A single knock announced her arrival, then the door swung inward, revealing the vixen.  Her wavy, jet black hair was clipped to the back of her head, and her smoldering dark eyes were heavily shadowed in blue.  She had a magnificent face, with high cheekbones and a strong chin, with full, scarlet lips.  A black choker accentuated her slender neck, and a form-fitting, strapless crimson dress plunged deep into her cleavage and stopped just over halfway down her thighs.  Dark stockings made her long legs even more shapely, and shiny black stilettos made her dip her head when she stepped through the doorway.  It was like my ideal woman had stepped out of my imagination and into my hotel room.

She was also a foreign agent and could be dangerous.  I would have to keep one eye peeled though the evening.

“I hope, zat I am not late?” she asked with a mischievous smile.  Her accent was weak but definitely present and acted as an excellent complement for her dusky voice.

“You’re right on time, Tatiana,” I assured her, gesturing to an empty chair on the opposite side of the table from me.  “Please, have a seat.”

“Gladly.  And please, call me Tanya.”  As she strode across the room it looked like she was gliding on air, and she took care to perfectly align the corner of her clutch with the table before sitting.  She took time to swing one long leg over the other and sit perfectly straight before continuing, “Zo.  It is a little late for dinner, is it not?  Yet I presume you asked me here for some reason.”

“Can’t I just want the company of a gorgeous woman for the night?” I asked, twisting a corkscrew into a bottle of wine.  “It can get lonely on these long business trips.”

Tanya flashed a crooked smile.  “If you are suggesting that I am a prostitute, you are mistaken.  And if I were,” I felt the toe of her shoe slowly moving up my shin, “you would not be able to afford me.”  If anything, her confidence had grown from that afternoon.

“Nothing of the sort,” I replied.  I pulled the cork from the bottle and set it on the table without removing it from the corkscrew, point facing her.  Carefully I poured the dark red liquid into prepared wine glasses until they were halfway full before setting the bottle back down.  Gently I slid a glass toward her, leaning forward to make sure it got all the way there, and placed a hand on her foot before leaning back, holding it in place.  Gingerly I began massaging the exposed part of her foot and said, “Surely a couple of accomplished ex-pats like us must have something to talk about.”  She did not pull her foot away, so I began massaging in earnest.

“And what do you know of my accomplishments, hm?” Tanya challenged, arching a dark eyebrow.  She was being coy, trying to make me let something slip.  If I knew she was a foreign agent, it was reasonable to assume she knew I was one too, just for the other side.  Maybe she even already knew I asked her here to recruit her as a double agent.  Maybe she was here to try the same.

“More than what you’ve told me,” I answered.  “You’re a gorgeous woman who’s been living on her own for some time in a foreign country, and from how you’re dressed I can see you’ve done well for yourself.  I’m all ears for what you’ve got under your belt, though.”

Tatiana leaned back, smiling contentedly and sliding her toes up to my knee.  “Beauty is not an accomplishment,” she admitted, “but a way of life.  And just why do you think I am alone?”

“No wedding ring,” I replied slyly, giving her foot a firm rub.  “Aside from that, people like us tend to keep to ourselves.  And I guess I just wanted to imagine you’re single.”

“Vell, I admire your ambition.”  Tatiana began sliding her foot up my thigh, and I wondered just how long her legs were.  “But vat do you mean, ‘people like us?’  Ex-pats?  Well-dressed people in your hotel room?”  We took simultaneous sips from our wine glasses, and I had to admit she was playing this well.  She was better than expected at not answering my questions.

“Let’s say the second,” I clarified, “since right now I’m not concerned with anyone otherwise.  But you’re getting away from the original point.”  She teased her foot a little further up my thigh, and I paused to collect myself.  “I just want to learn a little about you, like what you’ve done and how you’ve thrived by yourself.”

“Still convinced I am single?”  As her foot neared the top of my thigh, I realized I should have been more resistant to its advances.  “Wery vell, you got zat right.  I am a chemical engineer vit a master’s, and I think you will agree that means I can write my own ticket.”  She leaned forward, placing a forearm on the table and quaffed from her glass.  “But vat makes you zo special?  Your accomplishments, as it were.”

“I’m a financial consultant,” I began, rubbing her foot reassuringly, “and I’ve found plenty of work to keep me employed around here.”  I took a quick drink of wine before continuing, “I was summa cum laude in undergrad and did quite well with my master’s.  Since then, I’ve done more than enough to recommend myself in this country.”

Tatiana smiled and slid her foot forward a little more, placing the sole of her shoe right on my groin.  She let out a short chuckle and began, “I think it is time we stopped, as you might say, fucking around.”  Her foot moved away from my crotch and she stood, sliding a fingertip along the table as she rounded it toward me.  For a moment she looked down at me smugly before seizing the collar of my shirt, gripping it tightly while I looked up at her, uncertain of what was to come.  With a single hand she dragged me out of my chair, and with a quick jerk I was off-balance and leaning against her.

“I am tired of acting like you are in charge and not me, little man,” she declared.  With my eyes jammed into her cleavage I could not rebuke her statement.  She yanked on my collar and I was looking up at her seeming to tower over me.  Tatiana looked down at me with a wide smile, confident in her position.  “You do not deny it?  Odd, but reassuring that you are not obsessed with macho notions like control.”  I would let her believe she had the upper hand, since we were still in my room and I was far from subject to her will.

She leaned down and pressed her lips against mine, and I pushed back.  I slipped a hand around her waist to grip the small of her back and hold her against me while she did the same with my back over my shoulder.  A strong, floral fragrance filled my nose while we kissed, and while we embraced I was engulfed in the moment.  Tatiana and I weren’t enemies or foreign agents, we were just two people who managed to find affection in our unique circumstances.

A rod jammed into my stomach, and I expected the hot, searing pain of a bullet at any second.  I had gotten overconfident and carried away, and now I was going to pay the price.  Tatiana thrusted her hand down, pulling me away from her while maintaining a tight grip on my shirt.  She gazed down at me haughtily with a self-satisfied smile while an electric jolt hit me in the gut, followed by a tingling warmth that spread throughout my body.

“I sink you will fit in vell with us back home,” she proclaimed, the warmth reaching my limbs.  “You will come with me and find you have no power, but it seems you are quite used to that.”

“You’ll have to kill me before you drag me back to your hellhole,” I shot back.  I tried to get away, but she was holding me too firmly for me to get away without making it an actual fight.

“You will change your tune,” Tatiana said.  “At least, you will realize how powerless you are in just a few moments.”  The warm tingling reached my fingers, and Tatiana let go of me.  Every fiber of my being told me to get away from her, but my legs would not respond.  I was stuck looking up at her smug face until she let me go.

