I sat across the desk from the oncologist, Dr. Olga Kirillova.  Kirsten squeezed my hand while I studied the doctor’s pensive features, trying to guess what the news was.  Her blond hair flowed loosely to her shoulders, and her gray eyes were cast downward at her pale hands lying on the dark screen of her desk.  Every few seconds her button nose would twitch as though she had a sniffle, and her full lips were pulled tight.  If no news is good news, as the saying goes, I was about to get something particularly awful.

My wife was a nervous wreck, however, and I had to hold it together for her.  Kirsten’s black hair was cut in a bob, with bangs just above her eyebrows, and her dark brown, nearly black eyes were wet with tears yet to fall.  Her narrow nose looked as though it were made out of stone, and she constantly worked her thin, pink lips with her teeth.  The ivory skin of her face was creased all over from worry, and her white skirt and black blouse were both creased from her fidgeting.  Every few seconds she glanced down at me, as though trying to reassure herself I hadn’t died already.

“Mr. Fletcher, I’ve gone through this hundreds of times, but I’ve never found a gentle way to break this.  The cause of your headaches is a sizable tumor just behind your brain’s frontal lobe.”  She pressed a button, causing a holographic display to appear in the air above the desk.  My wife let out a quick yelp and leaned over, touching her head to mine.  “This is the image we took of your cranium last week.”  She poked a thin rod through the hologram at a black spot about the size of my fist.  “Considering its size I’m not sure how we didn’t catch it on your last visit, but it’s not unheard of for them to grow this rapidly.  I’ll be surprised if you live four months.”

Kirsten’s tears dripped onto my jacket, and I squeezed her hand back.  I was devastated to the point where I could do little more than stare blankly at the doctor and serve as a warm pillow for my wife.  My brain raced, trying to process the news but starting over repeatedly.  “What are my treatment options?” I asked flatly, almost an automatic response for Kirsten’s sake more than mine.

“Despite how far we’ve come in the field I’m afraid the options in this particular case are severely limited, and not without severe drawbacks,” Olga replied, picking her words carefully.  “The obvious solution would be to remove it, but due to its placement our neurosurgeons assess that there is a sixty percent chance that you would die from it, and even if it were successful your mental capacity would be severely diminished, placing you roughly on the level of a five year old.  Drug or radiation therapy are also options, but there’s a significant chance they wouldn’t reduce it quickly enough to save your life, and even if they did your frontal lobe’s blood flow would be disrupted to the point that you could, again, end up being child-like, mentally.”

I struggled to focus on what she was saying, but a persistent ringing in my ears made it difficult.  Coming in I had figured the news would be bad, but this was catastrophic.  Without a doubt I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do.  “So, I should get my affairs in order?” I asked.  It was a pointless question, I knew, but I had to say something.  With the silence all I could hear was my wife’s quiet sobbing.

“That may be a little premature, Mr. Fletcher,” the doctor answered, much to my surprise.  She must have noticed the confusion on my face and elaborated.  “Biosleeves have been used for years for extreme cosmetic adjustments and academic research, and have shown great promise in radical treatments of terminal patients.  If we transferred your consciousness into a biosleeve grown to your exact specifications, the sleeve would be free of the tumor and you would be able to live a long, relatively full life.”

“Then of course I’ll do it!”  I moved my hand to Kirsten’s back, doing my best to reassure her by running it up and down her spine.  “How is that even a question?”

“There’s one drawback.  I figured you’d take this option, so I called the insurance company before your appointment.  A full-sized biosleeve is, according to them, 25 million dollars, and they absolutely will not cover it or budge on the price.  They are, however, willing to cover a set at a reduced price, but also at a reduced size.”

“Reduced in size… how?”

Olga hesitated.  “To approximately one inch in height.”

The office was quiet for a moment; even Kirsten had gone mute, for the moment.  “So then I would effectively be…”

“An inch tall, yes.”  Dr. Kirillova shifted through some menus on her screen.  “I understand this drawback might be a little less concrete than the others, so I’ve gone ahead and prepared something to help you visualize it.”  With the final press of a button a hologram of Kirsten appeared over the desk.  “If I could direct your attention down to the desk’s surface.”  Standing beside my wife was a tiny version of me.  “I used data from your most recent physicals to show you just how extreme this change would be.  As you can see, Mrs. Fletcher, your husband would be no taller than your shoe.”

“We’ll do it.”  Kirsten’s strong, resolute voice cut through whatever pain she had been feeling before, making her opinion absolutely clear.  “I’m not going to watch my husband die, and I would rather be married to someone the size of a mouse than a mental invalid.”

“Mr. Fletcher, do you-“

“Absolutely,” I said, backing up Kirsten’s opinion.  “Whatever physical challenges there are, we can work through them together.  I won’t be a burden on my wife, and I want to grow old with her.”

Doctor Kirillova looked surprised, as though she hadn’t expected us to come to mutual concordance so quickly.  “Well, that works for me.  Just so you understand, your consciousness will be uploaded into a mobile database which will then be entrusted into your wife’s care.  Once your consciousness is first downloaded into a biosleeve we are absolved of all responsibility, your current body will be declared dead, and, let me reiterate, you will be one inch tall.”  She enlarged the hologram of us until it filled the room.  While we stared at it she continued, “You understand the severity of this, yes?”

I nodded.  “It’s the best choice out of the lot, doctor, and I’m comfortable with it.  Kirsten values me as a partner and her equal, and I will not leave her alone.  If the only way I can be with her is to be an inch tall, then so be it.”

“If your mind is made up, then I respect your decision and wish you the best on your new life in a biosleeve.  Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to explain details of your upcoming treatment to your wife that you may find unsettling.  Obviously I can’t make you leave, but I remind you that you should never see sausage being made or laws being passed.”

“Oh, no need to worry about that.”  I threw up my hands in mock surrender.  “I’ll get out of your hair and let you two get down to it.”

The three of us stood simultaneously.  I turned and hugged Kirsten, sliding my arms under hers and letting her rest her chin atop my head.  “And you thought I was short before,” I quipped, giving her a light squeeze.

“I hope you can still love me when I’m a towering giantess,” she replied, running her long, slender fingers along my back.  We held each other close even while Dr. Kirillova’s high heel shoes clicked toward us on the tile.

“I’ve sent a memo to the reconstruction lab detailing what to do, if you head down there while we work out the details here they should be done with their work-up around the same time we finish here,” she explained, drawing my attention.  Though we had met several times before we had never both been standing, and while I suspected she was fairly tall I didn’t expect she would be head and shoulders taller than me.  I confirmed that she was wearing heels on her long, stockinged legs, but that hardly explained the nearly two foot difference.  “Mr. Fletcher.  If my height surprises you I would like to remind you that you will soon be one inch tall.  To put that in perspective, my heels are three.  Myself, your wife, and literally every other human being who is not in a similar biosleeve will be giants to you.  It’s best if you acclimate yourself to the idea sooner rather than later, so I’ll have the lab instruct you on how to make the appropriate adjustments to your holoscreen.”  I nodded and cupped Kirsten’s hand, looked up into her eyes meaningfully, and left the office.

Olga and Kirsten watched Julian leave, and once the door clicked shut Olga wasted no time in getting to the instruction.  She pulled something roughly the size of her palm out of her pocket and held it out to Kirsten.  “This will be your husband’s new bed.  You can place it wherever your like, but it must be close enough to connect to his database via these ports.”  Using her finger, Olga indicated two black blocks at the “head” of the bed.  “Not only is this the means through which you download him into a new biosleeve, but if he spends at least four hours in it, it will add any new memories to what we have stored.”

“Okay, several questions,” Kirsten began.  “Why does it use wires instead of a wireless connection?  What happens if he doesn’t sleep in there, or if not for four hours, and why would I need to download him into a biosleeve after the first time?”

“I’m glad you’re engaged enough to ask questions, and I’ll address them in order.  While we are capable of doing this wirelessly, a shielded fiber optic connection will ensure that no data is corrupted when leaving or entering the biosleeve – it’s a failsafe.  If he doesn’t rest long enough in it, his memories will either be missing or incomplete, which is why we suggest at least four hours, especially at the start when he’ll be overwhelmed by trying to interact with familiar objects at his new size.  Finally, there’s a reason the prescription is for a dozen biosleeves.  We understand and expect a certain amount of loss with these models, either through natural causes or accidents.  I understand that you’ll be as careful as possible with him, but at an inch tall with human frailty he simply won’t be able to withstand some stresses.  As a note, you should never, under any circumstances, let him see the extras.  In every trial this caused extreme insanity that required the immediate termination of the subject.”

“Hold on one second,” Kirsten said, placing a hand to her temple.  “You not only expect that I’m going to kill my husband, but you plan for multiple instances of it?”

In response, Olga reached into her other pocket and withdrew a small item pinched between her thumb and forefinger.  Carefully she placed it in Kirsten’s open palm, then withdrew her hand.  To Kirsten’s surprise a tiny man laid motionless in her palm.  “This is an inert biosleeve, roughly the same size your husband will be,” Olga explained.  “If you could be so kind as to make a fist for me, as tightly as you can.”

“But… that’ll kill him.”

“It.  This is a totally blank model for demonstration purposes.  It has no mind, consciousness, or memory.  Beyond that, I’ll emphasize that even if this were your husband, this wouldn’t ‘kill’ him – only destroying his memory database would do that.  So please, make a fist.”

Kirsten looked nervous.  This was far beyond her comfort level.  Even if this thing lacked sapience, it was still technically alive, right?  She looked to Olga for support, and found only cool gray eyes staring back at her expectantly.  With reluctance she curled her fingers inward until they came to rest atop the tiny body in her palm.  Every detail of the body was evident to her through touch, though it was strangely cold under her fingertips.  Slowly Kirsten gripped harder, increasing the pressure until a couple of loud pops emanated from her fist.  A bit more pressure and the tiny body gave way entirely, reduced to mush beneath her fingers with a soft crack.

“So you see, Mrs. Fletcher, something that you and I take for granted could easily destroy your husband’s biosleeve, and it would be quite unfair to hold you responsible.”

“No offense,” Kirsten said, wiping the shattered body onto her thigh, “but I don’t expect I’ll be squeezing my husband in my fist until he pops.”  She placed a hand on her chest and swirled her index finger, and moments later her pale thigh was completely unblemished, with a fresh outfit appearing on her.

“Not literally that, but think a little deeper.  You slap your desk in frustration, or you set something down without looking.  Maybe you’re drowsy and you see something small running along the table and swat it without thinking.  These are not only possible, but documented cases.  Now, come with me, I have something else to show you.”  Olga walked behind her desk, heels clicking loudly on the tile the whole way.

