora stands next to me, eyeing my expectant.

“What? I can’t… this is just training, I can’t harm him!” I can’t believe what she demands.

“Oh? Did I forget to mention that this is fight training? No sparring, no game. The fight isn’t over until you explicitly defeat your opponent.”

I look at him, helpless under my control but still struggling, his face grimacing in pain.

“What was your first impulse when you applied just this hold, hm? You wanted to stomp his genitals, right? It’s the most logical thing to do in this position.” Kimora is so abnormally relaxed in this strained situation. We exchange glances. “Just do it.”

A scream echoes through the dojo. My head whirls around. Leah has her opponent on the floor in some wicked armlock. She applies a vicious jerk and grins as she’s rewarded with an ugly crack from his limb. The screaming of her victim turns into a roar. Leah lifts her extended leg and hammers it down on the man’s face. The heel of her wrestling boot smashes just between his eyes, immediately silencing him. Leah stands up and stares down triumphantly on her opponent. He’s gurgling, one hand slackly reaching for his shattered nose bridge.

“Your friend has no needless inhibitions, obviously, but your fight is here and so your attention has to be here.” The stern tone of Kimora’s voice retrieves me to my own situation. “Finish the fight now!”

“No!” Hot anger wells up inside me. I release my opponent and take two steps back. He immediately struggles to get into fighting position again, but Kimora motions him to stop. Her insightful look enrages me even more.

“I’m not going to seriously harm someone just because you want me to! What a sick game is this? This is just training! In a real fight I will perform my attacks at full strength, make no mistake about it!” My outbreak is disgraceful, I know, but this is just ridiculous!

“Is that so?” Kimora’s sovereign tranquillity triggers a wave of burning rage in my stomach. I just want to hit her, but why am I so damned insecure?

“The two of us are going to fight. No infantile fuss, a real fight until one of us is out cold. I’m going to hit you as hard as I can and I advise you to do the same.” She waves the man away and slides into a relaxed fighting stance.

That came unexpected. My anger turns into chilling nervousness. Back down… no way! I have the advantage of strength and reach, no doubt. She is more experienced and appears calmer than I feel. About speed – we’ll see!

I lunge out with a left straight and immediately follow up with a right hook kick. Kimora easily dodges my punch and opens for my kick, which hits her left kidney area. That worked and my confidence rises. Don’t get boisterous, Kim…

It felt like a serious hit to me, but Kimora seems rather unaffected. She counterattacks to my left and I’m only barely able to divert the punch. Using the momentum I knee her, but I graze her hip and deliver only a weak hit. Nevertheless, I cut quite a figure against her.

More assertive now, I attack continuously and keep her on the defensive. I score several neat hits. A few times I even succeed to gain entry to joint locks, but Kimora always manages to free herself. She’s quick as mercury, that much I have to admit.

I lash out hard with my right leg. Kimora steps in while she blocks my kick and drives her fist into my teardrop muscle right above the knee. My inner thigh explodes in racking pain. Rattled, I take a step back but my knee threatens to give way.

Kimora’s foot comes up with such a light, playful ease, that the tremendous force takes me entirely by surprise as she drives the tip of her shoe into my solar plexus. The wind is knocked out of me and I find it impossible to fill my lungs again. My midriff feels like burning away in a white-hot supernova. My sight is somehow fogbound. Like paralysed, I only manage a feeble reaction as my opponent grips my wrist vicelike. She dashes me to the floor with brute force and twists my arm into a painful lock. Slowed, I see her raise her foot casually. She places the sole of her shoe square on my throat and steps down.

My eyes meet hers. I see neither mercy nor remorse. Her foot on my neck isn’t a just suggestion of her victory, it’s her grave ending of the fight. My windpipe is squeezed completely shut. I hear the blood roaring in my ears, starts dancing before my eyes… The tunnel vision… Good gawd, she’s going to kill me! She’ll make an example of me… need to break free… shrink her… concentrate…

Breathe! Lying on my back? No, it’s someone’s lap… Carl Grayson? He offers me a towel.

“Put this around your neck, it’ll set you up.” No towel but a cold compress.

Kimora stands next to me, looking down. She doesn’t seem disgruntled or triumphant, but there’s no pity for me either.

“How did I win?”

When I try to answer, I suffer a coughing bout.

“I’ve been reckless and underestimated you.” Is this croaking sincerely my own voice?

“You did, but that wasn’t the reason. I let you attack me at your own pace, even let you hit me. You scored several solid hits, yet you failed to get me into trouble. I hit you only twice before I finished you.” She shows no bossiness, no malice, only an allegation of facts.

To my own surprise, I don’t feel angry but ashamed. I nod contritely.

“You may think that you fought with all strength, but far from it. You were as reluctant as expected from someone unprepared. You are a powerful woman, if you hit me with all your strength, you’ll knock me out. But don’t worry, you’ll learn that.” Kimora smiles friendly and nods, then she walks away.

“That’s enough for today. Well done, until tomorrow at the same time.” Carl raises and lifts me gentle but irresistible up to my feet. 

Leah moans at the mentioning of getting up this early again the next day.

• 9 •

I should really complete this work.

No, I HAVE to complete this work. I’m through with the written exams, alright, but the oral exams are yet to come, and I can’t step up without handing in a thesis first. I know the stuff, know it perfectly well. This should be a cakewalk.

Why can’t I concentrate on it, then?

Bugged, I slam the pencil on the table.

“The categorical imperative – logical flaws:” Great! The outcome of nearly one hour of thinking. What, by all means, is wrong with me? What’s this restlessness in me and where does it come from?

I stand up and pace through the room. Think, Kim, just think! Where did Hegel, Schopenhauer and Adorno apply the crowbar on the theory? Why? What about their critics was justified, what was not?

With a frustrated growl I push the chair under the desk. I grab my bag, slide into a pair of wedge mules and leave, slamming the door shut behind me.

What, just what is wrong with me? I had a nice second training this morning, without a grave setback like yesterday. It’s been intense, challenging and highly satisfying, just as I like it. I should be in prime condition, instead I’m restless like a hummingbird.

I wander over the campus aimlessly. The weather is warm but overcast. Few people lie on blankets on one of the extensive lawns reading, chatting or sleeping. Even fewer cruise on bicycles or wander around like me.

I follow the wound gravel path from a small administration building towards the old gazebo. I’m more at ease out here, yet I still have the vague but urging thought that I need to do something without knowing what that might be. I enter a placid seating area among a group of trees and suddenly see a dog before me. It stops sniffing around and eyes me estimating.

It’s the stray dog I fed Justin to, no doubt!

I sit down on a bench and behold the animal. No collar and he sure has seen better times, but he’s neither injured nor starved or squalid. He stretches to sniff my knee, cautiously, ready to turn and flee if I threatened him. Don’t worry, little friend, that’s not a thing you have to fear from me.

I put my hand on the side of his head and stroke him. Immediately, his tail starts wagging and he visibly relaxes. After a moment he sits down before me, eyeing me expectantly. I reach into my bag and find an open pack of cookies. I feed him one. No dog biscuit, but it won’t hurt him, and he seems to like it.

Suddenly I know what to do. I gently take his head into my hands and stare directly into his eyes. I blank out everything else.

I concentrate.

I envision.

My hands are empty.

I look down. Before my feet is the dog, smaller than a mouse. He looks around confused, then he crouches down, obviously rattled. He recognizes me but also perceives his own predicament. Whimpering submissive, he crawls prone towards me, his tail between his legs. When he reaches me, he deliberately presses his snout against my sandal.

He’s so tiny, so fragile… so anxious.

Again I concentrate on him. Growing back takes slightly longer than shrinking.

When the dog realizes the end of his fearful situation, he yelps happily, his tail wagging so vigorously that his whole backside topples. He licks my hands, a thing I can gladly go without. To distract him, I feed him the rest of the cookies.

I take out my smartphone and browse through the contacts. I choose one and hit the ‘call’ button.

“Graham’s here!”

“It’s me, Kim. I need to talk with you.” He’s uncertain about my motive and I prefer to keep it that way. I tell him to meet me at a café in twenty minutes. He offers only some weak resistance. I can be very imperative. No more incertitude, I’m focused like a laser beam now.

I pat the dog’s head and walk off. He follows me a few steps, but it takes only a single gesture to make him stroll his own way.

In the café I sit down and order a double espresso. Graham appears a few minutes later. He slumps down across the table, orders across the room and grins. He’s boastful, but I sense his uncertainty like a crack in his façade.

“Was it just talk when you told me you’re into that giantess thing, or did you mean it?” No need to pussyfoot around. Graham’s look is priceless!

“You don’t waste time, that much’s for sure!” He nods approvingly.

“I guess you know that you appear to others like an enigma – not the kind of ‘mysterious stranger’, but like a red rag to a bull. In this I want you to be honest and sincere. Are you?”

He hesitates for a long moment, estimating my intention. My approach put him off his stride and that’s showing. Ah, it feels so good to be back in control again!

“Yes. I honestly am into that subject. Why is that important to you?”

“What if I told you that I could really shrink you. Would you care to give it a try?”

After a moment of blank staring, he throws back his head and laughs.

“Ooh, that’s a good one. What are you up to?”

I don’t answer, don’t let the slightest emotion show on my face while I stare at him. When it dawns to him that his own joke falls flat, his laughter ends.

“Okay, then. I’d say: Dear Kim, I dreamt the half of my life of a beautiful woman shrinking me. I’m completely sure that shrinking isn’t possible, though. As much as I’d like to get convinced of the contrary, the physical facts are clear enough.”

“I see it won’t work this way. What about this: let me demonstrate you something. If you don’t like what you see, you lost nothing. But maybe you get a pleasant surprise.”

“Okay… okay! Show me.”

“I would want to do this somewhere more private. Do you live near here?”

“My loft is just five minutes away.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” I empty my cup in one gulp and rise. Graham drops the money for both our coffees on the table and leads the way. We walk in silence. I can feel his tension and I can read his thoughts clear as neon signs. No, silly, I’m not going to rob you nor are we going to have sex. But yes, the experience will change your life, I’m sure.

Indeed we reach his apartment upstairs in some old industrial building. Not bad at all, must be expensive.

“Okay, what now?” He drops his keys in a bowl near the entrance and looks at me nervously.

“You best lie down there.” I point on a spot right in the middle of the spacious main room and put my bag on a table. Graham eyes me warily. Then he shrugs and lies flat on his back.

“Shall I close my eyes or something?”

“Not a clue, I never got shrunk myself.” With a casual shrug I step to his side. “Ready?”

“I guess so, whatever…”

Concentrate, visualize – done. A pile of clothes lie before me. Heck, this is becoming really easy. I crouch and cautiously grope about for Graham, finding him in his trousers. They’re shrinking towards their Hara, their body central point, it seems. I take him out with special care and put him on the floor. Then I collect the clothing and walk over to the sofa to drop it there. I turn and look at my tiny friend.

Graham is sitting on the floor like a sleepy Panda, puzzled and trying to realize what’s going on around him. I’ll give him some more time. My gaze falls on a neat automatic coffee machine in the kitchen unit. Time for another cup!

When I again step into the central area of the room with a steaming mug in my hand, Graham is standing somewhat lost and clueless. He stares at me as I walk towards him.

I don’t walk too close to him, since I don’t want to scare him witless. After all, I want him to cooperate with me. I sip from the coffee and scrutinize him. He stands like petrified.

“Okay, so much for what is possible and what isn’t.” Darn, that sounds more self-opinionated that I intend it to.

“How…?” Graham’s voice sounds faint but is clear enough to hear, considering the circumstances.

I raise an eyebrow in a facial expression a hundred times more confident than I feel.

“Does the ‘how’ really matter? I mean, except in: how do you feel?”

“Oh, I’m well, I guess.” It took him a moment to decipher my sentence, obviously. A moment he filled with staring open-mouthed.

“Fine. I want to ask for your help.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure you have, that’s why I’m asking.” Now it’s on me to be puzzled. What a silly question is this?

“What are you going to do with me when I decline your request?” His voice shivers audibly.

Aww, no! He sincerely believes I’m going to force him into something.

“Then I’m disappointed because I misunderstood you and that’s it. Hey, you don’t believe I’d harm you, do you? I promise, I won’t! This way or that, I’ll grow you back to normal at the end of our meeting and I ask you not to tell someone about this. That’s all.”

“Whom should I tell about this? And why? I’d be in the lunatic asylum next to nothing!” Graham exclaims. Good point.

“Whatever. I’m new to this shrinking stuff. I’d like to ask you if you’re willing to help me to flesh it out.”

“I know it solely in theory, you know? This is my very first practical experience.” The cheeky sarcasm is Graham again, only some nervous undertone is showing through.

“Listen, I wanted to try things out and it’s been obvious to me doing them with someone who enjoys it – better said: claimed to enjoy it. If you don’t want to team up with me in this, fine. I return you to normal and never bother you again.” I’m not really disgruntled, I just want to bring this fruitless discussion to a quick end.

“Oh, come on! This is without doubt the most radical change in all of my life, okay? Will you please gimme a second to come to terms with it? Of course I’m in. Truth be told, had I known you’re able to shrink me, I’d have begged and pleaded you to like a child in a toy store!”

I nod in approval.

“This is mostly about feet, right? I want to practice, then. Do you prefer shoes or bare feet?”

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea. In a dream, yes, there it’s alright, but here and now, with this huge size difference… I mean, don’t misunderstand me, I really don’t want to get injured.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be very careful. Lie down!” I cut him short, this time sincerely bugged by his griping. I shake off my mules and take a step towards him.

Now he shakes visibly. Just when I stand directly before him, he hesitantly lowers on his back.

Without any fuss, I gently put the balls of my right foot on his body. I’m surprised myself how incredibly good this feels.

“Please tell me immediately when the pressure’s too high or something else goes wrong. I want to learn, thus I need to know.” I look at his face, poking out from beneath my foot. Graham’s expression is somewhat abstracted, but he nods slowly.

I increase the pressure to what I believe it’s a good point to hold someone down, not too hard, but not wussy either.

“How’s this? When I start like this, would that be too tough? Too weak? I want a confident manner without rushing ahead too far.”

“You’d have the exclusive attention of everyone in this position. You sure have mine.“ My tiny training partner again nods, his voice strained. I chuckle amused.

“Say stop!” I slowly increase the pressure further and after what feels like just a fraction of a Newton, Graham waves with his arms. Immediately I take my foot off him and crouch, gently touching him with my index.

He lies flat and exhausted, struggling for air.

“Are you okay?” I ask, sincerely worried. Much to my relief, he not only nods affirmative but also smiles happily.

After a moment, I rise again. I let him recover for one more minute, then I place my big toe on his stomach and press down slow but steady. Soon, he doubles over from the pressure. He tries to push my foot off him with his hands, an attempt so pointless and feeble I can’t help but grin scoffing.

Oh my, that domineering streak shows up again!

“Stop!” Graham’s call sounds, more barked than spoken. A bit reluctant I release him. I see his penis, which also rubbed against my toe, is bulging stiff. Just ignore it!

While Graham struggles to get back in shape again, I step back and again slide into my mules. Their rubber bottoms dampen their thud on the floor only so much as I close in on Graham. Seeing him helpless before me now makes me feel truly masterful.

Again, I put my forefoot on him and press down gentle. Oouh, though bare feet provide a much better feedback from the tiny, this is far more commanding. Through the thick, unyielding soles I only feel a something. Thrilling!

With some solid pressure on him, Graham signals me to stop. Unwilling, I let my shoe rest on him some more and when I finally take it off, I accidentally rub the sole on him. He lies before me like some roadkill, panting hard.

I let him rally for only a moment. After all, this is my exercise so we’re going at my pace. All he has to do is just lie and enjoy and say ‘stop’ eventually. As a man who just gets granted his most offbeat dream, he should leap with joy.

