Alice would have thought she’d react with pure delight, seeing the way things were unfolding onstage. Theo, being his usual surly self. Sally, goading him so well. Skylar, the Panther, whisking him away and treating his tirade as if it were little more than the buzzing of a flea. Alice loved to see proud men humbled so. Of course, it thrilled Alice even more when she was the one doing it. What a joy these last two weeks had been: the thrill of taking proud Theo out of his cocoon, to peel back the layers of his supposed ‘manliness’ and see if there might be a submissive side to him underneath. And oh, was there ever. She’d helped this part of him blossom so much, in just a few short days. Guiding a man like this on his first few steps into the new, more exciting, female-driven world … Simply nothing else could compare.
She watched her man return to the stage seeming more stubborn than ever once Skylar released him, rather than more subdued! Alice couldn’t have conditioned him any more perfectly coming into today: pliant and submissive enough to put on a Mouse suit and be paraded around, but still feisty enough to keep up his foolish protests. And mulish enough to turn his team’s performance into a disaster of delightfully epic proportions.
So why, oh why, couldn’t she just enjoy the spectacle and leave it at that? What was this nagging sense of guilt she kept feeling, as she watched him flail about onstage? Wherefore this sudden attack of conscience?
“Damn it,” Alice muttered. She knew why: he was a work only half-finished. He need not necessarily crash and burn; he had the potential for so much more than that, if only he had the courage to stay true to himself and see this all the way through. And why did she want that for him? Because—most shockingly of all—she found that she actually cared for him. Perhaps a great deal.
With a reluctant sigh, she wound her way backstage, already thinking through the words she would say.
* * *
Theo’s skin pebbled yet again with goosebumps, as the eight of them convoyed across the arena – four contestants, flanked by four gigantic Panthers. Was the one beside him the same Panther as before? They all looked so identical; it was nearly impossible to tell. But her grip was so strong that his arm threatened to go numb! “Ease up, lady!” he shouted, twisting about. But stoically the Panther marched, with infuriating disregard. And Jen, meanwhile, was allowed to walk freely, her own Panther keeping her hands to herself. Aghh! “I hate this!!”
Down the long pathway they marched, the rows of cheering fans to their left and the shrouded obstacle course to their right. What obstacles would they be facing today? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“And heeeeere we go,” Sally’s voice echoed, her purple-haired likeness now lighting up the screens throughout the arena. She stood in a skybox next to a frizzy-haired woman with a personality like a bubbly little sprite despite being nearly as tall as Sally herself. “With me as always: my partner in crime, Bhumi Dewan! What a show we’ve got lined up!”
“That’s right, Sally – and what spunky contestants! One of them in particular …”
“Little Theo, you mean.”
“How’d you guess?” Bhumi laughed. “I can’t figure it. He’s here; he’s got this golden opportunity – which he volunteered for, by the way! What’s he got to be so grumpy about?”
“Who knows, Bhumi. Maybe getting up this early on a Saturday has got him cranky.”
“Awww, maybe so.”
“WHAT!?!” Theo roared, planting his feet – for a half-second, anyway, until the unfaltering Panther’s grip forced him roughly along. He felt his cheeks heating as—“Hey!” Was that a smirk he saw on Jen’s lips? Or was he just imagining?
Before he could react, the convoy had reached the enormous double-scales: two platforms side-by-side, for both teammates to measure their weight at once. The platforms were gratuitously huge, while the electronically-lit, brightly-colored back panels rose a ridiculous seven and a half feet above the platforms. He knew this because they had bright ruler markings and big bold numbers indicating height. Above all this were two oversized, round LCD dials with needles big enough to be seen from a ways away, and markings in fifty-pound increments up to 400.
Four hundred!! What, are they hosting sumo wrestlers??
“Size ‘em up!” chanted Bhumi.
“SIZE ‘EM UP!” echoed the crowd.
“Now, Bhumi, for anyone who’s been living under a rock the past three months: how does this show actually work?”
“Our engineers create two brand new courses for each and every episode – we spare no expense! Our contestants don’t know what’s coming any more than our audience does. But there’s one universal truth here, built into the very DNA of the show. Audience? The Mighties need to be …?”