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again Tatiana was twice as tall and seemed to be getting taller as I watched.  In disbelief I forced my eyes shut again, and when I made them open she was even taller, with me looking up from below her knees.  She was growing exponentially, and in no time I was looking up at her ankles.  By the time I figured out I was shrinking our sizes had stabilized, and I was beneath the toes of her shoes.

“You pathetic little worm,” Tatiana proclaimed while glaring down at me.  “You thought zat you could make a patriotic daughter like myself betray the motherland?”  Her voice was no longer the dusky, accented wonder it was before, but a low growl that made me tremble, with her accent acting like an added threat.  “I ought to zmash you for that alone, but my boss is fery interested in interrogating you herzelf.”  

I stared up at her in quiet shock.  There had been a series of reports over the past year about their attempts to develop size-altering technology using the full spectrum of delivery methods, but all indications showed they were over a decade from a working prototype, to say nothing of something so miniaturized it could be hand-held.  Yet here I was, between the feet of an enemy spy who appeared to be hundreds of feet tall.  Needless to say, I had failed to turn her.

Tatiana tower toppled to the side, landing on the bed with a tremendous crash and the creaking of springs.  She looked down at me, dwarfed by her shoe, a malicious smile still plastered on her face.  “I guess I do not need these anymore to make you feel zo pitifully zmall,” she taunted, and slid her feet out from her obelisk-heeled shoes.  Her left foot brushed that shoe to the side before setting down on the carpet, but she let the right one hang in the air above me.  Slowly she wiggled her toes, pulling and stretching the nylon around them while I watched, entranced.

Her foot raced to the floor and slammed onto the ground with incredible force.  A loud bang erupted from the impact and a wave of force traveled through the floor, making my knees buckle.  I fell backwards and got a clear view of Tatiana’s cruel expression framed by her knees when she let out a single, powerful cackle.  “Zis is perfect!” she proclaimed, then started laughing again.  “I can squash you like a bug if I want, and zere is nothing you can do about it!”  She continued laughing at my predicament, getting more intense as it went while I was a captive audience.

After a while she finally got control of herself by taking several long, deep breaths.  “Okay.  I am having fun, but ve haf to go,” Tatiana said.  “My boss is wery excited to meet you.”  She leaned forward, looming over me for a moment to grab her clutch off the table.  With it secured in hand she leaned back, placing it in her lap and started working the latch with her fingers.  It flipped open, and she reached in to withdraw a folded pair of black flats.

For the moment she was distracted, and I had a chance to make a break for it.  I ran forward, hoping I could use her own legs as cover while I dashed toward the bed.  Escape was out of the question, but I could evade her long enough to call for help.  Maybe I could even be annoying enough that she would decide I was too much trouble and give up.

I stumbled in the carpet fibers, and had not even made it past Tatiana’s big toe before it became clear I had horribly miscalculated.  Her foot lifted off the ground, then rushed toward me impossibly fast.  In an instant it had engulfed me, then came crashing down.  My arms splayed outward from the blow, and I was pinned under the ball of her foot.  She began laughing again while I struggled with a mouth full of nylon.

“It makes sense,” Tatiana started, grinding her foot back and forth on top of me.  I winced from the pain while she elaborated, “You are the size of a bug now, so you are smart as one.  Why else would you irritate me after I said how easy it would be to zmash you?”  There was a dull thud, dampened by the flesh covering me, followed by another tremor.  “Make no mistake, little man: my boss wants you, but you are not necessary.  I could zimply tell her you did not zurvive capture and get zomeone else.  You understand me, yes?”  With her foot over my body I was muted, but she had made herself very clear.

Tatiana let her foot linger on me, driving home her complete dominance.  When she lifted her foot I was stuck to the sole, my sweat weakly bonding me to her stocking.  She gave it a vigorous shake hard enough to dump me onto the carpet, and I kept rolling from my point of impact.  Briefly she gave me a look of disgust before dropping her flat on the floor and sliding her foot into it.  The earth trembled while she adjusted it around her foot, using two fingers to pull it over her heel, and two loud cracks announced she was done when she stomped it on the ground.

Before I could get back up Tatiana grabbed my legs by pinching them tightly between two fingers.  She plucked me up off the floor and held me upside down while lifting me up to her face.  The movement was disorienting, and the blood rushing to my head felt like it was joined by my stomach during the ascent.  When she suddenly stopped, I was left flopping and dangling from her fingers while two dark eyes focused on me intently.

“Anything you vould like to say to me?” she asked.  In her other hand was a small vial topped by an atomizer, with the pump cradled by her thumb and forefinger.  This close to her mouth, her voice was horrifically loud, and powerful enough to make my insides rumble on its own.  Even if I had something to say, I was unable to find my voice. 

“No?  Zen night-night, little man.”  She squeezed her other hand and a fine mist sprung forth from the atomizer, the cloud quickly engulfing me.  It smelled sweet, and as I breathed in I became very drowsy.  Tatiana lowered me to her lap, moving me much more carefully this time, and I could feel the blood pounding in my temples.  My vision world began to grow dark, and she pulled up the hem of her skirt far enough to reveal the top of her stocking.  I was on the edge of consciousness when she pried the stocking up, making a space just large enough to accommodate me.  The last thing I experienced before passing out was sliding along the smooth skin of her thigh and entering the stocking, its elastic holding me tightly.

Tatiana stood and pulled the skirt of her dress back down, concealing her tiny captive.  She prodded him with her finger to get him situated just right, then bent over to pick up her discarded shoes.  Holding each one with a single finger in the heel, she walked for the elevator and then out of the hotel, catching glances as she passed people.  Her flight left in a couple hours, and her guest had a very important appointment.

When I came to my mind was still clouded from the sedative, and I was laying on a hard, cold surface.  I tried to get up, but a thin, transparent film was laid across me, pinning me to the floor.  My shrinking and capture had not been a bizarre nightmare after all, then, and I was stuck to the floor with a single piece of tape.  There was no telling how long I had been here already, nor how much longer I would have to wait before Tatiana’s boss showed up.

To keep my mind occupied I looked around, hoping to find somewhere to hide in case I got free.  Prospects were not good.  I was in a bare, concrete room with no windows, the only door sealed shut and plated with steel.  It looked enormous, but I doubted it was larger than the typical eight by eight holding cell in a basement.  Aside from me and a single dim, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, the room was empty: there was not even a table and chair for a typical interrogation.  Every surface looked like it had been recently cleaned, and there was not a speck of dirt or debris on the floor.

Two loud knocks on the door drew my attention and cleared the remaining cobwebs from my mind.  A clang echoed throughout the room, and with a squeal the door opened.  In walked a woman tall enough that the top of her straw-colored hair, loosely pulled back in a ponytail, brushed against the door frame, a fact which made her bright blue eyes briefly light up.  Her thin lips were pulled to the side in a smirk, the perfect accessory for her swagger.  The dark brown uniform was draped over her slender frame, with several medals and rows of ribbons proudly displayed on her chest.  Shined, black leather riding boots thudded on the concrete with each step, their rhythm acting as the harbinger for the arrival of a terrifying beast.