“Turn your head aside.” I simply warn him as I move my foot over him, put my forefoot on the floor next to him and lower the thick wedge heel of my mule on his head, pinning it solidly. Hm, feels like a pebble!

“Kim, please, careful! A skull is not like a ribcage, it won’t give way under pressure, it’ll crack without warning!” Graham’s panic-stricken shrieking makes me smirk.

“Is that so? How can you know that, given you also never were in a situation like this before?” I chuckle audibly.

“Kim, Kim, please, I beg you… not the head! I’m scared!” He sounds terribly frightened now.

Immediately I take my sole off him. My sympathy for Graham easily outweighs my kinky urge in the end.

“Okay, that’s been much for today. Let’s end this now.” I concentrate and again find it astonishing how easy this already works for me, as Graham grows back to normal within a few seconds.

“Don’t get me wrong, Kim, I do trust you, but that’s been a bit too much for the beginning.” He looks at me with a mixture of appreciation and contrition.

“No harm done.” I smile, grab my bag and turn to leave. I turn around once more. “Are you going to be okay?”

Graham nods, so I turn to leave.

“Are we going to repeat and intensify this?” His question stops me as I reach for the doorhandle.

“Do you want to repeat and intensify this?” A silly question, I heard the answer crystal clear in his voice, so full of hope and fear of rejection.

“More than anything else in my life.” Wow. Real passion, no doubt.

I chuckle and leave his apartment. The way home is blissfully relaxing. The rest of my exam work will be a cakewalk, finally.

• 10 •

The knock on my door should be nothing to get excited about, especially not since I know who’s knocking. Yet, I’m kinda flustered.

Be honest, Kim: flustered? There’re butterflies in your stomach!

I check my looks once more in the mirror: white tank top, jeans shorts, white canvas sneakers. My makeup is perfect and not a hair out of place. I know I’m looking splendid, so why am I so gawddamn shaky?

I had a long, intense phone conversation with Marc. I apologized for my silly behaviour during our first meeting and even more so for my lunacy at the second one. He said I didn’t need to, but I felt otherwise. If he had acted like I did, I wouldn’t have minded him ever again. His kindness and tolerance put me to shame. I asked him to come over and he agreed.

I open the door, smiling. Marc smiles, too, then retreats overstated and holds his hands up defensively.

“You’re not going to assault me again tonight, do you?”

“Would I admit if I planned so? But no. Come on in!” I giggle and motion him to enter.

“Too bad.” He grumbles in mock chagrin as he walks past me.

I offer him a Coke and sit down beside him.

“About that last meeting… I’m usually not like that, I mean so aggressive and horny, but I’ve been under a lot of stress and…” I feel so awkward, but I just have to explain myself.

“Kim, please: if I’d hold that against you, I’d sincerely say so. And, by the way: what a prize idiot would I am, to be upset because his absolute dream girl seduces him?”

“Thank you.” I’m so embarrassed, I’m just glad my dark skin covers pretty well that I blush. Marc’s amicability again. Yah, dammit, my plan’s SO busted! Make him my poochie, like Crissie said? Ha, that sneaky scoundrel is stealing my heart instead!

“Enough of that! Where are we going to, tonight?” Cheerful, Marc puts an end to my muddled vibe and I’m really grateful.

After a short deliberation we decide to go to the cinema.

The movie we watch is quite okay but no magnum opus. But that’s circumstantial, anyway. After the opening titles, Marc delicately takes my hand. The minutes passing, we tentatively lean closer to each other.

Soon, our lips meet, cautiously first, then more brisk. It may appear silly to try some romantic, even shy approach, given that we already exchanged sexually oral pleasures, but I’m sincerely glad that Marc seems willing to forget that and start anew at an earlier point.

Before long, we caress each other in a tender embrace, kissing passionately. Enjoying our endearment, I wish the both of us could share this magnificent intimacy so much more!

Suddenly I feel a tingle, almost similar to the powerful feeling when shrinking somebody, washed away instantly by a mind-boggling mutual emotional wave. It is as if my ardent desire and sensuous delight potentiate with Marc’s overwhelming bliss, resulting in a searing tornado of pure joy, so intense that it couldn’t possibly be meant to be experienced by any human without being consumed by it.

Just enjoy it. Be one with your love and let the rest of the world fade away. Forever. Just eternal delight…

It takes my supreme effort to push aside the haze and pull my lips from Marc’s. Reality hits me like a blow along with a pang of mourning after that indescribable feeling.

In the flickering light of the end credits on the screen, I behold Marc’s face. He’s really out of it! No, please, no! Don’t let me have squished his sanity with my thoughtless use of my powers.

An icy hand of worry grips my heart. I could never forgive myself if I harmed him!

A moment later I heave a sigh of relief as Marc squints as if awakening from a trance and focuses on me.

“That… t’s been… I mean – WOW!” He seems to notice me only gradually. “Hey, what’s up? Was it not so drop-dead gorgeous to you as it’s been for me?”

“It was!” Overwhelmed with gladness, I laugh joyfully. “That should answer the question who’s the world’s best kisser.”

“I didn’t catch anything of the movie but the first minutes!” Marc chuckles amused. I fall in, but a cold shiver runs down my spine. What felt like just a blink of an eye has been a whole movie length. It took me much effort to escape. What if I hadn’t managed to break my own spell? This easily could have been some grave problem for me as well!

Another thing I have to learn: my powers aren’t hazard-free for myself. And even well-meant effects bear dangers of their own. I have to be highly focused when I envision the desired effect.

On the other hand, I’m sincerely delighted to be able to perform feats like this. Given how a simple kiss was turned into a world-shaking event, I can’t even imagine how this will impact on our next intimate contact. I just need to be careful, increment the applied dose step by step…

Poor Marc, every woman after me will be just dull boredom. Granted, it’s no fair contest, but what in life is fair?

“I’m pretty doddery!” Marc rises and shakes his head dizzily. I link my arm with his and we stroll through the panel. I act confident, but my own inner turmoil is nothing to sneeze at.

“How did you do that? I swear that’s been not just the most wonderful kiss I ever received, but the most exciting thing that ever happened in my whole life! I’d have sworn such a thing is impossible!” The wild enthusiasm Marc expresses is cute, but slowly becomes awkward.

“Who says it’s been me? Maybe it was you – or us!” I purr alluringly into his ear. His radiant eyes on me are tantalizing. He leans in for another kiss. This time I try to frame the magic somewhat more controlled yet niftier.

When our lips meet, the world doesn’t fade out again, but it becomes grey and unimportant. I am flooded by sheer felicity and relish it, though I stay aware enough this time to gently end the kiss in due time – a long, marvellous time, that is.

Marc’s enraptured expression tells me that this is the right way to form this effect. I love to enchant him like this. I’m in control again and this is my sweet revenge on him for being so damned nice and cordial.

I almost have to drag him along with me. He scuffles a few steps like a sleepwalker before he comes round again. The night is perfect to take a walk back home to my dorm. Along the way we stop by ‘Toni’s’ and have a late Espresso. We talk about anything and everything.

When we reach the entrance of my dormitory, I’m in conflict with myself. I want to take him in with me to pursue that wonderful intimacy we share. Another part of me still wants to proceed at a slower pace, say goodbye, kiss him and go upstairs alone.

I take Marc’s hands and look deep into his eyes. He’s so full of hope, of longing. I hate myself all the more for it, but I’ll abstain tonight.

“It’s been a wonderful evening, Marc, thank you!” My tone brings out my decision. I see a touch of letdown, which hurts me, but I stand firm.

“Good night, sweet Kim. I’ll dream about you and hope you won’t forget me overnight.” Awww, Marc’s so cute, even when he’s mushy and fishing for compliments.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. Maybe I can shield myself from my own spell, even while applying it? Try it!

Our kiss is lovely and affectionate, far beyond anything I experienced before I used my magic. Shielding myself doesn’t work, it seems…

When we part and I look at Marc’s face though, I know it worked perfectly! While I’m giddy with pleasure but otherwise unaffected, my dear honey is in la-la land again. I gently stroke his cheek to waken him silky.

“I swear, nothing I ever felt comes even close to kissing you. I’m your devoted worshipper, Goddess!” Marc’s tongue is sluggish as he takes his leave, still bemused.

I chuckle, wave him goodbye and enter the dorm.

In my room, I stand around indecisive. My thoughts are with Marc. I should have taken him up with me.

No! Being modest was the right decision. I know it was.

But why do I urge me to call him immediately? To say what? Call him back, call him to me right now? Again, no! Restraint!

I already hold my phone in my hand. Where does this come from? I put it aside and drink a large swig of water.

What now? Go to bed? Sure, as if I could sleep now. I sigh. I need to readjust my thoughts.

Again I grab my phone and choose a contact.

“Who disturbs?” Graham’s cocky as usual. The background noise tells me he’s at a party or in some club.

“Kim here. Are you in the mood for some action?”

“I’m at the Mueller siblings’ party, so… why don’t you come here? It’s fun!” I can hardly understand him through all the noise. Go to a party? Now? Sure not!

“Nah, forget it. Have a nice night.” I’m a bit peeved somehow, and that’s showing through.

“Tell me where and I’ll be there in a minute.” Caved in quickly, dear Graham. I tell him the address of my dorm and hang up.

About 15 minutes later, it knocks on my door. I open and Graham lively steps in. We hug amicably. For a moment I think he’s closing in to kiss me, so I providently turn my head away. I offer him a drink which he declines.

“Okay, then: off with the clothes and down with you!” I point at the floor in the middle of the room.

“Whoa, you don’t waste any time, do ya?” His cheerful manners elicit a chuckle from me. He undresses quickly, though I notice a hesitation before he drops his underpants. I watch him, casually leaning back against my desk. When he’s completely nude, his usual cockiness is all but gone.

“Please, Kim, promise me to be careful, will ya? I sincerely love to do this, but I genuinely can do well without injuries.” Graham appears almost timid as he stands before me, obviously not knowing where to put his hands.

“An appeal for clemency? Ask again on your knees!”

After a second of wavering and consideration, he sinks down on his knees before me, his eyes cast up beseeching. Embarrassment washes over me, though it’s interspersed with triumph and delight. I turn away and laugh heartily – mostly to get rid of my awkwardness.

“That’s been a joke, silly! Of course I’ll be very careful. I don’t want to harm you.”

“Oh hey, in a minute I’ll be completely at your mercy for real, so I take no chances!” he says sheepishly and blushes crimson. How cute!

“Honey, since you know what you know, you should understand: you’re always at my mercy!” I tap him on the head patronizing, yet he recognizes it as the good-natured teasing I mean and laughs. More relaxed now, he lies down on his back. He looks up at me and his expression shows a melange of anticipation, fascination and also a hint of fear. This look alone is enough to make me thrill.

Just one focused thought shrinks him to 4 inches. This comes so easy, so natural to me, it’s almost frightening. But only almost.

“Are you alright?” I ask and patiently let him adapt to his changed condition. After a moment he smiles at me and shows me a thumb up.

“Okay, I’ll start to treat you under my feet again and then we’ll see where that leads to, okay? I let you choose the shoes, though.” I point towards the shelves I store my footwear, but Graham just gestures his indifference.

“The fun is to indulge the giantess’ every whim. Feel free to use anything you want, it’ll be okay for me.”

Right now I sport my used slippers, their originally napped, light-grey suede soles ground and mottled with dark spots from wear and dirt. I shrug. They’re as good as every other shoe.

I step to Graham’s side and look down on him, lying prone before my feet and expectantly staring up. Hands at my hips, I grin mischievous.

“This feels so much more appropriate than having you normal sized. Maybe this is your true height? Perhaps I didn’t shrink you but cured you of abnormal hypersomia and put you to your natural state. In that case, I should simply leave you like this.”

Graham’s feverish expression, concerned and agitated at once, arouses some dark desires in me. He’s truly at my mercy! I can do to him everything I want to, make any torture in history appear pale in comparison. I can plainly set my foot on him and crush him like a lowly bug – god knows I can! Just by refusing to grow him back I can condemn him to being my pet slave forever. I see a scene before me, in which I come home and my tiny minion rushes up, kowtowing before me and submissively kissing my feet just to gain my favour. A frisson of pleasure washes over me.

I constrain myself to relax, taking a few deep breaths. Then I lift my foot and hold it teasingly above Graham. I notice his eyes wander to it and widen with thrill. Yes, my slippers are as casual and everyday as shoes can possibly be, yet for you they now are artefacts to adore. And to fear.

I lower my foot until I feel the slightest resistance under my shoe. Closing my eyes, I concentrate fully on it. Most astonishingly I feel his heartbeat through the sole, getting testier and faster as I slowly increase the pressure. I know with certainty how much harder I could press down before his ribs would snap. His arousal, fear, bliss and enjoyable ache seem to flow directly into me, the sensation so distinct as if displayed on a screen.

Overwhelmed by the sheer vividness of the foreign emotions, I open my eyes again. They fade into the background, but they’re still there. It takes a deliberate endeavour to silence them.

Graham’s expression, though, is unreadable, due to the numerous and conflicting feelings showing through at once. He stares at my slipper like a mouse eyes a snake, his hands run over the soft suede surface. Yet when he looks up at me, admiration supersedes everything else. No doubt, he’s really enjoying it. So do I.

A curious wave of affinity comes over me. I put my heel to the floor comfortably, just keeping the current gentle pressure on him, and smile kindly. 

“Do you enjoy it?”

“You can’t imagine how much I do!” Graham blurts out, his head nodding boisterously.

“Why? This is a most degrading situation for you. I didn’t even care to wipe my shoes before I trod on you. Isn’t that awfully abasing?”

“It is, and that’s a huge bonus!” My expression at it must look too funny, for Graham chuckles and explains his utterance. “As I told you before, it’s great to be kept under control by a giantess, because she’s so vastly superior, there’s no doubt about it. If she also knows and enjoys and expresses her superiority – all the better! If she does so by heedlessly placing her worn, dirty sole on her prey, she just shows him his insignificance. That’s absolutely awesome for an aficionado.”

“And the pain? Is that an inevitable byeffect or something to enjoy, too?”

“It’s both, but to me it’s more of the latter. The giantess – no, YOU could just crush me now or inflict so much harm on me, which would be utter agony. I’m fond of the idea that you know and enjoy that, too. So if you inflict some pain on me to give me a taste of what you could do to me, it’s a grander display of your dominance. Especially when you savor it forthright.”

“So? You take me for a cruel woman who gloats at others suffering?” Crossing my arms, I warily raise an eyebrow as I gaze down on him. The question addresses myself as much as Graham, though, for I sincerely enjoy it and if that means I’m cruel… I don’t want to be cruel and evil!

“If I deemed you that, I wouldn’t have shown up tonight. After all, I enjoy my life and wouldn’t imperil it freely. The last time you stopped immediately when I seriously asked you to. No, I think you’re kind and considerate. But you’re also playful and a bit kinky and I just love that. You cruel? Not even close to it! But please, please: don’t ever lose that prankish dominance of yours. You have that down cold!”

“Thank you!” Graham will never know how much I enjoy his acknowledgment right now. I usually don’t give much on other’s opinions, but hearing that I’m perfectly all right when I fear for my sanity is a huge relief.

Time to show my gratitude in a way he enjoys!

While we talked, I unwittingly lifted my foot from Graham until it barely touched him. Now I step down heartily, forcing him from the casual, almost comfy position he took flat on his back.

“Let’s explore the depth of my kindness!” With a gleeful grin I watch him squirm vulnerably under my slipper. I lift my heel, press down even harder with the forefoot and slowly twist my sole on his body.

Graham groans and struggles hard to keep my foot from grinding him, but fails miserably. His genuine helplessness goads me on all the more.

