Wilfred did his utmost to remain focused on the movie blasting out of the television, but blundered drastically. Like a magnetic pull, his eyes kept being drawn towards Celeste's legs – who sat there on the couch all sprawled out like a sock puppet. With merely a shirt on – which had to pass on for pajamas – the color of Celeste's underwear left nothing to the imagination as one unclothed leg rested upon the side table, while the other was slumped over the couch's armrest.

“Don’t go in. Don't go in!” His wife, Emma, screeched while pointing at the television screen playing some cheesy horror movie.

Celeste sighed. “They always go in, mom. Here, see? Slash! Dead. Meat.”

“Ugh! Is all this bloodshed really necessary? This is no movie for me.” Emma stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Celeste snorted. “You’re such a killjoy, mom!”

Wilfred watched blankly to the screen as some B actor – donned in a cheap ass werewolf costume – roared and sliced loose at everyone within range in a cardboard fabricated village in Charles Dickens style. Wilfred held his attention on the screen for nearly ten seconds – a new record – before the magnetic pull of Celeste's smooth thighs compelled Wilfred's eyes to take another peek at them.

His heart skipped a beat when Celeste's green eyes zeroed in on him. She cocked a brow.

“Also scared?” Celeste asked in an exaggerated cynical tone.

A flock of butterflies swarmed about in Wilfred's stomach as he received another scarce moment of attention from his stepdaughter – his Goddess.

He meekly shook his head.

“Great!” Celeste beamed with a dazzling smile capable of ending an ice age. “The best piece is still coming. Now, sit tight and pipe down.”

Did she just, like… commanded me? Wilfred thought in consternation.
He liked it. He liked it a lot! This is exactly how he wanted to be treated by her – like a piece of trash beneath her boot. True, it was no way for a stepdaughter to talk to her stepfather. And if he wanted to maintain any scanty pittance of dignity he should reprimand the brat, this instance! Just like he should have acted when he discovered a shrunken person in Celeste's drawer. Well, we all know how that ended…
Wilfred merely shrugged and grabbed his beer from the table. As he took a nice long gulp he saw Emma's figure peeking around the corner from the kitchen. She looked at him disapproving before shaking her head to vanish back into the kitchen again. For numerous times, Emma had made clear to Wilfred that he needed to stand up more to Celeste's transgressive behavior – and not in some psycho way he did earlier when he screamed in her face.
Wilfred couldn't agree more, she's right. He should. Were it not so darn arousing to not do so. It just felt so thrilling to Wilfred to be degraded by his teenage stepdaughter.
Wilfred frowned in confusion while looking at his left hand holding the bottle of beer. The bottle's size was expanding! No, he himself was shrinking! His fingers slid along the slippery, curved edges until Wilfred was unable to hold it. The bottle slipped loose from his grip and dropped onto the couch, drenching his pants and underwear with its ice-cold contents. Before Wilfred knew it, his rapidly dwindling body – which matched the size of a sow bug now – flailed wildly in a puddle of beer. His miniscule gasps and shouts remained unheard when he called for help. In the distance, he saw Celeste's looming figure seemingly unaware of his perilous situation while watching television. Just when his head dipped under and his throat gulped a few swallows of beer, he sat back in the couch again – fully sized. Emma's brows tangled in a accusatory frown when she watched Wilfred engaged in a quite intense coughing fit, while drenched to the core like a soaked cat in pungent smelling beer.

“Care to enlighten me as to why on earth you look like a ragged beaver who just took a dip at the city's brewery?” Emma asked.

“I… uuh…” Wilfred stammered – rubbing drops of beer off his face – before unleashing another burst of coughs.

Emma looked at her daughter with a glare that asked for explanation.

“Hey, I'm all transfixed to this blockbuster over here.” Celeste held her hands up in innocence.

Emma sighed, “You know what? I don't wanna know. Just, please, clean this mess up. And yourself.”

Lost for words, Wilfred stood up – feeling all of his clothing sticking against his skin and made way for the stairs. He threw a quick gander at Celeste – partly because he wanted to admire her legs one swift time, but mostly because he wanted to see her reaction to all of this.