One boot swung down, its toe lined up with me, and made a deafening crash that accompanied the tremor which followed.  She brought her other foot up to be perfectly in line with the other so she stood astride me, both boots equally distant from me.  I gazed up the monolithic woman standing over me, a skyscraper of brown fabric, blond hair, and pale skin with a mix of awe and fear.  Her hands rested on her hips, dimpling her uniform while looking down at me smugly.  Even had I not been shrunken she would still make me feel puny.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice a low rumble with a thick accent, “and welcome to Moscow.  I am called Major Yuliya Andreyevna Smirnov, special interrogator, 839th intelligence brigade, Main Intelligence Directorate.  You are called bug.  If you have chance to address me, you may use Yuliya, or ma’am.  Did you have good time with Tanya?”

“No, I really –“

“Shut up,” she demanded, cutting me off.  “Save your voice to answer real questions, not rhetorical.  Do you need me to explain how this will work?”  I stayed silent, not wanting to give her another chance to berate me.  Yuliya scoffed and said, “That was real question.”

I gulped.  If I had misread that, this was going to be a rough experience.  “I could use a little clarification,” I admitted.  There had been precious little training for enduring interrogation when smaller than your interrogator’s finger, and I wanted to know what to expect.

“Very well,” Yuliya started.  She sounded annoyed, even though she had asked.  “You are bug.  You will be crushed like bug if you do not answer questions.  Even though you are bug, I promise I will have no problem hearing you.  It is simple.  Do you have questions?”

“Yes, actually,” I said.  “How do I know you won’t crush me once you’re done asking questions?”

Yuliya grinned.  “I did not have that thought.  Honestly, though I will not hesitate, I do not want to crush you.  I am looking forward to keeping you as plaything when done.  You will be good toy for me, I think.  Other questions?”  Her smile turned back to a smirk while she considered me helplessly pinned to the floor between her boots.

“No, nothing else,” I croaked.  My options were a grisly death beneath her sole or a lifetime in her hand as a trinket.  Neither option was too appealing, and I could not help but wonder how much it would really hurt to be squished like she threatened.

“Good, then we start,” Yuliya purred.  “Easy things first.  What is your name, rank, number, and organization?”  I balked, since while none of this information would be new for them it was not publicly available.  Her eyebrows twitched inward with impatience, and I decided to acquiesce.  My name was not worth getting splattered under her boot, and I mechanically told her everything she had asked for.

“Very good,” she replied.  “Perhaps I should start getting shoe box ready for you.  Would you like to live where my heels have, or pair of flats?  Maybe running shoes more your speed?”  She arched an eyebrow and chuckled at her teasing.  “But before you move in, how many of our operatives do you know of?”

Answering this honestly would be harder to justify.  “All of them,” I offered, hoping that would suffice.  Yuliya made it clear that it did not by lifting her boot off the ground and sliding it toward me, placing the heel some distance away.  Her sole, however, lingered over me, poised to swing down and flatten me.  The longer I waited the closer it got, the flat, gray surface blocking out more of my vision.  I broke before it made contact and I proclaimed, “We’ve been tracking 37 of your operatives across a dozen cities.”

“That is far from all of them,” Yuliya chided, “and you will name them later.”  The way she rolled her r’s was like the perfect cross between a growl and a purr and made me think for a moment that life as her living doll might not be so bad.  “But right now you will tell me about your operatives, starting with numbers.”

This was edging toward information which could harm my comrades, and I had to decide whether saving my life was worth risking theirs.  Yuliya anticipated my hesitation, and her boot assumed its previous position after a second.  It resumed its descent, and the tremendous length of cold, hard leather laid across my skin quickly reordered my priorities.  The pressure compressed my body, and I felt my bones creak under her.  My breathing quickened as panic set in, and I knew that I would not last much longer.  “112!” I cried out, and the compression stopped.  I was not sure if that was the real number, but it was close.  “They’re in or trying to get into your organizations at every echelon.”

Yuliya removed her boot from atop me, and I saw her pleased, smug grin atop her mountainous body.  “You make this harder than it needs to be,” she chided.  “The faster you answer questions, the faster you get off floor and into my hand.  Now.”  Yuliya’s demeanor changed as she got ready for her next line of questioning.  “You are station chief, and my Tanya was in Prague.  This means you are Prague station chief, yes?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed. 

“See?  Easy.”  Yuliya grinned, though all I did was confirm her deductive reasoning.  “I think when you are my toy I get you tiny uniform, like mine.  Then you parade on my desk while I work.”  She paused before getting back to the questioning.  “We know there is mole in Prague.  Who is it?”

If I gave a name it would be just as good as killing them myself, and all I would be doing is extending my life as Yuliya’s plaything.  “I don’t know,” I lied, “they were in place before I got the position and I’ve only seen the code name.”

“I do not believe you,” Yuliya shot back, her voice devoid of amusement.  “That would be gross incompetence on level I cannot grasp.  Once more: who is Prague mole?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” I repeated.  “I never met with her personally, and we only communicated through anonymous drops on Wenceslaus Square which my agents picked up.”

Yuliya arched an eyebrow.  “So now you know it is woman?” she asked.  Fuck, letting that slip was an amateur mistake.  “I think you know more, so last time: who is Prague mole?”  She raised a boot in the air until her thigh was parallel with the ground, letting the sole hang over me.  Then she brought it down in a calamitous stomp, making a crash so loud my ears rang.  It felt like an apocalyptic earthquake emanated from the impact point, hitting me so hard my eyes watered.  Her lips moved, and though I could not hear her over the ringing in my ears she had said all she needed with her foot.

“Her name’s Anna Williamson,” I shouted, “her cover alias is Zhofie Landa.  She’s been working as the ambassador’s secretary for three years and makes semi-monthly drops, after which she makes a single mark on the bronze statue.”  My mind raced to come up with more facts to spill, but the words collided before they could pass my lips.  As I stammered for something to add I looked up the length of Yuliya’s knee-high boot to her stony face.

She glared down at me, and her boot creaked when she shifted her weight onto it.  Trepidation built up inside me, and my imagination took over.  In a split second it would all be over when she lifted her boot and rotated it over me before swinging it down again.  I would be smashed instantly, reduced to nothing more than a red spatter of blood that was then ground to mush.  Worse still, I had already given her want she wanted, so my death would be completely pointless.

Instead a smile spread across Yuliya’s face and she dragged her foot back, scraping her worn sole against the concrete.  “You are playing dangerous game, little man,” she teased.  “If you keep this up, instead of living comfortable life as toy you go splat.”  For emphasis she quickly stomped her boot on the ground beside me, then lifted her heel and ground the sole against the floor, smiling wickedly.  She might enjoy smashing me more than she would reporting the information I was giving her to her superiors.