“I chose the wrong shoes, it seems. These soft ones just caress you. I should use more treaded soles. Maybe my mountain boots would, well, make a lasting impression?!”

“NO! Please, these ones do well – better than well!” Graham’s strained grunting impressively shows the severe effect my casual move causes on him – and I don’t even squeeze hard, by my estimation! I add a straight component to my foot’s movement, rubbing the sole over his skin. Graham’s display of feelings changes and he groans loudly, his eyes squeezed shut. He’s right: he’s completely at the mercy of my every caprice and he obviously enjoys it perfectly.

I take my foot off him. He pants heavily as he composes himself. His penis protrudes stiffly. That’s a bit uncomfortable for me. Of course, Graham’s a fetishist whose greatest dream became true, what did I thought would happen? So, ignore it or stop the game? Most likely, this will happen every time.

I decide to ignore it.

“Listen! We play a game. You run away from me and try to get into safety. If you can make it, I grant you a wish. If not… well, until now I’ve been gentle…”

“To what purpose? It’s obvious that you’ll catch me easily.” Graham sounds sceptical and a bit refusing. Do you think you have a say in this matter, midget?

“First and foremost, because I say so. Secondly, we’re trying out things here, remember? I need to know how fast you really go at your size. So, please…” I gesture for him to start.

“Kim? Please be careful, will you?” Again, the uncertainty and worry.

“Sure! But I want you to run as fast as you can. When you go slow on purpose, I’m going to punish you. Hard!” I cock my head, grin provocative and again motion him to run.

Graham turns away, breathes deeply – and speeds off! I wince and instinctively want to chase him immediately, but I suppress my impulse and monitor his movements. His stride frequency is that of a normal sized human, yet he covers less than 2 inches with each step. Just as I thought. It’ll be a piece of cake to capture him.

I let him cover a bit more ground, then I take a few steps myself. What now? I can’t just stomp on him. Sweep away his legs? Too much risk of an  injury.

I stamp my foot on the floor into his path, so close he can neither dodge nor halt but bluntly bumps into it. He plummets forward on my slipper and I can’t help but laugh.

“Nifty! I should award style scores.” I merrily watch Graham struggle awkward as he tries to get up, until he finally slides off my instep cumbersome onto all fours and gets up.

“Whatever!” he puts off my sneer, panting hard. “At least you can’t allege I didn’t give my very best.”

“That’s true. Sadly.” He construes my taunting smile correctly.

“You can be such a nasty!” Graham squints at me, shaking his head bewildered.

“… and I’ve been particularly nice so far!” I purr, then I point with my chin. “Next try!”

Immediately, Graham runs off again. This time he tries a strategy of zig-zag running. After a moment, I follow him languid. I put my foot slant against his course, then slide it over the floor towards the tiny man, who fruitlessly tries to dodge. My slipper and Graham meet and half a second later the man is down on his back, scant of breath. My foot rests mere millimetres from him on the floor as I fold my arms and grin down on him. Again I have a thrilling shiver of supremacy running through me.

“Okay, you’re obviously not a great track star.” I let him catch his breath for half a minute, then I gently nudge him with my foot. “Run!”

Graham’s neither fast nor untiring, but yet he’s determined to comply with my orders. He stands up, grins back at me and starts anew. His tiny legs pumping rapidly, he sincerely tries to do his very best, but he’s obviously winded. When I finally set my foot in his path, he stumbles at the plain try to dodge and falls flat on his belly.

Graham struggles wearily and I decide to leave it at that. I put my foot on his back and push him back to the floor gentle but determined. Only his arms poke out from under my sole and again I marvel about the ease with which I totally control him and about the naturalness all this comes to me.

I hold him down until he ceases to struggle with a sigh and lies perfectly still. I release him and crouch. Graham surrendered unquestioning and resigned to his fate. I pick him up with great care, attentive not to twist or bend his limbs unnaturally. Then I rise and behold the helpless, weary man in my hand.

“There’s not much fight left in you, it seems.” I emphasize the obvious and smile what I hope to be a warm and comforting smile.

“You’ve worn me out.” Graham’s weak, yet happy smile reveals his deep satisfaction. He nods chuckling. “A few days ago all this seemed to be just a wistful dream. And now… You know that I could never find a way to repay you appropriately?”

“Never mind! As long as I have my fun with you, there’re no liabilities between us.” Shrug the affection away before he notices!

“And when you no longer have fun with me?” His tone is testament of his raillery. I raise an eyebrow and squeeze my fist somewhat firmer. I feel his body compress in my grip. Graham puffs, his head turning into a purplish hue. This is the true meaning of ‘holding a life in one’s hands’ – marvellous!

“Well, maybe then I make you pay, appropriate or not!” I purr sinister.

Following an impulse, I slowly tilt my hand into a horizontal position, fingers down. Then I slowly relax my fingers, taking the pressure away from the small figure I’m holding, eventually opening my hand further and further.

Graham stares directly on the floor as my grip on him fades enough to indicate my intention. Suddenly he struggles madly and tries desperately to get a firm hold on my hand. 

“Nooo! Please, Kim, no! Don’t drop me, please!” His voice is no longer bantering or amused but an acoustic indicator for a panic attack.

Immediately I grip him solidly again and also wrap my other hand around him for good measure.

“Calm down! You’re safe, see?” My own heart races from the unexpected twist. After a moment, I exhale deeply. “You have a kind of acrophobia?”

“Usually not.” Graham simply states, eyes closed.

“I’ve been just joking! I mean, you know by now that I wouldn’t harm you, do you?”

“I think so. I’m sorry, Kim, I just panicked.” He sounds really tired now.

“Okay, enough for tonight!” With a soothing smile, I put him back on the floor and bring him to normal height. He clothes, we say goodbye and I’m alone in my apartment. Suddenly, tiredness hits me like a hammer.

Lying in my bed, I feel the slumber overpower me. Memories of this evening pass by. What a gorgeous course my life’s taken the last few weeks. Before my inner eye, I look down on my own foot with two tiny arms protruding from under it.

Ah, the wonderful bliss of control and dominance, of having a life at my disposal…

• 11 •

The usual suspects gathered at my dorm today. It’s a fun and relaxed evening, as usual, just the alcohol is flowing freely today. It’s the day the results of this semester’s courses were published and we all have a real good reason to celebrate. I scored only top notes and feel plainly splendid! The others are also most pleased with their results and so tonight’s cheerful spirit couldn’t be any better.

Well, maybe the bong we shared an hour ago plays a part in it, too.

“Okay, okay! Next subject: David’s whacked-out shoes. Where for gawd’s sake do you always get this stuff? And, more important: WHY?” Alex somehow acts up as the entertainer and moderator tonight.

All eyes rivet on David’s footwear. Provokingly, he places one shoe on the armrest of my sofa for a better view as he pours himself another drink. Indeed, the boots he’s wearing are extraordinary. Crafted in the style of Japanese tabi-socks, the big toe is separated from the small toes. Made from premium leather and featuring a treaded rubber sole, they must have been quite expensive.

“I dallied over these marvellous examples of craftsmanship and style for weeks. So when I got my results today, I decided to reward myself with them.” He taps his toes demonstrative before he sits down again.

“Craftsmanship – fine with me. But style? What kind of style? Ninja-weekend-warrior style?” Alex is still highly amused.

“Pffff, what do you know about fashion? Jeans, tee and sneakers everyday might be okay for some, but a few of us need a veritable change now and then.” David is superbly confident, far above being defensive when teased by someone.

“I sure like them. Unusual, if not fancy. Accentuated from all the usual mishmash.” Leah still leaps to David’s defence when he’s attacked. Crissie nods approvingly and I also agree with her.

Alex shrugs, rises and opens another bottle of wine.

“What happened to your neck, Kim?” I felt Crissie’s eyes on me constantly this evening and now she utilizes the conversation’s pause.

“Just a little side effect from the new training.” I’d prefer not to tell about my beating and hope to get away with this bit of information.

“What new training? Did I miss something crucial?” David immediately swoops down on my diversion. Of course they would home in on it, how could I have hoped for something else?

“We had a special course in our gym last week, and after...”

“What kind of course?” David probes.

“Hojojutsu. That is, before you ask, a Japanese martial art about fettering an opponent. Whatever, after…”

“You attended a class learning Japanese bondage? Isn’t that called Shibari, not what you said? And does that mean, the two of you are interested in and able to tie up someone into a helpless piece of flesh? I love it! Will you marry me?” Alex bursts out loud and jumps at Leah and me, slouching down unsolicited but with relish across my and Leah’s lap, spraying some wine over both of us. With an annoyed grumble, Leah puts her hand flat on his face, effectively silencing him.

“Ignore that buffoon. Go on!” David again thwarts my plan to just let the subject die away. That nosy little weasel!

“After the course, the teacher and his wife asked us to attend to a special training for selected trainees. That’s what we did on Saturday and Sunday morning.”

“What kind of training is that? No offense, but it sounds like a way to squeeze some more money out of you.” Curious as he might be, David also is genuinely caring about us.

“No, not at all. It’s free and we even got the gym membership free of charge. By principle it’s quite similar to what we did at the gym, just with closer supervision and some more options.” Having said that, I almost feel Leah’s head flying around, her eyes burning a hole into my head with her look of bewildered astonishment.

“Leah seems not to agree…” Crissie giggles.

“Oh, that’s just been the understatement of the year! In fact, we train hardcore combat application of martial arts. It’s without doubt the most intense and finest training one could possibly get!” Leah’s outburst testifies her ardent zeal. In that I’m with her, but I’d prefer to be more discreet about it.

“So you caused the bruise on Kim’s neck?”

“No, we don’t fight each other. There’s always a bunch of opponents we can hit as much and as hard as we’re able to.” If Leah’s former explanation didn’t puzzle our friends, this one sure did.

“What? Living persons you kick and punch and clobber with all strength? What the hell is going on there?” Now David sounds completely perplexed and I can’t even hold it against him.

“You can bet, I’ve been as stunned at first as you are now, so I asked our hosts about these guys. The explanation is strange and striking and a bit weird – but ultimately it’s quite consistent.”

The dramatic pause she’s inserts here causes all our friends to stare at her with open-mouthed tenseness.

“These guys are volunteers they find on the internet. Guys who enjoy to get defeated, beaten and even brutally thrashed, especially by women. They get some training and have to pledge to provide as much of a fight as they can and never be easy prey. But eventually they’re there for Kim and me to beat them up.”

The silence that follows Leah’s disclosure of this – no doubt – bizarre fact, is unnerving.

“Those lucky bastards! Getting to play rough and dirty with two enchanting ladies, what a fantastic idea!” Alex hilarious commentary breaks the tension and all burst out with laughter.

“Ah, will you pummel me one day, too, warrior princess?” With a yearning look at Leah, Alex develops his joke further.

“Why wait, you scamp?” Leah chuckles and playfully twirls Alex’ ears, who writhes in pretended agony.

“But that doesn’t explain Kim’s neck bruise.” David just can’t leave it at that.

Meanwhile, Leah is completely in the ludicrous mood of a cheerful storyteller.

“Oh, right! That wasn’t an opponent but one of our teachers.”

“Is choking the martial arts version of detention or is one of your trainers Homer Simpson?” The grumpy tone David features tells how unhappy he is when one of us gets hurt. Despite his cool and sometimes aloof conduct, he actually is a carebear when it comes to his friends.

“Our Kim here has been pert and Mrs. Grayson doesn’t like pertness, which is obvious for everyone but Kim. So Mrs. Grayson made her stance clear.” Though I know that Leah’s teasing is friendly and just a joke, her mocking tone goads me.

“I had an opinion and wasn’t afraid to advocate it.” Bah, that make me appear more defensive than anything.

“Yaaah! And Mrs. Grayson beat that opinion out of you, given how heartily you pommeled your opponents the next day.”

“I just reconsidered the mentioned arguments, weighed the pros and cons and then adjusted my approach accordingly. That’s epistemology in action!”

“And the key argument was written on the sole of her shoe?”

My attempt to appear grave and scholarly crumbles to dust when I have to explode with laughter, my friends joining in immediately. I stuff another space cake into my mouth, gulp it down with my drink and pour me another one. This evening’s gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!

“Let’s be honest, I did let the old hag defeat me. I easily could have had hosed her!” Get back into the saddle, Kim, show ‘em who’s the number one!

“Sure, lil’ grasshopper, you’ve been in control the whole time. Especially when your eyes rolled back into your head and you went limp like a jellyfish!” Again the room bursts with laughter and mine is among it.

“If I wanted to, I could get rid of her just like this!” I snap my fingers to underline my playfully yelled statement.

“By getting your booty smacked ‘til she breaks down out of pity?” Leah screams back, grinning maniacally.

“Noez, by shrinking her down to the size of a bug and then reducing her to a gory stain under my boot!”

“Yap, that’d count as hosed, I say.” Alex throws in his comment that coolly, that we roll in convulsions of laughter.

“Hosed, hmmm… that reminds me: how’s your project work going, Alex?” David grins broad as he refers to the mysterious academic ‘project’ Alex refers to every now and then.

“Not bad! Precedes well and develops…”

“Ah, you’re a talker! Just admit it, your highfalutin project’s nothing but a lame excuse to idle away whole days! Or is it a procrastination project? In that case, you’re doing great!”

“You’ll see when I publish the results. It’ll be a scientific breakthrough! Green with envy you’ll be. Shouldn’t be at all surprised if I get an award or something.” Alex waves away David’s verbal assault nonchalantly.

“Sh’ya right, I’ll have my second Nobel prize before you publish anything worth noticing.”

Alex abruptly sits up, in the process rolling painfully across my thigh. I squeak and retaliate by snapping sharply against his ear.

“Do you really think you’re a better scientist than me, my dear friend?” Rubbing his struck ear, Alex flashes his eyes at David.

“Lemme think - yes. No, I KNOW I’m a better scientist than you lounger.”

“In your dreams, Scaramouche, only in your wildest dreams!”

“It seems we have a contest!” Crissie blurts out enthusiastically while Alex and David stare each other down grinning. Both sit down on the floor cross-legged, facing each other.

“What about some stake to make it more interesting?” David proposes and Alex nods immediately.

“The loser’s going to be the winner’s drudge and has to do everything he’s been told.” Wow, Crissie develops some nasty streak when she’s drunk and stoned.

“What’s so special about that? I mean, Alex already is my bitch, anyway!” The laughter pays Davis off for his joke.

“Whaaaat? I’ll make you my bitch, friendo!”

“Stop this sandbox play drivel. The loser gets shrunken by Kim and has to be everyone’s bitch!” Leah pats my shoulder as she teases me. Again, everyone’s laughing and this joke goes at my expense.

“Agreed!” I grin and bear it.

“First question, then: what is Gubbinshole Ditch?” Crissie opens with a sincerely odd question.

“What? That’s stupid, I want another question!” David complains, but all others’ heads shake in unison.

“Easy! That’s the trench around a landfill to drain water.” Alex seems pretty confident.

“No way, it’s a shitty lil’ rivulet in… in… England?” David counters doubtfully.

“Is that a question or your answer?” Crissie presses on and receives a nod from David.

“David’s right!” she cheers. David throws up his arms and Alex starts to protest.

“Foul! Foul! He didn’t know, he just guessed!”

“Isn’t that what you engineers are wont to do? Halfway precise guessing?” I couldn’t possible let this chance for a skit go by unused.

“Take it like a man, sissy! David’s right and you’re not.” I like the vigorous Crissie far better than the girlish one.

“Next one’s on me: what’re the first names of H. P. Lovecraft?” Leah comes up with a literature question.

 “C’mon, I don’t read such shit. Hank Paul?” It’s pretty usual for David to grouse when he doesn’t know a thing. His damned vanity!

