Rachel wiped the sweat off her forehead as she walked out of the building. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the pig still snoring happily, there were too many like him. Got what they wanted and slept. With one hand she tugged at her stockings, tightening them against her smooth legs. The cool breeze felt good on her damp skin, that's the one thing she loved about Hillsdale; the weather was always pleasant.

It was nearing dusk and the sun hung heavy in the sky, a deep crimson red. Red sky at night shepherd's delight, or so they said. Her slender fingers fished in her cleavage and she pulled out a wad of notes, a few 20 dollar bills and a single hundred dollar bill. Franklin stared wordlessly back at her, judging her for what had just transpired. The woman shrugged this off and hailed a yellow cab.

She was not unattractive, which is just as well, given her line of work. Her hair was shoulder length, a delicious strawberry blonde. Rachel was in her mid thirties, she hid it fairly well but there was the beginnings of crow's feet forming at the corner of her chocolatey brown eyes. Her figure was full, voluptuous; her graceful curves drawing the eye of many a man. Hell, even at her age she got the odd wolf whistle from a construction worker.

She wore the questionable outfit of a red boob tube, a small black skirt and a pair of knee high leather boots, black. Her stockings were a tan brown, simple ones, some of her clientèle preferred more exotic stockings, but this guy just wanted someone to fuck. Rachel was a prostitute, a two-bit whore. She wasn't proud of it, but times were tough, real tough. She had a beautiful baby daughter at home to feed and there was constant bills. City life was expensive, but she was holding her own. This was a temporary thing, she assured herself. Same thing she'd been telling herself 2 years ago.

The taxi ride was fairly uneventful, the driver made some small talk; the usual spiel. Pleasantries and nothing more. She tipped him for his troubles, mainly just satisfied at paying a man for his services for a change. Her heels clacked against the pavement as she neared her apartment building. Rachel fumbled for her keys in the growing darkness, finally her fingertips brush the cool metal in her purse and she lifts her keys out, selecting the front door key she jiggles the lock, it always stuck these days.

Rachel exited the cool dusky breeze and entered the muggy heat of her apartment. Great, she mused, the AC was shot again; another 50 bucks down the drain at least. She saw that her friend had taken Rhaena home with her as something had come up. The woman sighed, she wanted to kiss her daughter's head, it always soothed her, helped her focus on what really mattered to her. There was a metallic click as she flipped on her “Master Coffee.” No brand name appliances for her but damned if she was going without her coffee.

The thick, rich aroma wafted through the tiny apartment, filling the air with it's promises of exotic flavours and smooth textures. Rachel greedily poured the dark brown liquid into her cup. “Shit happens.” the cup proudly stated. Yeah, that was the understatement of the century. She looked forward to the day where she could replace it with a “Life's a Beach” mug. Her eyes scanned the mess of paperwork on the table and she spies the day's paper. Tiff must have left it when she took her daughter.

Instinctively Rachel flipped to the 'Help Wanted' page. Her ruby red fingernail skimmed through the columns until she spotted a rather attractive opening. It was a small ad, and it plainly said:

“WANTED: Female for genetic test. Lucrative opportunity. Must be in good health. For details call Dr. Mog at....”

She quickly jotted down the number and vowed to call this doctor in the morning.

Sleep welcomed Rachel into it's warm, soft embrace. Her head collided with the pillow and she was asleep instantly, drifting off to where her horrible existence didn't matter. Sleep was the great equaliser.

The jarring tinkling of her alarm clock roused her from a rather pleasant dream, the details of which faded away quickly as the real world barged it's way through, thoroughly ruining her enjoyment, as was the norm. She muttered something, unintelligible, she was speaking the tongue of almost everyone who had just woken up. Garbled and under her breath she cursed the clock. She hated getting mad at inanimate objects; there was no real way to let them appreciate your frustration.

Her arm was still heavy from her slumber and she only just managed to maintain enough body control to turn off the clock. Rachel squirmed in her bed, kicking off the duvet and sitting up, stretching her slender arms as she yawned a deep yawn. The sunlight filtered down between her curtains, a shaft of light, golden and magical. Another pleasant summer's day in Hillsdale.

