Dr. Featherstone

Olivia spent the day reviewing her strategy for moving forward. Elliot easily yielded all of his log in information and she was able to scour his drive. She was not happy, according to the information on his drive, he was far more aware of Hans’ misappropriation of her research information than she previously believed. She flicked an irate glance at her purse where Dr. Sommers was bound and unconscious.

Devising a plan to not only discredit both Dr. Brauer and Dr. Sommers, she began constructing an elaborate sequence of email exchanges outlining a ploy by the doctors to delay development of the project for the purposes of securing additional funding and resources. She was crafty enough to alter dates and times so as to make it appear as if the conspiracy between the two had been ongoing for some time. She also included information identifying Elliot as the one who deliberately sabotaged the GCR due to the fact it was a Spruce Goose and very unlikely to succeed. As a twist, using Hans’ email, she alluded to the fact Clayton was beginning to suspect something unsavory and might need to be dealt with. Through the emails, she made herself seem a dupe, unaware of the machinations going on behind the scenes and likely fall guy should things go astray.

Sitting back in her chair, she smiled to herself. Grabbing her purse with the incapacitated Dr. Sommers trapped within, she left the research lab. Arriving home, she set her purse on the kitchen counter and fished out Elliot. Walking into the other room, she rolled his unconscious form into the open linen lined drawer, current residence of Hans and Clayton.

Hans walked over and looked down at his incapacitated colleague. “What have you done?” he asked, kneeling down and checking for a pulse.

“What does it look like?” she asked, looming overhead, smug smile on her face.

“There has been another accident?” Clayton asked, coming in beside Hans to look at Elliot.

Hans shook his head, fixing an eye on Clayton, “Nein, this was done with purpose and intent,” he said.

Olivia smiled and nodded. “I’m dismantling the project,” she said.

Hans shook his head vigorously from side to side, “You cannot,” he said.

“Cannot what?” she asked, towering over the men.

“Dismantle the project, too much time and effort have been invested, I will not allow it,” he said.

Olivia laughed out loud, “Allow it? How do you propose to stop it? You are not even four inches tall,” she said.

“Dr. Featherstone, Olivia, please,” said Clayton.

“You have gone mad,” Hans spat at her.

Reaching into the box, she put the end of her right forefinger behind her thumb and flicked Hans in the face, the force strong enough to flip him over backwards, landing unresponsive on his stomach.

“Olivia!” exclaimed Clayton, rushing over beside Hans. Rolling him over, he gasped, blood seeped from Hans shattered nose and open mouth. “He’s hurt, pretty bad!” he said, tilting the doctor’s head so he wouldn’t choke on his own blood.

Olivia’s smile faded. “I do not require his permission,” she said coldly.

“He might need help,” Clayton said, alarm in his tone.

Reaching back into the box, she brushed Clayton away from Hans. Putting her index finger on the side of Hans’ head pinning it to the bottom of the linen covered drawer, she looked to Clayton and arched an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking from her to where she had placed her finger.

Applying pressure with her finger, Dr. Brauer’s head, bone and tissue yielding to the force, made a crunching sound and then popped, much like an over ripened grape, spilling the contents of his head outward. “I don’t think he needs any help now does he?” she asked, eyes still on Clayton.

“My god Olivia what have you done?” Clayton cried.

She raised her hand back out of the box, grabbing a tissue to clean the gore from her finger tip.

“You’re a monster!” Clayton exclaimed, backing away from Dr. Brauer’s corpse.

“Get some rest,” she said, turning and walking to the door and shutting off the light, before quitting the room.

In her living room, computer on her coffee table, she began constructing her proposal to dismantle the project with the intent of harvesting the research as intellectual properties for applications in other fields.

When finally retiring for the evening, she laid back in her bed, the feeling, the sound, the satisfaction she felt, crushing the life out of Hans after all of the things he had put her through was exceptionally satisfying, gratifying. She knew now she could never release Clayton or Elliot and that they too must eventually be destroyed. The only variable that remained in her plan were the girls, could she make allies of them? Or would they need to disappear too?

Clayton

Clayton doubled over and vomited. Hans had been right all along about her, she was not rational. Wiping his mouth, he knew now he must escape because if he remained, surely Olivia would snuff him out with as little regard for him as she had for Dr. Brauer. Gathering himself, he looked over at the still form of Elliot Sommers and knew, if he was going to make a break for it, he could not bring the doctor along. Walking to the edge of the drawer, he was able to use slack in the linen to easily climb up the side of the drawer, swinging his leg over to straddle the edge and lower himself carefully down the loose linen to the carpeted floor below. Cautiously, he scampered across the floor of the darkened room, peeking out into the hallway from the side of the door. He knew to have any hope of surviving, he needed to escape the apartment. At a little over four inches in height, much easier said than down.