“BIG, BIG, BIG!!” cheered the well-trained crowd.
“And the Mice need to be…”
“LITTLE, LITTLE, LITTLE!!”
“Precisely! The bigger the Mighty and littler the Mouse, the easier a time they’ll have. The obstacles are designed that way."
Theo managed to scoff. This wasn’t always true. He’d seen multiple cases where men on the show could’ve benefitted from more size, not less. But they never mention that, do they? The men always rush to shrink themselves as much as possible, like mindless fools.
“And what are the ideal sizes to start out?” prompted Sally.
“Six feet tall and 180 pounds, for the Mighties; five feet two and 120 pounds, for the Mice!” That explained why these were emblazoned in bright red markings on the scales in front of him. “We try our best to get our contestants to these target sizes in advance, but everyone’s body acclimates to Apo-Amplifier at different speeds, and results may vary. Let’s hope they’re not too far off!”
Jen’s Panther hung back and let her walk the remaining few feet to the scales. Theo had to raise hell with his Panther before she finally let him climb the last step on his own. “Freaking goon!” he shot at her, but the infuriating woman didn’t even glance at him!
He and Jen stepped onto their platforms. “Rut-roh,” Sally fretted, as the crowd murmured. “Let’s hope Jen’s as athletic as she looks, because she’s fifteen pounds light and an inch too short!”
“Her Mouse is an inch too tall, but just four pounds heavy. Still, even these small disadvantages could prove disastrous, for a team already teetering on the brink of total unrest!”
“Those two get along like baking soda and vinegar.”
“Nitro and glycerin.”
“A raw egg in a microwave.”
“A what?”
“YouTube it. Trust me.”
“Will do!”
Without any warning, the Panther resumed her steel-handed grip on his arm and all but carried him off the scales. Frustration mounted inside him as he could barely even budge her iron-like forearm – forget about breaking himself free. “You can let go n—Oww!” She dumped him onto the floor again with careless disdain. Shiiit! He shuddered just looking up at her.
“Six feet tall,” Bhumi reported, as Mae grinned on the scale, “and a whoppin’ 196!”
“5-foot-1 for Bobby, and just 113 pounds!!”
The numbers were projected up on the big screen, and it did not look good.
“Mae and her Mouse are both ahead of their marks! I hate to say it, but we could be in for a lopsided contest.”
“No kiddin’, Bhumi. No kiddin’.”
* * *
Entering backstage through a big curtain, the Panthers split Mae and Bobby off to the left, with Jen and Theo veering right. Toward the starting gate, he thought. But partway there, his girlfriend appeared, hustling toward them with a determination he’d rarely seen.
“Alice!” Jen called, half excited and half worried. “I—”
“Sorry. No time.” Her hand was around Theo’s wrist in a flash. “I’ll take him,” she said up to the Panther, who with a quizzical look let him go.
A confused Theo half-jogged to keep up as Alice led him around a secluded corner. She whirled on him before he could speak, crouching, clutching his shoulders impassionedly. “Theo, listen to me. This game show will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Harder than you can even imagine.”
“What?” He coughed, and slowly gathered his wits. “Well … good thing I’m the toughest competitor this show’s ever—”
“No! It’s not about toughness, Theo!”
He frowned. “Every contest is about toughness, Alice. It’s about putting your foot down, manning up, and—”
“Theo, if you try to ‘man up’, this show will break you in half!”
His jaw fell open. He just stared at his girlfriend, bewildered, as her eyes swarmed with intensity. “Think, Theo. Think about why you joined this show.”
“For the prize; the Apo-Reverso. Obviously! I want to be—” He gulped, looking down at his tightly-wrapped body, at how much he’d already lost. “I want to be big again,” he said, with perhaps the barest hint of doubt in his voice.
Alice nodded. “You want to win. You can win. But the only way you can do that is to adapt. You have to play on the game’s terms, not your own!”
*Scoff* “What, play like a Mouse?”
