A Fly in the Ointment

Unsure of when the girls might return Oliver gambled on sooner than later, choosing to keep himself secreted in the Belle Vie jar for the time being. With no obvious means of telling time, he wasn’t too sure of how long he had been there, when the door finally opened and Brooklynn strolled in, aghast look on her face as she beheld the wreckage of her room at the hands of Sersei and her gang of pillagers.

“And they still missed me,” he said with a small chuckle, flexing his fingers to try sand promote circulation in his extremities.

Closing her door, the giant girl set the towel and crossed the room, setting something small down on the desk before saying something about a grenade.

Pressing his face against the clear glass above the level of the cream, Oliver tried to see what it was she had set down on the desk. He could tell it was a little person but the features were distorted and indistinct. It had to be Cam. He felt a surge of elation. Cam had been here the whole time.

Brooklynn started tidying up the mess in her room. When she approached the vanity, he remain motionless, most of his body submerged in the cream, his face and head also covered.

Putting things back in order, she picked up the jar, twisting the glass lid.

Oliver’s heart sank into his stomach, more at the prospect of discovery than the rapid elevation of the jar.

Removing the lid, Brooklynn brought the jar up under her nose, closing her eyes and inhaling the subtle perfumed fragrance.

Holding his breath, Oliver was amazed at the sheer scale of her mouth and nose. They were immense. Sure, he had seen the girls on his flight from the basement, but not up close, not like this. His heart was thundering in his chest, so loud in his ears he thought for sure she could hear it.

Letting out her breath, Brooklynn opened her eyes and replaced the lid on the jar, twisting it closed before setting it back down atop the vanity.

Oliver kept himself mired in the cream as the blonde continued re-establishing order to her room. That was close. Once his heart rate returned to normal, he waded through the cream to get a better view of Brooklynn and her progress.

It didn’t take the blonde haired giantess long to get the room organized.

Oliver continued to watch as she collected his friend from the desk and plopped herself on the bed. With lotion still caked in his ears and thick glass separating them, he could only make out a handful of her words and none of Cam’s.

Hands pressed against the glass, “Hang in there pal,” Oliver implored, watching her put Cam down on the pillow and cross the room before exiting.

Realizing his odds of success for rescuing Bear had been essentially nil, they weren’t much better for liberating Cam, but this was Cam and Cam was his friend, meaning he had to do something. At a quick glance, he believed he could get up onto the bed easily enough via the top desk but Cam’s utter lack of movement was of concern. What kind of condition was he in? Was Oliver going to have carry him out? Getting onto the bed was one thing, but how would they get back down? Now would have been a great time for his length of dental floss Harmony discovered and discarded. Not having the luxury of time, he knew he needed to act quickly.

Pushing his hands up against the underside of the lid, he tried to unscrew it, but his hands were too slick with the cream he couldn’t get purchase, his hands just sliding. Again and again, he repeated his efforts. “No, no,” he murmured, concern becoming panic. When Brooklynn put the lid back on, she tightened it securely and now it seemed he couldn’t get it to budge. Had she unknowingly turned his cleverness against him and trapped him inside the jar of cream?

Vigorously wiping his hands together, he hoped to lessen their slipperiness. “Come on,” he urged. Feeling only mildly less slick, he pressed his hand against the lid again, positioning fairly wide apart. Gritting his teeth, he used all his might and the lid moved ever so slightly, but enough to rekindle the spark of hope in him.

Chuckling nervously, he repositioned his hands, again exerting maximum effort to dislodge the lid. Slowly, grudgingly, it started to turn, requiring less and less force to move. Twisting it in a clockwise motion, he unseated it from the threads. Pushing it carefully to the side, he kept a grip on the lip of the lid to prevent it from falling, though making sure to create a large enough gap from which to exit the jar. Pulling himself up on the edge, the way a swimmer might in a pool, he paused a second to savor the sweet taste of fresh air as it filled his lungs.

Slinging his goopy cream caked leg up over the lip, he started to pull himself out of the jar. The door opened and Brooklynn walked in. Like a deer at sunset in the headlights of an oncoming car, Oliver froze, silently willing the immense girl not to look his way.

Crossing the floor, she approached the bed, putting her hands on her hips, “Well it looks like we are going to have to put our little getting reacquainted reunion on hold for the time being,” she said, reaching one hand to her pants, the other to Cam.

Oliver dragged his leg back over the lip and dropped back into the jar, sliding the lid oh so carefully back into place all the while praying the grating sound of glass on glass wasn’t as loud to her as it was in his own ears.

What was she doing? It looked like she was putting Cam in the front of her underpants. But why? When she turned back, Cam was nowhere to be seen. Patting her crotch lightly, she giggled and exited the room.