Kirsten went to follow her, but the second the toe of her ballet flat hit the ground she heard a light crunch.  Quizzically she lifted her shoe, revealing the smashed remains of a corpse crushed flat beneath her sole.  She looked around and saw a half-dozen other biosleeves, none taller than her shoe, scattered around the office floor and locked into standing positions.  “Did… did I just…”

“Another empty shell,” Olga said, doing her best to reassure Kirsten with her clinical tone.  “That was just to demonstrate how easily you’ll be able to crush your husband, entirely on accident.  But please, I do have something to show you.”  Much more carefully this time, Kirsten walked forward, watching for any tiny people before each step.  When she reached a spot beside Olga, the doctor showed her a transparent yet firm box, about six inches wide.

“This is an example of where you’ll keep the ‘empty’ sleeves of your husband.  I’m showing you this so that you can pick out a spot now to put it so that he won’t be able to see it.  I suggest a high shelf or locked drawer that he won’t be able to open.  Once his biosleeves are inside, biometric locks will make sure that only you or people you specifically authorize – your husband excluded – can open it.”

Kirsten nodded.  “So, going back a bit.  If I kill my- I’m sorry, ‘crush my husband’s biosleeve,’ won’t he know?”

Olga shook her head.  “Not unless you tell him.  Remember, he only writes memories to his permanent consciousness if he’s in his bed.  For all he knows he’s waking up at the start of a new day.”

“How long should I wait before I…”

“Re-download him?”  Olga smirked, the first bit of emotion she had shown for the whole meeting.  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of the lingo.  You can do it any time within 72 hours of a biosleeve expiring.  Any longer than that and the system flags you and alerts the authorities that you’re possibly murdering him.  But that means you can either take a day or two to cool down from it, or not even take the time to clean your shoe off.”

Kirsten looked visibly shaken.  “I think that’s enough questions for now,” she said.

“I just want you to be ready for the very real possibility that you’ll be finding your husband’s smashed remains several times a month once he goes through with this,” Olga said.  “And if you have any questions or need to talk to me for any reason, don’t hesitate to call me on my personal or office number – I’m an oncologist, but I’m very familiar with the smaller biosleeves treatment, and want to make sure the two of you adjust to your new lives as quickly as possible.  Just remember that you will be responsible for every aspect of his life, and for his life itself.”  With that Kirsten left the office, taking care to avoid stepping on any tiny bodies scattered around the floor, and headed down to meet Julian at the reconstruction lab.

Right when the lab tech finished explaining the process, Kirsten’s slender form came around the corner.  Dr. Kirillova had predicted the timing absolutely perfectly.  I walked toward her and wrapped my arms around her in a hug, though she suddenly stiffened.  Quickly I let go and stepped back.  “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing,” Kirsten replied.  “I’m certainly not… nevermind.”  She forced a smile.  “When do I get to meet my new, inch-tall husband?”

“It’ll be a few days,” I told her.  “They’ll have the sleeve ready in a couple hours, but a full brain upload can take 96 hours.  Once that’s done though you will have me in the palm of your hand for the rest of your life.”  I grinned, but Kirsten couldn’t bring herself to return it.  Instead her eyes went wide, and she began to frantically wipe her hand on her skirt.  “Seriously, is something up?”

“It’s just… are you sure you want to be an inch tall?” she asked.  “Everything’s going to be a lot more dangerous for you, and there are other treatment options that we haven’t tried yet.”

“I trust you entirely to keep me safe, hun.  And it’s the best option, unless you want to be wiping drool off my lip until we’re both gray.” 

No, I’ll just be wiping you off my shoe every time I come home, Kirsten thought.  She forced her smile back on though.  “If it’s really what you want, then I’m behind you one hundred percent.  Besides, I’m already kind of gigantic to you, aren’t I?”  Kirsten stood on her toes and loomed over me.  “Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of Julian!”  Finally she cracked a real smile and fell down, draping her arms over me.  “So when do you get uploaded?”

“Right now.  They wanted to get me in as quickly as possible before I started losing brain function, and that ended up being fifteen minutes from when I got here.  Guess I won’t get any of that time to get used to a new, gigantic world before being thrown into it, huh?”

“You know, that might not be such a bad thing,” Kirsten said.  “We’ll get used to it together.  Me and my tiny husband.”  She took me by the arm and together we walked down the corridor to the brain backup wing.

Two hours later dozens of diodes were connected to my head and spine, and Kirsten still hadn’t left my side.  “He’s about to go under,” one of the technicians declared.  “It’s time to say your goodbyes and get clear.”

I squeezed Kirsten’s hand one last time.  “Hey.  I love you,” I said.  “I can’t wait to see how you majestic you are when I wake up.”

Kirsten squeezed back.  “Love you too,” she said.  “Try to enjoy this break from being under my thumb.”  She leaned forward and kissed me, then got up to leave.  When the door closed behind her I felt my eyelids fluttering, and a moment later I was asleep.

Waking up from the procedure was a jarring experience.  The first thing I saw was Kirsten’s face as though it were displayed on a billboard.  Each of her mahogany irises were half my size and looking right at me, and her previously petite nose was just as wide as me and twice as tall.  The powder from her make-up was perfectly evident in some spots, and with her dark red lipstick the small creases in her lips were easily visible.  I recoiled involuntarily and her eyes widened, the whites making a sharp contrast with the small amount of eyeliner she had applied.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed.  I had watched the words leave her lips, but it didn’t sound like Kirsten’s voice.  It was louder than she had ever spoken before, and significantly deeper in a way that shook my insides as though I were at a concert.  She leaned back to sit on her heels, allowing me to see something other than her face, and adjusted herself until she was comfortable.  “I didn’t even think about how scary that would be for you!  Is this better?”  Kirsten looked at me expectantly, and I came out of my retreating posture.

“Yeah… yeah, it is,” I replied once my heart stopped racing.  There was a lot more to adjust to than I had expected: I hadn’t expected that Kirsten’s gentle voice would sound more like a roaring subwoofer, for instance.  I looked around to get a more complete picture of my new life.  Behind me, the lamp I had switched off every night for years rose like a monolith, the chain dangling far out of my reach.  To the side I saw that our bed had become a vast plateau with steep hills at the headboard, and I was standing on a blue tile floor that did not in any way fit our apartment’s décor.  “Um, where am I?”

“You’re in our apartment,” she answered.  “The hospital suggested that I waited until getting home to wake you up, they said it’d be easier for you to adjust to your new life.”  I wasn’t sure I’d ever really adjust to this.  The few things I had encountered so far were different enough that it felt like I was on an alien world.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel weird, and really small.  Everything is just so huge to me now, and it’s… a lot to take in.  I thought I’d be fine, but when I saw your face looming over me I got scared.  Like, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, but it took a second for me to even recognize it was you.  And your voice sounds totally foreign, like it’s been slowed down significantly, but still at normal speed.  Guess I should’ve taken that week to acclimate with holograms, huh?”

Kirsten gave a wry grin.  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” she said.  “You’ll get used to this soon enough, and it’ll be like nothing’s wrong.”  My insides still rumbled when she spoke, but I figured that was more something I’d have to deal with rather than acclimate to.  “How’s your head?”

I waited a moment before answering to let the noise inside my ears die out.  For the first time in months I didn’t feel as though my head were about to split open from cluster headaches, and for all the unusual sights at this scale my vision was fine.  “It’s like nothing’s wrong with it!” I exclaimed.  “Probably better than it’s ever been!”

Her grin widened into a huge smile, showing teeth the size of my torso.  “That’s great!” she shouted, and I covered my ears from the sudden explosion of sound.  Blushing, she covered her mouth with her slender fingers.  “Oops, sorry again.  Guess I’ll have some adjusting to do, too.”  When she pulled her hand away I saw she was trying to suppress her smile and doing a poor job of it.  “Think you’re ready for a look around?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”  I pointed down and hoped she could see what I was doing.  “But first, what’s this thing I’m standing on?”

“Oh, that’s very important!  It’s your new bed.  Since your brain is technically all digitized now, you have to sleep in it if you want any memories to be retained in case something goes wrong.  Think of it like a save point – this is the thing that stores your progress so you don’t have to learn everything all over again.  Don’t worry, I’ll get you set up with some stuff to make it more comfortable.”

That made sense, and this platform did look a lot like the machine they showed me before administering anesthetic.  Past the blue platform, I seemed to be on a nightstand with a sharp drop to the floor on all sides.  “Uh, how am I going to get off this?”

“Again, don’t worry about it, I’ve got you covered.”  Kirsten extended a hand toward me, and as it drew closer my trepidation grew.  The delicate digits I used to wrap mine around were all several times longer than me and at least twice as wide, and her palm was large enough that I would be able to stand on it without feeling vertigo.  Though she was moving slowly I still felt imperiled as it encroached, and I resisted the urge to run screaming only because I had nowhere to run.

I closed my eyes when her fingers got close enough for me to see the whorls on their tips.  She pressed my arms against my sides firmly enough that it would be impossible to resist the relatively enormous weight of her fingers, but gently enough that I didn’t feel threatened.  My feet lifted off the ground and I forced my eyes to open.  When I saw the gargantuan hand bearing down on me with fingers poised to smash me between them, I wanted to squeeze them shut again.  My nerves quickly settled, however, and I came to think of this as more like an amusement park ride, with my gigantic wife’s hand as a roller coaster of sorts.

Kirsten slowly lowered me to the ground, keeping her hold on me firm until my feet were solidly on the hardwood floor in front of her knees.  She withdrew her hand, placing it atop her thigh with a clap.  I stood there looking up for a moment, mesmerized by how gigantic my wife was to me now.  Most of my view was blocked by the sheer black fabric over her knees no matter how far I craned my neck back, and her slight torso was now the size of a building.  Her face still seemed enormous even though it wasn’t filling my view, but from here I no longer felt threatened by each of her facial features, and appreciated the beauty as they complemented each other.

Just when I was getting acclimated to the view it began to shift again, Kirsten’s dress bulging while one of her legs pressed against it.  A tremendous boom rang out when she planted her foot, accompanied by a violent quake that sent me stumbling.  She rapidly shot up, and another crash came with a second tremor, and I tumbled onto the lacquered floor.  “Kirsten, earthquake!” I shouted, feeling as though the building was about to crumble.

“What?  I don’t feel anything,” She replied, looking around in confusion.  While I struggled to get up I heard her giggle.  “Oh!  That was just me standing.  Am I really so gigantic to you that my footsteps rock your world?”

I craned my neck back as far as I could and still couldn’t see the top of her head.  She was hundreds of feet tall compared to me now, absolutely titanic to my new, tiny body.  My head was almost level with the tip of her ballet flats which looked to be about as long as a flatbed trailer.  If she got much more gigantic to me, I thought, she would be more like a landmark.  “Yeah, you really are!” I shouted up at her, still feeling uneasy from her footsteps.  “Any chance you could carry me around for the tour?”