Staying close to the baseboards, he made his way toward the living room, pausing to survey the area. Olivia sat on the chesterfield, fingers clicking away as she leaned over her laptop. Taking a few tip toe type steps, he frowned and shook his head realizing even if he stomped, she probably wouldn’t hear. Running with as much speed as he could generate, he ran in behind the chesterfield, without a skirting, able see her feet across the floor at the other side. As much as he wanted to just get out, he knew patience and strategic planning would be needed. Finally after what seemed like hours, Olivia got up and left the living room. It grew dark. Creeping out, he made his way to the front hall leading to the door into the complex hallway. Standing at the front door, he realized there was no possible way he could get under it to the hall beyond, the door sweep was just too tight. He heard sounds coming from elsewhere in the apartment as she moved about, preparing to go to bed. He remained still, heart thundering in his chest that at any moment she would suddenly appear or wander back into the office room and discover he was gone.

Sneaking around the corner of the wall near an opening in the hallway, he darted across the linoleum kitchen floor and into her dining room. A huge stack of old newspapers and flyers destined for recycling was in the corner near where the glass doors led out onto her balcony. Crossing back into the living room, he closed his eyes, trying to remember if there was anything he might be able to use to help him flee the apartment. He slapped his head with both hands, visualizing stray fragments of seemingly trivial memory.

He stopped and grinned. Looking at the table beside the far end of the couch, he sprinted over. Climbing up the cord onto the corner table, there was a wooden lathe-turned bowl, assorted change, half roll of life savers and a book of matches inside. He nodded and smirked to himself. Taking out the book of matches, he walked to the edge of the table and threw them down to the floor, before shinnying down the cord back to the floor.

Carrying the matches back to the stack of paper materials in the corner of the dining area, he folded over the front sheet of the paper on top, and again before tearing the paper and flaring the ends inward, creating a semi rigid portable blind of sorts out of the folded newspaper, something he could lean up against a wall and hide behind. Next he tried to pull the paper apart as best he could before setting up the matchbook near the paper. Flipping the incendiary book over, he bent one of the matches back so that he could strike it and arrange it so that as it burned down, it would actually ignite the other matches. Striking the match, he picked up his blind and ran as fast as he could toward the principal entrance of the apartment, hoping beyond hope he could make it there before the conflagration began. Reaching the wall near the door, he concealed himself behind his paper cover.

There was illumination as light began to dance along the wall as first the matches then the newspaper caught fire. The faint smell of smoke began filling the air. Still peering out cautiously from behind his hiding place, he was surprised by the amount of smoke starting to billow out of the dining area into the living room.

Suddenly there was a harsh chirping noise coming from the smoke detector directly above his head, a piercing shrieking sound that hurt his ears.

Lights came on in the hall leading into living room, a startled cry escaping Olivia’s mouth as she found the dining area in flames. Rushing into the kitchen, she turned the taps on and began bringing pots of water to douse the fire, steam mingling with smoke. The thick acrid smoke was blinding, choking, making it difficult for her to see and breathe. Rushing to the door leading into the hallway, she threw it open and staggered out, coughing and hacking hands on her knees.

When Olivia opened the door, Clayton seized his opportunity. Lifting his blind, he snuck out into the hallway, keeping the blind between himself and the distressed Dr. Featherstone. Soon, other doors in the hallway started to open as residents smelled the smoke and came to investigate. Concealed by his little piece of innocuous newspaper, he waited, looking for an opportune moment. Olivia’s neighbor emerged, leaving the door to her apartment open, moving quickly he ducked inside.

Sophie

Walking back home at the end of the day, Grace caught up to her.

“Dr. Featherstone wanted me to speak to you,” Sophie said. “I forgot to mention it earlier.”

“Oh?” asked Grace.

“She thinks she replicate the shrinking process from the GCR accident,”

“What?” Grace queried, a little surprised by the information.

“She says she wants to develop a research project surrounding that premise, and she says she wants me and you involved,” Sophie explained

“What about this project?” Grace inquired.

“She said we can re-purpose the research here and move forward into the new project, she didn’t go into a great deal of detail,” Sophie explained.