She dropped into a squat, keeping her heels resting on the ground while she laid her arms over her knees.  Yuliya was even more imposing from here than when she was standing: her face was closer, and I saw the joy dancing in her blue eyes when she looked down at me.  Her colossal body squatting over me drove home our immense difference in size, and it seemed like no matter where I looked she was there.  I understood now that it did not matter if Yuliya stepped on me, my life was over the moment Tanya shrank me.  It was only a question of whether she broke her new toy.

“This next one is no-brainer,” she began.  Her voice was louder and more threatening, and it felt like it alone might shake me apart.  “But it is also not question.  Tomorrow you check in with home station using new signature block.  Everyone who opens e-mail gives us back-door access, is simple.  If you refuse, I leak everything you tell me and send you to Anna Williamson in box of chocolates.  You do this, yes?”  Before I could answer, she added, “Let me rephrase: do you want to be my doll, or tortured by woman you sell out?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” I agreed.  I was not sure if the blackmail tipped the balance or the constant mortal peril had broken me, but there was no fight left in me.  Tomorrow I would play a crucial role in compromising my entire organization, and in return I’d get to spend the rest of my life at the feet of a foreign intelligence officer.

Yuliya’s eyes lit up and she slapped her knees, creating a clap that made me wince.  “Wonderful!” she proclaimed, smiling from happiness for the first time since the interrogation started.  “And now you are mine.”  She reached down and picked at the tape stuck to the floor with a fingernail, pulling up enough that she could pinch it.  The tape came up with a firm jerk, lifting me off the ground too.  Yuliya wedged a sharpened pencil between me and the adhesive, then pried me off it.  I landed back on the concrete and she tore up the rest of the tape, rolled it into a ball, and shoved it into her pocket for later disposal.

A thumb and forefinger seized my body and Yuliya plucked me off the ground.  She gently placed me in the middle of her open palm and made sure I was situated securely before carefully lifting me toward her face.  This was the first time I had seen her face clearly, and while it might have been the onset of Stockholm Syndrome, I thought she had an almost ethereal beauty.  Yuliya was beaming with joy and seemed to be enraptured with me now.

“Okay.  So.”  She was so excited that she could scarcely speak.  My stomach sank when she stood, but Yuliya’s hand was solid as a rock and kept me a steady distance from her face.  With her other index finger probed her palm, softly stroking me twice before pulling away.  Yuliya smiled and let out a rumbling giggle that shook my insides.  Her demeanor had switched from a stolid intelligence officer to that of a nervous schoolgirl.

“First, I get you measured for uniform,” she finally managed.  “My precious doll must be dressed sharply while he adorns my desk.”  Yuliya was doting on me like a newborn puppy.  “Then you give me names for numbers you said.  After that, uniform should be done, and I get you dressed properly.  Finally, when day is over, you come home with me and I pick out shoe box for you.”  She paused and audibly thought, then added, “I think you will get high heels box, they are… roomier.”  As though she were bashful her eyes slid down off me, and in the awkward silence she leaned forward to nuzzle me.

“Yuliya, do I…”  I paused to swallow hard, fearing I had misread the situation.  “Do I get a say in any of this?”

She audibly pondered again, tapping her sharp chin with the tip of a manicured finger.  “We will see,” she answered.  “You are toy, not child.  Maybe pet.  If you are good toy, maybe you get choices.  I have not decided yet.”

Yuliya pounded on the steel door twice, and with a clang it opened.  She exited the interrogation room but kept her eyes firmly on me as she walked.  I kept my focus on her bright blue eyes: not only were they nice to look at, but it minimized the disorienting effect from her walking.  More than that, as I gazed into them I felt oddly safe.  From now on I was her toy, and though I did not show it I was just as excited about it as she was.

Three weeks on, I had settled into my role as Yuliya’s plaything.  It was an easy step to make once I accepted that my actions had made me persona non grata back home.  If I showed my face back home, the very best I could hope for would be house arrest and having my movements constantly controlled and monitored – exactly what I was getting with Yuliya.  More likely I would be executed in whatever gruesome method they deemed to use for a tiny person.

I stood on Yuliya’s desk, looking up at her blue eyes scanning over the page while she read the morning’s reports.  This was where I learned about Anna Williamson’s apparent murder in a failed mugging two weeks ago, though I doubted even the most indoctrinated people here believed that.  She had been killed by a hit team after making a drop based on information I had given up under threat of being crushed.  Initially I fell into a pit of guilt and self-loathing, but a few minutes clenched in Yuliya’s fist cured me of that.

Her thin lips tugged to the sides in a subtle smile while she read, and I knew she was getting more good news courtesy of me.  Today she was sporting a new medal on her chest as well as an additional star on each shoulder, no doubt earned on the back of my interrogation.  I was helping my “owner,” as it were, greatly increase her power and influence, and I was anxious to see what, if anything, she would do for me in return aside from a gentle pat on the head.

When she had finished, Yuliya took a long sip of coffee and turned her attention downward.  “That was last person you gave us,” she started, “and, I think, end of your usefulness.  You know what this means, yes?”  I could guess, and the sly grin she had while leaning forward did nothing to reassure me.  There was nowhere for me to run while her face loomed increasingly large until my sight was dominated by her snow shite skin.  Her nose, itself a little taller than I was, bumped into my chest, and she stopped.

There was a long pause while she regarded me, making herself cross-eyed while she stared just past her nose.  Finally, she boomed, “End of your probation.”  A few simple words made my entire body quake, and before I could recover she had broken out in a broad smile, showcasing her straight, slightly dingy teeth.  “You were scared?”  I had been, and with her voice threatening to shake me apart with each syllable I was still a little worried.  “You have no reason.  You are mine, without question now.”  While it was reassuring, I did not see how this changed anything for me.  Until now, I was not even aware of any probationary period, let alone repercussions for violating it.

Yuliya raised her head, and in a split second the overbearing glare of her pale skin was replaced by her drab brown uniform.  She remained hovering over me, regarding me curiously while placing a hand on the desk with one finger extended.  Gently she brushed me with the tip from head to toe, pressing harder on the way up and driving me back.  Her stroking became quicker and more vigorous, like she was trying to tickle me despite her finger being the size of my chest.  Soft cooing came from her pursed lips while the assault continued, and I was powerless to stop her.

She smirked, then shot her finger forward.  Yuliya easily overpowered me, toppling me backwards and pinning me underneath her finger.  As I laid there, unable to move except to flail my arms, she seemed to become even more satisfied.  Carefully she pressed down, compressing my chest and forcing the air out of my lungs before relenting.  “You are fun toy,” she declared.  “I am glad I did not have to rinse you off boot.”