“It’s Howard Phillips.” Alex says triumphant with a boastful grin into David’s direction.

“Alex’s right!”

His laughter is overbearing while David waves aside disgruntled.

“Standoff! Third and last question is on me. What’s the molar mass of water? Whose answer’s closer wins, question and match.” By sheer coincidence I know this and I guess they don’t. So I let them guess again!

“I say… one.” Alex rubs his chin.

“Eleven point one repetend.” David states with a shrug.

“It’s 18, you dorks! David’s estimation’s closer, David wins!” I shout out as if that were the world’s most common fact. David jumps up rejoicing while Alex slaps his hands before his eyes and falls back over complaining.

“You’re my bitch, pipsqueak! Just as I said! My bi-atch! Obey your master, who‘s me!” He performs a perfect mocking jig while we girls rattle with laughter.

“C’mon Kim, just as you said: shrink him and clinch his humiliation!” With boundless sneer in her voice, Leah again goads me on. An irked pang of injured pride triggers my cutting reaction. I concentrate…

The laughter dies away as everyone stares on the pile of clothes where Alex has been a second before.

“No problem.” No need to hold back my sardonic triumph. You thought I’ve been lying? Think again, friends!

After a moment, a 6-inch-Alex crawls out of his clothing and looks around puzzled. David stumbles back and flops down on the chair, staring doubtfully at his tiny friend.

“Are you okay, dude?”

Alex looks at his arms, down his body and around him once more. He stands up and nods. Suddenly there’s an icy lump in my throat. What the heck have I done? I just revealed my darkest secret to everyone! You managed to keep your secret for more than a week, Kim, congratulations! At this speed, you should be in the international news within a week! Ooh, the nausea…

To everyone’s surprise – and my unending relief – Alex suddenly grins exhilarated and chuckles.

“That’s far out! Now this is a thing you don’t experience every day!” His amused and carefree reaction makes the others smile again.

“How did you do that? Why are you capable of doing that?” Crissie stares at me wide-eyed. Is that just astonishment in her voice? Do I really hear admiration and a glimmer of reverence, or is that what I want to hear. All the others eyes are on me, too. It takes a load off my heart to see only surprised curiosity but no resentment or fear at all.

“Well, it’s pretty simple: my granny was a sorceress and I inherited the capability.” Unwittingly, I speak quietly, as if a loud noise could awaken my friends’ abhorrence and bashfully cast down my eyes.

“Aside from that this should be plainly impossible, it’s great!” It surprises me that Crissie in particular takes this so favourable, if not keen.

“Ah, lovely Kim, so far you had to stand being only second place behind me, but this gives you a certain advantage and I don’t blame you for overhauling me.” Leah puts her arm around my shoulders comforting and cuddles her head against mine.

“In what world have I ever been your inferior?” I ask suspiciously and the ensuing laughter takes away almost all tension from the situation.

I look down as I feel something on my instep. Alex casually leans onto my foot.

“Sorry to break your bragging contest, but you can bring me back normal, can you?” I sincerely admire the insolent way Alex deals with this. I would fully understand if he were a nervous wreck. I hope that results from having true trust in me and this thought warms my heart.

“Why certainly!” I smile assuring and nod. Alex pats my foot satisfied and nods, too.

“Anyway, you shouldn’t be all too confident, Alex. You’re in that situation because you lost the contest and are doomed to be everybody’s bitch, remember?” Crissie’s sardonic allusion casts an amused grin on everyone’s face – except Alex’. All eyes are on the tiny guy at my feet.  

“Hey, hey, whoa – wait a minute! You wouldn’t use my predicament to harass me, would you?” He steps back and gestures defensively with his hands.

“Sorry, you lost, dude. A prize is a prize and I claim mine!” David smiles slyly while Crissie and Leah nod affirmative.

“Kim, protect me from these barbarians!” Alex says as he hides behind my leg.

I bow down and push him gentle but firm towards David.

“In this I’m with them, Alex. You lost and you gotta pay.”

He hangs his head and performs a helpless gesture. Then he looks into the round.

“Okay, fine. What do you want me to do?”

After a moment of thinking, David motions Alex overstated to come to him. With a resigned sigh, Alex shrugs and walks towards him. Standing before his now huge pal, arms akimbo, he grins up defiantly.

“You slandered over my shoes. I want you to pay an excuse – a very serious, very contrite excuse…”

With this, the really strange part of the evening begins!

• 12 •

Oh, the pain! A constant, dull throbbing in the right half of the skull with embedded stabs of searing focal twitches in between. Great.

I flutter open my eyelids but immediately squeeze them shut again when I realize that the sun’s trying to kill me.

Damn, my bladder’s screaming. Maybe the desire to void goes away when I ignore it hard enough?

Half an eternity in hell later, I force my eyes open again. Oh, stinging pain behind the eye apples, that’s something new.

I sit up and swing my legs out of bed. A wave of nausea washes over me, but I manage to breathe it away.

When I look around in my room, I immediately could puke again. Yah, sure, harmless sit-ins we do at one of the others’ apartments, a full grown bender we do at mine. Maybe burning down the dorm would be the reasonable alternative to cleaning up.

I scuff into the bathroom, carefully avoiding the glasses, bottles and whatsoevers on the floor. After relieving myself, I decide to play hardball. I drop my clothes and take a shower. I allow me only cold water. My first impulse is to jump out but I stand firm. My headache grows even more vicious when the cold makes my circulation get going, but soon it fades away to a nasty background feeling.

When I step out of the bathroom and slip into fresh clothing, I feel much better. I do stocktake. Okay, it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.

I notice a pile of clothing near the sofa and suddenly recognition strikes me. Hard.

“Alex?” I ask low-voiced. He’s nowhere to be seen. I crouch on all fours, ignoring the newly enraged pang in my head, and peer under the sofa, the bed and everywhere else a tiny guy might fit under.

Nothing.

Oh my gawd, where can he be? The stupid moron hasn’t tried to go home all alone last night, did he?

I just can’t remember. Shit, how tanked have I been last night? Remember, Kim, get your memory going!

I recall that David wanted him to bow down and kiss his boot as an apology. Alex made a huge fuss about it, but finally yielded to everyone’s pressure and did it – under much acclaim. The next is somehow cloudy but I also remember seeing Alex trapped under David’s sole. Not badly, more like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Wait, he’s been kissing everyone’s shoes! Yeah, right, someone reminded him that the stake was to be everybody’s bitch and then we made him kneel down before every single one of us and kiss our shoes.

Crissie poured Whiskey into the bottle cap and handed it to Alex who sat on the floor, comfortably leaned against Crissie’s sneaker. Yes, at some point the shrunken Alex was no longer the centre of attention but just another group member.

After that, I can’t recall much. So far, so good. But where is Alex right now?

Another touch of panic I have to fight down. I’ll find him and he will be just alright!

With renewed focus I start to clean up. In less than an hour I’m through and I slump down on the sofa. Immediately fatigue grips me again.

A knock on my door makes me jump up, indicating that I’ve been fallen into slumber. I open the door and an outrageously fit Crissie walks in.

“Hi, sweetheart!” she proclaims, a shining smile splitting her face. “I came to help you tidy up, but I’m late, it seems.”

“Awww, what a pity! Poor you.” My irony is mordant, but she just shrugs it away and grins at me.

“Nasty hangover, hm? I sure wouldn’t want to trade with you. Haven’t you packed, yet?” She looks around in the room. I just stare back puzzled and shake my head. “You and Leah are going to that training camp this afternoon. Remember?”

Death and damnation! The Grayson’s training camp we’ll spend the first half of the semester break – I simply forgot that. Blasted booze!

“Of course I do! I usually do my packing late.”

“Sure you do. I just wanted you to resize Alex before you leave. Though it’d be fun to have him around dollsized for some time, I fear that 5 weeks without a sign of life from him might bring a lot of trouble to the scene.”

So he’s with Crissie. That takes a load off my mind!

“Sure. Is he at your room?”

“No, I have him here.” She reaches into the pocket of her light summer jacket and takes out Four-inch-Alex.

“Hey, I was just about to take a nap! It’s like a cozy hammock in there and your petty blather is somnific like Valium.”

Crissie and I look at each other at Alex’ brazen complaint.

“On the other hand, maybe I should leave him like that and you teach him some manners the next five weeks.”

“Nah, that’s exactly why I wanted you to resize him. If I had him around me all the time, I’d swat that annoying lil’ jerk like a fly within hours.” Crissie emphasizes sourly.

“Maybe that would be just proper.” I adopt her tone but have to chuckle.

“Alright, ladies, I got your point.” Alex tone is more bugged than rueful, but that’s just how we know and like him.

“Put him down.” As soon as Alex is on the floor before Crissie’s feet, I add: “Last chance to smush him underfoot like a bug.”

“Nah, I’d never ruin your cleaning by smearing something that yucky on the floor.” Crissie’s eyes are sparkling while she looks down on Alex, despite her words.

“As you will!” With a shrug I focus on Alex and a few seconds later he’s standing back at common size.

“Thank you!” His stately tone along with a gracious nod perfectly mock the fact that he’s nude. Crissie and me giggle as he takes up his clothes and puts them on seemingly unruffled.

“Excuse me now, I feel like I have to go where even kings go by foot.”

“What did the two of you do last night?” I don’t even try to hide my expectancy.

“A true lady never tells!” Crissie mocks Alex former noble tone.

“You are no true lady!” My cheerful remark again makes us both giggle.

“Not much, we were drunk and tired and fell asleep soon. I can’t recall much, either.” I sense she fibs about that and hides something, but I won’t press the point this morning. Let them have their kinky secrets.

After Alex is out of the bathroom, we all go out to have breakfast. Much to my amazement, the subject of my special abilities doesn’t come up even once. Any eavesdropper would deem us three completely normal friends and fellow students and it strikes me that it’s exactly as I would have it.   

When we’re finished, Alex takes his leave after a thorough goodbye. Crissie and I walk back into my room, where she sits cross-legged on my sofa while I pack my baggage. We gossip and have a fine day until it’s time for me to leave.

Again, Crissie accompanies me to the gym. Leah is already there, her baggage already stowed away in the back of a van. We greet and then bid an expansive goodbye to Crissie who stands and waves as we drive off.

In the back of the van, my tiredness strikes again. I close my eyes as I lean back.

“I reek alcohol and pot and fatigue. Did you have a wild night?” Carl Grayson asks while driving, his eyes locked on the road. Leah and I cast each other a quick, guilty look. We await a sharp reproof, but Kimora turns towards us, smiling sympathetically.

“Hey, that’s okay. You’re young and zestful and you want to have fun. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’d be disappointed if you wasted your youth solemn as a judge.”

Relieved, I drop back in the seat. I take out my phone and call Marc. I told him a few days ago that I’d be away in a training camp for a few weeks and we had our goodbye yesterday. Nonetheless I call and tell him that we’re on our way.

Then I close my eyes again.

The next I consciously notice is the sharp jerking that nearly throws me over to the left. Leah’s hand pushes me back into an upright position.

“I’ve been wondering how you could sleep at this ungodly swaying. This road is a nasty ride!” Leah chuckles, holding herself in place with hands and feet. I copy her conduct and clutch to a handle.

“The house is pretty remote in the mountains. The last few miles are an ordeal, but we’re almost there.” Kimora explains, sitting astonishingly steady in her seat. Her body tension must be immense!

About twenty minutes later we turn into a large clearing. The lakeside house is a large, rustic log lodge. Along with two outbuildings it outlines a large inner yard with a fireplace and a platform that looks like a dance floor. And I know what dance we’ll perform there.

Five of the guys from training are already there, relaxing in the sun. When we dismount, there’s a lot of greetings.

“You two share a room in the upper floor. Get your stuff, I’ll show you.” Kimora leads the way into a midsize, cosy room. We unpack and check our cellphones. Not surprising, we have no signal out here.

“Come down here! And hurry, this is no holiday club.” Carl’s baritone rumbles from downstairs. Leah and I laugh but hasten to get outside.

The men are sitting around the wooden platform, one of them standing on it, eyeing in our direction. Carl and Kimora await us.

“First fight. You start, Kim.” Carl says plainly. I’m puzzled, didn’t expect this so soon barely after the arrival.

“Okay, I’ll quickly go and change into something more suitable…”

“No. You need to learn how to fight no matter what you’re wearing, no matter the time, the environment or the weather. That’s why we’re here. You’ll fight in every single piece of outfit you brought with you.” He points at the podium, a stern look on his face.

I step on the wooden floor and my opponent immediately charges at me. I manage to step aside and deflect his attack, if only just, then hop back two steps. I nearly stumbled when my flip-flop shifts under my foot. These damned things are impairing me, better kick them off. When my opponent again closes in on me, I get an idea. I slide halfway out of my sandal and indicate a kick. As expected, he relocates his defence downwards. Indeed I kick, yet I don’t aim to hit him, but release my flip-flop and fling it into his face. He reacts quickly and slaps it aside before it hits. That’s exactly what I intended, the split second of distraction and his open low guard is all I need to kick his crotch hard. He groans and stumbles, his momentum carrying him closer to me. I adjust my stance and yank up my knee, driving it with all strength between his legs, too. He doubles over and it’s child’s play to direct him around me. His head at my belly level, I reach back for a downward strike. Using my whole body mechanics I punch hard at him, driving my knuckles against the rear of his mandibular arch just below the ear. I hear and feel a distinct crack as my fist hits home, then a sharp pain races up my hand, wrist and arm. My opponent slams face first onto the wooden floor like a felled ox. My arm still burning with pain, I’m about to stomp the man’s head to make sure he stays down. But he’s out cold, blood flowing from his mouth, so I step back and leave him be.

“That was quick and effective.” Carl says from behind me. I turn around and face him. “How’s your hand?”

“Obviously it’s been a mistake to punch like this. What could I’ve done better?” I massage my right hand to get rid of the dull throbbing inside.

“There is no sure formula how to fight. You downed him within seconds, so success proves you did right. Yet you’d be handicapped if there were a second opponent. I suppose, reflex took over and you performed well, altogether. Pretty creative fancy, to use your flung sandal as distraction, by the way.” He slaps my back approvingly as I sit down and hands me a cold compress from a cooler.

In the background, Kimora leads two men carrying my unconscious opponent into the outbuilding. Should I hope that I didn’t injure him gravely? I just feel pride, though, maybe a bit of chagrin for having harmed myself. But I feel neither pity nor regret. I guess I should feel sorry for him. By my estimation, I broke his jaw, the cracking was fairly obvious. And still – nothing.

On the fighting area, Leah is wrecking another of the guys. She’s clearly superior and takes the time to play with him. I acknowledge his tenacity to get up again and again, though Leah is dealing out some harsh punishment. At some point he can’t go any further. Leah approaches and scrutinizes his prone form, then she lifts her foot and drives her heel forcefully deep into his stomach. He folds up as Leah steps down full weight and carelessly over him. She sits down beside me, a pleased smirk on her face.

“You could have taken him out in a fraction of the time you took. It’s good to see that you had your fun with him. Be aware, though, that I might send in further opponents when I get the impression that you become cocky.” Carl’s review hits home and Leah agrees, but I know her like I know myself and I see she’s bursting with mischievous delight.

“Follow me!” Carl rises and starts to jog down the way. Leah and me face each other and join him. My sandals in hand, I quickly realize that I have to adjust my running form deeply when running barefoot. The compacted ground is much more smooth and comfortable than expected, but the tiny stones prick my soles all the more unpleasantly.

The unfamiliar style of running wears me out surprisingly quick and soon I have that distinctive stinging in some uncommon muscle regions. Leah puffs and wheezes beside me, equally strained. This 3-mile-run is nothing compared to our usual workload, but when we arrive back at the house, both of us are markedly exhausted.

