We sat around the dining table, each on a separate side. I sat on a folded up napkin on top of the table itself, with my legs crossed. It was amazing, actually, I could never manage the full lotus before, but could now get my ankles up on my thighs, fairly effortlessly. Somehow the reduction in size had corresponded with an increase in flexibility. I also found myself marveling at the way my thigh muscles bulged in way I’d never seen before. Experimentally, I clenched my fist and watched my bicep and pectoral ripple and flex impressively. What a cosmic joke this was; a predator’s form but the figure of prey. It was like a wish on a monkey paw.

Once we’d come back from the vet earlier I’d slept off the sedative for a few hours, and woke up in the evening for dinner. Jennifer and Stuart were chatting to each other, still eating. I had finished resting. I was ravenously hungry and sped through my dinner of finely chopped up meat and vegetables. Apart from having to adjust portion size, they marveled at how easy it was to feed me, how little I ate.

I hadn’t properly seen either of them eat before now, and it was disconcerting. I could acutely make out the sounds of food being moistly grinded down, and when I was, myself, little bigger than some of the food items on their plates, it raised some nauseating associations. I caught sight of some beef being flatted and stripped apart, and, with a chill, resolved never to look again. Jennifer had poured herself some wine, too. I stared desirously every time she raised the hock glass to her mouth – I would’ve killed for some wine – but said nothing.

As they finished eating, they began to talk about work, and hours. They were trying to arrange their respective hours to enable at least of them one to be home at one time, or at least reduce the blocks of hours I would at home alone.

Though I appreciated this, a sheen of nervous sweat was beginning to build on my brow.

“How am I going to work?” I finally piped up, during a lull in the discussion.

They both turned and stared at me like I’d started speaking in a foreign language.

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WORK LIKE THAT,” Jennifer said conclusively.

“Then how am I supposed to support myself?”

“JERRY,” she gave a disbelieving chuckle and shook her head, “AT YOUR CURRENT SIZE, YOU WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO SUPPORT YOURSELF IF I PUT A STACK OF BOOKS ON YOUR HEAD.”

“HONEY,” Stuart said in a low voice, giving her a side look, “THERE’S NO NEED TO RUB IT IN. YOU CAN SEE HE’S STRUGGLING TO COPE AT THE MOMENT.”

“I am not struggling to cope!” I shrieked. The last thing I needed was a psychotherapist, or, more aptly, a ‘shrink.’

“ALL I MEANT IS,” Stuart said clinically, “WE NEED TO ADDRESS THINGS ONE STEP AT A TIME. JEN AND I JUST THINK YOU RESUMING WORK IS TAKING THINGS TOO QUICKLY.”

“But – ”

“YOU HAVE SICK LEAVE,” Stuart continued, “DON’T YOU? PLUS, WE’RE APPLYING FOR ASSISTANCE FOR YOU.”

“On what grounds?”

“THERE’S A SPECIAL CATEGORY FOR PEOPLE SERIOUSLY INJURED BY DEVASTATING ATOMIC WEAPON. WE JUST HAVE TO GET THEM TO AGREE THAT IT INCLUDES ELECTROMAGNETIC WEAPONS, AND THAT REMY’S THING – WHATEVER IT WAS – IS AN ‘ATOMIC WEAPON’, AND THAT YOU HAVE BEEN ‘SERIOUSLY INJURED,’ BY IT.”

“IT’S OBVIOUSLY ‘SERIOUSLY INJURED’ YOUR EGO,” Jennifer added unhelpfully.

“YOU ARE SUBSTANTIALLY DISABLED, JERRY,” Stuart continued, “EVEN THOUGH YOU MAY FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME AS BEFORE, MOSTLY.”

“Oh, I recognize that, thank you,” I said hotly. “Everything’s way above my head. Getting to the ends of the house involves a marathon. Going outside,” I shuddered inwardly, thinking of bees and spiders, “is basically out of the question.”

“WELL, THE REAL WORRY,” Stuart carried on nervously, “ – AND JEN AGREES – IS THE RISK OF YOU HURTING YOURSELF, OR GETTING HURT.”

“As long as everyone looks where they put their feet,” I said with accusation, “that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Stuart’s phone buzzed.

“SORRY,” he said, getting to his feet, “I’VE GOT TO TAKE THIS.”

He stepped out of the dining room. Jennifer collected the plates and put them over by the sink. Then she scooped me up in one hand, took her glass in the other, and went into the living room. She sunk down onto the sofa, cradling me in her lap, and switched the TV on to play softly, no apparent intention to watch.

"WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU?” she said.

“Shrink a zoo and start up a miniature circus,” I said sarcastically. “I’ll be the ringleader. Fucking help me grow back, that’s what.”

