After the absurdly hot shitshow that yesterday was, it was actually a little cold this morning- enough to justify Guy wearing a windbreaker and jeans. In fact, given the gray skies outside, he almost began to wonder if the forest hike he'd planned was doomed to be rained out. 

The door flew open with a rather deliberate nature, revealing Rebecca Sullivan dressed likewise for the weather- a dark gray sweater that clung to her bust, dark jeans that hugged her rear, and she was even wearing black socks. All the dark clothing only further emphasized her fire-red hair, which dangled just far enough down her back that it likely touched her bra strap. "Hello . . . Guy Fabre," Rebecca murmured deliberately, seeming to sample the atypical name for a moment, "come in. Let's get the scientific aspect of this meeting complete before we embark on our . . . date," she continued, her voice never wavering, remaining quiet and nearly sensual. In any other situation, Guy would think a girl talking like this was coming on to him, but he knew from experience that she literally always spoke this way. Most of the students and staff alike nursed a crush on this scientific succubus, Guy included, and a good chunk of her fan club was seduced by the auditory aphrodisiac that escaped her mouth every time she spoke.

"Right," Guy said slowly as he walked in, honestly not expecting to look up at Rebecca- he'd known she was tall for a woman, but he'd yet to speak face-to-face with her and realize that she was 5'11" to his own 5'9". "So, what are you actually doing here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It's actually quite simple," Rebecca replied in her ever-soft murmur, "I've devised what could potentially be one of the most useful scientific discoveries in recent history, but I need to be sure of the exact ratios of the compounds involved. Too much of one component, it's useless in practical respects. Too much of another, actually accomplishing the required tasks is much more hazardous than it should be. I'm afraid any more information than that would destroy the point of a blind trial." This last bit was accompanied by a coy, knowing smirk, but Guy could make neither heads nor tails of it. 

Guy nodded, not really understanding her meaning but acquiescing for the sake of remaining on her good side. "Okay . . . so what exactly is it that I have to do before we go on our hike?"

"Well, you are free to select any of the remaining hypodermic needles on my end table," Rebecca explained, showing off 6 needles filled with a sickly neon orange fluid, arranged in such a way that, were the space occupied by a handwritten black "6" holding a seventh needle, they'd be perfectly evenly spaced. "Then, I shall administer the injection, I'll take a moment to record some preliminary results, and we shall go hiking, as you indicated."

"Alright then, let's do this!" Guy grinned excitedly, selecting the second one from the left, making the vials symmetrical once more . . . and revealing a handwritten "2" underneath it. 

Rebecca calmly took the hypodermic needle from Guy, and used one hand to hold his arm steady as the other held the needle almost in contact with his skin. "I will warn you, Mr. Fabre, that you may feel mildly sick. I ask that, if you feel the need to vomit, you keep it in your mouth. I'd rather not have to clean my carpets."

"That doesn't exactly sound mild-" Guy managed to say before his voice was lost in a groan of agony. He felt sick, and began to dry-heave as merely remaining conscious was an exercise in masochism. Luckily, he didn't- couldn't- vomit, as he hadn't yet had breakfast this morning; he had planned to snack on trail mix as they walked. 

Everything went dark, and rather warm, in an instant. He felt like he was wrapped from head to toe in a very rough blanket . . . which was weird, because he didn't exactly remember passing out. Had he been teleported? Knocked into a trance? "Hey, what's going on?"

His question went unanswered, but a huge, fleshy monstrosity came out of the darkness and pulled him out into the light . . . it was Rebecca's hand. She was absolutely enormous! "Hmm. Time: 7:35 AM. Subject has remained conscious, and has imbibed the variety known as "Hand" without negative effects. Subject retains capacity for speech, and can be understood . . . although," she laughed softly, "subject's voice has risen multiple octaves in pitch from standard perspective."

"Can I get an explanation, please?" Guy asked again, still afraid, but quite annoyed.