The brat shrunk me! And then restored me. Just like that!

She was still ignoring him, or so she tried. Wilfred saw Celeste's eyes all transfixed on the screen – watching that horrible movie – as he walked by. He did saw her pretty face smirking despite that nothing funny was happening on the screen.

“Ugh! Go upstairs, please. I'll clean it up here. You're ruining the floor.” Emma said. “How can there be so much liquid in such a small bottle anyway? You're soaked!”

Sloshing up the stairs – while smudging the carpeted steps with puddles of penetrant smelling beer – Wilfred made his way toward the bathroom.
After taking a warm shower, he stuck his hand out through the curtain to grab a towel from the top shelf.

*Miss*

“The hell?”

*Missed again*

Having a mental notion in his head about the shelf’s position, Wilfred always reached his hand out, blindly, and never missed.
Yanking the curtain aside Wilfred saw that the shelf and the pack of towels was still there, only that it hung significantly higher than usual. He was unable to reach it. Then it clicked.
The brat shrunk me again!
Irritated, Wilfred stormed out of the shower cabin to see if Celeste was sniggering around the corner in the hallway.
Enough is enough! I will confront her, right here right now!
Slamming the door open he looked from side to side. The hallway was empty. Wilfred frowned when he heard both Emma and Celeste talking to each other downstairs.

“Drat! Its happening again.” Before Wilfred knew it, he was hanging for dear life on the doorknob, like a swinging monkey – at the size of about a barbie doll.

How?! She can't even see me!

As he heard the women downstairs gibbering and sniggering about his beer clumsiness from earlier, Wilfred's eyes stretched wide open as he saw Simba, the housecat, approaching him with curiosity.

“Away, cat! Shoosh! Nothing to see here.”

Wilfred screamed for help just when Simba was about to jump up to him – with razor-sharp nails at the ready. He braced himself for the inevitable.
A bitch-like scream, a thump and nails in his arms followed one another in a flash. Wilfred opened his eyes and saw Simba scurrying off. He was full sized again, sitting with his butt on the floor.
Glad he only came off with a few bloody scratches on his arm after his confrontation with a jumbo-sized cat, Wilfred breezed a sigh of relief.

“Everything okay up there?” Emma's voice called out from below.

“Y-yes, hon. I'll be right there!”

He pulled himself together, donned some clean clothing – and made sure to cover the scratches – and sauntered downstairs.

“Here, a coke. No more beer for you this evening, mister.” Emma pinched him in the belly and placed a cold bottle of cola on the table.

“Thx, hon.” Wilfred gave a kiss on his wife's cheek.

He turned around, slumped down on the couch and reached his hand out to pick up the bottle. Nothing was there. Only the coaster on the table. “Where is the coke?”

Even before finishing the sentence, Wilfred's eyes already drifted toward Celeste.

Is the girl playing with me again?

“It's right there, duffer!” Emma pointed at the table.
Wilfred blinked a few times with his eyes as the bottle of coke was just standing there – on top of the coaster which was empty merely a second ago.

“Are you holding me for a ride here, Wil?” Emma asked.

Wilfred gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “No, hon. I wouldn't dare. There are just… strange things happening around this house, don't you think?”

“Like what?” Emma said

“Yeah, like what?” Celeste chimed in.

Wilfred looked at both his wife and Celeste and then shook his head. “Nevermind… I'm just tired, that's all. I'm off to bed.”

“But you will miss the best part!” Celeste pointed at the screen – playing the cheap-ass werewolf movie.

“I'll will watch the rerun in the morning.” Wilfred gave his stepdaughter a wry smile. He stood up, kissed his wife goodbye and sauntered toward the hallway. But before he left, he looked one last time at Celeste. She was looking at him intensely – with a highly fulfilled smirk adorning her perfect young face. She said nothing, but Wilfred did not need words to know what the girl was thinking at the moment. It was like her countenance stated, “I can shrink you anywhere and anytime I want.”