With a sudden dawning Rachel remembers the paper, she reaches for the phone and looks to her small notepad, her shorthand was terrible. Was that a 6 or an 8? She punched in the numbers anyway and hoped for the best. The phone rang once, twice and then a third.

Rachel nearly hung up when she heard the voice on the other end, a thick Scottish accent. She must have got the wrong number after all. “Hello, Hillsdale University, Dr. Mog speaking, what can I do for ya?” came the deep voice. Wait, Dr. Mog? This was the guy.

“Oh uh, I'm calling to ask about that genetic test ad in the paper?” her voice raised in pitch near the end, hoping to hear more.

“Aye, certainly,” came the reply, “We'd like to get started as soon as possible, would you be able to head into the University at some point today? Look for the Templar block. We've had a lack of interest in this test, sadly.”

Rachel smiled, it's not like she did much during the day, her profession was such that she tended to prowl the streets looking for prey, or was she the prey? She never figured that one out.

“Sure, I'll head in as soon as I can.” she said, bright and cheery, optimistic.

“Splendid, I'll see you soon then.” the young man had said before hanging up the receiver.

Rachel choked down a couple of slices of dry toast as she got dressed, holding the bread in her teeth while she pulled on her trainers, they were a pair of well worn running shoes. She didn't have much in the way of clothing. She decided on a pair of jeans that hugged her bottom in just the right way, and a t-shirt, short sleeved and with a white Nike swoosh on it's front. Any doubts she might have had about this idea were abated by the slogan “Just do it.” emblazoned over her chest.

That was all the encouragement she needed as she slammed the door and left for Hillsdale University. It wasn't too far from her home, she lived in a fairly central area and the University was well renowned. She had of course heard of Dr. Tamaka, she was a local celebrity along with her cadre of misfits and freaks. She was damned if she knew what Dr. Tamaka did in her lab though, all she knew was what she'd read in the tabloids.

Her brain kept her occupied as she strode, enjoying the heat and the pleasant gusts of wind that kept her cool. The sky was a brilliant azure blue and the clouds looked as white and fluffy as cotton wool. She saw the red bricks of the university, a contrast to the rest of the buildings around, all shiny and mirrored glass. It was quaint but she knew great things happened inside those walls. Collecting herself she pushed her foot forward and entered the University grounds.

Rachel felt out of place, being that most people walking around the luscious green grass of the University grounds was either wearing a suit of some design or the uniform. The uniform itself was wholly unremarkable as far as such outfits went; it featured a navy blazer and a white shirt or blouse. For the males, or the less exhibitionist females, a pair of dark navy trousers accompanied the outfit although most of the girls wore a green plaid skirt with white knee high socks and a variety of footwear. Most seemed to wear black leather shoes of some denomination, loafers, mary janes even the occasional pair of boots was spied by Rachel, who was feeling rather unimpressive in her casual duds.

Here stood the building, plain stone with a marble crest above the doorway. The crest featured two knights sharing a single horse on top of a cross. A vague recollection of a game of Trivial Pursuit from way back when came to mind and Rachel identified this as the symbol of the Knights Templar. She took a deep breath, gathering her wits and pushed through the door.

Though the outside of the building had looked quaint and old-fashioned, fitting in with the general décor of the rest of the buildings, the interior was breathtaking. The floor, walls and roof were a gleaming white, so brilliant and radiant that Rachel had regretted bringing a pair of sunglasses. Her footfalls squeaked on the linoleum flooring, the squeak echoed through the halls and the visitor couldn't help but blush slightly, as if she'd disturbed the peace of this sanctuary.

The receptionist was a pretty girl, somewhat short and stout but her face was nicely proportioned. Her lips were ruby red and full, soft kissable pillows. Her eyes were a deep emerald green, with the barest hints of amber swirling beneath their surface, dancing under the pools of jade like fall leaves caught in the wind. Rachel realised she was staring as the girl looked up over her designer glasses.