“You know, I’d really like to,” she replied.  Even so far up her voice retained its resonating qualities, like she was speaking through a crystal clear public address system.  “Unfortunately, Doctor Kirillova insisted that we walk alongside each other during this.  She said it’ll help you adjust faster, and let you know your limitations when I’m out.  It’ll also let me know what I need to do to accommodate you, so while it might be unpleasant it’s going to help you in the long run.”  I couldn’t argue with that, but it was difficult to see those enormous shoes and not worry about being caught beneath one.

Kirsten took a step toward the bedroom door, careful to walk in a more gliding manner so that she wouldn’t “rock my world” as she put it.  Even though her slit dress restricted her legs, her gait was long enough that she easily outpaced me.  With only three steps she was already at the doorway while I was running to catch up.  “Hey, wait up!” I shouted.  She looked over her shoulder and down, then stopped when she spied me so far away.

“Oh, my bad!” she said with an embarrassed smile.  “I had gotten so used to us walking together that I didn’t even… but I’ll work on it.”  Kirsten stopped and waited while I caught up, though it took several minutes.  The whole time she watched me patiently with the same smile plastered on her face.  I wasn’t sure what she was so happy about, watching her husband struggle to keep up while scurrying about on the floor, but I guess we were both glad I wasn’t dying anymore.

When she finally started moving again Kirsten did her best to match my pace, slowly moving her foot along with me as I traversed the floor’s planks.  Walking at such a pace must have been infuriating for her, but if she minded she didn’t say anything.  As an added benefit, now that she was walking at my speed the ground no longer shook when her foot hit the ground.

First we made a trek around the living room.  As I had expected everything was much too large for me to practically use.  The couch was like a tremendous ridge, and I would have an easier time sliding under it than taking a seat on the cushion.  In addition to that, the chair I had personally picked out when we moved in had the same problem, with no way for me to actually sit in it.  Even if I could, it would have been too large for me to use.  Even the rug conspired against me, slowing my progress so much that Kirsten had to come to a complete stop several times while I untangled my feet.

Next up was the kitchen, and we ran into the same problems.  Everything was simply too big for me, from the refrigerator to the silverware.  Not only could I not get food, even if I could I would have to eat it with my hands anyway.  The sink was more like a swimming pool, and each glass would have sufficed as a room on its own.  I would have thought there would be something I could use, but after Kirsten showed me that the smallest spoon we owned had a basin my size it was clear nothing was even remotely practical for someone in my situation.

The last stop would have been the bathroom, but we both had a fairly good idea how that would go by now.  I didn’t need to see it to know that I could slip down the shower drain, or marvel at the absolute size of the porcelain throne.  The apartment, and society as a whole, simply wasn’t built with inch-tall people in mind.  If the idea hadn’t seemed so absurd I would have screamed at the injustice of it.

Kirsten turned around once we finished the kitchen walk-through, placing the tips of her shoes neatly on either side of me.  She looked down at me and blushed slightly before saying, “So, it looks like you’ll need just about everything, or some sort of accommodation.  I’ll stop by the fabricator tomorrow and get you a chair and food, and see about getting some stairs made so you can get up to the less replaceable items.  As for the couch, you don’t mind curling up in my lap and cuddling, do you?”

I zoned out after halfway through what she was saying.  “Wait, you’re going to work tomorrow?” I asked.  “I appreciate everything you’re going to do for me, but I was hoping we’d have some more time to work with each other and get used to this.”

“I know, I did too!” Kirsten replied.  “I was hoping we’d be able to spend a few days together, let you explore some things, take you out with me keeping a close watch on you, stuff like that.  But my job decided this was an elective procedure and I had to beg and plead to get this one day off.  Apparently, the norm is that people pick their spouses up from the hospital after work, I had to drive home that this was a life-changing event and you’d need some time adjusting.”

“Really?  That’s heartless of them.”  I reached out and grabbed the toe of her left shoe, the closest I could get to some sort of comforting gesture.  “Don’t you have any vacation days or something?”

Kirsten smirked a little.  “I’m saving my vacation days for something special, just the two of us.  When it happens, you’ll thank me, but for now try not to worry too much.  Tonight I’ll set up some steps so you can get off the nightstand, and I’ll leave some food out for you tomorrow, then everything should be good to go after I get home from work.”

I balked.  She had been telling me not to worry an awful lot, and I was found this vacation to be questionable.  Still, I trusted her get all of this done, and worst case scenario I’d be a little hungry when she got home.  It’s not like I was going to die anymore.  “Okay, I can deal with this for a day,” I called up to her, then gave her shoe the best hug I could give it.

“You’re getting awfully chummy with my shoes,” she said.  “Should I be jealous?”

“Maybe,” I replied coyly.  “I’ll be spending a lot more time with them now, I might pick up a totally new appreciation for them.”

“They’re a package deal, you know, and one might get mad if you spend too much time with the other.  Think you can juggle those commitments while also dealing with a spurned giantess?”

“Spurned?  I think I can manage all three of you.  After all, you spend so much time together I could multitask pretty well.”

The shoe I was leaning on began sliding away, causing me to stumble forward.  “Oh no, that one’s leaving you!” Kirsten said, then started sliding the other one back so that she ended up kneeling.  “That one too!  I guess you’re just left with your wife.”

I acted disappointed.  “Well, if I have to settle for a beautiful, generous giantess, then I’ll manage somehow.”

Kirsten smiled, then carefully picked me up.  She pressed me against her lips while she stood, getting dark red lipstick all over my pants and face.  When she was done she looked at me and said, “You walk really slow, you know.  That tour took like five hours.  I hope you’re going to make this up to me somehow.”

I chortled.  “Anything you have in mind?”

“Normally I’d ask you to take me to lunch, but I don’t really go on dates with inch-tall men.  How about we stay in and share a sandwich instead?”  I couldn’t shrug with my arms pin so instead I nodded, and Kirsten walked me over to the table, set me down atop it, and went about getting our food.

Kirsten set the plate down beside me, creating a thunderous clap from the plastic’s impact.  She strode around the table and pulled out the chair with a screech, then plopped down in it.  I looked up at her looming over me, and her grin was accompanied by tremors from her elbows landing on the wood.  Her delicate fingers grabbed the plate’s lip and dragged it toward her, stopping just before it barreled over me.

“Hop up!” she implored.  “I’m curious as to how this will work.”  I had the same questions, so I reached up and latched onto the plate’s edge with both hands, then worked to secure my footing.  When I felt sure of myself I hopped up, kicking at the air and pulling with my arms until I was halfway over the edge.  Quickly I swung a leg onto the platform, then pulled myself forward and came to a sitting position so that I could slide down toward the middle.

The first thing that struck me was that Kirsten had made a sandwich over twice my height.  I’m not sure what either of us expected: there was no food in the apartment that was appropriately sized for me, and even if there had been she would have found it to be a pathetic amount.  I turned back to her and shrugged, and she cocked an eyebrow.  “I’m not sure what to do!” I said.  “It’s too much!”

Kirsten furrowed her brow while her eyes alternated between me and the mountain of food.  “Bear with me, I have an idea.”  Her hands reached inward, and I reflexively ducked away from the massive limbs swinging toward me.  She grabbed the sandwich and lifted it toward her mouth, pushing out her chin when it got close.  I looked up, and saw that her chin was almost directly over where I stood on the plate.

She opened her lips and moved in to take a bite.  Lettuce cracked as her teeth tore through layers of it, and crumbs falling from her lips rained around me.  Once she had sliced through it she pulled it away from her mouth, then worked her jaw on the mouthful.  After several seconds of chewing she swallowed it with an audible gulp, sending a visible lump down her throat.  Her hands returned the sandwich to the plate, setting it down so that I stood in the section removed by her mouth.  I fit inside it with room to spare.

Something about what I had just watched affected me in a way I had never expected.  The way she had so effortlessly hoisted something that I had no hope of even budging, then took a sizable bite out of, emphasized how small I was now.  It made me feel particularly powerless, while reinforcing the impression of her as a mighty giantess.  Maybe these feelings would pass over the next few weeks, I told myself, since this was a bad portent for the idea of us as equal partners.

The plate violently shaking roused me from my contemplation.  “Hey, you still with me?” Kirsten boomed.  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.  Damn, her voice was still throwing me for a loop.  “I need to know whether enough fell out that you’ll have enough to eat, or I’ll have to think of something else.”  A quick look around showed a smattering of bread, cheese, and flakes of lettuce, as well as a few shreds of meat among the debris from her bite.  Looked like I might end up a bit peckish, but since this was a temporary solution only I could make do for tonight.

“It’ll be enough,” I said.  She cocked her head, clearly not understanding, so I cupped my hands and repeated myself, this time shouting it.  Kirsten must have heard it this time, since her fingers rushed back inward to grip the sandwich for her next bite.

“Watch your head!” she called, and I ducked just as a wall of meat and bread would have rammed into me.  While she took another enormous bite I began grabbing crumbs around me and devouring them, trying to make a game out of how many I could get before she set it back down.  My mouth ended up stuffed by the time the plate rattled from Kirsten setting her meal back down, and I struggled to chew through everything I had accumulated by the time she began to hungrily eye the sandwich again.

We went through like this until she playfully shoved the last bit of food into her mouth, leaving me with nothing left to grab.  I ended up feeling much more full than I would have with just a normal sandwich, and the impression of filling up on detritus from my wife’s meal stuck in the back of my mind.  She seemed oblivious to the possible psychological affliction this was causing me, and simply asked, “So, did you get enough?”

I patted my stomach, feeling significantly more satiated than I expected.  “I think if I eat another bite I’ll burst,” I called up to her.  Before now I hadn’t realized how much of a messy eater she was: enough food for another person would have been discarded were it not for me!

Kirsten smiled.  “Glad to hear it, hon,” she said.  “Think it’ll be okay if I just set out some cheese and crackers for you tomorrow while I’m at work?”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” I said.  Honestly, just a little slice of cheese would probably be fine.  My new stomach was much smaller than I had anticipated, and even a pitiful amount of food was enough to fill me up.  Kirsten would be able to figure that out though, and I didn’t want her to underestimate what I’d need.

“Good to hear,” she answered, then sent her hand in for me.  I fought the urge to dodge as her thumb and forefinger closed in, and found myself clamped between her digits.  Kirsten lifted me off the plate and slid it out from under me, then turned to the side.  Carefully she lowered me to the floor, then set me down on the rug around the table.  “Let’s just take it easy for the rest of the day and watch a movie, huh?”  With how much she towered over me even while sitting I felt it best to go along with whatever she said.  Besides, relaxing on the couch with her seemed like the best way to continue adjusting to my new life.

