Through the small vines ascending Emily's brick wall, Derek climbed. No matter what size he was now, that upper body training wasn't going to waste. The stems and leaves that he could once easily crush in his palm now barely sagged beneath his weight.

"Don't look down now, Derek..." He grit his teeth, and made a leap to the windowsill. A successful landing, though his legs ached a bit.

Only a bit of dust on the glass - which someone Emily's scale probably couldn't make out. She was inside, pacing, rubbing the blonde strands around her temples, taking quick swigs from a too-large teacup. This was no coincidence. She did her best writing in this second-floor room, at 4:00. The minuscule man had timed his arrival so that he'd be up there by the time she entered the room. Thanks to a few falls, it was 4:38 now; but he could still get her attention by tapping the glass a bit.

Emily lifted her head. "Derry?" She covered her mouth in shame and shock, as if she'd just let a secret slip. With hasty, fast steps, she opened the window - and closed it right behind as he came in, bringing a small gust of fresh air with her. Her heart beat quickly as she held him near it. "You really shouldn't be out of your safe zone. We could both get arrested."

The shrinkee brushed his smooth, dark hair. "Pfft, I already squeezed by an inspector on the way here. If anyone comes in, I'll hide in your jugs."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're a sleaze, Derry." She sighed loudly, patting his back. "You have no idea how much I missed that."

"Yeah, same, Em." Out of her hold, he sat comfortably on her desk, right by the keyboard - with bulging keys that he could stand on with two feet. "Whatcha been working on, genius? Bet you've had a lot more time to write without me bugging you all the time."

When the writer sat, the seat buckled under her immense weight. "I've... I've really been lost. I wanna write about what's going on..."

"The bug." He wasn't asking - he was stating it as a fact. The virus was on both their minds. It was bound to come up eventually, no matter what people were talking about it.

Emily nodded. "It's such a pain. If I write about the shrinking disease now, it's gonna seem sensationalist. Like I'm just milking a crisis for fame. A crisis that's not about me."

He moved a bit, getting a panorama view of her downturned face. "But if you don't, then it'll seem behind the times. It'll seem like you're ignoring us. Real condundrum, huh?"

"It's going to age really poorly... when this is all over." The tea was doing nothing for the bags under her blue eyes.

A bit of a pause while they both thought. "When" it was over - that was an optimistic look at the situation. Finally, Derek coughed. "You could do something allegorical. Like writing about a medieval plague."

She shook her head, laughing dryly. "Look at me. I'm whining about writer's block, while my boyfriend's been living mouse-sized for over a month now." A sharp exhale through her teeth, slightly ruffling Derek's fancy hair. "Talk about selfish."

With his eyes drifting to her twitching fingers, her love shrugged. "Eh, it's not bad. The first week was shit. But then the men's shelters got food. Running water. Walls to keep us safe from bugs and high heels. And they say that, with how nanomachines were progressing before the big shrink, we'll be able to... How did they put it?... 'Talk to our moms, sisters, and daughters again'. Pretty dang soon, at least." Even if he kept smiling, it looked a lot more forced. "Last night, I... I actually slept real well."

For the first time in a while, Emily smiled. "Well, you made it here in one piece. That's worth celebrating. If there's anything you need..."

"You, Em. I really miss you." Derek's grin matched hers in size. "I can live this size forever, I can live with my friends shrinking, but I can't live without hugging you again." He stepped onto her palm, brushing his stubbly face into the soft skin.

In response, she caressed him. A long, tearful, intimate caress. Her bosom filled his vision, all his senses, smothering him in warmth and affection. Derek's arms spread out, accepting her fully.

Their hearts pounded together.

They breathed as one.

Until his breaths stopped.

"...Derry..." Emily shook him. No response.

"...Der...no, oh my fucking..." When her hands left, the man's limbs flopped loosely - some of them twisted back at uncomfortable angles. Derek had been suffocated.

Emily placed him on the desk, and slammed her head down with it. Her fingers struggled to dial the emergency number on her phone. Her tears crashed around his tiny clothes.

His eyes were shut. His face was blue - but locked in the same peaceful, calm smile.

"I'm fucking furious! You have no idea how this feels!"