“Can I help you, miss?” came the voice, tinged by a vague accent. Rachel placed it as European but a more specific location eluded her, it had vague hints of a celtic nature though; perhaps Irish? There was also the great equaliser that was the American accent in there too, any trace that this woman was a visitor to these shores was nearly drowned in the slightly nasally twang of a North Western American.

Rachel nodded, slightly nervously; now that she had breached this gleaming fortress, the cool clinical feel of the place was starting to unnerve her. A brief mental image of men in clean-suits dragging her breathless corpse into an incinerator flashed warning signs in her mind, but she knew this was silly paranoia and nothing more. Dr. Tamaka was respectable, after all, the forefront of her field if the papers were to be believed.

“Yes, I phoned about the test subject thing, the doctor told me to come around as soon as I could.” she answered, putting on her professional voice. Professional as in formal, of course, she had suspected that if she had used the kind of breathy speaking she used at her main job she'd either land herself a girlfriend or an escort off the premises.

The receptionist – a quick glance at the nametag pinned to a swatch of fabric above the breast pocket of her mint green blouse would reveal her name to be Lorraine – swivelled round slightly on her chair, her jet black hair following with a split-second delay, the silky strands whipped around, leaving a vague hint of vanilla in the air. She tapped furiously on the computer's keyboard, the letters on the keys faded from overuse, a strange contrast to the shiny new look of the building's interior. Rachel guessed that no matter how prestigious the establishment the budget always found someone to shaft.

Realisation dawned across Lorraine's face. “Ah yes, just head through that door to your left, they're expecting you.” She smiled the false smile of every poor sap who had to deal with the public on a daily basis. “Thank you,” Rachel said, returning the smile in kind. Once more she set off, nearly at her destination. Deep breaths, this wouldn't be half as bad as she thought it would.

Silent reassurances out of the way, Rachel knocked on the door, metallic, and then pressed open on the small keypad next to it. Like something out of Star Trek, the door slid open with a whoosh. She half expected billowing smoke to come rolling out in thick clouds, she was slightly disappointed to see none. “Ummm Hi?” her voice rang, nervous and alone into the mechanical and scientific guts of the lab. She ventured in.

No sooner had Rachel rounded the corner into the belly of the lab had a young man, previously sitting on a lab bench, kicking his legs idly, had hopped to his feet and swaggered over. He smiled broadly, his teeth glistening in the unnatural light of the fluorescent bulbs. His hand raised up with a lightning quickness and he took Rachel by the hand and shook her. He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek; Rachel could smell his cologne, musky and spicy, she liked it. “You must be Rachel” he said, the accent confirming his identity.

“I am, and you must be.... Dr. Mog?” she asked.

“Yes, Dr. Archimedes Mogett at your service, m'lady,” said the young doctor, bowing theatrically and taking her hand to kiss it once, gently. “It is my UTMOST pleasure to meet you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief and playfulness. They quickly deadened as another voice rang through from behind a nearby screen.

“MOG! What have I told you about flirting with visitors? Do you want ANOTHER sexual harassment suit?” The disembodied voice said, it was obviously a female one. Rachel watched as Mog winced, no doubt, this voice belonged to Dr. Mina Tamaka.

Mog leaned in close to Rachel, she could feel his breath on her skin, it sent tingles down her spine, in his own way, he was charming. The man spoke in hushed tones, “I just wanted to make it an even number, no hard feelings right?”

A clacking of heels from he area behind the two announced Mina's appearance. Rachel looked over the woman, she was taller than she looked in the papers. Her blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail and she wore some business-like spectacles that framed her eyes wonderfully. She had a half smile on her face and she extended her hand out to shake Rachels. The handshake was surprisingly warm, yet firm, very professional.

“Now, straight to business, I'm eager to continue my research. Tell me, Rachel, are you familiar with size-changing genes?” Mina said, in a voice akin to a science teacher lecturing her class.

“I can't say I am, doctor. All I know is that some people have genes that cause a size change under certain criteria, arousal, anger and so on,” came Rachel's reply, she'd read something about it a few weeks ago but she'd mostly skim read it. Giants and giantess' were fairly commonplace in Hillsdale, nary a month seemed to go by without some giant causing trouble, be it a good old fashioned rampage or simply sunbathing and blocking traffic.

