It was a quiet midnight, and even quieter in the deluxe condominium. The doors were locked and the security was armed, protecting the still images inside; from one modernly-designed room to the next, everything was seemingly frozen in place beneath the various dimmed lights. The heart of the condo was especially hollow, a wide connection of the den, kitchen, and dining area that were all empty of life, but also immaculately clean and lavishly decorated. It was a peaceful scene that seemed impossible to disturb – but in one shadowy corner was a subtle rustling, the sound of screws coming undone, until the thin grate to a ventilation shaft was made open. Two figures disguised in black clothes and ski masks leaked through to the carpet: a duo of six-inch tall burglars, successful in yet another home invasion.

Clean break-ins had become so routine that it was no longer worth celebrating between the two. Leon and Eric knew what to do as they ventured into the den, wading through carpet fibers that were up to their shins. The scale of their surroundings was not what impressed them – though it was certainly a vista they had arrived in, a landscape of furniture that towered above them like buildings. Both men were accustomed to their shrunken six-inch height and the perspective it came with; what they marveled upwards at were the treasures decorating the condo, the very items they intended to walk away with. Ornate pottery with exotic botany; sculptures and busts of both people and animals; modern paintings interwoven on the walls with antique weaponry. Eric said it best as he meandered towards the middle: “Jackpot!”

Leon, of course, was well aware of what to expect from the mark. He was the mastermind behind their crime spree, responsible for both plotting the burglaries, as well as managing the technology that was key to them never getting caught. In daylight, Leon was an engineer working with a team to develop a cutting-edge machine: a mass reduction belt, which could shrink an individual to a fraction scale of their height. The belts he and Eric used were just prototypes – it was all he could afford to sneak away with at night and return the following morning – but they functioned well enough to rob victims blind, maintaining just enough charge for one shrinking, and subsequently one growth. The plans thus far had proven flawless in their execution, and so Leon had picked out their most lucrative target yet: the home of one of his coworkers, Amy.

It had been brought up at lunch one day that Amy would be taking a vacation to visit her family abroad. She was the daughter of two business executives with global influence; their wealth supported her even as an adult, enabling her to live luxuriously in a condo by herself, on top of the income she made as a full-time engineer. It was the opportunity Leon had dreamed about, the chance to walk away with some real riches. He regretted that it had to be Amy, a woman everyone knew for her short stature and meek personality, her fidgeting with her glasses and her stutter when she spoke. Despite that, Leon found the resolve to rob her anyway, convincing himself that he was stealing from a spoiled brat that could afford a few hardships.

As usual, Leon decided to leave out the details of their target where it concerned Eric, the college friend that had the right attitude and assets to make for a reliable partner in crime. Eric was the muscle of the two, a football jock with a failed sports career and a fondness for taking risks. He was no engineer like Leon, but understood the mass reduction belts enough to operate them; perhaps he understood too well, always itching to want to regrow early after breaking into a home. Leon, however, insisted they refrain from changing back to normal, not until they scouted the condo and were assured it was vacant, same as any other break-in.

Leon whistled at Eric, catching him distracted with appraising the value of a golden art piece. “Hey. Check the kitchen,” he directed, pointing to one half of the condo as if he were surveying acres of land. He aimed himself towards a corridor, “I’ll cover those rooms over there and circle back to meet you. Got it?”

“Yeah yeah,” Eric chuckled. “Lucky for us, this rich girl likes her fancy lighting, eh?” Those ambient lights left on for the art displays were a relief for the intruders, sparing them the total darkness they would otherwise navigate. Eric thus strolled straight into the kitchen, half-heartedly looking out for any occupants or issues, while Leon crept along the baseboards, diligent as he traveled alone down the hallway.

At his miniaturized scale, simply turning a corner was a worthwhile walk for Leon, but he pushed himself to cross any distance for the sake of his and Eric’s safety. Though he had read clearly in Amy’s emails that she would be gone for the whole week, he would only act if he was assured of her absence, worried of what would happen if she got involved – it would be the first occasion of plans going awry, and perhaps the worst chance it could happen. If it were the case, the first back-up plan for these plots was to forfeit the robbery and stealthily exit; the second back-up plan was to grow to normal and outright ambush whoever was home. That thought chilled Leon as he passed an empty bathroom; more than any other of his victims, he sincerely hoped it would not come to that.