Carl attacks me immediately, while Leah gets confronted by Kimora.

After just a minute my lung burns horridly. My movements are sluggish, even more so since some painful blisters evolved under my feet. Carl attacks continously and I receive several painful hits. The speed and agility, this huge man reveals, are beyond belief. His strikes are straight and powerful. My only chance is to dodge and evade, every time I block I get hit by my own limbs from the sheer force. When I finally manage to counterattack, he grabs me, whirls me around and throws me aside like a puppet. I’m so exhausted and pained that I’m tempted to remain lying down, but when I see Carl tramp towards me, I know he means business. My attempt to jump up results in an awkward stumble, yet when the huge man strikes at me again, I still manage to put up a fight.

Kimora and Carl switch positions so quick, I hardly manage to adjust my approach. From the corner of my eye I see Leah being in trouble, too. Kimora challenges my skills completely different. Her amazing suppleness results in most unexpected attacks. A few times I run straight into them when evading other strikes that are just feints or – even more astonishing - strikes she changed the direction while performing them. I suffer several painful blows before I change my tactics to blocking with quick counterattacks. Nonetheless, the relentless assault depletes my last reserves. I lurch about, my field of view narrowed to a tunnel vision and I realize I’m about to keel over.

This moment Kimora steps back. One of the other men takes up her position. He wastes no time but engages immediately. I note his inferior technique, but the graveness of his attacks reveals his intention to knock me out. My current condition keeps me from doing much more than defending myself weakly. The guy bashes and kicks at me. Sensing his pending victory, he grins smugly. Anger wells up in me, a tingle in my stomach soon growing to a burning rage.

I’m ten times better than him and I won’t let him bring me down! Let’s see how his grin will fade when I squish his shrunken, sorry ass in my fist!

My wrath activates my last energies. I take a solid stance and vigorously block his next punch. He uses his momentum, crashes in me and drags me to floor, thus disrupting my concentration. Fuming with rage, I grab his head and press my thumbs hard on his eyeballs. He screams and tries to pull away. This is just the impulse I need to hurl him around, slam him to the ground and straddle him. With all strength I can muster, I thrash my elbow into his face, twice, thrice.

I barely feel that hands pull me off him. The adrenaline fades and takes away the mantle that hid my true state from my consciousness. I’m exhausted far, far beyond my limits, my joints aching, my muscles burning and my body hurting from the countless bruises I received. I topple over.

At least the hangover is gone.

• 13 •

A short sprint ensures I reach the rope shortly before Leah. With a daring jump I catapult myself up, grab it in midair and hoist myself towards the tree limb above. The rope is far too thick for my fingers to close around it and I remember how miserably I failed three weeks ago when I tried this the first time. But constant training results in advancement and I’m a bit proud that I pull myself up now just with arm’s strength at striking speed.

Climb onto the branch, balancing along it towards the square foot platform at the end, concentrate – jump! I catch the next rope and hastily climb down, passing the reliable, old safety net I learned to know and appreciate the last weeks, and reach the ground. I run on and barely hear Leah coming down behind me, nimble like a cat.

The circuit training nears its end for this round and I guess the timepiece will show a great score. Indeed I even accelerate as I hear Leah’s quick steps close in when she tries to overtake me at the finish. My hand is on the Stop button first, but in the same instance Leah taps my shoulder so the time counts for both of us. Indeed, the best time ever!

I laugh, exhausted but happy. Leah falls in and hugs me.

“You dirty trickster, that sprint before the last obstacle came unexpected. But I almost got ‘ya!” Leah pants.

“Yup! Almost. Snail!” I tease her and immediately feel her fingers poke between my ribs where I’m most ticklish. With a jaunty squeal I jump back and giggle.

I muster my friend. Our relationship, close and devout before, has grown into such a steadfast and familiar bonding, that she’s so much more than just a buddy. If I had a twin sister, she couldn’t be more dear to me than Leah.

“What?” I must have been staring for a moment too long, for she eyes me suspiciously.

“Care for a swim?” I don’t wait for her answer but drop all my clothing and put it on the nearby bench. Completely nude I dart into the lake. The coldness of the water takes my breath away, first, and makes my heart race. But a few strokes later I’m already accustomed to it. I turn to look for Leah who follows me just this moment. She dives in headlong and surfaces beside me snorting.

We turn and swim with long, relaxed strokes towards the opposing shore. The lake isn’t too small and it takes about 20 minutes to get there, but this even movement in the pleasantly cool water is just wonderful. The sun shines warm and inviting on this side. We leave the water and drop side by side into the soft sand near the shore. The ground is warm and a little sunbath is most welcome!

The area is so secluded we haven’t seen a single human except the ones at the property the whole time. So I’m not at all shy to rest openly nude. I almost fall asleep when I close my eyes. Nah, bad idea, the sunburn would be nearly as bad as the bollocking from our teachers.

“Did you ever wonder about Kimora’s knowledge of traditional Asian healing arts?” A little chat should keep us awake.

“Their effectivity is stunning, that’s true!”

“That first guy I knocked down, the day we arrived, I’d have sworn that I broke his jaw, but Kimora said it were just dislocated and the guy was there at supper, chewing.”

“Hm. I also were quite sure about all those broken noses, wrists and ribs we caused, but so far they proved to be harmless minor ailments. Maybe the human body can take much more than usually presumed.”

“Maybe, yes. And the potency of her massages and remedies is amazing! After that first day’s fight I thought I’d need a week to recover, but a firm kneading and two cups of her stinking tea later, I was like new. She could make millions with her recipes and skills.”

A loud, dry bang makes me leap up.

What the heck was that? Sounds like it came from the woods.

Another pop follows and this time I see some bark chip away from a nearby tree trunk.

“Someone’s shooting!” I yell and crouch behind a tree stump while Leah dives to the other side behind a fallen bole. My heart hammers madly in my chest and an unpleasant tingle fills my midsection. Much to my surprise, though, I worry more about Leah’s safety than for my own. 

What to do? I find it hard to think straight! Run? From a bullet? Not very smart. Swim away? Too slow and an easy target in the water.

Hide in the woods? Maybe the best option, but the gunman is in the woods and we might run straight into him.

My breathing is nervous and quick. Fucking hell, we’re practicing close combat for weeks now and now someone’s shooting at us, blasted irony! Maybe it’s one of Carl’s tests?

At this moment, three men step into the open. They wear camouflage clothing and rifles in their hands.

“Someone’s here?” The man in the middle shouts. He seems to be the leader of the pack. The one to his left spots me and points at me. They grin boastfully.

“Sorry, Madam, we been huntin’ a stag, but the damn beast’s quick ‘n we missed it. Bullets must’ve gone astray. No offense meant.” They do no threatful move, their guns pointing to the ground, but something else about them feels menacing to me.

“So you fire around without an idea whether there’s somebody near?” I don’t even try to keep my anger from my voice.

“Said we’re sorry!” The man’s offhand excuse and brazen grin make pretty clear that he couldn’t care less. “Come out there, gal, no need to hide!”

“Are ye two alone out here?” the guy to the left asks with a furtive tone as he scans the surroundings. All about them screams menace to me.

The man on the right has circled around me almost far enough to look at me fully. He’s only a few metres away by now. The one to the left is closing in on Leah who also crouches doubtful behind her cover.

They’re zeroing in on us!

“C’mon, gal, come to me. I won’t bite ya!” The man in the middle says and beckons, his last sentence prompting dark chuckles from his buddies.

“Know why she’s so shy. The nigger slut’s naked!” The guy to the right went far enough to see my fully now. I shiver under his wolfish stare. He roars with laughter and his buddies fall in. “Good, saves some time…” Then he closes in on me slowly.

“Hey! Stay away from me!” My attempt to scare him off sounds feeble, even in my own ears. Not surprisingly, it triggers new amusement in the guys. The man to the left is close to Leah’s cover now. The one in the middle, though, doesn’t move but covers both his buddies. Even when we engage the two men in close combat, the third one is free to act and shoot us down. I look at Leah and see the mixture of rage, fear and helplessness in her eyes as she glances back at me.

Gone. My fear, my hesitancy are gone with that look. I concentrate. I envision…

Then a cold fist of dismay grips my heart. Close to me, a shell of seemingly empty clothing crumples down, but both other assailants are unaffected. The leader stares dumbfounded at the spot where his pal stood a second ago.

“What?” he yells. His hands grip his gun closer, agitated but unsure about what happened.

This moment, Leah jumps over the tree trunk and charges her attacker. The man is close, but not close enough. Like in slow motion I see him lift his gun and I realize that he’ll manage to shoot before Leah will reach him.

It takes all my self-control to fight down the panicked fear for my friend and act deliberately.

Following an impulse, I form a circle with my hands and thrust them towards the man. An unseen force slams into him and sweeps him off his feet, rolls on and rips leaves and twigs off the trees behind him. The outer fringe of the cone affects Leah, but she just staggers and is on the prone man the next second.

The leader still hesitates, obviously taken by surprise from the sudden turn of events. Any second he’ll come around, though, and start shooting.

I lunge towards him.

Leah reaches her opponent and kicks his head unceremoniously from full running. She skids and almost falls, but crouches in a low stand. The gun of the man lies directly before her feet. She snatches it up, turns on her foe again and batters the shoulder stock down into his stomach. The man folds and writhes. Leah puts her foot on his throat and depresses him hard. She slams the buttstock down again, this time into his face. Then she turns the gun around.

This is the moment the leader starts to act. He raises his rifle to his shoulder and aims at Leah. I do a wiping motion at him and the invisible force strikes again, making him stagger. The main effect results from the sand, though, that blows up and hits his face, effectively blinding him.

With grim determination, Leah reaches back then forcefully stabs down. The gun barrel pierces deep into his eye socket, the bead sight shredding the eyeball apart even further. The screaming of the assailant turns into a ghastly screeching.

I concentrate all my searing hatred for these guys on the leader. His eyes bulge and he gasps like a fish out of water. He drops his gun and brandishes his arms, trying to reach all of his body at once. I want him dead, dead, DEAD!

And I want him to suffer.

A shot rings through the clearing. Leah pulled the trigger, the large calibre hunting cartridge drives the bullet through the man’s skull. The subsequent discharge of muzzle gas bursts from his temple, spraying blood, tissue and aqueous humor. With obvious satisfaction, Leah stares at the man’s body in his last twitches and throws the rifle aside. Despising, she spits on him, turns and walks over at me.

The leader is on his knees. He claws at himself as wisps of smoke leak rippling from his eyes, ears and nose. Then the first blisters appear on his hands and face. He falls over and writhes in racking pains. Without mercy, I keep up my concentration, slowly cooking him from the inside. Leah stands beside me, hands on her hips, and pitiless watches him die in agony.

When his skin cracks in several places and steaming body liquids with blackened fibres ooze out, I’m through with him.

Leah and I look at each other, then we hug wordlessly.

It must have been several minutes we stood here, comforting and soothing each other. I don’t waste a single thought on the beastly assailants. I just thank all higher powers that we made it through the perilous situation unharmed. Especially, that Leah did so.

When we finally leave hold of another, I feel better. We look around. The third man! I step to his the pile of clothes and shake them out. He’s not in there.

Leah understands without words. The closest hideaway is the fallen tree trunk. It’s bordered by ground cover that stands pretty high at this time of the year. She crouches low and gazes under it.

“Come out there!” she orders brusque. After a few seconds, she snatches a broken off branch and pokes it into the hollow. Then she jabs it a few times heftily forward, each thrust ending with a solid crack. Then she again stares into the small cave.

“Out with you, or I swear I’ll bury you alive in there!” Leah again brings the branch into position, but then she suddenly reaches forward with her free hand.

When she rises again, she’s holding the shrunken third attacker in her closed hand. The way he writhes and throws his head about indicates that she’s far from being gentle with him. She stares at him with such disgust and contempt, I immediately realize she’ll kill him, too, without doubt or remorse.

That’s okay for me. When Leah won’t do it, I will. This rancid bastard won’t survive this day.

Leah adjusts her grip on him and presses her thumb against his chest, bending him backwards to the breaking point. With grim satisfaction she watches him flail about and wail in pain and panic.

“You fucking, rotten rapist! Thought we’d be easy meat for you and your pervy fellows, hm?” She chuckles viciously. “This time you chose the wrong prey, lowlife!”

Leah closes her thumb and index on the man’s chest and lets him dangle before her.

“We won’t want to disappoint your stinking dick then!” She flicks her other index finger hard between his legs. The man howls and coughs. He desperately tries to protect his genitals between his legs. No way, you’ll take it, filthy pig!

I pinch his feet between my fingers and force his legs wide apart. His manhood exposed. Leah flicks at it again and again. Soon, a discharge of deep crimson dribbles from it. The pained screams from the wannabe-rapist turn into feeble whimpers. Sounds like ample justice to me!

“Break his legs!” Leah has an idea, as I can see by looking at her expression.

I pull on his ankles and press against his knees, which snap with the satisfying sound of breaking matchsticks. For good measure, I also pulverize his ankles between my fingers. Meanwhile, Leah provides a similar treatment to his arms.

Reduced to a wailing wreck, he’s carried behind the tree trunk by Leah. She puts him on the ground, stands straight and stares down on him. The first time since the beginning of the assault, I see her smile – a cold, grim smile.

I walk towards her and put my arm around her shoulder, comforting her. I see what she has planned for the bloody bastard. And I like it.

Being completely broken and unable to move, she placed him into an ant trail. Already, the scurrying insects swarm all over him.

“When facing a food source that’s too big to get carried into their lair, ants dissect it into bite-sized pieces on site. Saw that in a documentary, once.” Leah’s voice is impersonal, yet her gloating expression is not.

I chuckle.

The man obviously realizes that there’s no mercy to be expected from us. Not for him. He stares back with an afflicted look full of agony and whimpers pathetically, but doesn’t even try to plead.

At this moment I hear the humming from behind. A boat heads towards us, it’s electric drive being so silent that it’s already pretty close. Kimora sits in the back, steering it, while Carl stands at the bow, looking at us with a worried expression. The rifle he carries looks like a toy in the hands of the big man.

A minute later, the boat runs aground on the beach. Carl immediately jumps out, looks around scouting and closes in on us. Kimora is directly behind him, a compound bow in her hands.

“What happened here? Are the two of you alright? We heard gunshots.” Kimora’s behaviour expresses genuine concern. The first time ever, as far as I recall. She gently puts her hand on the side of my head and looks deep into my eyes, as if she could read my inner turmoil from it.

Meanwhile, Carl ranges between the bodies of our enemies. He turns the former leader over with his foot, nods satisfied and walks on. After he inspected the one Leah dispatched, he stands next to us, too. He looks casually down at the shrunken, still moving third man, then eyes us.

“Poachers. Bring the girls back, I take care of these and look for their camp.” He hands Kimora the rifle and takes bow and quiver instead.

“You did well, girls. Don’t worry. This won’t make any difficulties.” With an assuring nod, he turns, takes a folding spade from the boat and heads towards the forest.

Kimora meanwhile shoves us into the boat with gentle emphasis. A moment later we’re on the water. With a short stopover to fetch our stuff we left behind at the training course, we close in on the estate.

They weren’t surprised!

The sudden insight hits me like a slap to the bare brain. Neither Carl nor Kimora were surprised when they found the shrunken man or the one cooked to death. They’ve been perfectly indifferent!

When we reach the shore, my anxious inner discord is killing me!

Kimora leads us directly into the house.

“Have a shower and take your time at it. We meet in the living room when you’re finished.” Again, her behaviour expresses a motherly care she’s never shown before.

“How are you?” I ask Leah minutes later, waiting while she’s taking a hot shower.

“I don’t have a queasy conscience, if that’s what you mean.” She sounds honest and takes enough time to think about her answer. “What about you?”