“YOU’RE SO ANGRY ALL OF A SUDDEN,” Jennifer said, with the hint of a smile. “I’VE NEVER SEEN YOU LIKE THIS BEFORE. BUT I LIKE IT. GOD KNOWS I’VE BEEN TRYING TO LIGHT A FIRE IN YOU FOR YEARS…IF SOMEONE TOLD ME ALL I HAD TO DO WAS SHRINK YOU, IT WOULD HAVE SAVED ME A LOT OF TROUBLE.”

“Yeah, this must be hilarious from your end, Jen,” I glowered, turning my back on her. “Pray to God it wasn’t you in this position, and me the giant. Wouldn’t Stewey think you were pretty hot stuff for a Barbie doll.”

“IT WASN’T MY IDEA TO PLAY WITH SOME CRAZY HOMEMADE ELECTRIC THINGAMAJIG DURING THE BIGGEST ELECTROMAGNETIC EVENT OF THE MILLENIUM.” But she said this with an affectionate smile. My ridiculous insults excited her, which only pissed me off even more. And then I remembered, above everything else, my voice sounded faintly humourous to her – like Alvin the Chipmunk, Tasha had said. I hoped to God she had been exaggerating, otherwise I wasn’t going to command anyone’s respect anytime soon.

“It was a time machine,” I sighed. “And it was supposed to work. It really would have,” sadness welled inside me suddenly, tightening my chest, “but I did it wrong.”

“SURE, IT WOULD HAVE,” she said dubiously. “STILL HOOKED UP ON TIME TRAVEL, I SEE.”

The strain in my chest seemed to deflate. And then, if only to annoy her, I said: “I wanted to go back and say sorry.”

She didn’t have a response this time. In the awkward silence, I clenched my fists, regretting that I’d said anything.

“But I don’t need to,” I added brusquely. “You’re better with Stuart. Maybe he’ll even manage to bring out some of your natural humility,” I added ironically.

“HE’D LOVE TO CHANGE ME,” she said in an odd voice, “IF HE COULD. BUT YOU DIDN’T.”

“He’s jealous,” I said, watching the TV idly. “I know what it’s like. Guys looking at you all the time. You don’t do a thing to deter them.” It felt good to get all this out now, and it surprised me. We were no lonnger together, so I didn’t have to tip-toe around things, or sugar coat my language. So I went on:

“He’s scared of the attention and of you. He doesn’t know why you act like a puppy that’s been let off the lead, or know what you really want.”

“NEITHER DID YOU,” she cut in, poking me in the ribs.

“Maybe not, but I didn’t fight it. I just…gave up, and accepted it. For me, it was a vanity thing; none of those guys could have you, as much as they wanted. But in the end, I guess I couldn’t, either.”

“WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME ALL THIS NOW?” She said with some thinly concealed frustration. “I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T NOTICE; YOU DIDN’T CARE.”

“I did care,” I said wistfully. “But I don’t anymore.”

I realized, if I’d had any slim chance of getting back with Jennifer, the shrinking thing had effectively killed it. And besides, it hadn’t exactly been an aphrodisiac for me, either. Jennifer’s mere presence put me on edge; I couldn’t relax if I felt her standing over me, or even just looking at me. Even a soft, sensual whisper, coming from her, vibrated like thunder in my ears. The closest thing we could do to hugging was for her to enclose me in her fist, and that didn’t feel like cuddling; it felt like containment. Kissing would have to be cautiously undertaken, to avoid the risk of her accidentally inhaling my head. Sex – an assuredly lethal endeavor – was out of the question. Not to mention, there was no way in which I could touch her, or do anything to her, that would remotely resemble a satisfying sex act – in short, I was now not only emotionally incapable, but physically incapable of pleasuring her. No wonder Stuart didn’t see me as a threat.

I wanted to get off the subject now, so I said:

“Have you heard anything from Remy since yesterday?”

“NO.”

“What about Scott or Tasha?”

“NO. SHOULD I EXPECT TO? WHAT CAN THEY DO?”

“I don’t know, not much, I guess, but just be there, as friends.”

"SCOTT AND TASHA LEFT. THEY TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT, RIGHT?"

I faltered.

"They still went?"

Was it conceited of me to think, with what happened, they might put their trip on hold?

“WELL, THEY COULDN’T CANCEL THE PLANE TICKETS,” Jennifer said in a softer voice, “COULD THEY?”

“Well, no, but…” my voice dwindled away. I knew it shouldn’t be taking it personally, but with everything that had happened, and how adrift and friendless I felt right now, Scott and Tasha’s departure felt like just another punch to my gut while I was already down. All familiar points of orientation in my life were fast evaporating; they just happened to be one more. I hadn’t just lost physical stature; I was losing chunks of my life. Everything that was formerly recognizably me – my size, my job, my home, my dignity, my friends, and maybe eventually, my humanity – was dwindling away until there would be nothing left.