But when he continued ahead towards the next room, he had reason to worry. There were multicolored lights flashing through the gap under the door, a hint that there was activity happening behind it. More ambient lights? Leon wondered, but that was optimistic. The glows changed and flickered inconsistently, and he felt a subtle rumble in the ground that no lights could explain. Did he hear a voice? Leon pressed flat against the baseboard leading up to the bedroom, praying that he was just acting paranoid – but there was only one way to confirm.

Leon curved around the door frame, wincing when he learned the door was actually cracked open. It allowed him to squeeze inside, but he only peeked his head around the corner, careful that he could be caught in a glance. He scanned the bedroom from one side to the next: an empty bed, a curtained window, a vacant floor – but then, a desk with bright monitors and an office chair that idly rocked and twisted. Leon shook his head in denial, but when a laugh suddenly chimed from that corner, he had no more doubts that it was Amy at her computer, seemingly enjoying her night as though it were any other.

Indeed, plans had changed for Amy, unknown to the home invaders. When a family member fell ill at the last minute, she agreed with them to postpone her visit for another time. Having already arranged to be away from the lab for a week, she chose to keep the time off and make her vacation a humble staycation instead, opting to have carefree nights in the comfort of her condo.

The first evening had been enjoyed well, with evidence left lingering around for Leon to make sense of: a few bottles of beer explained why Amy was unusually giggly and reclined deep into her chair, her feet kicked up as she watched a live stream play out on an ultra-wide monitor. Even from afar, Leon could infer a different air about Amy, that her personality might not be so closeted after a few drinks – he wondered who he was even looking at, if the one laughing loudly could be the same soft introvert everyone at the lab adored.

Mesmerized at the door frame, Leon nearly forgot about the heist he was in the midst of, but was tossed back into those troubles when he felt a rumble run through the floor, a quake of something heavy pounding into motion. Amy was twisting out of her chair, spilling with giggles as she collected the empty bottles into her arms and then staggered towards the door. Leon’s heart sank, but he flinched into movement when Amy arrived above him, jumping aside just as she pushed the door open with a hit of her hip. He stumbled but guided his fall towards the baseboards, grateful he did when a bare foot then slammed beside him where he otherwise could have been; Leon gawked up the leg mid-stride, cast into shivers as Amy followed through with her next step forward, obliviously humming a tune while she passed over the home invader. The short-statured scientist was only clad in her pink pajamas – spandex shorts and a loose striped-shirt – but she was the most intimidating sight Leon had witnessed in his life, a very real threat to be prioritized.

Leon exhaled after she was down the hall, laying faint in the carpet fibers. Instinctively, his left hand traced through his black wool shirt, finding the operation switches of the mass reduction belt. It was tempting to throw himself to normal size and commit to ambushing her, but he refrained – unfortunately, he expected Eric to soon have those same thoughts, realizing that Amy had to be headed into the kitchen. He cussed as he jumped back into motion, pathetically following far behind the heavy rhythm of footfalls.

Chandelier lights were flipped on as Amy waltzed into her kitchen, illuminating the condo with a generous glow. Fortunately, Eric was in the shadows underneath the bar and its stools when she entered, keeping himself hidden – yet still in her path. He had been admiring the wine rack on the opposite wall before he heard footsteps approaching; the sudden switch of light blurred his vision, but it was clear something huge was hurtling towards him. Eric weaved behind the legs of the stools, dodging the footfalls of Amy’s drunken dance as she made her way to the trash can. She stomped hard on the pedal to open it, creating a quake that tripped Eric flat on his back while she discarded the empty beers. He curled forward to get up, but subsequent steps caused him to tremble where he was, stiffly careful of where Amy’s feet would fall next; rather than return to her bedroom like he hoped she would, Amy remained at the bar, happily measuring out vodka to make a mixed drink.