"Certainly, Mr. Fabre," Rebecca smiled softly, her lips barely curling in the slightest as she rose to her full, dizzying height from Guy's perspective. "You have been shrunk, in layman's terms. To be precise, you are currently five inches tall- variant "Hand" will always make a subject exactly 5 inches tall, regardless of their original stature."

"Five inches?" Guy's eyes widened in confusion and awe as he looked at Rebecca, who seemed to him a titan, nigh-Goddesslike for her stature alone, her radiant beauty only adding to that illusion. 

"Yes, five inches," Rebecca repeated, her tone having become more bemused, but not taking on too much of a noticeable difference. "You've also been provided with a sizable increase in durability, but I'm not sure exactly how sizable. The human body seems to resist the toughening agent startlingly well, although the shrinking half of the equation has gone remarkably without a hitch." With that, she set Guy on a cluttered dresser with scattered experiments and knelt beside it, her hands delving below Guy's field of vision. 

"So . . . how are we supposed to go hiking when I'm five inches tall?" Guy asked after a pregnant pause, deciding to just accept the fact that he'd shrunk and move on to the fact that he'd be going on a date with the gorgeous redhead. "I mean, I'd have fun, but my little legs wouldn't be able to keep up with yours at this scale."

"Well, in all honesty we'll be administering your all-too-necessary durability test on the way, but if I've gotten it right you may feel free to hike across my room and back once we return," Rebecca explained, reaching for Guy once again. 

"How are you going to do that?" Guy asked as he was picked up once again, starting to enjoy the feeling of Rebecca's palm wrapping around his torso. 

Without actually answering, Rebecca dropped Guy into her recently-removed sock, and followed up by returning her foot to its snug little home. Then, sliding her boots on, she simply walked out the door with her "date" trapped against her size-ten sole. 

---REBECCA---

Each step was almost orgasmic, feeling a puny body flatten helplessly under her weight and fight her on each rise of her sole. Of course, no one would ever know this from any outward clue- the redhead was used to keeping her expressions fairly neutral, and all that showed on her face was a simple, mild smirk that attracted no more attention than she usually got. 

Rebecca was stopped several times by people asking what had happened regarding her date today, and her simple half-truth that it was occurring later in the day was enough to defuse further questions.

She managed to walk all the way through town and into the forest with Guy's struggles satiating her sadistic impulses, and opened her umbrella as the inevitable drizzle began, and slowly developed into rain. Her hiking boots were muddied, her jacket dampened, and her hair unfortunately soaked due to an inopportune gust of wind, but the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on her umbrella, and the incredible survival of her second test subject, kept her in very good spirits.

---GUY--- 

Pain. Horrible, horrible pain that never seemed to cease.

That was Guy's existence. 

Yes, physically, the harm was very superficial- only some bruises- but the pain was absolutely agonizing, and the humiliation that came from being doused in sweat and trapped in a girl's sock was unbearable. Luckily, he had yet to be cold- whatever Rebecca's boots were made of was keeping the inside toasty and relatively dry, barring the beauty's own sweat- but each of her footfalls made Guy choke on sweat and feel comparative tons of weight pressing down on him. 

His will to fight grew weaker as the fluid in his lungs prevented much sir from entering, faded, faded, until he nearly lost consciousness . . . but Rebecca's foot slipping on a rock was far and away more pressure than he'd yet experienced, and broke nearly every bone in his body. 

Agonized, pulverized, and now paralyzed by nothing more than the left foot of the women he'd hoped to date. He'd even destroyed his vocal cords and been nearly silenced by all the screaming he'd been doing. At least it couldn't get any worse . . .

---REBECCA---

"Time: 12:34 PM. Subject has not responded to stimuli since being removed from my sock, although vital signs remain. Report failure," Rebecca sighed as she tossed what she believed was essentially a vegetable into some hydrochloric acid, running a hand through her hair as she looked around her room. "Now that was just unfortunate."