It felt like my throat had turned to stone, and my chest felt unbearably tight. I put my head in my hands and before I could stop it, I was sobbing.

“OH, JERRY…” Jennifer said, bringing me up to her face in concern. “I KNOW SCOTT WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND. THEY DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. IT’S JUST AWFUL TIMING THAT THIS HAD TO HAPPEN NOW.”

“I can’t just go and make new friends,” I said in a defeated voice. “Not like this.”

“YOU STILL HAVE FRIENDS. YOU HAVE STUART AND ME.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t explain to her that they didn’t count. They had each other. I was the third wheel. If it weren’t for the shrinking, I wouldn’t want anything to do with their coupledom, and I presumed they wouldn’t have wanted anything much to do with me. If, the morning of the Flip, someone had told me that, twenty four hours later, I’d have unofficially moved in to live with them, I would have laughed in their face – no way, brother. Embarrassing. Not even if you held a gun to my head.

They had their life now, and I had mine. I should have been making new friends and getting into new relationships with girls, but now I was stuck in some kind of short-statured limbo that was putting my life on hold and preventing me from moving on.

“YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I STILL CARE ABOUT YOU, JERRY,” Jennifer insisted, taking me in with her eyes for a long moment.  Her breath was hot against my neck, and richly fruity from the wine. For a second she seemed to be seriously considering kissing me, but let her better judgment intervene at the last moment. I was glad she reconsidered; I still had remnants of the vet’s gum in my hair from earlier, and felt disgusting and ashamed of myself.

She slowly lowered me from her face and sighed.

“IT’S BEEN A BIG, CONFUSING DAY FOR YOU. I THINK I NEED TO PUT YOU TO BED.”

I wasn’t that tired, but I shrugged and didn’t protest, just wanting some alone time.

She took me into the guest room and lay me down in my sponge bed, and tucked me in.

“GET SOME REST BEFORE YOU WORRY YOURSELF SICK,” she said softly, tousling my hair with one finger, “AND I’LL SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.”

Then she gently pressed two fingers against my cheek, and I had a strong suspicion she had kissed them beforehand. She stepped out, switching off the bedroom light after her.

It was dark and quiet for some time.

Sometime later I awoke to the sounds of Jennifer and Stuart having sex from their bedroom.

Stuart’s rhythmic grunting was punctuated by Jennifer’s liquid moans. Neither of them realized my hearing was more sensitive now. I stared at the opposite wall listening blankly. The thought of those two giant bodies having sex, like two blue whales thrashing around, was so absurd and alien that I had no feeling at all in response.

It sounded aggressive, with the sounds of a bed frame banging against a wall. Not unusual for Jennifer, but hard for me to imagine mild-mannered Stuart caught up in this unfolding pornographic drama. They climbed to a shattering, pleading orgasm, and then went quiet. But now my dick was hard.

In frustration, I stripped off my superman costume to free and satisfy it. Then it struck me; would I ever be capable of experiencing something like that, in my current state, with another person? Unlikely. That turned me cold off jerking off.

Plus, I’d only be jerking off to the thought of Jennifer – no other girl came to mind – really not helpful right now. Plus, my butt was still kind of sore from the vet visit – a massive turn off. Cursing myself, I turned over and shut my eyes again, keen for the amnesia of sleep to steal the sounds of their making out from my memory. My anger was flaring up again, like water boiling in a kettle.

Little under an hour later, I was awoken by it all over again. The groaning and pleading, and finally building to an orgasm that, this time, actually sounded painful.

Holy smokes! I thought. Calm the fuck down. It eluded me that either of them could work themselves into sexual arousal right now. But that was the difference between their understanding of my situation, compared to my own. They got the luxury of retiring from it once they got to bed. For me, it never ended.

This time, all I could do was laugh. What a depressing end to a horrible day. It made me feel so pathetic that it actually went around full circle and became funny. Yet, there was something a little disingenuous about the fact that Jennifer had witnessed my little breakdown and was now, so shortly after, fucking the brains out of Stewey boy with wild Playboy abandon, like she couldn’t wait to get my problems off her mind.

But it should not have disgusted me. There was no betrayal because Jennifer didn’t owe me anything. Maybe it was in slightly bad taste, but could I honestly expect them to regulate the natural habits of their relationship just because I lived here now, too? This was their house, their rules.

Still, I couldn’t help but think, though I lived with them, I was alone here.

Totally alone.

Thinking this, my eyelids drooped and I was shortly asleep again.