While her feet were flat on the tiles, Eric scuttled to the back of the kitchen bar, panting from fright. Never before had either of the burglars encountered another person while they were shrunken, and so the worst of his worries itched at him. He snarled, dismissing Leon’s voice in his head as he tugged up his shirt and exposed the mass reduction belt. “Forget this,” he scoffed, switching the device to charge up power – a minute-long suspense that had him chanting, “C’mon, c’mon! C’mo–”

“Shut it off!” Leon hissed – as he leaped into Eric, grappling him to the ground and forcing his arms aside. Eric flailed back, but Leon was quick to flip the power before being pushed off. “Don’t!” he ordered with a point. “Stay small, dammit! We sneak out of here!”

“Get real, man!” Eric growled, restraining his volume like Leon.. “Your plan is all messed up! I’m not gonna get stepped on or somethin’!”

“Stop it…!” When Eric began operating the belt, Leon tangled with him again. Their arms grabbed each other in a contest to control the other, both bodies rolling on the floor during the struggle. They were immersed in their conflict – until Eric, pinned on his back, fell still from resisting. On top of him, Leon’s efforts waned, and he twisted to also look up above them. He was speechless, realizing then that their greater problem at hand was looming directly overhead.

Amy was bent forward by the waist with fascination, her glasses at the edge of her nose as she observed the shrunken spectacle. It was too real to be a drunken imagination, yet too strange to immediately make sense of. She tilted her head curiously; “... Dolls…?” she said slowly and dully, her lips hanging open after speaking. “Uh… Are you two real…?”

Neither intended to answer her, instead pushing off one another in a jolt to run away. They dashed in different directions, suddenly splitting apart from under the bar. Amy gasped, surprised by how fast the little men had sprung up to flee from her – so shocked that she stumbled after them in a hiccup. She caught herself on the bar from falling too hard, but her drink tilted far forward in her other hand, letting loose the vodka she had prepared. It splashed against the tiles in front of her, unleashing riptides of alcohol that spread and tripped the legs of both Leon and Eric.

Leon rose first, with such haste that he was slipping on the spilled beverage while gagging on its saccharine flavor. He glanced behind him while sloshing onward, finding that Amy was in her own daze after her glasses, wide as a car bumper, fell from her face. Eric was slower to get up from the floor, so Leon went on without him, thinking selfishly in the moment. With his plans foiled, he resorted to the mass reduction belt, deciding it was desperate enough to grow back to normal and regain control.

But when he expected the device to charge, it instead sparked and fritzed at his fingers. “No, no, no–” Leon stammered, but it was true: the prototype mass reduction belt had malfunctioned after being washed with alcohol.

Similarly was Eric understanding that the devices would no longer operate, but unlike Leon, he stubbornly swatted and shook the belt, frustrated with the technology he knew only the bare minimum about. While he fidgeted with the belt, however, Amy crept behind him, quiet like a hunter with her hand at the ready. Eric never saw it coming– Spack!! He was instantly forced face-first into the floor, pinned in place beneath Amy’s blanket-like palm.

“Gotcha! Heh-heh!” Amy cheered with hiccupped laughter, posed on all-fours in order to catch Eric under her left hand. He spasmed resistantly, punching with his elbows and kicking his legs, but he was in too poor a position to pry himself free. Fingers thick as logs curled tighter around his muscular frame, forming a cage of damp flesh that smothered the spirit out of him. Amy shuddered with equal amounts delight and intrigue; “Hahaa~! You’re so feisty…!” she giggled, taking the time then to retrieve her glasses. She blinked with clarity; “Oh my god– where’s the other one?!”

Remembering the second shrunken person, Amy caught a glimpse of Leon’s trail of wetness headed towards the wine rack. The mastermind had witnessed Eric’s fate and sprinted for his own sake, but could only take to hiding within the confines of a low-level cubby – a deadend. Soon he was approached by tremors, and the light seeping inside was blocked by Amy’s sideways-angled head peering inside. A hazel-colored eye behind a frame of glass pierced through the tunnel and into Leon’s little body; “There you are~” she hummed into the slot.