“What kind of a vibe did you get from her? Like all creepy like if she could shrink us, she would?” Grace asked.

Sophie paused in her walking, frowning. “Not sure, my gut tells me she’s genuine. I think as long as she doesn’t get her hands on Theo we have an ace in the hole, of sorts, a whistle blower if need be.” She resumed walking.

Grace nodded, pondering if this was the time to discuss what happened in the washroom earlier, of what it felt like to hold Theo, taste the remnants of Sophie’s intense climax.

“It might be a great scientific opportunity for us,” Sophie said, breaking the silence.

Grace felt her chance slipping away but remained quiet.

Arriving back at the house, they parted, each going to their respective rooms. Sophie set her purse on the bed and fished her still dampened panties out. Carefully unfolding them, she released Theo from his prison. Picking him up around his midsection, she carried him into the bathroom, placing him in the sink. Turning on the faucet, she said “You need to wash yourself.”

He remained silent, sullen. He reached out, testing the water spilling out of the tap, it was still cold.

She pushed him under the flow with her index finger. He shuddered at the sudden exposure to the cool water as it rained down over him.

“What’s with you today?” he asked grumpily, moving out from under the water.

She smiled pleasantly, “What do you mean?”

“Keeping me trapped in your panties like that, all smothered by your pussy and then wrapped up in your purse,” he complained.

“I thought that’s what you wanted Theo, to explore new possibilities,” she stated.

“What I really want is to just go back to being normal,” he said, testing the water again, finding it warm, he moved under it and began to wash himself.

Watching him, she chuckled. “Get yourself nice and clean, we’re going to play some more,” she said.

“What?” he asked, moving his head out from under the water, “Did you say we’re going to play some more?”

She smiled. “Now that all the foreplay is done, I think it’s time for us to take this situation to the next level,” she advised.

“I’m not sure what you mean by next level, but I have to say no for now,” he said, shaking his head, “My leg is killing me, I’m all tired out,” he explained.

“I want you inside me,” she said, blue eyes sparkling, lower lip held between her teeth. “All of you.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know, I’m thinking maybe we should slow it down a bit.” Flashes of Hannah’s brutal use of him flickered across the back of his mind.

“Didn’t you say I was like your very own goddess? A living breathing goddess? Beautiful?” she asked.

“Yes I absolutely did, and I meant every word of it,” he said. “You are spectacular, but I’m starting to think you were right, we are moving way too fast.”

She chuckled, “All of your patience has paid off and we’re done with fingers and masturbation, now I’m willing to take that next leap. I want to feel you sliding into me, feel the pleasure of having you fill me,” she said breathlessly.

“C’mon Sophie,” he said with a chuckle, hoping she was joking but really more than a little concerned by her tone and the look in her eyes.

“It’s the next logical step, right? Seeing what wonderful things you can do for me down there,” she said.

“I might expect something like this from Hannah, but from you?” he said bluntly, and realized a moment too late his mistake.

Her eyes narrowed fiercely, “What did you just say? Did you just compare me to Hannah?” she questioned, mouth a frown.

He put his hands up in front of his chest, trying to soothe the situation. “I’m just meaning, you’re usually much more thoughtful and considerate than she is.”

“Really? And how would you know what she would or would not do?” she countered.

He frowned, unable to meet her intense gaze.

She pursed her lips. “So tell me then, what really happened between you and Hannah? The truth,” she demanded.

He continued to look away.

She turned off the supply of water.

“Theo,” she said, tone brooking no defiance.

His face darkened, “She used me like a bloody dildo, is that what you want to hear?” he blurted.

“All I ever wanted was the truth,” she said.

“I was afraid Sophie,” he said, collapsing to his knees in the sink. “I’m so small.”

She nodded slowly, “Yes you are, and you shouldn’t alienate the only person trying to help you,” she answered voice softening.

“You said my dad came by the university today, I’m thinking maybe it’s time we told him what happened,” he said, voice plaintive.

She contemplated, nodding slowly. “No,” she said.

“What?” he asked.

“No,” she repeated. “There is a whole lot at stake here Theo and I don’t think you’re parents, especially your dad is going to make things better, in fact, I think he might make things worse,” she explained.

Picking up a face cloth, she plucked him from the sink and put him in it, rolling him around in her hands to dry him off.

“Can we at least talk about it?” he asked when she wasn’t tossing him about.

She smiled down, “We just did,” she replied.

“But,” he started, but she put a finger to his face to silence him.

“There will be time for talk after,” she said, carrying him back into the bedroom.