“To be honest, I’m rather satisfied we took them out. Imagine they’d encountered untrained hikers or campers… All I’m uncertain about is what to do now. I mean, at some point they’ll be missed and other people will come looking.”

“Yes, but though it was completely justified to kill them, we can’t call the police. They’d ask a few questions we could hardly answer…”

“I doubt that a court would deem the killing ‘justified’.” I chuckle bitterly. “After all, they’d have told they neither raped us nor said they would. They’d delineate it as our misapprehension, our overreaction and finally we would be the guilty party.”

“Maybe. Anyway, we made it and those assholes won’t tell anything, now.”

After Leah and I switched positions in the shower stall, I clean myself. The hot water seems to wash away the last little doubts about our actions, but not the nervousness regarding Carl’s and Kimora’s composed reaction.

Half an hour later, I slump down on the huge, cosy couch before the fireplace beside Leah. Kimora puts down a tray on the table and pours tea into three cups. The steaming hot liquid does really good, even more so since it’s none of the usual ghastly herbal brews our Sensei’s so fond of, but a delicacy with flavours of mint and vanilla.

“I can’t express my apologies deeply enough for what happened to you.” Kimora opens with a distressed expression.

Leah stares at me as puzzled as I feel when I look at her. What does this mean? Is Kimora blaming herself for this incident she couldn’t possibly have thwarted under any circumstance? That’s complete nonsense!

“There’s absolutely no need for apologies! How should you have foreseen…” I utter my thoughts but Kimora stops me with a hand gesture.

“Please! Both of you are our guests out here, which means we are in charge of you. This is meant to be a perfectly safe environment for you, so you can fully concentrate on your training. Alas, we failed miserably. If something that unspeakable would have happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

Are that tears that glisten in the corners of her eyes? Her voice is slightly quivering and her usually steadfast composure is somehow shaken. It almost breaks my heart to see my perfectly balanced and serene teacher this gloomy. Once again I’m endorsed it’s been right we destroyed those assholes.

“Though I agree with Kim that such a thing cannot be prevented with certainty, I say: So what? It did happen and we made it through. Now I know for sure that I function properly under major stress and when in grave danger. I shelve it as another training session and so should you. Because your methods are effective, obviously.” Leah’s been remarkably quiet and distant, so her rather fierce comment takes me by surprise.

Yet, I agree with her. We got enmeshed into a real battle and we’ve been victorious. No need to feel sorry for anything.

I nod approving as I look firmly in Kimora’s eyes. It feels good to see her lighten up.

“I’m so relieved you see it that way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still vexed that it could happen at all, but I dearly respect your attitude. Anyway, whenever you wish to talk about it, come to me – anytime, okay?” Obviously more relaxed, Kimora sits down beside us.

For a long moment, the three of us just sit, sip our tea and enjoy the silence, until Kimora breaks it with the question I feared the most since we got here.

“Kim, what did you do to nullify your assailants’ advantage of having guns?”

“How do you know it’s been me and not Leah?” Barely spoken, I could slap myself for this boneheaded back answer. She obviously knows, but from where and how much?

“I presumed it for a while, now. It became obvious when I saw the defoliated tree and the notch in the ground. The tiny guy was just the affirmation.”

I bandy uneasy looks with Leah.

“I would have talked with you in private, but it’s been obvious that Leah already knew. So why being secretive?” Kimora’s obviously holding the reins again tightly.

“I’m not quite sure what I did exactly. I have to admit that I panicked and just wanted to hit them, but was out of reach. Heck, most of the time I use my abilities I have no clue what I’m doing and just hope that I don’t cause any irreversible damage. I hate being that uncontrolled!” That’s it! My frustration about the lack of guidance broke through.

Kimora just nods sympathetically.

“I know how you feel and – don’t get me wrong – I’m glad you feel this way.” she just says and leaves me waiting flabbergasted while she sips from her tea. “It shows you’re caring and responsible. A ruthless one would have tried anything without minding the consequences. But you rather keep back to avoid causing unjust harm. You have my highest esteem for that.”

I’m speechless. With just a single, short remark Kimora’s managed to halt my momentum and allay my fears in one go.

“You don’t seem to be surprised at all!” I burst out and gesture helplessly.

“I have some special powers of my own. I thought you might have figured out by your own, meanwhile.” Kimora’s plain statement earns her two dumbfounded looks. She chuckles.

“Did you really believe all the damages these last weeks have been healed by massages and soothing words? Both of you broke joints and bones by the dozen, including skulls. Not to mention the soft tissue injuries and inner bleedings. By conventional means, you would have worn out your opponents within two days.”

I’m stunned and stare like an idiot.

“I knew it! I sensed the damage I dealt out and wondered all the time how these guys kept on coming.” Leah’s shout jolts me from my torpor. 

“Can you tutor me, then?” Hope sends a warm surge through me.

“No, our talents are too different. But I know the right mentor for you. I’ll contact her when we’re back.”

My heart feels as if it tries to jump from my chest from sheer joy. I jump at Kimora and fling my arms around her neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I feel my own voice quiver as I can barely hold back tears of gladness.

“Hey, I can’t promise she’ll teach you…” I feel her usually aloof manner crumble under my affectionate assault. She relaxes and tentatively hugs me back. “You’re welcome!”

“Hey, what about me?” Leah grouses after a moment. I disengage from Kimora and turn around to hug and squeeze her. She responds dearly.

When I calm down, I release her and sit down again. The next hours we sit there, chitchat about this and that, drink more tea and just have a great time, three close friends enjoying life.

“Okay, bed time, lasses!” Kimora says, and it’s only this moment I realize it’s late in the evening by now. We wish each other a goodnight and head for our rooms.

When I step from the bathroom into our bedroom, Leah sits on her bed and observes me.

“No matter what the future might bring or what abilities you might yet find within you, promise me you’ll never use your powers against me, will you?”

I giggle frivolously. “Not? Aww, I intended to…”

“Kim! Swear it!” Her grave tone makes perfectly clear she means this deadly serious.

I’m such a fool! I’ve spent not a single thought on what these late revelations might mean to my closest friend. We’ve always been on eye level in all things and that’s been one of the reasons for our intimate friendship. But now I became someone else, someone not assessable to her. Seeing Leah - usually so tough, cheerful and confident - this shaken, drives tears into my eyes. Just the thought she might back away from me because of this, makes me shiver with fear.

I kneel down before her and look squarely into her eyes.

“I swear upon my life, I’ll never harm you by any means. How could I? You’re so dear to me beyond description.”

Leah sighs and gently puts her forehead against mine, closing her eyes.

“Quite contrary: if somebody ever threatens or harms you, I’ll be there to stand by your side. And it’ll be that one who’ll learn to know my fury to its full extent.” After these words I hug her and feel her unwind.

Later, I lie awake in bed and let my thoughts wander around aimlessly. Leah tosses and turns in restless sleep, breathing fitfully. She groans loudly in a nightmare. 

I tiptoe over at her bed, slip under her blanket and snuggle up to her. Her breath steadies and gets deeper as she relaxes noticeably.

Within moments I doze off.

• 14 •

Training with the wooden dummy always is a practice of its own. Positioning, footwork and balance, the right techniques at the right angle and finally applying just the right amount of force to each attack – bringing together all these aspects in fluid motion is a highly complex affair. So I’m fully concentrated while I work out hard at it. The wooden arms protruding from it emit satisfyingly cracking sounds when they get batted, which sounds overall like an archaic drumset at the right rhythm.

A false move and I’m out of my flow. Darn! Time to pause…

Leah, also hammering away on another wooden dummy just opposite mine, halts and looks at me questioning.

“Backfist that should have been a slap.” I emphasize by rubbing my right hand.

“Ouch! You okay?”

“Yah. Chi Sau?”

Leah nods. We stand opposite each other and start our routine. The ‘sticking hands’ drill is a wonderful smoothly flowing counterpoint. For a long moment we roll our arms wordlessly against each other.

“I wondered if I restrained myself in sparring the last weeks. It’s been tolerable to me when my opponents got injured – this is combat training, after all, isn’t it? But sure I didn’t intend to cripple or maybe even kill someone.” Leah sounds casual and composed while she proceeds with our practice.

“If you did, you failed miserably! After all, Kimora spoke of very serious injuries to treat.” I see the gleam in her eyes and her mischievous smile, so I quickly add: “And don’t you dare to suggest that I’ve been the sole cause for those.”

“Fine, but I wonder what might happen in a fight with sincerely no holds barred.”

I shrug, which unbalances my movement. Leah’s arm snaps forward, her fist stopping a mere millimetre before my larynx. Serves me right, any lack of concentration in training means rightful punishment.

“That morning you asked me how I’d treat a shrunken guy… that’s been no hypothetical question, right?” Leah asks as we fall back into our routine.

I just stare in silence. What could I possibly say?

“C’mon, out with it! What was that question aimed at?”

“I pictured for myself how it’d be to have a tiny person at my hands, that’s been all.” I try to sound as indifferent as I could possibly be.

“Hah! Try again!” Leah laughs out. “You already confessed that you explore your powers without guidance, so I take you shrunk someone. Most likely by accident, therefore your question. How close am I?” She emphasizes her last words in a rapid series of attempts to break through my defense, but I counter all of them.

I yearn to share my secret so badly, it almost burns a hole in my stomach. I remain silent, though.

“Hey, you asked me to trust you entirely. Is it too much to ask for the same?” Leah keeps on goading me, yet there’s a tone in her voice indicating she’s sincerely hurt by my silence.

Well, of course she is! My refusal is plain mistrust to her. And maybe she’s right, she already knows what I’m able to do, so why conceal the details?

Am I able to make a person forget certain things? An affair to try out or, better yet, ask my tutor about once I meet him. But if I start trying to mess around with someone’s brains, it sure won’t be my best friend.

I can’t stay the grieved look in Leah’s eyes any longer.

“Well, yes, I shrunk someone. I didn’t intend to, but he… well, let’s say he pushed me way beyond my limits.”

“Who was it? What happened?” Leah’s voice is sober, but isn’t there some furtive curiosity in an undertone?

“It’s been some guy from the University, you don’t know him.” This is as much true as is it safeguard – for both of us. I’m going to withhold Justin’s name from her. The less she’s able to correlate this occurrence with a real person, the less the risk she prattles away one day.  Her expectant stare prompts me to speak on.

I tell Leah the story of Justin’s treachery until I shrunk him. “What did you do with him?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

“I simply placed my foot on him and crushed him.”

Leah’s gasping expiration shows she held her breath out of tension. “I see.”

“I’ve been so mad that moment…” I shrug and shake my head. “In hindsight I wonder, though, that I applied only so much force to finish him off. Given how furiously I longed to annihilate him, one would think I’d do my best to completely pulp him, but a part of me was fully sensible.”

During the last minute, our drill became more and more sloppy and negligible. Now both of us lower our arms and look at each other.

“What then?” Leah asks, trying to sound unfazed, but she can’t keep her curiosity from her voice. I tell her what I did to undo the damage Justin caused to our project, to make him vanish and to mask his disappearance.

“You sure have some secretive talent!” Leah nods grinning. “Your approach has some flaws, but for a spontaneous move it’s pretty good.”

“What’s been really strange, was, that he became conscious again later, though I’d swear I killed him.”

“Maybe you’ve been more restrained with him than you thought. After all, you never crushed a tiny guy undersole before, did you? Or are you going to tell me now you can resurrect the dead?” She seems easy, but again I sense some uninterpretable tension. “Now wait… does this mean you fed him to that dog alive?” She adds after a few seconds.

“Of course not. I trod on him again and that time I made sure he stood lying down.”

The way my closest friend stares at me makes me shiver. The fact she demanded to hear my tale doesn’t mean she likes what she heard.

“Are you disgusted, shocked, alarmed…? Say something, please!” I just can’t stand her silence any longer.

She slowly steps closer until we touch and wraps her arms around me. “The next time you shrink someone to have fun with him, I ask – no, I plead you… no, I demand you invite me to join you!” Her hot breath tingles pleasantly on my skin as she whispers in my ear. I return her embrace heartily. This is the answer I haven’t even dared to expect from Leah!

“How was it to have him at your mercy and just crush him like a bug?”

“It was the best, the greatest, the most marvellous thing I ever felt in my whole life!” I hiss, equally whispering.

With a heartfelt laugh, Leah overbalances me and sinks me to the ground. She straddles on my belly and pushes me down with a hand on my breastbone.

“You nasty beast!” she chuckles. “I envy you! That’s by far the coolest and most nonchalant way to get rid of one’s enemies.”

For a moment we laugh together. As I watch her narrowly, I know: no way in hell Leah’s going to betray me, that’s dead certain.

“I miss Marc. Yes, we’re together for quite a short time yet, but he’s always on my mind.” I don’t know why I said that, but it’s true and it just invaded my thoughts.

With a sympathetic expression, Leah eyes me for a moment. “Does he know about your abilities?”

I just shake my head.

Her grin is getting suggestive again. “So your boyfriend has no idea that his girl could subject him to her mercy completely with just a thought? Make him cringe before her feet and break him with the plainest of her movements?”

What the hell she’s insinuating? That I might subjugate Marc? I grab her arm and push it aside, simultaneously pulling up my legs and rolling to one side. In a quick and well-practised movement I wrap my legs around Leah’s body at the level of her lower ribs and apply an armlock. Then I press my legs together, squeezing her torso at the height of her false ribs, where even her well-developed muscles can’t provide much resistance. She responds with a constrained groan.

“Well, Marc knows that I could break him anyway!” I emphasize my words by squeezing her body a bit tighter. “But we’re coupled, not opponents, so what does it matter?”

I let go of her, but now it’s my turn to straddle on her back. “You see, it’s crucial to me that my friends know that I’ll always care for them and never pose a threat, even if we might quarrel or fight sometimes. I couldn’t stand if one of you’d dread me.”

I start to massage Leah’s back. Immediately she relaxes. “Yaaaaah! That’s divine…” she purrs. Inspired by her obvious comfort, I chuckle and carry on kneading her chiselled dorsal muscles.

“Maybe I should include massages and manual therapy into your schedule, hm?” Kimora closed in so silently, it almost seems she appeared out of thin air.

“I volunteer for being test subject.” Leah moans sensually.

“For now you should go to the house, Carl wants to have a talk with you.” Kimora nods and walks off. I stand up, help Leah to her feet and a few seconds later we enter the living room where Carl already waits.

“I came back this morning. First, I want you to know, you don’t have to worry. I found the guys camp and made it vanish. I doubt that anything of yesterday’s events will ever be found. If so, I made sure that everything’s pointing towards strife among them and a subsequent wild animal foray.” he explains matter-of-factly.

Leah and me eye each other. “Was their camp clear?” I ask neutrally.

Carl shakes his head.  “No. They left a sentry behind. He’s with his buddies, now.”

He has killed. For us. For our sake.

I eye the big man poignantly. I can imagine barely a greater proof of affection than this. I rush at him and embrace him gratefully.

Carl returns my hug, hearty but caring, then he gently pushes me at arm’s length. “My, my…” he mumbles bashfully, “All is well!”

Like triggered by a silent command, Leah lunges in laughing and enfolds him, too.

“Damn it, girls, we’re not on pets corner, here!” he grouses, but his broad smile belies his words.

“I want to have a word with Leah!” Kimora states with a smile at me. I exchange glances with my friend, then I leave and close the door behind me.

I stand about indecisively. Then I walk over to the three feet high stone wall dividing the area at the house from the lower surrounding landscape. I sit down on it in the shadow of a tree, let my legs dangle and watch the guys on the property doing various things.

One of the men sees me. When our eyes meet, he quickly looks away. Nonetheless, I notice him throwing sneaking looks at me again and again. What a kids’ stuff! I watch him and when he peers at me again, I flash a slight smile.