The office’s door wooshed as it swung open, and Yuliya sat up straight in her chair.   Her eyes flicked to the doorway and she took a moment to compose herself, swapping her grin of pure joy for a professional smile.  “Good morning, Tatiana Yegorevna,” she greeted the newcomer.  “Welcome back from your trip.”  I took the opportunity to get back to my feet in preparation for the next onslaught.

“Yuliya Andreyevna, good day,” came the answer.  I counted my lucky stars that I had kept fresh on my Russian as they spoke.  There was something deeply familiar about the voice though, and I had heard very few voices at this new scale.  Tremendous thuds shook the desk as she walked around it, and I turned to see a titanic woman’s body approaching.  She was dressed identically to Yuliya except with fewer pieces of flair on her jacket, and had the same confident, almost arrogant demeanor.  Before I could reach her face, however, it was obscured by her epaulets, just leaving an ear poking through straight black hair visible.

Tatiana turned and gave Yuliya a curt nod, then crossed her arms over her chest.  “I trust you are pleased with my work?” she asked, leaning toward the desk.  Her thigh bumped against the surface, sending a powerful tremor through the whole thing.  Everything rattled violently and I collapsed backwards again, my knees unable to deal with the sudden shock.  Paying the chaos she caused no mind, Tatiana squeezed her fingers on her elbow while focusing on Yuliya.

“Very pleased!” Yuliya answered enthusiastically.  “I am writing you up for commendation, in fact.  But of course, you did not do it all yourself.  Please, say hello to our source.”  She gestured toward me with an open palm, then leaned forward and set her elbows on the desk.  The rumbling shook my teeth while she continued, “I believe you two are already acquainted?”

Curiously, Tatiana turned to follow Yuliya’s fingers and nearly overlooked my prone body.  When she spotted my white shirt, however, her dark eyes widened and she crouched.  I looked up at her enormous face dominating the area above me and noticed it lost little of its luster without the heavy makeup.  As she looked me over, she was unable to suppress a small grin, and Yuliya pushed her way into the picture was well.

“I see you survived interrogation,” Tatiana said, and though I clearly heard her I scarcely understood a word.  Under the watchful gazes of two gorgeous women my attention was spoken for, even though they regarded me like a lab specimen.  Aside from their immense size and beauty, the pair could not have been more different.  There were skin-deep differences, like Tanya’s dark features contrasted with Yuliya’s almost unbearably bright ones, and subtle differences in their attitudes.  Yuliya looked at me with excitement and curiosity, like a neat discovery she couldn’t wait to explore, while Tanya was stolid and a little irritated.  I got the feeling that, were Yuliya not there, she might try to smash me out of irritation.

“Yes, he did very well,” Yuliya answered for me.  From her voice, it almost sounded like she was proud of me.  “Naturally he resisted, but I crushed his resistance.”  She gave me a sly wink and continued, “And now, instead of smashed corpse, he is fun toy!”

“Your toy,” Tanya repeated processing the new information.  She squinted and gave me a close inspection.  “I see he wears our uniform now.”  While the statement hung in the air, I could not tell whether she approved.

“I thought it suitable,” Yuliya replied.  “He may just be decoration on my desk, but he works here now, does he not?  After interrogation it was first thing I gave him.  I think he looks sharp in it, much better than ill-fitting clothes he came in.”

Tanya finally cracked a smile.  “He is cute, though I am not sure if that is clothes or size.”  She leaned a little closer, catching me with the edge of a blast from her nose before pulling back.  “Nametag is nice touch.  ‘Yuliya’s.’  What more does anyone need to know?”

“I thought so too,” Yuliya ehtnusiastically agreed.  “It was expensive to get such precision work done, but with new promotion I can afford it.”

Yuliya turned her attention to Tanya, and I was glad to no longer be under the gaze two beautiful, gigantic women who did not necessarily have my best interests at heart.  “Enough about my new toy.  Since you did much of field work, you get to brief department chief.  You can get notes from my assistant, Captain Yakovlev.”

Tanya stared at me for a moment longer before spinning to face Yuliya, her hair blowing a strong breeze over me.  “Captain?” she repeated.  “I am being promoted?”

“If chief likes your briefing,” Yuliya replied.  “Now go, Tatiana Yegorevna, you have much to read.”  In an instant the dark-featured face studying me was gone, standing atop a tower that had sprung up just a few feet from me.  She turned, and my ears rang from an enormous pair of heels clicking together while she threw up a quick salute.

“Yes, Yuliya Andreyevna,” she barked, then spun on a heel.  The room shook while she strode toward the door, then everything rattled when she pulled it shut behind her.  It was back to just Yuliya and I in her office, and she was giving me an unsettlingly playful look.

“That should keep her busy for several hours,” Yuliya stated, leaning back in her chair, and it responded with a great squeal.  Her legs continued up, well over the lip of the desk, and her feet their apex somewhere above me.  Open-mouthed I watched the shiny leather pumps race down, cognizant that a small shift would lead to me getting flattened beneath them.  They crashed onto the desk, the force making my heart skip a beat.  She crossed her legs at the ankle and began slowly moving her free foot in the air, brushing the heel of her shoe against the desk.

She arched an eyebrow at me and I looked back, wondering what she wanted me to do.  Yuliya had elected to wear a skirt today, the heavy brown fabric pressing it down against her thighs.  An exceptionally tall and leggy woman even to people who weren’t shrunken, her legs seemed to stretch longer than I could comprehend.  At this scale, on her ankles I could see the fine mesh netting of her flesh-toned stockings that ran up beneath the hem of her skirt.  Her shoes themselves had an imposing presence, with one pointing to the sky like an obelisk while the other swayed gently.

“For what are you waiting?” she asked, and I simply stared at her blankly.  “My lap is cold; I want you to warm it.  You are strong and fit, yes?”  Physical conditioning was a part of my daily routine, and climbing was incorporated into the physical exam, but that was a far cry from climbing up a giantess’s stockings.  “Then for you, should not be problem.”  So as her toy, I would be expected not just to be played with, but to perform on command.  Still, I did not want to find out what would happen if I could not perform, or simply refused to.

Yuliya watched me with anticipation as I grabbed two handfuls of nylon clinging to her Achilles tendon.  I hopped off the desk and used the elastic material to help propel myself upwards, digging the toes of my boots against her skin to secure my position.  These boots were not intended for climbing, but they were able to loop in between the nylon stitching well enough.  She let out a quiet giggle while I ascended and her body shuddered, nearly shaking me off her ankle.  “Sorry, I should have told you earlier,” she said, and the power of each syllable ran down her body.  “I am little bit ticklish.”  So I would have that to contend with, too.