I looked Kirsten over.  She was still wearing the same formal dress she had on when I had woken up, with the slit going up to her waist and elegant yet simple flats.  Considering I was still in jeans and a T-shirt, I felt there was even more of a disparity between us.  “Looks like you’re a bit overdressed for a night in, though.”

She looked down at her dress and giggled.  “Oh shit, you’re right!  I got all dressed up for your homecoming and didn’t even think to change.  Here, give me a second and I’ll fix it.”  She placed her hand on her sternum, and after a few deft movements her evening gown was replaced with something much more comfortable.  Now she was wearing a white chemise with tiny (for her) dark blue shorts, with her tremendous shoes replaced with white ankle socks.  “That better?”

I had really just wanted her to change out of the flats so that I was less at risk in case of an accident, and I had forgotten that this was her “casual” setting.  Not that I minded the change.  We both agreed that she had a fantastic pair of legs, and she took any excuse possible to show them off.  “Yeah, it works for me.”  I tried to downplay how much I liked it, but I think she saw right through it.

She had the décor not to say anything, though.  Instead she simply stood and looked down at me with a smile.  While I craned my neck back to look up the immense length of her legs she chuckled.  “What, did you expect me to start carrying you everywhere now?  You know where the couch is, I’ll be picking out a movie in the meantime.”  Kirsten stepped away from the chair, buzzing me close enough with her foot that I saw each individual weave on her sock.  Shockwaves went out when she set her heel down, followed by another set when the ball of her foot slapped against the floor.  The tremors got successively weaker as she walked away, until I heard a muffled thud from her laying down on the cushions.

I wasn’t enthusiastic about having to walk my way there, but she had a point.  It would be unreasonable for me to rely on Kirsten to do menial things like carry me around the apartment, and not doing it for me would allow me to retain a certain measure of independence.  Besides, this was part of Doctor Kirillova’s orders, right?  Kirsten was hardly going to undermine the doctor’s suggestions, and I was inclined to go along with her.  Besides, a little walking would hardly kill me, and it was only a few feet.

As it turned out, without Kirsten to walk along with me and make it interesting they were a few of the longest feet I’ve ever walked in my life.  Each time I stepped over the wood grain, or hopped across a divider between the planks, I was reminded how long it would take me to do absolutely normal tasks now.  Kirsten kept idly scrolling through selections while I slowly made my way over toward her, which convinced me to walk under the end table instead of around it.  Thankfully there were no cobwebs beneath it, and in only a few more minutes I was standing at the base of our couch.

Kirsten spotted me almost immediately, as though she had been waiting for my arrival.  “Oh, you finally made it!” she exclaimed, blowing back the hair on my head.  “So, I know that per doctor’s orders you should climb up the couch to get to me, but that seems really unfair.”  She paused to brush her hair behind her right ear.  “Besides, I can’t wait that long to snuggle with you.”  This was a relief.  The whole walk over here I had been dreading the climb up our faux-leather couch, certain I wouldn’t be able to make it.

Her hand rushed down, ensnaring me before I realized what was happening.  My stomach fell while she raised me, perhaps a bit too fast for what had before now been more like a long elevator ride.  With her help I came over the couch cushion fairly soon, then she continued to carry me onto her.  When I was over her flat tummy she set me down, letting me go so that I would sink into the soft skin beneath her chemise.  It took me a moment to get situated, eyeing me carefully while trying to suppress a laugh.

“I hope you don’t mind, I picked out a nice rom-com for us tonight,” she said, pressing a button on the remote to start it.  I figured that she did know I minded, but we never exactly had a strong track of sticking with movies once they started.  I tried to get situated on her chemise while she looked down at me, and both of our expressions told me that no matter what happened with this film, we wouldn’t be watching it through to the end anyway.

The movie’s holograms took shape, filling our living room up to the couch with vibrant colors and ostensibly three-dimensional figures.  “Bet you’re getting a kick out of this,” Kirsten asked, with unexpectedly strong vibrations running down and making my feet quiver.  “It’s like you get a big screen experience without having to leave the apartment.”  I tore myself away from her and faced the movie playing just in front of us.  To my surprise, it was remarkably like an experience in a theater.  Momentarily I got lost in the exhibition, watching the holographic figures move back and forth while I was mesmerized by how small I seemed compared to them now.

I sat down against Kirsten’s hip bone, and we were able to maintain the fiction of caring about the movie for a whole five minutes.  “The whole time you were walking over here, I was looking for something like our situation,” Kirsten said, making me glad I was braced against her skeleton as the tremors ran through me.  “Weirdly enough I couldn’t find anything.  You’d think if it were so common there would have been something about it by now, right?  Or at least some Oscar-nominated film about someone trying to deal with the challenges of someone suddenly being tiny?”

I sat back, trying to think of something to reply with.  As I watched the typical presentation of the characters in the film, I realized that this was not the first time our lives didn’t exactly line up with what was presented in film.  “Yeah, seems weird to me,” I agreed.  “With how hard Dr. Kirillova was pushing this, you’d think it was a fairly common procedure.”

“You know what I think?” Kirsten asked, making me tremble along with her words.  “I think we’re the first people this happened to with any sense of marketing.  So what do you think?”  Her fingers clenched around me, then lifted me away from her hips.  She held me about a foot in the air and over her chest while she addressed me.  “You want to make history?”

By now I was totally absorbed by Kirsten and the attention she was giving me.  Specifically, how, vulnerable I was in her hands.  “Let’s give it a week,” I suggested, wanting to adjust to my life before we agreed to make a movie about it.  “We’re going through a lot of stuff right now, and I’m not sure if it’d be appropriate for all audiences.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Kirsten slowly lowered me until I rested upon her pale skin just beneath her collar bone.  “Besides, I don’t think the ratings guys would particularly approve of this.”  Almost immediately her index finger shot forward, slamming into me and forming me against the curve of her fingertip.  In an instant she had pushed me inside her chemise, sending me past her breasts before removing her finger so that I slid off against her underboob.

Left inside her chemise, I instantly looked for the fastest way to ignore Kirsten.  Most likely she expected me to go up between her breasts again, so I started walking down along her tummy.  I sidestepped her navel on the way down and headed for her right leg.  Moments later I cleared the overhang provided by her chemise, coming out onto her shorts and looking out along her lusciously long legs ahead of me.

“Oh, are you trying to get away from me?” Kirsten called.  Her hand descended on me while I ran along her shorts, trying to reach her bare legs.  Just when I stepped out over her smooth, placid skin her fingers seized me, lifting me from my course along her leg.  “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea right now.  If you get too far away and I lose track of you, and I’ll have to spend the whole rest of my night finding you.  Why not just spend the rest of the night hanging out with my hand?  We can do more fun things later, I just want to make sure your first day goes off without a hitch.”

I may not have agreed – personally I wanted to run up and down her legs like I had always dreamed of – but she did have a point.  Besides that, I wasn’t getting free of her grasp anytime soon.  So instead of fighting back, I made myself at home in my wife’s grasp, enjoying the warmth that I wouldn’t have been able to feel otherwise had we not gone through with this procedure.

Kirsten played with me throughout the film’s duration, to such an extent that I felt she stopped caring about it before halfway through.  Her fingers were a constant source of entertainment for both of us, stroking me up and down while she held me captive within her grip.  I hardly minded, and every chance I got I reached out to stroke her fingers, letting her know that I was still there and up for whatever she had to throw at me.

“Letting you walk around may have been doctor’s orders,” Kirsten began, shaking me inside her grip, “but it’s sure not very time effective.  It’s already time for me to go to bed, and I’d like it if you came with me.”  That meant I was going to bed with her since I had no other way to get up to my bed, which I was perfectly fine with.  It’s not like I had anything to do when she was asleep, anyway.

Kirsten clutched me around her stomach, letting me appreciate her tight tummy while I tried to deal with the vertigo of being carried around by someone else.  “I’m sure the good doctor would disapprove of me carrying you, but I need to make sure you get in that bed tonight.”  I could hardly disagree, since if I had to experience this day all over again it would be like my own special kind of purgatory.  “I won’t tell her if you don’t, okay?”  My lips were sealed, which I’m sure she would take as agreeing with her.

After a few thundering steps we were back in our bedroom, and Kirsten gently placed me back on top of my multi-purpose bed.  She tossed a couple layers of cloth onto the bed then stepped back, looking down at me while I was stuck at her knee level.  “Uh, guess this is something else I need to get,” she said, giving an embarrassed laugh down at me.  “You’ll need some tiny blankets and sheets.  I’ll go ahead and add that to the list.”

Kirsten climbed into her bed, leaving me alone on my platform.  “Goodnight, Julian!” she called, reaching over to seize the gigantic chain above me.  Her delicate fingers gripped it, and with a quick tug the room was plunged into darkness.

“’night, Kirsten!” I replied, doing my best to make a bed out of what I had been given.  It wasn’t much, but after my first day as a tiny person I was exhausted anyway, and I soon drifted off to sleep as well.

The bed shuddered beneath me, rousing me from sleep.  I nearly panicked and scrambled to take cover from an earthquake, then I saw the dimly-lit lamp towering over me, its dark bulb reflecting light from the other side of the room.  The previous day came flooding back, and I remembered that I’m tiny now. These tremors could have been created by anything, from a large truck driving by the building to my wife walking across the room.  With a sigh I pulled the cloth acting as my blanket over my head and turned away from the glinting bulb to get back to sleep.

To my dismay the pounding continued, and two immense columns wrapped in white nylon appeared before me.  “Oh, did I wake you up?” Kirsten boomed, entirely unaware of how she sounded to me now.  “I’m so sorry!”  She knelt down beside the end table she had designated as my bed, still looming head and shoulders over me with her lengthy legs significantly reduced.  Two enormous fingers reached in and pinched my blanket, then pulled it over my head.  “You’re still going through such an ordeal, you deserve to sleep in.”  This close her voice seemed even more tremendous, and I scarcely recognized it as Kirsten’s.

Weakly I reached up and pulled down against the blanket, barely able to move it against her now seemingly infinite strength.  “No, it’s okay,” I said, peeking out from the small divot I was able to make with my insignificant efforts.  Kirsten’s face was all I could see, and I still hadn’t gotten over the fact that I could straddle her nose and she wouldn’t even be inconvenienced.  “I’m already awake, and I’d like to stay on the same schedule as you.  No reason I should go nocturnal just because I’m the size of a mouse, is there?”  Kirsten grinned.  My tired joke must have had the desired effect.

“Well, if that’s what you want,” she replied, relinquishing her iron grip on my meager covers.  Her voice shook my insides on its own, making me feel like I was talking to her for the first time again.  Kirsten stood, bumping against the end table and subjecting me to an intense wave of tremors.  It hardly seemed like she noticed.  I couldn’t even see her face from my vantage point at her knees she was so tall to me now.  “I stacked up some old books so you can wander around the apartment as you want, try not to get too lonely without me, okay?”  There was a loud smack, then her hand tilted down toward me – blowing a kiss, I suppose, since her lips would be too terrifying up close.