Before long, he hesitantly steps closer.

“Please, excuse me.” His timidity is either cute or annoying, I haven’t decided yet. I tilt my head a few degrees and look squarely at him. Either he takes a heart or he can just push off. Though I don’t know his name, I remember his face. I fought him twice. Or was it three times? Whatever, he wants to talk, not to fight, it seems.

“Are you okay?” he asks, then quickly proceeds “You looked kinda sad, so I thought I’d ask.”

Okay, apart from his clumsiness, he’s not overly bothersome. He may be in his mid-thirties, the average type of guy one wouldn’t notice in the crowd. I’ll find out what he’s up to and maybe have some fun with him. Somehow I’m in a slightly nasty mood for a play. 

“No, I’m okay.” I purr eagerly, then I add with a slight smile “But thanks for asking, you’re very attentive.” While talking, I put my hands close to my bottom, pull my shoulders back and straighten my arms, thus arching my back. The man’s blushing and uneasiness reveal I squarely hit the mark as intended. Body language can be so helpful!

“I wanted to have a talk with you for some time, but you’ve always been so busy and there was no real opportunity…” His Adam’s apple bounces excitedly as he obviously runs out of words. When I raise an eyebrow ever so slightly, he hastens to keep on talking. “I don’t know if you remember me, we had some sparring fights and…”

Now his nervous shifting from one foot to another starts to bug me.

“Please, take a seat!” I say in my most calm, generous tone while I point permissively on the ground before me. He stares down and hesitates, then he indeed sits down cross-legged. When he raises his head again, his eyes stick to my feet for some time longer than necessary. He manages to break his gaze free, finally, but I noticed only too well.

I lean back, cross my legs and slowly move my foot around a little bit, making the motion appear absent-mindedly. It’s a quiet delight to see him fight vainly for his composure, his eyes flicker down to my sneaker repeatedly. The same affection like Graham, obviously. Nice to know!

“What’s what you wanted to talk about?” I ask with my most enticing voice when he’s been mutely gawking for half a minute. As intended, his expression turns from moony to cringy and his face gets a pretty reddened complexion.

“Ah, well… I just… I wanted to… maybe learn to know you a bit better, perhaps…” Okay, his constrained stammer is somehow cajoling, given it’s my very presence that’s causing him to, but soon it annoys me.

“I see.” I nod and make my voice sound disappointed somehow. “Just talking and chatting…” The subsequent ‘or’  I leave hanging unspoken in the air as well as any continuation of my sentence, but with my tone I made pretty clear I meant one to be there. And my rhetorical trick works well.

The guy turns from blushed to deep red and his struggle for words make him appear like a fish on shore. Silly me, shattering his composure even further won’t help my impatience at all, no matter how amusing it is to behold.

“Okay. Calm down and try this: imagine the subject you wanted to talk about…” Tranquilize him, disarm him, delude him – this is almost too easy! “Visualize your interest…” Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr!

“… and just tell me!” I vocalize my demand placid but imperious.

“I want you to trample me relentlessly!” he blurts out and the way he saucer-eyes me half a second later proves he got carried away by his own courage.

Bäm! I aimed at him but he sure shot me from the saddle. I just won’t let it show through, of course. And again, a slightly raised eyebrow, a flat expression and frigid silence is all that’s needed to make him blather uneasily.

“I mean, I’m here to help you practice – we all are – and… maybe you… Well, I thought…”

Watching him flounder like a fish on a hook now, as he’s struggling to talk himself out of this, is priceless.

“I thought you might want to exercise with me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Stepping on someone isn’t exactly a complicated move. At least not one I’d practice specifically.”

His Adam’s apple bobs nervously as he squirms and writhes to find a reasonable and unsuspicious reason for his proposal – and obviously a seemingly unselfish one.

“Ah, I see. It’s just, well… I guess the balance could be a major issue, especially when the opponent’s moving. Also, the effectiveness can always get improved, right?”

“I think you’re shadow-boxing.” I can’t take it any longer. “If you want me to trample you for your own pleasure, ask honestly and outright.”

“I would like you to trample me. Would you do this for me?” he asks sheepishly.

“Was that so very difficult?” I hop off the wall and point to the ground. “Lie down.”

“May I take off my shirt?” The timid way he’s asking, he apparently fears I might back off.

“Your choice, but I won’t take off my shoes, so there’s to be reckoned with imprints and bruises.”

Within a second he removes his tee and lies on his back. I step to his side and scrutinize him. Then I place my right foot on his midsection. I have to admit, it’s a gorgeous sensation to feel him under me, notice him shiver in excitement and feel my sole sink into his soft stomach before the tension of his abs stops the caving in.

“Before we start: even though you lay down voluntarily, you’re not in control. If you want me to do something specific, you may ask politely. If you want me to omit something specific, you may entreat me to. In both cases, I’ll decide, as well as I decide when this is over. Got that?”

His eager nodding comes too quick and eagerly for my liking.

“I mean it! Once I start you’ll have to take what I’m willing to deal out. No whining will persuade me to go easy on you.”

“I accept that.” At least this time he thought a few seconds about it.

Without further delay I shift more weight on my right foot, driving it deeper into his belly and provoking an increased response from his abs. I’ll break that resistance very soon! The idea of wearing out his abdominal strength, thus surrendering his tender innards to my mercy, makes me smile in anticipation.

I step on him and put my other foot unceremoniously on his chest. His face contorts for a moment while he gets used to my full weight on him. Yes, buddy, I’m not really a flimsy girl. Making him squirm will be so much fun…

“I’m not quite sure what an exercise this is, but it looks interesting.” Kimora’s voice from behind makes my head fly around, feeling caught in the act and embarrassed. Leah stands beside my teacher, leering.

“Alas, there’s no time to delve into this.” Kimora continues and points at the guy below me. “There’s another exercise waiting for you.”

When she walks off, assuming with certainty that I’ll follow her, I feel surprisingly disappointed. I’ve been really looking forward to trample him into submission. Yet, I still feel unpleasant, so I quickly follow her. Leah is chuckling, mightily amused at my embarrassment.

“Sorry! Another time, footboard!” she happily consoles the guy before her with a shrug. Then she steps unhesitatingly on his stomach and drives her full weight down emphasizing as she steps over him. The man is taken off-guard, his limbs jerking from Leah’s unexpected move, and doubles up with a gasped “Oof!”. Leah doesn’t look back as the follows us laughing.

Kimora leads us to the area where the calisthenics props are. She signifies us to start training, so Leah begins to perform pull-ups, a practice she’s easily doing impressive scores of repetitions. I do the human flag, an exercise I mastered only three weeks ago and which I extend to hold for longer periods. Meanwhile, I can keep it up for more than 30 seconds and I’m bursting with pride because of that. Even Kimora nods approvingly and when my arms begin to shiver from exhaustion, she steps in and supports my hips, so I can hold on a moment longer.

After this exertion, I need a moment to recover.

“We’re leaving tomorrow, girls. See that you pack your baggage today, so we can start early.” Kimora suddenly states.

“Is that because of yesterday’s incident? Honestly, that’s not necessary, we…” Leah says as she slumps down from the horizontal bar and turns towards us.

“No.” Kimora utters softly with a smile. “The time here’s simply over. You performed so incredibly well and made huge progress, you deserve to spend the rest of the vacation as you wish.”

Leah and me exchange glances. Something in me wants to stay longer, but now it got mentioned, the major part is looking forward to come home.

With a nod, Kimora walks away while we proceed to workout, yet our minds are already planning what to do when we’re back home.

• 15 •

The van stops at the layby of the gym. We open the doors and leave the vehicle. After all this time in the seclusion of the forest property being back in the civilisation almost is a shock. It’s not before then I realize that I indeed own a mobile phone and that I haven’t used it during our time off. Strange enough, I almost loathe the idea of turning it on now.

Leah and I stand around rather indecisive, so it’s Carl who breaks the trance when he opens the tailgate and hauls out our baggage. We make our farewells and I’m surprised myself by the emotionality. After all, we’re going to see each other again in a few days and are just a few miles apart. But the last weeks sure left a lasting impression.

I shoulder my large bag, take the small one into my left and walk home. Back in my dorm, I first tear open the windows. Six weeks without airing left my room’s atmosphere pretty stale.

I look at my baggage. Would be best when I unpacked and washed my stuff immediately, that much is sure. I sigh deeply.

Nah, procrastination first! I remember my phone, take it out of my pocket and switch it on. Of course, I have to plug in the battery charger first. After all the weeks of inactivity, the battery is down.

When it finally reconnects, my worst concerns become real. 124 new eMails, 183 unread messages, 28 missed calls. Maybe I just throw it away and buy a new one?

First, I delete all the annoying spam mails.

My mom contacted me with the precise regularity of a Swiss clockwork. Course, I told her I’d be away for six weeks and most likely without grid connection, but she tried anyway. Thankfully, her messages are nice and relaxed and show she realized I’m off full well all the time. Yet, she tried. I can’t help but smile. She’s such a warm-hearted mommy.

 Graham’s efforts to contact me are far from relaxed. They range from perplexity over anxiety to outright panic. Did I forget to inform him that I’m away? Can’t recall I told him…

I shrug. I neither owe him an explanation nor do I have to deregister by him.

Marc tried just twice to call me, the day after I left. He must have realized that I’m continuously offline – just as we both supposed – and stopped trying. Though that’s perfectly sober and reasonable, I feel a bit neglected. I pout and check the rest of the calls. Two numbers I don’t know, one of it four times.

My spirits rise when I check the messages. Here, Marc sent me a message every evening, at 7 p.m. sharp. He told me what he did that day and how much he loves and misses me. Along with all the emojis, this chat is pretty gaudy, but nonetheless it’s so cute!

The rest of my crew also casually dropped in some messages, most of them into our group chat. Oh, we meet in four days, good to know. They just assumed Leah and me would join. They didn’t even care to switch to a more private channel before they pulled us to pieces. Buffoons!

Just this moment another message drops in. Marc sending his daily report!

I read it and immediately type an answer with a tickled grin.

> Cool, you’re online! <  His answer came pretty quick.

> Sure. Back in the civilisation. <

> Already on the way? How long it’ll take? When you’ll be here? <

> I AM already here, silly! Can’t wait to see you tonight! I’m avid for you… <

> Aww, no! I awaited you to arrive tomorrow, I already have an appointment this evening. <

> :( <

> I’m SOOOO sorry, hon! I swear I would have been there for you all alone but you named tomorrow’s date for your return!  <

> Cancel your date, or what’s so friggin’ important about it? <

> I can’t, sorry! We have a game running and that’s really important to me.   <

> A GAME? What shitty game can be more important than your awesome hot girlfriend?  <

> It’s a roleplay and it’s rather exciting, really. I’m sincerely sorry, Kim. Don’t be cross with me, please? <

> As you think best. I just hope your silly game affords you as much pleasure as I would have. I planned this to be the most steamy night of your life. But fine, play with your little geeks instead.<

> Awwww, please! Don’t make this tougher for me than it already is, will you? I feel like a turd already.  <

> Why should I make this easy for you? You think I’ve been looking forward thrilled to bits to spend my first night back all alone? <

> Hey, what if you just join the game? I swear it’s worth a try and maybe you like it. It’d be so cool to game with you. Please, Kim?  <

What a blasted blockhead! I’m looking forward to rip his clothes away and have my way with him screwing ‘til we pass out and he counter-proposes a stupid nerd game. I could bellow with fury!

> Kim? Are you interested in joining us? Please, I beg you, join in the fun! Please, please, please...! <

Sitting around a table in some smelly booth with a bunch of dorks? Sure not my favourite way to spend this evening. I could give Marc the cold shoulder, summon Graham instead and vent my rage on him. In my current mood, though, I could easily get carried away and rend him apart – Oh yes, the thought alone kindles a sweet thrill of anticipation, so away with that idea!

> Kim? Kim! Kimmykimmykimmykimmy! Please, will you answer me? I beseech you… answer me, please. <

> Paleeze, joineth this lowly servant of yours, Mylady. Let him boast before his nerdy maggot-friends with your grandeur! <

I can’t help but chuckle at his cute tenacity. I could indeed go there and queen it a bit. I sure will find a way to exact some cringy sweet revenge on Marc for rebuffing me.

> Gimme that dumb address and time. <

> Ah, that’s SOOO nice of you to join us!      <

> Don’t you think you’re off the hook yet. We’re gonna sort this out later. Address and time. Now! <

I stoically ignore his further sweet talk and other messages. After receiving the data, I even end the messenger app to make sure my contact is labelled ‘Offline’ on Marc’s phone.

I shower and get ready, making sure not to look overly zealous, but nonetheless celestial – the modest way. I put on some extremely wide-legged linen slacks, a tight neckholder and a transparent bolero, all in muted, light earth tones that wonderfully consort with my dark complexion. My eyes fall on a pair of wooden clogs of matte brown nubuck, pretty boho-style reminiscent. I bought them last year on a whim and never met an opportuneness to wear them. When, if not today?

I slip inside them, hang round my shoulder bag and head for the indicated address. The thick, unyielding sole of my clogs feel strange at first, but within just a few steps I grow accustomed to it. I finally fall in love with it when I take the coarsely gravelled shortcut between two buildings. The cultrate stones usually are inconvenient to walk upon, being almost painful when trod on with thin soles. These rigid beauties, though, completely screen my feet from the nasty ground while the sturdy tread provides good traction – and they convey the impression as if they’d pulverize the brazen stones punitively under them.

Within 15 minutes I arrive at the address. Some typical tenement, the pertaining apartment is on the 4th floor. I press the doorbell and feature my most appealing smile. The door’s opened by a strikingly skinny guy. He cranes his head while he gawks at me without saying anything. After a long, silent moment, I expectantly raise an eyebrow.

“Hi! Is Marc here? He invited me for some game.”

The guy before me seems to rearrange his thoughts before he asks “You’re Marc’s girlfriend?”

“Yes. I’m Kim.” I stretch out my hand. He stares at it then takes it so timidly as if it were a soap bubble.

“May I come in, perhaps?” I ask when he still makes no move to let me past. My question is simultaneously backed by a shout from inside the apartment: “Hey, Bear, who’s there? Is it M’s chick or what?”

He flinches, steps aside hastily and gestures inviting.

Again, a rather expected man cave, except for the main room, which must be every nerds dream. A huge flatscreen on the wall, flanked by two towering speakers and fed by a couple of gaming consoles, before two massive leather seats. The computer desk with 4 screens looks more like a prop from Star Trek than anything else and the table we’re obviously going to game at is a huge monstrosity the size of a snooker table, but of oval shape.

Aside from Marc there’re two other guys and a girl around the table. When I step in, all eyes are on me. I perform a most confident and commanding entry, curbed by a cordial smile. Marc immediately jumps up and rounds the table to greet me with a big hug. I could easily rebuff him now for rebuffing me earlier… but no, revenge is dish best served cold. I bow in and kiss him, limiting myself to a brief peck instead of the fierce kiss I long to exchange. Even when I hurt myself, some punishment is required.

“You won’t try telling me that this is your girlfriend, M, will you?” one of the other men asks with a broad grin. “Nod twice, Lady, if you’re here against your will.”

I chuckle, push Marc gently away and look around me. The man who just spoke is another average looking guy with brown hair, three-day stubble and blue eyes sparkling with mischief. I immediately like him. The girl is a mousy shrinking violet, her shoulders slumped, staring upwards insecure with hanging head as if she feared an upcoming beating.

“That fella’s Tom, called ‘Twitty’.” Marc explains, pointing towards the still grinning guy. “That’s Janine, but everyone calls her ‘Lib’. You already know ‘Bear’, whose real name is Frank, and that grumpy nitwit is Will.”