I continued upward, making sure that I only ever had one limb not hooked into nylon.  Yuliya’s muscles tensed each time I moved, and by the time I reached the round, bony protrusion she could no longer contain herself.  She suddenly kicked her feet forward and suppressed a thunderous laugh, shocking me with the sharp jolt of her sudden movement.  Almost too late I pressed myself into her ankle, just keeping my hold.  “Okay, I lied,” Yuliya began when her kicking spasm ceased, “I am very ticklish.”

The longer it took me to climb, I realized, the longer I would be in danger.  Before her sensitivity returned I scrambled upward, surging toward the front of her leg.  I reached the curve of her shin and adjusted my posture so I was running on all fours.  When I crested the ledge I saw her biting her bottom lip and rushed to brace myself.  Her ankle twitched and I dove forward, just managing to snag the stocking on her other leg before the kicking started again.  She squirmed, trying to resist the urge to thrash at my every touch, and I was able to weather the storm until it passed.

“Very good, toy,” Yuliya congratulated, still choking down laughter.  “Now keep going.”  Of course, I was only a few inches into my journey and still had a long way to go.  I progressed up her leg, keeping one hand on her other calf for stability.  There was a significant downward slope to her legs, making my trip faster than expected.  Before long at all I had crossed from the hard surface of her shin bone onto her soft calf, walking into a valley to maintain positive contact with both legs simultaneously.

As I walked further along her legs, the slope of her calf began to work against me.  Not enough to offset the natural slope of her long legs propped up on the desk, but it was noticeable.  Her eyes intently followed my slow journey up her legs, a mischievous gleam in them.  At any moment I expected her to throw another obstacle my way, and with each moment it did not come my anticipation grew.  If I continued any further on my path, I realized that I ran the risk of being squeezed between her legs in case of another fit, so I chose a single kneecap to crest and continue my trip.

Yuliya was fighting another fit, but once I was moving along hard bone again it subsided.  Her skirt was slightly rumpled with the tilt, making the hem fall above the knee, but I was able to reach it with at brief jaunt over her thigh.  I reached the coarse fabric and swung one leg onto it like I was cresting a short wall, then climbed up the rest of the way.  Walking down the rest of Yuliya’s thigh would be simple, without even the risk of falling as an obstacle.

After a few more seconds of walking Yuliya must have decided I was done and decided to end the game.  She swung her legs off the desk, slamming them onto the ground with a loud crash.  I fell back onto her thigh and rolled into the valley her skirt made between her legs while a powerful quake ran through my body.  When it had passed I looked up her enormous torso and saw her staring back down at me, looking pleased and, somehow, still a little playful.

“I will have to think of treat for you,” she proclaimed, reaching a hand toward me.  I expected her to grab me, but Yuliya simply set her hand down beside me.  With a single figure she began gently stroking me, as though she were petting me.  The light touch from her index finger was warm and soothing, making me forget my troubles.

Yuliya returned to work, leaving me lying in her lap.  She continued stroking me, and I allowed myself to stretch out and be taken in by it.  After what I had just been through I was sure she had no immediate plans to hurt me, and for the moment I gave myself to this gorgeous, gigantic woman.

For the rest of the day I simply laid in Yuliya’s lap, sprawled out in the valley her skirt made between her thighs.  Frequently she brought a finger down and softly ran it over me, giving me a gentle stroke when she had a hand free from work.  I could have drifted off to sleep in her office if she did not occasionally change it up by giving me a sharp jab and smiling about it.  Never in my life did I imagine that being a Russian intelligence service’s prisoner in all but name would be so nice.

The whirring of her computer fans stopped, and I expected the usual routine of being seized in her palm for the trip to her apartment.  Instead, she simply stopped stroking my body and reached over me, pinching the back of my jacket between the tips of her thumb and forefinger.  She eased me to my feet and slowly dragged me back and forth over each thigh before bringing me back to the middle, holding me just high enough that my heels couldn’t set down.

Yuliya lifted me toward her face at a painfully slow rate, emphasizing her abject enormity compared to me.  Inch by inch I was pulled upward along her torso, dwarfed by the round medals on my periphery.  Round, gold buttons larger than me were a welcome relief on my skin from the coarse fabric, and she let me linger on those a little longer.  Toward her lapel the cliff began bulging outward, and she pulled me away from it to keep me from sliding between cloth.  When she brought me back onto the upward slope of her breasts it was against a broad strip of black silk, which felt magical as she slowly dragged me along it.  Before reaching the knot she lifted me so I dangled freely from her digits for the rest of the ascent.

The pale skin of her rounded chin was a fresh sight after so many dark colors and her thin, pink lips were drawn tight in a serious expression.  A stream of warm air hit me from her nostrils, and I watched them rapidly expand and contract as she inhaled another breath.  This was the first time I noticed the freckles lightly dotting her chin and cheeks; there was not much opportunity from her desk or while being flung about.  Her sparkling blue eyes came into view not long after, and the long trip up finally stopped with me between her eyes.

There was a long period where she simply stared at me, the only noise her steady breathing and occasional soft click of her eyelids.  I tried to pick an eye to focus on but found myself constantly switching, feeling even smaller the longer I looked into one.  As the silence endured and she continued her stare, doubt began to grow.  Maybe my situation had not changed as much as I thought, or it had even changed for the worse.

Yuliya raised her other hand and extended a finger.  Swiftly it came forward, striking my legs and sent me swinging like a pendulum.  As I swayed uncontrollably forward and back her eyes narrowed, indicating a small grin.  “You are toy,” she declared, “for cat.”  After giving me another quick bat that started me swinging back and forth she continued, “I am cat.”  Her eyes followed my movement, pupils only having to move slightly to stay on me.  “Be glad you are toy and not mouse, or cat would swallow you whole.”  Despite the threat, her accent made it sound like a deeply exciting prospect.

She watched me intently until the swaying stopped, leaving her finger poised beside me to start it again.  Rather than batting me, Yuliya exhaled sharply through her nose and wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes as she smiled.  “I do not know how Tatiana Yegorevna does it!” she said through laughter.  “All day she is very serious, stony face, staring people down.  Good for interrogations, not good for people.  Were you scared, toy?”  Her finger came to a rest against my side, comforting me with its warmth.

“I was, Yuliya Andreyevna,” I answered, my heart still racing from her act.

“I told you, just Yuliya!” she replied, smiling broadly.  “Or Yula.  Diminutive toy like you can use diminutive.”  She paused before going back to her original point.  “Hm.  It is easy to scare someone much smaller than you.  That is why we give her new weapon, and let me handle questions.  Maybe I move her to interrogations soon.”  Amid her pontificating I noticed a milestone – she referred to me as “someone.”  It was the first time I recalled her acknowledging I was a person, even in the most general sense.

Her smile faded, though she kept the same gaze on me.  “I must tell you something.”  As usual I would listen, and this sounded particularly interesting.  “Sometimes, I… I wish you were not toy.”