“I’ll do my best!” I replied, doing my best to “catch” the kiss she blew at me despite it being several times my size.   Kirsten lingered a second longer.  I imagined she was grinning down at me, but her lips were blocked from my view by her modest breasts.  The next thing I knew I was subjected to another set of quakes while she walked away, jostling me inside the cocoon she had tried to make for me.  They got weaker the further she went from me, until they were little more than nuisances after she closed the door behind her.

Since I was already awake I figured I might as well get up and explore on my own.  I didn’t expect that I’d be able to go back to sleep anyway – something about how she towered over me made me feel giddy in ways I couldn’t quite explain.  My restlessness overcame me, and in only a few seconds I had thrashed myself free of my makeshift covers.  Free from their constricting nature, as well as Kirsten’s oppressive presence, I looked around for something to do.

It only took a few seconds to determine that my options were lacking, There were little more than a couple square feet on the platform I was on, and the only significant feature beside my bed was many times taller than me.  Without the option of climbing, the only choice left was to go down to the floor.  With a sigh I resigned myself to the long staircase Kirsten had set up for me, threw the covers off, and walked to the edge of my platform.

Everyone always says that the first step is the hardest, but that was not my experience with the staircase Kirsten had set up for me.  Before stepping down I turned around, gripping tightly to the ridge I was about to leave before trusting myself to the terrace below it.  To my surprise my feet touched the cover of the top book before I lost contact with the end table’s top, and I carefully let go of my white-tipped hold on the wooden platform supporting me.

Much to my surprise, the entire descent along this “staircase” was about the same.  Though we didn’t have many physical books left in the apartment, Kirsten had managed to find the optimal arrangement so that I would have a steady trek to the floor, as comfortable as it could be for someone my size.  Each step down required me to hold on to the previous ledge, keeping my grip until my feet touched down on the cover of the next book.  My caution continued until my feet touched upon the hard wood floor of our bedroom, the broad base of over a dozen books I had used climbing down.

Once on the floor I took a look around, trying to decide what to do next.  On the other side of the bed there was nothing interesting: there would be no shoes since her upgrade to the universal wardrobe, and I had no desire to wander into our shared bathroom, rather confident that nothing had changed since yesterday.  The rest of the apartment offered so much more to explore anyway, and if there was anything left out for me it would be there.

I walked along the plank I landed on toward the common room, remarking on each change in the grain’s rings as I passed over them.  Previously such a trek had only taken me a few steps, but now it was at least half an hour to reach the edge of the board.  My legs were already beginning to feel tired while I looked from the hard ditch in front of me to the doorframe in the distance. 

By the time I reached the doorway the sun was all the way up, and I figured it had been over an hour since Kirsten left.  The central room was much larger, and filled with tremendous obstacles – furniture built for people hundreds of times my size, that I had been comfortably sitting on no more than a week ago.  With the immense scale of everything I doubted I would even be able to make it across the room before Kirsten came home.

Far away, up against the kitchen counter, a single cracker sat atop a small paper napkin, a small square of cheese resting on it.  That must be the food Kirsten left for me.  It looked like a puny amount, and my first thought was that there’s no way a single slice of cheese and a cracker could satiate me for the entire day.  Then I remembered standing on her plate while she ate with crumbs the size of my hand raining down around me, and how full I was just from that.  This morsel would be enough to feed me for an entire week, I realized.

My stomach growled, and I realized it was almost empty.  The veritable feast waited for me, mere hours away, and all I had to do was walk over to it.  Seemed easy enough, just one foot in front of the other a few thousand times.  With the long journey ahead of me I figured it would be best to start toward it now before the hunger pangs began in earnest.

As it turned out, walking for four hours straight was more rigorous than it sounded.  My feet ached by the time I left the fifth plank, and my ankles felt unusually swollen from the constant movement.  Several times I slipped and nearly landed on my face due to the slick lacquer, and hopping over the trenches that ran in a network of rectangles throughout the floor became more of a chore each time.  Work in a comfortable office with minimal physical activity had done a poor job of preparing me for the tribulations of being tiny.

It took four hours of trudging forward, but I finally stepped onto the paper circle on which the cracker rested.  My legs ached, and my back didn’t feel too great either after doing my best to stand tall for so long.  Taking a load off for a few couldn’t hurt, I told myself, and placed my hands on the tan surface of the hard bread in front of me.  With a small hop I turned around and sat on the cracker, then leaned back against the soft cheese.  It was like sitting on a rock, and my feet dangled beside its ridges, just too short to reach the floor.

I took a moment to reflect on the absurdity of my situation.  This was a snack food I had seen Kirsten easily slide into her delicate mouth, sometimes two or three at a time, and I was using it as an oversized throne.  While I lounged against the cheese I thought about how much food this was for somebody my size, and from there my mind wandered.  Why didn’t we make other people this size?  If billions of humans were given biosleeves like this, with only enough people remaining normal sized to provide for us, it would cut our consumption across the board drastically.  Of course, I thought, Kirsten would have to remain un-sleeved – she was too lovely to be hidden from the world.

My stomach roared, reminding me why I had walked so far in the first place.  I turned and sank my mouth into the cheese blanket’s corner I had been using as a backrest, filling my mouth with yellow dairy.  As it turns out an entire mouthful of cheese is much less pleasant than a small bite, and my palate was overpowered by it.  Chewing it was unexpectedly difficult too: opening my jaw wide enough to whittle away at the solid block caused an undue amount of strain, and I came close to choking multiple times.

Finally, I was able to gulp down more cheese than I had eaten in a year and ached for something different.  Since my only other option was under me, I pushed myself off the seat and landed on the plain white circle.  It had worked the first time, so I leaned in to take a bite.  The instant my mouth touched the cracker all moisture vanished, replaced by the overpowering taste of salt.  Undeterred, I worked my jaw on the hard surface, but found my teeth unable to even chip it.  Never one to give up, I persistently bit the tiny bit of cracker I had, but couldn’t even get a flake free.

Persistence, it seemed, was not going to pay off in this instance.  I backed off and considered what else I could do to get even a bite of this enormous cracker in my mouth.  A small circle of moisture darkened the surface where my mouth had contacted it, then quickly dissipated into the air.  Cautiously I placed a hand against it and pushed.  Moving it was out of the question as well, and it felt more solid than the apartment’s walls.

I may have been deterred, but I was far from defeated.  Swiftly I raised my hand and lined up my fingers as straight as possible, then brought it down in a hard karate chop on the tip of a ridge.  For my trouble, all I got was a serious ache in my hand.  While I rubbed it to stop the pain radiating up my arm I raised a foot and kicked at the same spot, hoping to knock just a little bit loose.  Again, nothing happened, and I ended up leaning against the apparently invincible cracker with all my weight.  My other foot slipped and I fell forward, hitting my forehead against the normally bite-sized treat.

Fortunately, I remained conscious, but my pride was severely bruised.  I would not be eating this cracker after all.  With a sigh I tore off two handfuls from the cheese and munched on them while considering what to do next.  Kirsten would be home soon, I thought, and it would be nice if I could show her I wasn’t totally helpless.  Recent events made that quite a quandary though: if I couldn’t eat that, I wondered, how could I show her some measure of self-reliance?

One lump of cheese was entirely gone, and I was beginning to hate the person who first discovered it, when an idea popped into my head: the couch!  If I could get up there on my own, it would show her that I wasn’t weak and incapable of fending for myself.  Re-energized with purpose – and an unhealthy amount of cheese – I started the long journey across the room.

Halfway there and losing steam, a loud beep came from the door.  It slid open, and I saw Kirsten standing on the other side of the threshold, a large box in both hands.  She appeared frazzled, but I was still glad to see her – she had never looked anything but beautiful to me.  Quickly I turned to face her, forgetting about my desire to fend for myself in light of her magnificent size.  “Welcome back, hon!” I called to her from the floor.  This seemed early for her, but in truth I only had a vague idea what time it was.

Kirsten stepped into the apartment, her delicate ballet flat crashing against the floor with a tremendous boom.  The floor shook from the impact, causing my teeth to rattle in their sockets with its force.  Her other shoe creased around the toes while her heel lifted, and in less than a second it had swung forward, closing an impossible distance between us.  With a glance up I saw that my view of her was now obscured by the box, and she hadn’t spotted me yet.  I glanced back down and saw her shoe crease with her heel lifting in the air, and I was directly in line with it.

“Kirsten look out, don’t step on me!” I shouted.  My giantess wife did not heed my plea, however, and her shoe lifted off the ground.  I watched in horror as it glided over the floor, the toe kicking up while her heel came down to land.  Her heel hit the wood with a deafening crack, and enough force to send me stumbling.  There was no time to stagger though.  The smooth sole of Kirsten’s shoe raced down and hit me with more power than I could comprehend.  Not that comprehending it was an issue, since an instant later her sole hit the floor, flattening my poor body sandwiched between them into a red mush.

Kirsten heard a faint, high-pitched squeak with her third step, but told herself it was the artificial leather of her shoe.  A soft crunch accompanied her shoe setting down, along with the sensation of something being crushed beneath her foot.  She paused while horror crept into her mind.  Slowly she leaned forward and set the box on the couch, then stood back straight.  Though she didn’t want to believe it, there was only one way to find out.

Slowly Kirsten lifted her foot, trying to brace herself for the worst.  When she saw Julian’s smashed body lifeless on the floor, she realized that nothing could have prepared her for it.  She let out an involuntary scream, then clapped her hands over her mouth.  Her breathing accelerated as her heart raced, a million thoughts flying through her mind.

“It can’t be- I just- He’s- I crushed my husband!” Kirsten whispered to herself, unable to pull her eyes away from the tiny corpse at her feet.  Her panicked whispers gave way to stunned silence while she continued to stare open-mouthed at what she had done.  There was no doubt in her mind that his death, though painful, was immediate beneath the unstoppable force of her shoe.  At last she uttered, “I killed him.”

Kirsten’s rational brain finally caught up to the situation.  She didn’t kill him, she reminded herself, she had only crushed one of his biosleeves.  Julian was still safe and sound in the portable database from the hospital.  Doctor Kirillova had even warned her this would happen and tried to prepare her, but she didn’t expect it to be on the second day.  Kirsten took a deep breath to calm herself down, and wondered if she would ever get used to this.

Shaking, Kirsten began to unpack the box full of tiny furniture and accessories she had picked up for her husband that afternoon.  She considered immediately bringing Julian back, but decided against it: he would just be waking up when she got home, and it would honestly be easier to get everything set up without him underfoot.  The last thing she wanted was to smash him again mere minutes after cleaning him off the floor, and besides, the whole apartment being tiny-accessible would be a nice surprise for him in the morning.