Will is a beefy man with short cropped hair and a patchy beard. He just looks up at me for a second and nods, before he again attends to the book before him. His refusal is obvious, almost tangible.

When Marc tries to lead me towards the place beside him, I smoothly shake off his hand and sit down right opposite him, a move that doesn’t pass unnoticed.

“Bäm! Hey, M, what’ve you done to earn such a kick into your g’nads?” Tom jibes. Marc just shrugs sheepishly.

“Pretty simple, Twitty” I step in explaining sardonically, “Today I came back from a six-week training camp full of bone-grinding sports and you might imagine how badly I longed for some… affection. And you also might imagine my chagrin when my oh so yearning boyfriend rebuffed me in favour of a game. So there’ll be no wild chase through blankets n’ sheets for me tonight.” The last sentence I underline with an inordinate saddened expression.

Again, the other guys’ jaw drops, their disbelieving stares on me.

“You… you dumped her to come here?” Twitty gasps out. Half a second later Bear’s hand smacks the back of Marc’s head, sending his hair flying. “You complete moron!” the thin guy snaps.

“Just to get this straight once and for all: should I ever happen to date someone like her and she calls me during a game session, I’d be out here like a bullet and I won’t even waste time to say goodbye before only some dust witnesses my former presence!” Twitty bursts out and I can’t help but cut a defiant look at Marc.

“Hey, the game must go on, right? Thanks for backing me up on this, my dear friends!” Marc protests abashed, emphasizing the last words.

“Stop this bullshit! We’re wasting game-time here. M’s girl is here, so what? Let’s start!” Will barks annoyed and he doesn’t sound amused at all. I even more get the impression he sincerely dislikes me.

Nonetheless, the guys get serious. Marc explains about the rules and mechanics of the game and within two minutes I lose the thread.

“C’mon, that’s dull. Let’s create a character and start, we explain during the game.” Twitty throws in.

“M’kay. It’s pretty simple, every character in the game is of one class. The classical fighter with sword and shield, be it an heavily armoured knight or a fur-bearing Viking, a backstabbing assassin, a thief…” Marc explains with a nod. “Or you’re a type of sorcerer, wizard or something. Then there’s also the clerics, a kind of priest, yet not the peace-preaching type, but a tough cookie with arms, armor and spells. So the question is: what would you like to do?”

“I like close-quarter fighting, but those spellslingers sound thrilling, too. Can’t I do both?” By my own understanding it’s reasonable to soften an opponent with magic before closing in for the kill, as well as bashing an attackers’ face in and finish him with some magic when getting assaulted. So why should I choose between both?

“That’s a hybrid-class, you can do that later, when you’re more experienced and your character’s at a higher level. For now I’d suggest to concentrate on one of it.” Marc says. Though that sounds rational, I feel slightly annoyed. What if…      

“If I’d like to have the ability to… mmmmh… let’s say: shrink people to doll-size. What is necessary for that?” I hope that sounds unconcerned enough to not raise suspicion.

“Well, that can be achieved with a ‘Shrink Person’ spell combined with a level 2 or 3 ‘Spell Enhancer’, I guess…” Bear explains and shows a strained expression. “Yup, level 2 would shrink a 6 foot person to 9 inches, level 3 to 4½ inches. Small enough for your liking?” he finally proclaims, beaming.

“Yes! I want that!” I joyously affirm.

“That’s a level 5 spell and an exponentially upscaled rune.” Will throws in. I’m not quite sure if he’s unfriendly, but this sounds like a reproach to my ears. What’s wrong with him?

“Kim’s character won’t start at level 1, but at a more suitable level. I mean, you’re all playing rather high-level characters and any cannon fodder minion will kill a new character en passant.” Bear states decisive.

“Whatever.” Will mumbles, but otherwise stays impassive.

Next, Marc and the others help me creating my game avatar. Since I start at a rather advanced level, there’s a whole bunch of spells, skills and traits to choose from. In fact, so far I enjoy this more than I expected.

When we finally start playing, my virtual self is armed with an arsenal of amazing skills and I can hardly await to unleash them on the next unfortunate chap who crosses my path. I again read the spellbook and for a moment I wonder which of these effects I could induce in real life.

I chose an elven character and rolled good stats – or amazing stats, as the others told me – and Bear provided stacks of cool equipment. I know full well that he flatters me with gifts and advantages, yet the others seem to be all right with it, so I won’t fuss. Only Will appears grumpy, but isn’t he all the time?

Bear organizes the meeting with the group in game pretty clever. He’s a good storyteller and I feel entertained and involved at once. Soon they inform me about what they’re up to. To me, the scenario sounds like a complex detective story with mystery elements. At the moment, the plot is mostly about questioning people and gather information. Fine with me, at this slow pace I can get accustomed to my teammates, their behaviour and the world we play on while I sit back and relax. My former sulkiness is completely gone and replaced by a perky cheerfulness. When I shift position, my foot collides with Marc’s. He looks at me and flashes a warm smile before he again concentrates on the talk again.

I slip one foot out of my clog, touch Marc’s leg with it and slowly move it upwards. As my toes wander upwards along his inner thigh, he again glances at me, something I notice only from the corner of my eye, for I stare persistent at Bear, talking at the moment.

When my foot finally slides between his legs and touches Marc’s crotch, I see his Adam’s apple bounce excited. Oh the fun, watching him becoming all jittery and uptight, as I press my sole softly against his manhood and knead with my toes whatever’s beneath them.

All the time, I pretend to pay attention to the game exclusively. Right now, the conversation is quite knotty as we use all powers of persuasion to make someone drop useful information. Yet, the virtual respondent the group currently sounds out is slippery as an eel, constantly avoiding answering the questions. Bear plays this out so marvellous, I sincerely lose my patience.

“I kick into his rocks like a mule.” I state plainly. For a few seconds, everyone stares at me, dumbfounded.

“Oooh-kay! Roll to hit, then…” Bear finally says, grinning roguish. The dice stops at a 20 and all the guys grimace as if I’d hit them instead.

“A crit into the g’nads without warning – makes ‘em scrambled, I’d say. The guy bends over double wordlessly.” Bear explains.

“I put my boot square across his throat and press down so hard he’s just barely able to breathe. ‘Enough of this! Speak out now or never again!’” My explanation of my characters’ next act prompts another gape from my teammates.

“’G… git ‘ff me!’ the poor fellow croaks. His hands grope your boot without effect. ‘T’ll ye v’rythin…’” Bear says, illustrating the choking guy quite good.

“I don’t cease pressure the least bit. ‘I’m listening…’, I say.” Playing out my virtual self like this gives me a pleasant shiver.

“’T’s been the s’cond couns’lman! A’sign’d the A’s’sins guild. ‘s first fella’ll be next…’ he groans weakly. His head bears a purplish-blue hue. ‘Pl’s, l’t me live!’ he begs, about to pass out.” Obviously Bear is checking me for mercilessness, but I won’t do him that favour.

“I let go of him. ‘You could have had this much easier, jackass.’ I lesson him.” It’s not before now, I notice that I’ve pressed my foot pretty firm into Marc’s crotch. The strained look on his face is no coincidence, I guess. I throw him a defiant smile, then relax and proceed teasing him gentle. Nonetheless, his pants feel tighter than before.

Three more hours of the game just fly by and I have to admit I felt entertained most terrific.

“That was fun!” Bear says as everyone’s packing up. “You’re a born roleplayer, Kim. Will you join the next game, too?”

“I enjoyed it, folks, thank you all!” I say and sincerely mean it. “I’d like to repeat this, yet I have lots of things to do myself, so I can’t foresee if I can join. If Marc keeps me informed, I’ll see about it.”

“I’d love to welcome you again for sure.” The wink Bear’s giving me, seems heartfelt to me, and the others – except Will – display their approval. “One thing’s for sure: you’re a mean punisher, or at least play one. I sure wouldn’t dare to cross you.” Bear adds and thus elicits chuckles from the others.

“Actually, I’m a soft-hearted bunny.” My overstated response draws further giggles.

“Maybe like the bunny in Monty Python’s Holy Grail…” Marc blurts out for another laugh.

After saying goodbye, Marc escorts me home. Strolling hand in hand together through the mild summer night is very nice.

“This was a pleasurable evening. I’m glad you joined the game.” Marc leads the dance.

“I have to admit, I’ve been peeved when you gave me the brush-off. But the game party was pretty cool.”

“I’m pleased you liked it. So no more hard feelings?” he probes cautiously.

“You think you’ve overcome the affair?” With a prankish chuckle I stop and gently pull him towards me. “I fear, a gruesome punishment is indispensable.” I whisper, then press my lips against his, first soft, then more and more fervent. When our tongues dance together, I put some of my own craving into it. Within seconds, I feel Marc shiver, his body squeezing closer, his breath agitated.

After a long, passionate moment, I pull back, softly stroking my finger over Marc’s lips. His eyes flutter open as if waking from a dream. Good, my powers are still working fine.

“Good gawd, can you imagine how I missed that?” Marc sighs with pleasure.

“Obviously not overmuch, since gaming is more important for you.” Taunt, taunt, my dear!

“Aww, how long are you going to hold that against me, hm?” he yammers.

“Oh, for years and years to come!” I utter triumphant, making Marc moan loudly.

We saunter forth without words. After a minute, Marc breaks the silence. “That’s been some nasty move, when you put your foot between my legs. I wasn’t able to concentrate at all – at least not on the game, that is.”

“That was part one of your punishment.” I threaten playfully. “The first link in a whole chain of punishments most abysmal. You’ll see!”

“If that’s been the foretaste of what’ll come, I can hardly wait. Your foot is magic, obviously, for it felt supernatural!” With a merry chuckle he wraps his arm around my hips and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Naah, you’re supposed to fear my ire, not enjoy it!” I grouse laughing.

That way bantering and joking we make our way back to my dorm. In front of the entrance, I stop and face Marc. When our eyes meet, I suddenly have an idea. I concentrate on the exhilaration inside me, my appetite, my desire and my anticipation, and try to put them into my gaze. I conceive scenes of saucy, wild intercourse and unbridled passion and channel them through my eyes into his. And indeed, his look becomes absent and longing.

Into this heated vibe, I step forward, press my body tight against Marc’s and my lips onto his. I keep up my concentration on my carnal fantasies and let them flow unrestrained into him as we kiss so fiercely it almost hurts. With my thigh pressed firmly against Marc’s crotch, I distinctly feel him react accordingly. Delighted, I rub my leg over his bulging pants.

When I’m positively sure he’s about to burst from lust, I disengage. Marc’s eyes flutter open hesitantly.

“Thanks for escorting me home. Bye! Have nice dreams…” I whisper and leer, trying to appear as profligate as possible.

“What?” Marc stutters, obviously flabbergasted by the sudden twist. “I thought we… well, I had hoped…” 

“Yes?” I purr expectantly and perform an especially teasing look.

“I had hoped we would stay together, tonight, and celebrate your homecoming.” His sheepish approach, while insufficiently hiding his lechery, is so droll.

With an amused giggle and a lascivious swing of my hips I again step up to him and bend in slowly. I brush a soft kiss on Marc’s cheek and when he follows up, trying to engage closer, I pull back and put my finger on his pursed lips.

“No!” I breathe. Then I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him closer. “You could have had all this and much, much more, but you chose to turn me down.” I whisper into his ear. Then I start to nibble gently on his earlobe, turning him on even further.

“No one’s more frustrated about this than me, but who am I to disrespect your decision?” I add with that much malicious glee, I almost loathe myself. But only almost.

I let go of him, smile conclusively and open the door of the student dorm. He looks after me crestfallen, trying to sport a stalwart smile, and waves his hand. “Bye, Kim. I’m really sorry. Have a nice night, anyway.”

I dismiss him with a warm smile and step through the door. Marc turns around and walks off dejected.

When he has taken three steps, I softly call “Hey!”. He stops and looks over his shoulder and I can clearly see his miserable expression for a second, before he checks himself.

“Part two of your punishment.” I utter triumphant, then gesturing him to follow me into the building. He darts into my direction like a cannonball, grinning happily.

“You beast!” he shouts laughing before he embraces me and starts to assail me with fiery kisses, which I respond wholeheartedly. Clung together and fondling each other, I’m rather surprised when we’re suddenly before my apartment’s door and I can hardly recall our way up here.

I rummage out my keys with my right hand. With my left, I open Marc’s trousers, slip my hand inside and firmly grab his bulging penis. When I manage to open the door, I pull him inside like a dog on a leash. A kick closes the door behind me as I vigorously direct Marc towards my bed. Hey, a guy is pretty easy handled this way.

“Drop your gear!” I demand feverishly. It’s silly, though, for he is out of his clothes almost immediately. My fingers knead his member provocative as I push Marc onto the bed emphatically.

My own stuff drops carelessly to the floor as I undress swiftly. In the next instance I’m on the bed, too, while I spot something on the nearby table. Neat! Marc tries to sit up and hug me, but I push him back onto the mattress.

“Not so rash, dear!” I purr and straddle him. I reach and take my Hojojutsu ropes from the table, then display it to Marc. “Part three of your punishment is yet to come!” I threaten ominously. When I grab his wrist and move it upwards, he doesn’t offer any resistance. He grins expectantly as I quickly tie his arms to the headboard, followed by his ankles, which I bind to the bed’s base. Trussed up spread-eagled, I kneel beside him akimbo and scrutinize him businesslike with a wicked smile.

“With my indignation far from gone, it wasn’t very clever of you to surrender yourself to my mercy.” I tease sardonically. “So many ways of torment, which one shall I submit you to first, hm?”

I reach towards his genitals, but stop a hairbreadth before touching. Marc’s face beams with anticipation, so I move my hands slightly upwards, where I put the tip of my middle finger on his lower abdomen just above his penis, a very light touch, barely more than a tinge. In the same instance, I concentrate and channel my own zest through my finger into him like an electric tingle. The effect is as desired, he winces and moans out loud with excitement.

Ah, to watch him convulse with sheer lust, as I run my finger slowly up along his midline. How he throws himself against the bonds without effect, sincerely vulnerable subdued to my caprice! Hearing his fitful gasps makes me shiver with excitement myself, my own craving goes sky high and that feeds back into Marc through my fingertip. 

By reaching his throat, I reverse my movement and slide my finger towards his midsection again. When I pass Marc’s bellybutton and head for his genitals, I notice him holding his breath. Meanwhile, I can barely contain myself from exhilaration. My private parts throb wet with arousal, I just want to mount and hump him thoroughly.

With supreme effort I manage to stay concentrated on my human sex toy. Still channelling my lust through my fingertips, I clasp Marc’s nutsack and rub over his pudendal nerve. Within seconds I notice his cremaster tighten and retract his balls, indicating his imminent orgasm. Not yet, sunshine…

I straddle on his belly and lean forward, press my lips onto his and ram my tongue into his mouth. As we kiss furiously, my own libido runs wild. I put my hand on Marc’s face and force his head aside, kiss the side of his neck and nibble on his earlobe. My free hand slides down his body, my thumb caresses his nipple, playful at first, then more vigorous, until I squeeze and rub it rather violently between my fingers. Marc reacts with frenzied little yelps and jerks beneath me like an unruly horse.

I can’t stand it anymore! I reach behind me and grab his shaft, lift my hips and descend down on him. It feels heavenly, as his full erect member slides into me. All by themselves, my pelvic muscles tense and enfold him vibrantly. I lean back and move up and down, back and forth, careful and appreciative at first, then more emphatic. My womb tingles and burns with craving, emanating raging passion into my every fibre. Now, I almost pound my hips on Marc. Lustful and yearning as I’ve been the whole evening, it doesn’t take long until I climax in extensive, divine surges, surpassing every former experience and making me fade into oblivion.