“What, like a pet?” I asked.   What was she even getting at?  She was the one who kept saying I was her toy; she could stop that at any time.  I assumed she could grow me if she wanted, too, though that presupposed they had bothered to develop a way to reverse the shrinking.

“No, not pet,” Yuliya replied.  “Something…” she bit her lip and trailed off.  “Something else, let us say, and leave it at that.  We can come back later.”  I was in no position to press her, so I let it lie.  I got the distinct feeling it was something juicy though, and possibly embarrassing.

“Come, I do am already in office too late,” she said.  If I was not already pressed into her hand, I was unsure how she would get me home with her.  In answer to my silent question she raised me past the bright wall of her forehead and set me down on her scalp, then let go.  Without her supporting me for the first time in what felt like an hour I collapsed onto my knees and fell forward, sliding into her long strands of blond hair.  “Try to stay hidden.  There are not many who can see top of my head, but they exist.”  I did the best I could, digging my way under her hair until, as far as I could tell, it completely covered me.  It was loose and had some slack, which made my job easier, though light still made its way down to me.

I grabbed onto her roots when she stood, keeping myself from sliding out of my hiding spot.  It probably gave her a twinge of pain, but was much less uncomfortable than if I slipped out at an inopportune time.  Her head slightly bobbed with each step of her long, shapely legs, moving me with it, and I maintained my grip.  She dipped her head to fit through the doorway without knocking me off, and I dug my toes into her scalp to keep from flopping onto her forehead.  It happened again, then each bob of her head was accompanied by a click from her heels on tile.

Long fluorescent lights passed overhead, a new one every few steps.  I tried to count them, but with the constant jostling it was difficult to keep focused and I kept starting at one again.  Before long I gave up and focused on my immediate environment.  Yuliya’s hair was soft and had a slight floral fragrance to it that I could not escape from.  Even if I were in complete isolation, this scent would be stuck in my nostrils for days.

One more big dip and she was outside, the fluorescent light fixtures replaced by bright overhead streetlamps.  Shocks ran up her body and I struggled to maintain her grip while she descended a flight of stairs, coinciding with a large portion of the sky being blocked out.  The blackness spread until it encompassed the entire sky and the smell of Yuliya’s hair grew in intensity.  It took a moment, but I realized she had simply put on a hat.

Now that I was covered, I figured I could relax my grip.  Yuliya’s gait was so steady I hardly noticed it, and there was no risk of me falling from atop her head with the new barrier.  Without having to worry about plummeting to the ground, I found the experience more akin to a luxurious train ride.  The gentle swaying felt amazing, and the smell was just weak enough to not be overpowering.

The sudden shock of someone bumping into her changed my mind quickly, but I was too slow to react.  I was thrown out from my light covering of hair and tumbled back over her scalp until running into her cap.  Fortunately, I was too light to press through it, but I came to a rest at the very lowest point.  Her head sloped too sharply for me to quickly correct myself, and my limbs had gotten tangled up in strands of hair.

There was no time to adjust, anyway.  As soon as I came to a stop, she pulled the cap off and I tumbled from the top of her head.  My limbs immediately broke the strand holding them and I dropped, rolling over the black band binding her hair.  Desperately I scrambled to get a firm grip, but I was falling too fast inside her ponytail to grab anything.  All I could do was adjust my trajectory a little by tugging on a strand.

Luckily, I changed my course just enough to avoid getting splattered on the ground.  My legs hit the collar of Yuliya’s shirt and momentum kept me moving forward, rotating my body over it.  I slid head-first down the back of her shirt, scrambling to grab onto anything, but her crisp collar offered no hand holds, nor did her smooth skin or the few wisps of hair.  With an involuntary scream I plunged down her back, still trying to find something to grab onto.  Yuliya’s fingers grabbed at the back of her neck for me, but I was long gone by the time they arrived.

Her toned muscles twitched as I passed by them, and when I landed Yuliya’s torso jerked.  The shirt tail was tucked into her skirt, forming a billowing net that arrested my fall and sent me rolling against the small of her back.  I tried to find some way to get comfortable, but my ride did not approve of my squirming.  Yuliya’s gait had slowed significantly, and seemingly at random her torso jerked back.  Unwilling to risk getting squashed in a ticklish fit, I dug my legs into her skirt and did my best to keep still.

My world suddenly dropped, and though I could not see I guessed Yuliya had sat down.  She arched her back over me to keep from smushing me against the back of her seat and sat as still as possible.  We must have had the same thought: if I got dislodged, she simply might not be able to control what happens next.  Neither of us was too comfortable, and I definitely did not feel safe, but for now, at least, I was alive.

It was difficult to tell how long I was trapped halfway inside Yuliya’s skirt, but it felt like about half an hour.  I braced my arms over the top of the skirt to keep myself from sliding down further and ending up on the ground when she stood.  Every so often she swayed a little, accompanied by a loud screech from outside.  This must have been the subway ride home, and if I were lucky I would soon be out of danger.

Yuliya stood, and it felt like my insides stayed behind on the seat.  Her hips swayed with every step, and I began to feel the strain in my shoulders.  I felt as though I would fall at any second and decided to take a risk.  With a surge of energy I unhooked one arm from her skirt and rotated, wrapping it over the ledge when I was facing away from her.

The sudden movement made my arms burn, but I managed to cling to her clothes.  She felt my sudden movement and froze, and I leaned my weight forward.  When Yuliya resumed walking after a moment, I was no longer worried about her swinging hips making me fall through her skirt.  Riding with a face full of linen was the worst way I had traveled that day, but it was better than being dumped onto the sidewalk.

At last I heard jingling keys, and I knew this chapter of my new life’s ordeal was almost over.  Yuliya pushed the door open, then closed it with a loud bang.  Her shirt billowed outward when she removed her jacket, followed by the clatter of medals when she set it on a chair.  Two more slow, ponderous steps made her hips sway wildly, then she came to a full stop.  Apparently, she thought I was safe enough to have fun with again.

Yuliya reached around her waist and probed for me with her fingers before hooking them into her skirt.  She pinched one side of the fabric and held it firm, then eased the zipper down with her other hand.  The pressure on my chest decreased, but before I could enjoy it Yuliya dropped the skirt.  Suddenly I was given too much freedom and fell briefly until hitting her butt, then rolled out of control down the slope.  I quickly ran out of butt and free fell the rest of the way down her long legs, where I landed in a pile of cloth.

The impact left me dazed and gazing up her slender, shapely legs.  Yuliya took a moment to untie her hair, letting it drape over her shoulders like a golden waterfall with a single, small wave in it.  She took a step back, her shoes pounding the floor hard enough I felt the impacts even through my cushioning.  From her tremendous height she peered down at her discarded skirt looking for me, and as I tried to climb out of a wrinkle it hit me that, while being at the feet of a gorgeous, shapely woman wearing only thigh-high stockings, high heels, and a button-up shirt would have ticked every box for me before, her thinking of me as a plaything canceled it all out.