Cyla went on all fours, her deep brown braids fluttering in the air from the sudden drop. Her hands slammed against the tiled, decontaminated floor - which quaked wildly beneath the weight. From behind her coke-bottle specs, she kept a watchful gaze for any small shapes dashing amid the wires.

"A worldwide pandemic, shrinking all males..."

As she continued on, Imad panted, ducking behind a table leg. The man's chest ached. This narrow space hid him well from the overbearing researcher's gaze. However, it reduced his field of vision to a narrow sliver - itself filled by Cyla's thin, shifting ass.

"...Making every woman look like a towering monster to them..."

Her coat swung as she scanned the room, crawling around. Every fall of her hands made the solid ground tremble, aftershocks quaking from the barely-restrainted force in her long fingers. They practically clawed at the ground as she dragged herself along the room.

"...Able to be crushed by the smallest movement..."

Imad didn't dare answering; or interrupting; or making the smallest sound that could lead to knowledge of his location. He repeated mentally: *Slow breaths. In, out. Stay standing still. Quiet your heartbeat. Resist the urge to crawl up into a ball. There must be some way out of here...*

"...When I've had a giantess fetish since puberty!"

This was the first time Cyla said those words, in that specific order, at such volume. Her face was boiling like an angry sun, looming above. The lab's fluorescent ceiling lights gleamed around her moisturized scalp, scattering amid the flasks and computer consoles.

"It's not fair! Impossible, even!"

The door was about one quarter open. But it would be a mad dash to get there, with very little cover. From his time as an assistant, Imad has learned the cleanup schedule; the crew would've cleared anything large from the floor by this time. But if the massive scientist turned away for long enough; and he crouched down low enough, making himself like an ant; those thick wires could hide his movement...

"I've always wanted huge, sexy gals to squish ME!"

Cyla shook her head, putting a fist to it. In the middle of something so important, so close to her heart, that jerk had the nerve to dart out... And he was a nimble little bugger, too. Narrow, runner's build, with clothes that camouflaged in the flooring. Luckily, she'd had plenty of time and experience thinking like a tiny person. To think that it would come to use now... She turned for another table, knees and elbows pounding the earth violently.

"I've been researching ways to shrink MYSELF down!"

No time to waste. Imad had already planned the route. He'd already gotten far enough. The louder steps and crawling motions from the massive woman made the wires tremble, shifting out of place; but he could still follow them close enough. Coast clear. She wasn't looking for the door, and he was already halfway there. Suddenly, a shadow covered his form. Her white-clad arm swung right over him...

"But instead, every single man on the planet gets to live out MY fantasy!"

With a groan to the heavens above, Cyla swung her arms out wildly. It knocked a set of vials and papers from the tabletop - scattering them to the floor below. She grabbed the breakable, glass containers, while watching the rest of the research items crash down. For anyone below, it was like a raging avalance. Trying to clean up the mess, she didn't notice the speck wiggling right beneath her palms.

"While I'm SUFFERING up here, at full size!"

Sweat dripped down Imad's forehead. He swallowed tiny air particles and exhaled them a split second after. The heavy impacts closeby had nearly made his heart stop. But with his behemoth boss distracted, he could make his way out of the room. Freedom within his grasp - as long as he didn't rush it... Didn't look back... And didn't stall, either... He paced his crawling, until he was right by the open door. A gust of air from outside rushed through his face.

And a pair of dark fingers plucked him from above.

"So you know what we're going to do, bug?"

Cyla held a paper in one hand, and Imad in another. She was already anticipating some movement towards the door; so spotting him came easily. Resting the man in her titanic palm, and staring him down, a perverse smile crossed her face.

"We're going to observe you. We're going to run tests on you. We're going to find a cure for this goddamn sickness. And we're growing your entire gender back to the height they should be. That'll teach you filthy men to steal my wet dreams!"

Imad rubbed his head, and wiped off some of her spittle from his face. "Look, I'm all for growing back, but... Hah..." After all that exertion, he was panting loudly. "You've been testing me nonstop since this morning. Can we PLEASE take a coffee break?"

Cyla's eyebrows furrowed. She slammed the paper back on the table. There were deep bags beneath both their eyes. "...Fine. I will get my assistant to make you one thimble of coffee. ONE. Then we resume." Her gaze turned to the open window, full of possibilities. "My vengeance cannot wait."