“Yes, play like a Mouse! Feats of strength, power, bravery: leave those to Jen. Stick to your Mouse tasks. Don’t try to be a hero! Just follow Jen’s lead. And, for god’s sakes, take every shrinking potion you can get your hands on!”
Alice winced. She knew he’d seen all the episodes, yet dubiousness still spread across her boyfriend’s spandex-covered face. Hopefully her impassioned speech would work on him. It might. But the other producers were buzzing like crazy in her earpiece—they were waiting on her. She had to keep the show moving, right now. So she kissed him deeply, Mouse man or no, and led him briskly by the hand, toward Jen and the starting gate. “You’ve got this; I believe in you! Now get in there – go!”
Theo managed just one brief look back at Alice’s supple form before he hustled through the doorway into the arena. He found himself alongside Jen in a sort of penned-in area; a holding cell, with only a big blue gate standing between them and the obstacle course.
a32;a32; ”Team Wonder Jen is in position!” a32;a32; Sally thundered, through speakers above.
a32;a32; “T-minus thirty seconds till we’re underway! a32;a32;
“What did Alice say?” his burgundy-armored daughter belted, right next to him.
a32;a32; “Team Super Mom is backstage, in the soundproof booth!” a32;a32;
“Nothing!”
a32;a32; “Neither team has any foreknowledge of what to expect …” a32;a32;
“Seriously – what’d she say??”
a32;a32; “Their times from this round will be added to Round Two to determine the final victor—so every second counts!!” a32;a32;
Ugh … “She said play like a friggin’ Mouse.”
a32;a32; ”Team Wonder Jen …” a32;a32;
Her eyes widened. “But you will, right?”
a32;a32; “Are you ready!?” a32;a32;
“Dad … tell me you’re going to do your part!”
a32;a32; “Helloooo…?” a32;a32;
The noise in the arena mounted, the big numbers above them counting down to single digits. His stress level reached an all-time high.
“Dad??”
a32;a32; “Eight seconds, y’all!” a32;a32;
“Dad?!”
a32;a32; “Five! … Let’s hope they’re ready! … Three!” a32;a32;
Could he ‘adapt’, like Alice said?
a32;a32; “Two!” a32;a32;
Could he play on someone else’s terms?
a32;a32; “One!” a32;a32;
He panicked. “I … I …”
a32;a32; ”AND THEY’RE OFF!!” a32;a32;
He didn’t need to decide; not yet. The descending gate bailed him out. Without giving Jen his reply, Theo leaped ahead. Staggered by the brilliant lights, he glimpsed the crowd to his right, and a twenty-foot wall straight ahead, adorned with gaudy paintings of caped superheroines scaling mountains in a single bound and soaring among clouds. On the landing above, along the left-hand wall, he glimpsed similar drawings: heroic females, burly and strong, fighting lions with their bare hands, hurling boulders through the air …
Gleaming blue tassets darted past him as Jen charged bravely, rashly toward the wall – her target, the randomly-scattered handholds going all the way up. Already she started climbing, her recklessness almost admirable … But damned if he’d let her beat her!
a32;a32; ”Wonder Jen is halfway up!!” a32;a32;
Whoa… she was actually pretty good. In fact, after anchoring himself on the bottom holds, the next ones were wayyyy the heck up there …
a32;a32; ”Oh dear!!” a32;a32;
Jen had reached this next handhold, no problem – but when he stretched for it, his fingertips came up nearly a foot short! Above him, Jen caught another hold and athletically swung herself up to still another, just before her hand slapped the top. Cursing and refocusing, he looked both ways then lunged left, barely catching the hold. But now the holds above him were even higher!
a32;a32; ”The Mouse is climbing!?!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”Or trying to, at least!” a32;a32;
Christ! Jen was at the top already! But how was he supposed to—
“Dad!”
“What!?”
a32;a32; “Sally, doesn’t he know that mice are poor climbers!?!” a32;a32;
“Mice go THAT way!!”
He finished his next attempt nonetheless – and paid the price for it, slipping and landing on his ass on the padded floor below.
“Down THERE, Dad! Quit wasting time!!”