Leon kicked back into the deepest corner, but there was no outrunning Amy’s freehand as it entered in after him. The arm hovered eerily closer, blind to his exact whereabouts until a touch of a finger found him; initially flinching back, the hand then sprung quickly for the capture. Her fingers curled around Leon’s shape, circling his torso and weaving around his shoulders until he was grasped – a grip that was firm, but also delicate, considerate of how fragile a person so small must be. Leon grunted in refusal, even clutching the velvet fabric inside the slot to try and resist being reeled away, but he was inevitably overtaken and brought out into the kitchen’s light.

Amy’s amazement immediately greeted him, her eyes wide with curiosity and her lips quivering with questions. It was asked in a laugh, “What are you guys…? I-Is this a prank…?” Their wriggling bodies were turned around her eyes, each earning a brief inspection. “Heh… Very lively~” The two could almost slip free, and squirmed erratically to try and do just that; Amy’s fingers were incompletely rung around their torsos, unable to prevent them from prying at her thumbs or kicking in circles. Nonetheless, her size granted her vast control of the situation, as with just a squeeze of each hand, she drained them of will, their bodies falling limp in her grasp. Amy sighed, “That’s better~ We don’t want either of you to slip out, right?”

Still tipsy from her drinks, Amy used a stool to climb back up to her feet, carelessly applying Eric as a support to lift herself. He kicked back angrily and barked at her, but his squeaking only made her giggle. “Such an angry doll,” she teased, meandering around the kitchen with both men held level with her chest. One would loosen from her grip every few moments, but they would be subdued again every time, her fingers adjusting around their mid-sections and squeezing more assuredly than before; with each of their attempts, Amy shivered with amusement, purposefully allowing those opportunities to happen. “Ooh~ almost got out that time!” she taunted. “Aww, so close~ but you’re too little~ hehe…”

Leon had become especially silent as he witnessed the belittlement naturally flow from Amy. Never before did he imagine his meek coworker acting so arrogantly, nor did he expect to be locked in her grasp and nearly strangled. Though quieter than Eric and his complaining, he was just as desperate to escape, twisting and jostling as much as he was allowed. Every effort ended undone, her fingers proving to be eerily efficient at rewrapping around his waist, never phased by his little punches. After patiently allowing enough attempts, Amy asserted dominance over both men by pressing her thumbs tightly into their chests, choking the resistance out of them; forced into exhaustion and held so high, it became that it was them holding onto her, fearful of dropping to the cold floor.

Amy next took them to the countertop of the bar, resting her elbows on the ledge and leaning close above the two masked men – her hips swayed rhythmically, bouncing like the possibilities did in her head. Her inquisitive personality came alive with such interesting subjects to study, taking the time then to observe her captives more closely. The two were shaken and turned around under her gaze, their weight and reactions being tested to feel out their physical traits. Eric was shorter but wider, slightly easier to have balled in her fist but a generally bulkier person; Leon, in her other hand, had a slender build with a longer torso that her thumb loved to slide across, the edge of her nail gently running over the abs she could feel. Differences aside, both body types were dressed similarly in black shirts and deep-pocketed cargo pants, unmistakably disguised for crime; they would look quite scary to her if they were not the size of dolls, squirming pathetically in her grasp.

It was an electric feeling, the freedom to grope and massage either man as she willed, and that fascination was apparent to them both, her erotic wonderings drooling over Leon and Eric on the counter. In a moment of stillness, both thieves looked to each other; Eric glared under his mask, projecting his ire to the mastermind of the plot, but Leon was unbothered, aware that Eric had worse to be angry about, not yet explained to him. Leon’s squirminess faded as his head sank into dread; inevitably, Amy would learn his identity, and their predicament would be that much more problematic.

Itched with impulsiveness, Amy began with her ideas. She moved quickly, disorienting her writhing playthings while she arranged the vodka bottle to be hugged in her elbow. Though wobbling with imbalance, she made her way back to the bedroom with all the supplies she would need to be entertained through the night; she giggled when turning the corner, “This vacation just got a lot more interesting…~”