Mina nodded at this and then straightened her glasses again. “Yes, more or less so. Myself, I can grow at will and Mog here can shrink at will. Would you demonstrate for me, assistant?” She didn't even look at Mog, and he sighed with obvious discontent.

“Fine, but don't make me run that damned rat maze again.” he says, dejected.

Mina chuckled softly “Oh you're just sore that the rat beat you to the cheese.”

The lab assistant blushed a deep crimson as Rachel looked at him for confirmation of this story, his face was beet red compared to his white lab smock.

“Anyway! As Mina was saying, some have this gene, some don't. Watch this.” His finger raised up, the international symbol for “One moment please.” His body slowly started to dwindle at first, mere inches being shaved from his height as he went from slightly taller than Rachel, to staring at her chin, eye level with it. The shrinking accelerated and soon his view was filled with the increasing bust of Rachel as it shifted downwards. A wall of denim was all he could see as he hit a foot tall, and he still shrank, down to 5 inches and then finally 'cresting' at 3 inches tall.

“Tadaa!” he squeaked as he pulled a dramatic pose. Rachel stood in shock, half tempted to nudge this now tiny man with the toe of her sneaker, just to see that he was real. Her fascination is brought to a close as a manicured hand scoops Mog up. Mina had grabbed her tiny assistant and was gently stroking his hair with her fingertip.

“M-may I touch him?” Rachel asked, quite shocked at her own forward question, she could tell it took Mina aback a bit as she simply blinked, staring blank eyed for a second. “Uh, I guess that's up to him, Dr. Mogett, is this OK with you?”

Mog nodded once, a tiny action that would have gone noticed had two giant pairs of eyes not been on him. “It'll be a lot more pleasant than Mina doing it,” he states, then lowering his tone slightly he finishes, “she uses tweezers. They hurt.” Horrible recollections of the cold clinical giantess that was his boss were cut short as Rachel's slender fingers came down and carefully wrapped around his frail entirety.

With a sickening sense of speed Mog was lifted, up higher and higher, the world rushing past him, blurred and streamlined, splotches of grey and blueish steel, glass and tools filled his peripheral vision. When the world finally stopped rocketing by Mog could see he was in the pale creamy flesh of Rachel's palm. It was slightly tacky to the touch he noted as he pressed his own palms against the spongy flesh. Understandable, she was likely nervous and her palms were sweating a little.

He looked up to her face, massive and magnified, the beauty she had was marred slightly by a few wrinkles that he could see, her teeth had the barest hints of yellowing he noted as the giantess' breath washed over him. It had the scent of nicotine on it, and of coffee. Cigarettes and coffee, middle aged blonde, devastatingly attractive.... She could have passed for Mina's twin

A finger, nail painted a ruby red, though from Mog's perspective he could see the imperfections in the nail, the slight bumps of the nail, chips in the polish and parts where the brush had coated it unevenly, came down and gently poked him in the chest. It was obvious Rachel was being as careful as possible but even this gentlest of pokes caused him to lose balance and tumble backwards.

Rachel worked hard to stifle a giggle as she watched this curious tiny man stumble and fall on her palm. She felt a slight fluttering in her body, one that localised between her legs slightly. Could she be enjoying playing with a little man like this? Perhaps there was something to this experiment. The thought of having lots of little men to play with was a satisfying one.

She gently tips her palm and lets Mog roll off into the white rubber glove clad hand of Mina who had been waiting expectantly. “Thank you for that, now there'll be a bit less chaos in the lab for the rest of the day.” The doctor carefully tips Mog into her breast pocket, he lands between a couple of pens, his feet standing on the edge of the pocket protector as he peeked out of the labcoat. The material was rough and smelled vaguely of chemicals and of Mina's natural scent. The young doctorate sighed, it seemed he would take no further part in the proceedings.

Rachel simply smiled at Mina and winked at the diminutive doctor in the pocket.

“All right, where do I sign?”