Sitting up, he followed her pointing to the lower right corner of the wall, where cartoon drawings of mice were scurrying toward a little burrow – as in, a real hole in the wall, not painted.
a32;a32; ”Has our Mouse finally found his hole??” a32;a32; boomed Sally, with relish.
"You've got to be kidding me," he uttered.
"GO!!!" Jen bellowed, hopping with fury.
Son of a--!! He almost gave the climb another try. Now, that would turn this game on its head! Imagine--
“Dad, COME ON!!!”
Fuck. He’d never make it up. “Fine!” He made this one concession and darted through the hole.
a32;a32; ”There he goes!!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”An abysmal start—can he make up time!?” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”Go, Mouse, go!!!” a32;a32;
The tunnel started small and got even smaller. He doubled over then had to drop to all fours by the end, and still he barely squeezed through. The tunnel muffled the announcers, and a dull roar from the crowd -- something to do with Jen up above?
He tumbled into a cartoonish cave, of sorts, with paintings of mice on the walls. Mice with berets, and bandolier and camo stripes across their gray chests, smoking cigars and pointing at a hand-drawn map on the wall as if planning some sort of incursion.
a32;a32; ”Our Mouse has reached the Guerilla Camp!” a32;a32; Sally roundly exclaimed.
It was all so ridiculous. He didn’t even want to know what--“Ack!” Turning, he realized the right side of the room was clear fiberglass, allowing the audience to peer in. Some were clapping; others were pointing—including a kid in the front row, wearing mouse ears, jumping excitedly. Oh lord…
a32;a32; “He’ll need the Guerillas’ help if he wants to break into Mouse HQ!” a32;a32;
Help? He groaned, looked again – and noticed the tiny ledge at the end of the left wall. A glass bottle rested on it, small enough to hold in one hand. Painted on the wall behind it was a camo-clad Mouse waving at him with one hand and offering the bottle with the other.
a32;a32; ”The bottle of ‘Skinny Mouse’—he’s found it!” a32;a32;
Within the bottle was a bright green liquid that almost seemed to glow with its own light. Ohhh hell.
a32;a32; ”We all know what that does!” a32;a32;
Oh yes he did. He stepped closer and sniffed an acerbic aroma which turned his stomach, and his mind. Alice wanted him to drink it; Jen wanted him to drink it … but no. Screw that. In a single, cataclysmic moment, he decided right then and there: I do this my way. No shrinking for me. None!
a32;a32; ”What’s he doing!?!” a32;a32;
“Suck it, Sally!” He shook his fist at the camera and the roiling crowd, then left the bottle untouched and charged through the open doorway straight ahead.
a32;a32; ”Oh NO!!!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”This is a catastrophe!! No mouse has ever willingly passed up a Skinny Mouse!!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”He’s going to regret it!” a32;a32;
Bull! A stallion like him needed to keep his strength and his size, not lose it. He barreled fearlessly into a round, plexiglass tunnel ahead, just large enough for him to run without ducking. Through the clear plexiglass, he could see the tunnel bent and twisted in a seemingly endless labyrinth in front of him, like some McDonald’s playplace on steroids, all throughout this big underground room. Its ceiling hovered some twenty feet above him; the clear plexiglass wall to the right gave the audience another window in; and the far end of the room seemed a loooong way off.
In here, the announcers’ voices grew faint. a32;a32; ”He’s entering the Science Lab unprepared!” a32;a32;
“Blah, blah!” He sprinted forth determinedly, deftly planted his foot, cut hard right at the first 90 degree bend, banked left. Through breathing holes cut into the top of his tube, he occasionally he heard thumping on the ceiling well above him – must be Jen, doing obstacles of her own. More distant were the crowd, and the commentators’ voices. Were they cheering for her, or him? Or both?
Well, he was blazing along now. After a dozen left and right turns, the tube turned straight upward ahead of him and flattened out some seven or eight feet above. A series of little disc-shaped ledges, spaced about a foot apart, were there for him to hoist himself up. He reacted fluidly, snatching the grips and scaling rapidly.
“What the--!?” Each time he put any weight on a disc, it began folding downward, flattening to the wall. He thrust himself upward with a yelp, scrambling just fast enough to stay ahead—and making a final leap onto the rounded ledge just before his final foothold flattened away.