Carefully she placed all the tiny-friendly items around the apartment: a ramp leading to the couch, a perfectly-sized chair, racks full of nutritious and – she hoped – flavorful paste where the untouched cracker had been, and a toilet he could use without having to worry about falling in.  She had even gotten a tiny tablet for him pre-loaded with his favorite books and shows so he would have something to do while she worked.

Finally, she grabbed a tissue and wiped up the smashed corpse – no, ruined biosleeve, Kirsten corrected herself – from the floor and off her shoe, then threw it in the garbage chute to be incinerated.  Having finished all her duties she poured a glass of wine, sat down on the couch, and turned on the holoprojector for a calm night that would hopefully let her get over her recent trauma.  Julian could wait until morning, she assured herself, and it’s not like he’d remember her smashing him anyway.

A strong, rhythmic pounding roused me from an unusually deep sleep.  Light from across the room glinted off the bulb several stories above me, and I rolled over on my new bed to escape the glare.  Kirsten was walking close enough to the opposite wall that her arm nearly brushed against the picture frames hanging from it.  When she saw me stir she practically recoiled, pressing her back against the nearest bare surface.  “Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, placing a hand over her breast.  “I’m… I’m glad to see that!”  Though she was by no means tan, she had gone white as a ghost.

“Yeah, it’s a wonder I can get any sleep with your giant feet stomping around,” I joked.  Kirsten did not seem amused, however, and diverted her eyes away from me.  I readjusted myself beneath the sheets and covers I was wrapped in, a sharp contrast to the handkerchief and bits of scrap I had fallen asleep under.  With a glance to the night stand’s precipice, I saw there was a staircase resting against it, designed for someone my size.  “Hey, all this stuff is pretty nice, did you set it up while I was asleep?”

“Yep, sure did!” Kirsten replied, much louder than I expected.  “I couldn’t sleep knowing how bad you were going to have it today, so I got up and got all the things on the list we made… yesterday.”  She paused a bit, looking like a deer in headlights, before continuing.  “I even took a bit of time to make a surprise for you!  You’ll find it when you go into the living room, and I really hope you like it.”

I smiled, and she slowly inched toward the door.  “Aw, you’re so good to me!” I exclaimed, and she started blushing.  “That’s how I know this will be fine, you won’t let anything bad happen to me like this.”  Now she was starting to look downright uncomfortable, probably because of the sleep she missed and now she might be late to work.  “I don’t want to keep you any longer, though.  Give me a kiss before work?”

Kirsten took a pair of earth-trembling steps toward me, then froze.  “Uh, I probably shouldn’t,” she said.  “Doctor Kirillova’s advice, you know.  She thinks you should get more used to this size before I bring you too close to my face, something about a reflexive fear of being eaten?  It’s probably best to listen to her, at least for now.  I’ll see you when I get back from work, I’m sure!”  With that she left, her footfalls shaking the room around me.

This was a different tune than Kirsten had been singing just days before, when she was only a few inches away from me when I woke up.  I shrugged, and chalked it up to her being excited to see me again after the procedure.  It was rather terrifying to see her looming so large to me, so the doctor had a point.  Kirsten also might be having misgivings – if something happened to me, even by accident, it would tear her up.

There was no sense prognosticating on it any more right now though, and there was no point staying in bed all day either.  I threw off the covers, leaving them in a pile beside the bed, and swung my legs over the side.  The bare wood was cold on my feet, and I felt every minute detail of it on my skin.  Weird, I had gone to sleep wearing socks, and didn’t remember taking them off.  Maybe Kirsten had removed them when she set up my bedding and forgot to leave them anywhere nearby.

Being free from the covers made me acutely aware of how cold the entire room was.  I looked down and saw that, to my confusion, I was only wearing a pair of boxers.  Apparently, Kirsten had seen fit to remove all of my clothes and then hide them from me.  All of this was confusing, but standing here thinking about it wasn’t going to make my clothes appear.  Instead I grabbed the sheets, draped them over myself like a cloak, and went to the new staircase leading down.

It was an impressive piece of work, made out of metal that exacerbated my condition and complete with a handrail running down the whole length, which I needed several times on the descent.  There must have been a few hundred stairs, and a tumble down them would result in me lying in a broken pile at the bottom.  Still, the whole journey took about ten minutes, much longer than I would have liked.  Later I could ask Kirsten about getting some sort of elevator installed.

Once on the floor it was a whole other ordeal to get to the doorway.  The cold wood was scarcely more pleasant than the metal, and it took so damn long to make it there.  Walking barefoot, when I had previously been accustomed to shoes, did not make it any easier.  I was eager to see what surprise Kirsten had left for me in the living room, though, so I soldiered forward without taking a break.

After I crossed the threshold a tremendous shape materialized in the center, leaning against the back of the leather chair.  It was Kirsten, wearing her casual outfit.  I could have sworn she left for work about an hour ago.  “Did you take the day off work, hon?” I asked.  From how she made it sound yesterday getting a day off would be like pulling teeth, and it wasn’t like her to do this without saying anything.

“Oh, hey Julian!” she responded, taking a step toward me.  For once, this was not accompanied by an enormous tremor or the crack of thunder.  “I was concerned about you being here all by yourself with no one to talk to, so I made this holographic program to keep you company!”  That explained just about everything about this.  Even the lack of weight to her steps.  “I synced it with your tablet so you can have some degree of control over it.  If you want you can change my clothes, hair style, voice, talkativeness, activity, size, and even turn me off if you want.  I left your tablet in your new chair, so give it a shot!”  She was pointing to the tiny chair in the shadow of my old favorite one, so I hurried that way.

Making my way across the vast plain of our living room floor was more of an ordeal than expected, and the gigantic holographic Kirsten was no help.  I didn’t expect that she would carry me, of course – she was merely a projection of light in the shape of my wife, after all – but the way she tapped her socked foot made me think even the computer controlling her was becoming impatient.  Thankfully, the weightless body did not make an impact each time, or I would have been even more unnerved during my long approach.  Despite her impatience she remained silent while I traversed the great distance, her dark eyes following my slow progress.

Finally, I reached the chair and picked up my tablet.  The first thing I did was navigate to the holoprojector app, where I found a single program, “Kirsten,” running with no end time.  I scrolled through the options and found that she was not even close to listing all of the features, for the sake of brevity I hoped.  Once through the list I looked up at her towering over me, barely even able to see her face past her knees.  “I don’t suppose there’s any way to make you solid, is there?” I asked.

Kirsten giggled.  “Sorry, you’ll have to make do not being able to touch me until I get home.  But there are lots of other options, try them out!”

I grumbled.  Didn’t think so, but it never hurt to ask.  My next option, obviously, was to change her size.  I placed my finger atop her head on the display and gradually dragged it down, and my holographic wife reduced accordingly.  There seemed to be no limit to this, so I could make her the same size to me as I was to the real Kirsten.  That seemed a little extreme to me though, so I settled on having her just a head taller than me, like it was before the procedure.

“Is this what everything looks like to you?” was the first thing she asked while walking toward me.  I simply nodded in response.  “Huh, it is weird.  Everything looks so… big, doesn’t it?  Like, that chair looks big enough that you could found a city on the seat.  Not that you would, obviously, since it would be incredibly dangerous, but you could.”  The hologram’s eyes looked around the room, taking in the sights that I had just begun to grow accustomed to.

She continued forward until she was about an arm’s length away from me, then stopped.  “Look, Julian, I think it’s really sweet that you want to just hang out with me again, I do.  But part of the reason I did this was to help you get used to seeing how I look to you now.  I totally understand you wanting things to be like they were, and I can’t make you set me back to normal size, but it’s better for both of us if you do.”

She had a point, though I didn’t want to admit it.  Reluctantly, I placed my finger back on the tablet and got ready to slide upward, when I noticed that it would also go significantly larger than where she started.  I suppressed a devilish grin and threw my hand upward, dragging it over the screen’s border.

Correspondingly, the holographic projection of my wife exploded in size until she filled the room, with the top of her head bumping against the ceiling.  Her feet extended forward until one of them clipped through me, and one of her calves was contained entirely within the chair.  There was a slight hiccup in the picture while it adjusted her away from obstacles, and when she settled again I was looking up at the curve of her big toe.  According to the tablet she was now supposed to be eleven feet tall.

“Woah, this is different too!” she exclaimed, barely able to fit in the apartment now.  “Everything’s so small compared to me now, I feel like if I sat in the chair I’d break it.”  She bent over and spotted me, despite me being practically eclipsed by her toe.  “And you’re positively miniscule now!  I mean, I know you can’t help it, but it’s a good thing I’m integrated with the security system’s life sign sensor or I’d have trouble finding you.”  The newly expanded Kirsten looked around giddily, relishing her new point of view even though she was nothing more than a digital image.

I was in no rush to return the image to its normal size.  Weirdly enough I found this version more appealing, and found it kind of funny huge she was.  It’s not like I was in any danger, anyway: the flip side of her being unable to help me was that she also couldn’t hurt me.  Besides, I was getting hungry and wanted to try some of that paste Kirsten had picked up for me last night.

The rest of the day practically flew by.  Every now and then I took a drink of the bland but filling sludge in the bottle while I played with the hologram.  I left her at that ridiculous size but put her in a familiar pair of black flats, and settled on a white skirt and black blouse for her.  Everything else I ended up returning to its default after playing with it for a bit – there wasn’t much on Kirsten I could improve on, I thought.

Time went so quickly I was actually startled when the door beeped, allowing Kirsten entry.  “Oh, hello!” she said, then carefully stepped inside.  The real version of my wife was a little shorter than the projection’s leg, and she looked up at her in surprise.  “Well this is… interesting.”  Her enormous doppelganger looked back down at her with a smile, not saying anything.  “Julian, have something you want to tell me?”

I laughed, and set the program to sleep.  “Every part of you is so lovely I just want to look at more of it,” I said while the projection flickered, then disappeared.  “Can’t be mad at me for wanting to see more of you, can you?”

Kirsten smirked and stepped more confidently into the room, shaking the ground when her foot set down.  “Aw, you always have the sweetest explanations for doing weird shit,” she said, kneeling in front of me.  She peered over her knees until she was finally able to see me.  “So, how was your first day by yourself?  Did my program help keep you busy?”

“Your program’s great,” I responded, “and it helped keep me entertained once I found it.  Getting there took a while though, this place is huge for someone like me.  Like, hours to get across the floor.  By the time I got to the food I was already starving.  Is there any way you could get me like a tiny bike, or some skates or something for getting around, and an elevator to get up and down places?”