Gingerly she probed the skirt with the toe of a shoe, trying to flatten imperfections.  Yuliya’s shoe pressed down beside me, grinding the fabric beneath her sole, before picking back up.  It soared over my head and I realized that, if it could flatten cloth, it could do the same to me.  I scrambled to get out, but fortunately it passed right over me and set down on the other side.  She gave it a series of firm pats, shaking the whole structure, and I managed to claw my way to the surface.

Yuliya spotted me almost immediately and stopped probing the skirt, one leg extended.  She leaned back and gazed down at me, then crossed her arms under her chest, fully accentuating her form.  “There you are!” she exclaimed, then arched an eyebrow.  “This is similar to how we first met, yes?  Though I think you will agree we are in happier circumstances now.”  Her lips spread into a smile, and for once she almost looked content.  I gazed up at her and found that I was physically incapable of speech.  Even though I wanted to reply, I could not find words.  It was simply too much for me to take in.

Yuliya squatted over me, still grinning while she rotated a hand in the air over me.  “Unfortunately, it is late and I do not have time to play with toy,” she said.  Unfortunately for me the tail of her shirt was longer than a miniskirt, but there was much more of her to look at.  “I think it is time we go to bed.”  She reached down and pinched me between thumb and forefinger, plucking me out of the skirt when she stood back up.

Her feet thudded on the ground when she stepped out of her heels, then a loud scraping arose when she kicked them to the side.  Yuliya kept me at waist level while she walked to her room, staring down at me the whole time, and I up at her.  It felt like we teleported to stand beside her bed, and suddenly she was holding me over a shoe box.  “Today you met the shoes that came in this,” she said.  “Nice, yes?”  My main thought about them was that they were big, but I managed a nod and that seemed to please her.

Slowly she squatted again and set me down in the box before rocketing back up to her full height.  She peered down said, “If you need anything, yell.  I must get ready.”  Yuliya walked away, her feet steadily thumping on the floor.  Her footfalls made my meager furnishings shake, reinforcing how sparse it was.  All she had provided for me was a washcloth that was too large to be used as a blanket, an old earbud that was too small to be used as a bed, and a shiny coin that made a poor mirror.  Typically, I did not use any of this and slept on bare cardboard.

 Footfalls growing in intensity signaled Yuliya’s return twenty minutes later, and she dominated my view again presently.  She was wearing a silk, pale blue nightie and had brushed her hair so it was thick and full.  “Night-night, my little toy,” she said with a sing-song voice.  It was difficult to sound sweet with a deep, rumbling voice like hers, but she was trying.  “I will play with you more tomorrow, I promise.”  She stepped over my box, giving me a brief view of the full length of her legs, and threw back the covers.

Her mattress creaked as she climbed onto it, and it continued groaning while she got comfortable.  Yuliya reached onto her nightstand and picked one of several brick-sized books she kept there, then propped it open in her lap.  The first few nights I had tried to sleep while she read, but that had proven impossible.  The lamp was bright as a sun for me, and her page turning was unbelievably loud.  I had taken to simply sitting on the earbud’s cushioning and watching her, waiting for when it was time to really sleep.

After only a few minutes the book slammed shut and Yuliya replaced it on the nightstand.  “I can not focus tonight,” she declared.  “My mind is… somewhere else.”  The mattress squealed when she rolled over and reached for the lamp’s switch, but before she flicked it, she paused.  Yuliya looked down and saw me gazing up at her from inside her shoe box.  She stayed like that for a bit before pulling her hand back and leaning on her forearm.

“You know,” she began, “you do not have to sleep in shoe box if you do not want.”

“It seems safer down here than by your feet,” I shouted back.

“Not by feet,” Yuliya replied.  “On pillow, by head.”  I was surprised by the offer, and she elaborated.  “My bed is for two, and I am only one.  One and half, by length.” She smirked, and I found my voice.

“Yeah, I’ll sleep on your pillow,” I agreed.  There was probably a cooler way to have said that, but in such a high-pressure situation like this there was scarcely time to think.

Yuliya simply smiled and lowered a hand into the box, pinching me between her thumb and forefinger as usual.  She plucked me up from the interior and it felt like my stomach remained in the box, though it caught up with me by the time she set me down on the pillow.  I was directly beneath the gaze of her tired blue eyes, though I could tell she still had a small grin.  With her other hand she draped some hair over me and started giggling uncontrollably.

When she finally got control of herself, she was able to speak again.  “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

“You said lots of things earlier,” I answered.  “You’ll have to be more specific, Yula.”

That seemed to make her happy, and she responded, “Please, Yulenka.  About how I wish you were not… toy.  Or pet.  But other thing.”

“I recall something along those lines.”  I had only been wondering what the hell she meant by that since she said it.

“I want you to be… partner.  Does that work?”  We stared at each other for a moment before she explained, “You are cute, smart man.  I am pretty, smart woman.  We go together.  Is partner not correct term?”

The shock of her offering this was even more powerful than her voice was at this distance.  “No, it’s right,” I began, “but you’re… much larger than me.  And wouldn’t your superiors look down on you for dating a foreigner?”

“Yes, they would,” Yuliya confirmed.  “But you are so very small, I could hide you anywhere!  My hair, my pockets,” her voice lowered, “my stockings or panties.”  She leaned in close until one of her enormous eyes nearly touched me and whispered, “And it would be very exciting, that is half of fun.”

I had to admit that she was making a very strong case.  “Maybe too exciting,” I pushed back.  “You’ve made it very clear that you can smash me if I do something you don’t like, would I really have any choice or equality in this?”

She blinked, and her eyelashes tickled me for an instant.  “You do not have to do anything you do not want to,” Yuliya said, “but I have seen how you look at me.  I know you want to.”  Her nose nudged me when she tilted her head back confidently.  “I would not have asked otherwise.  I know I am desirable woman, and to me you are desirable man.  And you know how many ‘equal’ partners?  One always makes all decisions, has all power.  We will just be more honest.”

It was a tortured point, but valid.  More importantly, she was right in that I wanted her badly, even though I suspected she had helped engineer it.  “I’ll give it a shot, Yulenka,” I said at last.  “If it doesn’t work out, you can just smash me.”

She smiled and replied, “I would not.”  Yuliya leaned forward and planted a gigantic kiss on me, her lips covering my whole body, and pulled back with a quiet smack.  “But now we sleep.  Tomorrow is Friday, and I look forward to much playing with you.”  Her arm reached over me, and with a click the room was overcome by darkness.  I curled up, using her hair as a blanket to keep inside a new inner warmth.  Soon I drifted off, hopefully to dreams of her playing with me, and she followed soon after.