“Yeesh!” That was close! But hey, for once the crowd cheered for him now, their enthusiasm rumbling all throughout the plexiglass tube. ‘Bout time they noticed his skill, his power!
From this raised vantage he could see the far wall now. He was almost halfway there. Darting forth, he noticed for the first time what was depicted along the walls: paintings of evil-looking mice in lab coats peering sinisterly into beakers and writing down notes.
“Lab rats,” he realized—and his feet slammed to a halt. “I’m the freaking lab rat!” A real-life one at that: running through a network of tubes, being studied under a thousand pairs of prying eyes, being timed on his progress. “Son of a--!”
It was impossible to feel heroic now. He continued on, wanting to get out of here as fast as he possibly—
Ugh. No sooner did he drop down to the bottom level again, than another vertical section reared its ugly head. The semicircular grips here were yellow instead of green; and … “Ack!” … they gave way faster than the last ones, folding down with even less resistance. His foot slipped and his body tumbled to the hard tube below. Now the rumbling of the crowd seemed almost mocking, somehow.
The handholds slowly returned to place. “C’mon, Theo, you-got-this!!” he growled, taking a running start. He even surpassed the top grip this time, but the rounded ledge rejected him. His shin thumped into a handhold painfully as he awkwardly collapsed to the floor. “Ow!” His foam tail wasn’t even good for cushioning.
The third time was a charm. Ma-a-an, it was close though. “Hell yeah!” he wheezed, through labored breaths, as the crowd rumbled its approval.
He was closing in on the exit now; it wasn’t far. Just another few turns up here; another drop … around and around the tubing he went, until … a final vertical segment, with grips painted red.
“Freaking--!!” These grips flopped down even easier! “Oh, come on!!” He got frustratingly close on both tries, but still frustratingly far. “Who designed this!?!” he protested, pounding the floor with his fists and breathing hard. It made no sense: if even he lacked the explosive power to catapult himself up, then no Mouse could. They’d designed an impassable obstacle. What the hell?
Suddenly, noise flooded down from above, the announcers’ voices blaring over the crowd: a32;a32; ”…is stuck! REPEAT: the chubby mouse is stuck!!!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”Mighty Jen: go help him!!” a32;a32;
“How the…!?” He looked up and got his answer: a hatch had opened in the ceiling way above his head. Amidst the brilliant lights, his daughter’s head appeared, her red hair strikingly adorned in the gold-and-silver circlet, her eyes alert and frantic.
a32;a32; ”She’s found the hatch!!” a32;a32;
“Dad!” she yelled, her voice carrying through a small hole cut into the top of the tube.
“Jen!” he shouted back. Unsure if she could hear him, he waved his hands. “I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to—”
“Hold on!” She seemed to know exactly what to do, dropping feet-first through the hatch and landing atop the tube with a dull *Thump*.
a32;a32; “Still no hesitation from her!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; “She may be undersized, but she is fast, and focused!” a32;a32;
He tried to mentally keep up. “The hole!” he realized, as she gained her balance and crouched over it. It was far too small for either of them to fit through; but if Jen could find a rope, or a pole, or—
“Wait -- Jen!?” He finally noticed what was clipped to her belt: two bottles, one of which she now unfastened, and held over the hole, and released.
a32;a32; ”Airdrop, incoming!!” a32;a32;
Years of athletic experience made him catch the bottle on pure instinct. Then he froze, his stomach churning, as he stared at the bright green liquid glowing within.
a32;a32; ”He caught it! Whew!! Now he can finally--” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”Wait, why’s he just standing there?!” a32;a32;
“What’s this for?” he shouted, snapping out of it.
“What?” Jen bent closer to the hole, having trouble hearing him.
“I don’t need this!” His anger boiled. “I need more muscle here, not less!”
But the agonizing crowd seemed to drown him out. “Dad, just take it, c’mon!”