“Um, an elevator?” she repeated.  “That seems expensive, and difficult to install and maintain.  I’d have to call someone to set it up, and it’ll cost at least a week of credit.  What’s wrong with the ramps and stairs I have set up for you?”

“They’re fine, it just takes so long to get up and down on them.  It would be so much easier to just ride something up and down and not worry about falling to the floor.”

Kirsten sighed, and forced a weak smile.  “I’ll think about it, okay?  And I’ll see about getting you something to help get around so that you don’t get exhausted just walking to get lunch.  In the meantime, try to get along without it, okay?  If you made it one day, you can make it a week, I’m sure.”  Apparently the issue was settled, since Kirsten stood and went to go make herself dinner, her steps rumbling through the floor as she went.

The rest of the week went similarly: after Kirsten went to work I would get out of bed, fortunately with clothes after that first day, and play around with her holographic program until she got home.  When she got home I asked her again for something to help me get around better, or some item to help make my life a little easier.  She always gave the same tired smile, said that she’d see about it, and went about her evening until picking me up so we could snuggle.

Friday, however, something was different.  Kirsten stormed through the door, walking right through the holographic image and plopped down on the couch.  I followed as best I could, but could only make it a few inches before she sat back up.  Her hair was mussed, and she had dark circles under her eyes.  It seemed like she’d had a bad day at work.

Without saying anything she pulled out her tablet and turned on the projector, which made an image a couple inches tall appear on the table.  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she muttered, and leaned forward to adjust the image.  Apparently I had forgotten to reset the size after watching a movie earlier, this minor inconvenience was irritating her beyond belief.

“Hey, why don’t you pick me up and we can snuggle?” I offered, trying to make her feel better.  Her gaze snapped toward me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Snuggle?” she repeated angrily, shooting up from the couch.  “Is that what you call it when you sit in my lap and annoy me?”  She took a thundering step toward me, and I saw storm clouds gathering around her head.  “Or is that reserved for when you crawl down my shirt and I have to dig you out?”  Kirsten took several more steps, rumbling like artillery fire while she crossed the immense distance between us.

Seeing Kirsten this mad was rare, and it was even more uncommon for her to be mad at me.  This was the first time she had truly lost her temper in a long time, and seeing it from this point of view was terrifying.  “Okay Kirsten, just stay calm, you know I didn’t-“

“Calm?  I bet it’s easy to be calm when you don’t have any responsibilities, isn’t it!” she shouted.  I was now entirely within her shadow, and she was glowering down at me with a ballet flat on either side.  “I wish I could be a useless little bug like you, I’d be calm all the time!  But one of us has to go out and support us, and you sure as hell aren’t going to do it, are you?”

Slowly I backed away from the wrathful titaness, though a few inches could do little but secure peace of mind.  “Kirsten, honey, let’s take a moment to think about this so we can unwind.”

Quick as lightning Kirsten raised her leg up until her knee nearly reached her shoulders, then brought it crashing back down beside me.  It hit with an immense crack that ruptured my left eardrum and a shockwave powerful enough to throw me off my feet.  “Yes, let’s unwind, honey,” she growled, practically spitting the last word.  “I’ll go ahead and start.”

Kirsten raised her leg again, and before I could react it was already coming down in a powerful stomp.  While her tremendous foot descended I raised my hands to shield myself from my furious wife, but it was no use.  I couldn’t even blink again before the worn sole of her ballet flat filled my view, and an instant later it made impact.  After a brief flash of pain I was crushed utterly beneath her shoe, leaving behind nothing more than a small spot on the wood floor.

Kirsten felt the tiny biosleeve crunch beneath her foot, and an immense wave of joy washed over her.  Grinning, she lifted her foot again and again, smashing the tiny body even further until it was almost two-dimensional.  Finally, she could have a night alone to forget about her sorrows without being pestered about installing a series of elevators around the apartment for that tiny person to use.  She lifted her heel and pressed down, then began grinding her shoe back and forth, rendering the puddle beneath it into unrecognizable mush.  Is this what she had to do for a single night where she didn’t have to pull her husband out from her shorts?

Oh shit, that’s right.  Kirsten had become so wrapped up in the annoying bug aspect while he buzzed around her foot that she had forgotten that’s her husband.  What joy and relief she had felt melted away, to be replaced with anguish and regret.  How had she let herself get so carried away that she so brazenly killed him – or at least, this biosleeve of him?  She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, and leaned against the couch’s arm before placing her hands over her mouth to calm herself down.

After several minutes she felt grounded enough to do something aside from panic.  “Call Doctor Kirillova, personal line,” she commanded, her voice still quivering from adrenaline.  There was a pause while the call went through, followed by a couple long rings.  Olga answered, and an image of her sitting in an armchair appeared on Kirsten’s table, still only three inches tall.  Kirsten rushed to correct it before the doctor made a snide comment.

“Hello?  Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, how good to hear from you!  I see you’re adjusting to your new role as a giantess to your husband already.”  Damn, too late.

“I’m really not, one sec,” Kirsten said, fumbling with the display.  Finally, she zeroed it out, and Olga expanded to her full, natural size.  She took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to say it, and settled on blurting everything out.  “I killed my husband!  He was being really annoying and I had a bad day so I stomped on him until I felt better!  I don’t know what to do but I know I’m a horrible person and you said to call you if I have any issues and this is a big one!”

Doctor Kirillova listened to Kirsten’s confession impassively, and waited to make sure she was done before speaking.  “Kirsten, I want you to listen very carefully,” she said.  “If anyone else asks, you didn’t smash your husband in a rage.  You stepped on him by accident when you came home from work, understand?”

“But I-“

“No buts.  People understand accidents, they won’t understand violently and intentionally crushing someone if they’ve never undergone the strain of a loved one suddenly having to live in inch-tall biosleeves.  It can put a lot of friction on even the best of relationships, and it’s perfectly normal to need some help adjusting.  Your husband’s check-up is tomorrow, right?  I’ll schedule you for an appointment with Doctor Brooks right after.  She’s a relationship counselor who specializes in matters like this, I think she can do a lot to help you two adjust to your new lives.”

“Thank you… Olga,” Kirsten said, hesitant to return the doctor’s familiarity.  “It’s just a lot to deal with, and the guilt-“

“It’s no problem,” Olga said, interrupting her, “but please, save it for Doctor Brooks.  She’s the relationship counselor, not me.  Now, is there anything else?”

Kirsten thought for a moment before answering, “No, not right now.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Olga hung up, leaving Kirsten in the silence of her living room.

It was an accident, Kirsten told herself, looking at the smashed and ground-up mulch of her husband’s biosleeve.  Couldn’t avoid stepping on him, he shouldn’t have been in my way.  No matter how many times she repeated it, she couldn’t convince herself it was true, and it seemed like nothing would alleviate her guilt.  Finally she got up and grabbed a tissue, then wiped up the ruined remains from the floor.  Leaving a mess wasn’t going to make her feel any better, and she didn’t want to answer any questions from Julian about it in case she forgot to wipe it up later.

Kirsten’s hand trembled while she carried me through the hospital, knocking me back and forth while she made her way to Dr. Kirillova’s office.  My check-up wasn’t for another couple of days, I had thought, but Kirsten insisted it was today.  I didn’t quite buy her explanation that my perception of time was still adjusting to the biosleeve, but there was not much I could do to resist: her fingers seizing me around the chest made it clear I was going with her, whether I thought it was today or not.

We stood at the receptionist’s desk, Kirsten holding me about level with her navel, and waited to be acknowledged.  “Yes, can I-“ the receptionist began before her brown eyes caught sight of me.  She adjusted her glasses awkwardly.  “You must be Mr. Fletcher!”  Her bubbly voice was a dozen decibels too loud for me, making me think she was either terribly inconsiderate, or Dr. Kirillova didn’t have too many patients my size.  “Please, have a seat.  I’ll inform the doctor that you’re here, and let you know when she’s ready for you.”

There was not even enough time for Kirsten to find a seat before the receptionist cleared her throat and called out, “Mr. Fletcher, the doctor will see you now.” Seeing that Kirsten had her hands full, she hurried to the door and opened it a crack, just enough that my wife would be able to shoulder it open.  When we passed, I saw that I was being held about level with the receptionist’s chest, and she was looking down at me in wonderment.  “Ma’am, can I just say that I think your husband is completely adorable?”  Kirsten simply smiled and nodded, then shoved her way into the adjacent office.

Before Kirsten was even two steps into the office Dr. Kirillova greeted us warmly.  “It’s good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher!” she said, standing up from behind her desk.  She walked around the side of it, her shiny high-heeled shoes clicking as she made her way toward us.  “Now, Mrs. Fletcher, I understand that it would have been infeasible for your husband to be here without you carrying him.  Unfortunately, I must insist that you set him back on the floor now and leave.  The battery of tests I’ll be running requires only the two of us, and your presence could potentially interfere with them.  I’ll let you know as soon as you’re done so we can discuss what, if anything, needs to be done.”

Kirsten looked down at me in the center of her still-trembling palm.  “You gonna be okay, big guy?” she asked.

“Yeah, I should be fine,” I replied.  “Unless you’re worried about the doctor trying to keep me because she’s fallen in love, there’s a real risk of that.” 

Kirsten grinned and squatted, lowering me toward the floor.   Slowly she turned her hand downward, forming a long ramp with her fingers.  I trudged down them and stepped off her fingertip onto the white tile floor in front of her.  When I was clear Kirsten stood back up, took a second to tower over me, and went to leave the room, her enormous ballet flats thudding along the floor during her exit. 

The door latched with a soft click, and two tremendous crashes grabbed my attention.  I spun to look back to the desk and saw that Dr. Kirillova had already taken one gigantic step toward me and was in the process of another.  Her heel hit tile with an enormous bang, followed by her toes swinging down with a catastrophic rumble no more than a foot away from me.  While I staggered to remain standing from the force of her step she brought her other foot alongside it, driving her sole hard into the ground.  She had positioned herself so that I was perfectly centered between the toes of her shoes, and I looked up her long legs clad in dark stockings to see her gazing down at me impassively.

“Mr. Fletcher,” she began, “does my height still surprise you?”  I could only gape up at her silence while she waited for an answer.  “It seems yes, so I’ll give you some hard numbers.  Right now, I appear to be over four hundred feet to you.  My receptionist outside, about three-fifty.  The sooner you get over this, the quicker we will be able to get to work.”  Still I found myself unable to say anything, and to her credit Dr. Kirillova kept any exasperation cleared from her face.

“It seems a more concrete demonstration is required,” she declared, and lifted one of her feet.  Quick as a lighting bolt it raced toward me, her heel slamming into the ground just in front of me.  I scarcely felt the force from that before the rest of her shoe crashed against the floor, making my bones rattle inside my body as I scrambled around to stay upright.  It was a miserable effort, and the shock from her foot laid me on my back after a couple steps trying to remain stable.  On my back I looked up at a smooth surface arcing upward until it came to an abrupt stop, with a gold-leaf emblem I didn’t recognize in the middle and the number twelve near its base.

“In case there is any confusion, you are currently underneath my shoe, where you should find enough room to live comfortably.  I would not suggest doing so, however, as it would be remarkably easy for me to crush you, albeit shockingly unprofessional.”  She lifted her heel, and subtly ground her foot back and forth against the tile.  “Now.”  Dr. Kirillova swung her leg away from me, setting it back where it had been with a resounding click.  “Do you still find my height distracting in any way, or do you require a more concrete demonstration?”

I definitely did, but I also had no desire to see how much further she could take these demonstrations.  “No, I’m good now,” I shouted up to her, though it didn’t register on her face in any way.  Her stoic demeanor was even harder for me to deal with than the possibility of her crushing me.  “So, what sort of tests will you need to run today?”  I wasn’t particularly interested in the answer, I just needed an excuse to break the silence in a way that made me appear unconcerned.

“Nothing excessive, simply some checks to see how treatment is progressing,” Dr. Kirillova replied, her confident voice booming from on high.  “Since your treatment was an all-new body they should come back negative, but it’s protocol.  Additionally, your diminutive height necessitates the use of a magnifying glass for some.  Are you ready to begin?”

“No time like the present,” I answered, hoping that one of the tests would not involve her coming fractions of an inch from smashing me again.

Wordlessly Dr. Kirillova lowered herself into a squat and reached into a cavernous lab coat pocket to retrieve her tablet.  For a moment everything in front of me was eclipsed by the dark nylon clinging to her shapely legs, but after she adjusted herself a waterfall of blond hair appeared and two serious, gray eyes found me.  “First tell me your full name, height, weight, date of birth, and what day it is.”

“Julian Michael Fletcher, 5’3,” 130 pounds, August 6, 2063, Saturday.”

She hesitated.  “Could you repeat your height and weight please?  They match neither my records nor my observation.”

I sighed.  “One inch, about half an ounce.”  She made a satisfied nod and flicked sideways on her tablet.

Dr. Kirillova let the tablet rest on her thighs while she reached into her pockets again, this time withdrawing a small flashlight and a magnifying glass.  She lowered the enormous lens toward me until a single one of her distorted eyes filled it, and held up the light against its rim. 

“Do your best to follow the light using only your eyes.”  With a click the light came on, temporarily blinding me with its spotlight.  I raised my hands to shield my eyes, but by the time they were in place she had already nudged it away.  “I realize the light is bright, but please keep your eyes open and uncovered during this, Mr. Fletcher.”  The light returned, and I cringed while it beamed down at me, but managed to stay focused while it flicked on and off of me.

She clicked the pen off and slid it back into her coat, then raised her empty hand.  In a flash she swatted the floor, just missing me and creating a cacophony from her skin slapping the tile.  I flinched away, and a second later she withdrew her hand to rest it on her knee.  “Reflexes look good,” she muttered, tapping away at the electronic device on her knee.  While I waited for an explanation she simply held up the tablet, its screen showing “COGNITION TEST.”

“I’m going to show you twenty pictures, and I want you to describe them to the best of your ability using five or fewer words.”  She tapped the screen to begin the test, and as the pictures rolled past I couldn’t help but think she had tailored this for me somehow.  There were shoes of various type and color, extremely zoomed-in eyes, an open mouth, and one, which I described as “gigantic woman wearing dark stockings,” which seemed to just be a photo of her taken from ground level.  When it was over though she gave another quick nod set the tablet back on her thigh.

“Everything looks normal so far, Mr. Fletcher, you’re doing great,” she said.  “Some things I would describe as irregularities, but nothing too severe, as expected.  I’ll just need to do a quick scan to confirm everything looks good and you’ll be on your way.”  Her hand raced toward me, causing me to flinch again, but this time she set it down with only the tips of her fingers touching the floor, forming a loose cage around me.  Narrow metal rods ran the length of her fingers, and I noticed only now that she was wearing a glove, invisible except for the metal parts.  After a brief flash she pulled her hand away, leaving me slightly dazed on the floor but no worse for the wear.

“None of your results indicate anything physically wrong with your head, but some of your answers did concern me.  Part of your check-up is a meeting with a therapist, if you permit I’d like to share the results with them so that you can discuss it.”

“Yeah, couldn’t hurt,” I said.  “I don’t remember any mention of a therapist before now, though.”

“It’s usually not part of procedure, but due to your unique treatment method and current relationship status I’ve arranged for you and your wife to meet with a relationship counselor regularly.  I assure you though, Dr. Brooks is more than capable of acting as a therapist as well, and has a reputation of utmost professionalism.”  Dr. Kirillova placed her hands on her thighs and stood, seeming to take a second to relish towering over me before she stepped away.  “Now stay right there, your wife will be in shortly to take you to your next appointment,” she remarked over her shoulder, her voice still quite clear over her thunderous footfalls.  As she sat down she tapped her ear and said, “Janet, could you bring me a privileged information release form, and then have Mrs. Fletcher join us?”

A few seconds of silence passed, then the latch clicked, and the doorknob began turning.  The enormous door rushed inward, followed by a white high heel with black toe at the base of a slender leg.  There was a crash and the ground shuddered, then Janet’s hurried footsteps brought her fully inside the office with another bone-shaking rumble.  I had barely even registered she was inside before her other foot had passed the opposite ankle, bringing it on a course directly for me.  My eyes widened when the mammoth column set down with a boom, sending me stumbling backward from the shockwaves, while the rest of her shoe swung down.  Its tip landed near enough for me to touch with a heavy enough impact to immediately topple me onto it.  I fought the urge to vomit from discomfort while I rested against Janet’s shoe, but her gait continued unabated.

With her next step Janet’s foot tilted forward, causing me to slide off the toe and land in a crumbled heap on the floor.  She stepped over me without a second thought and continued on her way, the sheer power of her steps tormenting me as I lie helpless on the ground.  “Here you are, doctor,” she said.  Her voice would have been sweet were it not distorted by being several hundred times my size.  “Anything else?”

“No, just send Mrs. Fletcher in here,” the doctor said, her voice much stronger.  “And give Dr. Brooks a call, let her know her next appointment is on its way.”

“Yes ma’am!” Janet declared, clicking her heels together with a tremendous racket.  She turned to leave, putting her shoes back on a collision course with me.  I made myself an even smaller target by curling up into a ball while she approached, each step shaking me as though it were an apocalyptic earthquake.  Her shadow passed over me, joined an instant later by the sound of the floor cracking open and a hellacious vibration all around me.  In the brief second, I registered the plain, white surface over me with its familiar arch, then it was gone with as much speed and violence as it has come.

Before the door was even fully shut it swung open again, and Kirsten stood in place while it closed behind her, enormous toes twitching in her flats.  “Is Julian still on the floor?” she asked, anxiously scanning the ground between herself and the desk.

Dr. Kirillova carefully looked at the path her assistant had just trod before answering.  “Yes, he’s just in front of your right foot.”  If anything, she was understating it: I was practically beneath the lip of her shoe.  “If you want you can pick him up and carry him closer since we don’t have all day, but I insist he stay on the floor during our discussion.”

Kirsten bent over and shifted her foot out of the way, then plucked me off the floor with a pair of loose fingers.  She walked toward Dr. Kirillova’s desk hunched over so that I wouldn’t be raised for only a few seconds before she set me back down again, sparing me the rapid ascent and descent in quick succession.  Her fingers released me beside the towering arm of the leather chair before she sat in it herself, pulling her foot back so it came to a stop next to me and crossing one leg over the other.  Her loose foot dangled above my head while she asked, “So, how’s he doing?”

“Mrs. Fletcher, your husband is making an excellent recovery,” the doctor replied.  “I saw no evidence that his cancer is coming back, and his cognition seems to have not been affected in any way.  To be fair, since he has an entirely new body this is what we should expect, but I can’t release him entirely from my care.  Since we know he’s pre-disposed toward cancer his biosleeves may develop it as well, and due to his previous body’s quick onset I’d like to examine him again once every month.”

“I see,” Kirsten said, shifting her foot nervously so that it bumped against me.  “If that’s what it takes, then so be it.”

“And before you leave, I feel I should tell you about some concerning answers he gave during his evaluation.”

“Concerning?  How do you mean?”

“Not in a way that makes me concerned for his physical health, I assure you.”  Dr. Kirillova slipped a foot out of a shoe while she spoke and gently set it on the floor beneath her desk.  “However, he initially gave his height as his old one, and took several minutes to do anything but stare at me, which I feel was related to our relative sizes.”  She began slowly tapping her exposed foot on the tile, just hard enough to make a quiet slap each time it touched against the tile.  “Additionally, his object recognition test did not yield the results I expected.  Every item should have registered as a threat for him, but I saw nothing to indicate an autonomic nervous system response, and when shown a woman from his vantage point he specified that she was ‘gigantic.’”  Tellingly, she had left out the picture was of her, and the whole time she described it she lifted her heel and lightly grinded the ball of her foot against the floor.  “I’m telling you this only because there’s a good chance it will come up in your session with Dr. Brooks.”  Her heel dropped back to the floor with a thud, then she surreptitiously slid it back into her shoe.  Something about the whole show had unnerved me, and I suspected she may not be as trustworthy as we first thought.

“Well, thanks for the heads up,” Kirsten said, reaching down for me again.  Her fingers easily worked their way around me, and she plucked me from the floor with a firm grip before standing.  I quickly ascended past her knee and the hem of her skirt to reach her waist, then she held me steady when I was level with her navel again.  Fortunately, her hand had stopped shaking by now.  “We’re on our way over there now, but do you have a quick second?”

Dr. Kirillova nodded.  “Go ahead, I’ve got time.”

“Listen, doctor, we’re really appreciative of all the help you’ve given Julian, and we know it’s not ideal but we all know he wouldn’t be alive now if not for your treatment.  Would you please come have dinner at our place tomorrow as a thank you?  It’s the least we can do for you saving his life, and I know it’s not much, but it’d really mean a lot.”

“Mrs. Fletcher, I have a long-standing policy of not getting involved in the personal lives of my patients in order to remove any suspicions of impropriety,” she began.  “However, you are not my patient, your husband is, so I would be delighted to join you!  Do you mind if I bring my husband, too?”

“Oh, you’re married?”

“Yes, but I try not to mention him too much.  I don’t think he’ll be a big deal, you’ll barely even know he’s there.”

“Of course, it won’t be a problem.  See you tomorrow at eight, then!”  With that Kirsten turned and left the office.  Janet waved at us as we passed, entirely unaware that she had nearly smashed me minutes before, and we continued on our way to Dr. Brooks’.