He sputtered, shaking his head…
a32;a32; “What’s he doing, Sally?! Mice aren’t supposed to think! They’re supposed to drink!” a32;a32;
“But…”
a340;(a344;0´)a295; ”DRINK IT! DRINK IT!” a340;(a344;0´)a295; the crowd began to cheer, stomping the bleachers.
“C’MON!” shouted Jen.
a340;(a344;0´)a295; ”DRINK IT! DRINK IT!” a340;(a344;0´)a295;
“JUST DRINK IT ALREADY!”
“Fine!” Theo furiously threw the cork off, almost retching as he lifted the bottle. Eeghh! It smelled awful; like medicine, but worse. “Oh, fuck it.” *Glug Glug Glug* He gulped the bitter substance down and angrily threw the empty bottle aside. It clanged down the tunnel, rolling to a stop, as the crowd celebrated in relief.
a32;a32; ”That’s a good wittle Mouse!” a32;a32;
a32;a32; ”He’s got a chance, now!” a32;a32;
“I still don’t understand how—Oooffghh…”
He felt woozy; the dose was hitting him faster than any he’d had before. He began … receding. As if his life force was being sucked right out of him like a juice carton, the adaptive fabric of his suit shrank along with him, tightening around him like cling wrap. Fuuuucking hell!!!
“Go, Dad!!” Jen barked, rising carefully to her feet and preparing to leap for the hatch.
Shaking off his queasiness, he grabbed the handhold again in anger and spite and—Oh. He got as far up as last time, without even trying as hard. The handholds folded down just a little slower; not a lot, but noticeable. Of course. Because he weighed less.
“Shit.” OK … in this ONE instance, the shrinking might help. Sourly, he was about to try again – when Jen’s feet landed again on the tube with another dull *Thump*.
a32;a32; “Ooh, so close!” a32;a32;
Jen leapt again, her hands coming just an inch or two shy of the hatch before she fell again.
a32;a32; “She may be in too much of a rush, Bhumi – she’s forgetting something!” a32;a32;
He watched Jen gain her balance – then smack her own forehead. “Duh!” she seemed to shout, chiding herself as she unclipped the other bottle from her belt, teardrop-shaped and filled with liquid a shimmering sky blue…
a32;a32; “So focused on helping her teamie, she neglected to help herself!” a32;a32;
Theo gasped as she uncorked the bottle. “Wait, NO!” he yelled, as the crowd’s chanting began.
a340;(a344;0´)a295; ”MIGHTY HEIGHT! MIGHTY HEIGHT!” a340;(a344;0´)a295;
He thought he could stand Jen growing bigger, but it turned out he couldn’t. “Stop!!” he irrationally yelled, waving frantically, unseen and unheard, as his daughter threw the blue bottle back and chugged it down.
a340;(a344;0´)a295; ”MIGHTY HEIGHT! MIGHTY HEIGHT!” a340;(a344;0´)a295;
A look of wonderment filled Jen’s eyes as, even from down below, he could see her body stretching upward: taller … taller …
Agh! The most height she’d ever gained at once – by at least double! Had she grown two freaking inches?!?
He watched with surreal dismay as the now taller, lankier Jen leapt – and this time grabbed hold of the roof with almost startling ease.
a32;a32; “Yeah, baby! We’re back in business!” a32;a32;
All her practice doing pull-ups was put to good use as she heaved herself up through the hatch and wrangled herself safely onto the floor above.
a32;a32; “This detour has cost her team so much time, but—" a32;a32;
a32;a32; “Oh my god – her Mouse is still just standing there! What!?! Hurry, little Mouse!!” a32;a32;
Fuck. There was only one way through this nightmare, and it was up that tube. With his lighter weight, total focus, and one last desperate lunge, he reached the top just before the last handhold gave way.
a32;a32; ”Hallelujah!” a32;a32;
“Yesss!” He pounded his fist in elation and scrambled to his feet, feeling lighter and nimbler now than he ever had before.
a32;a32; “Off he goes!” a32;a32; he dimly heard behind him, as his lightfooted dash carried him down the final stretch of godforsaken tubing and into--
“Craaappp!!”
a32;a32; “Now for a proper rat maze, folks!” a32;a32;
You’ve got to be kidding me.