"The car's stopped." Jackson said, ear up against Theresa's stomach. The ground started swaying again as their host began walking. "Okay, I hear keys. There's the door." He scrunched up his face, trying to identify a sound. "I have no idea what that was - some sort of 'thunk' sound. That's defiantly a zipper and the rustle of cloth."

Amy lay between a fold of Theresa's stomach, on her belly, kicking her bare feet in the air behind her. "And? And?"

"Water, I think." A kind of oscillation ran through Theresa's entire body. "I think she's brushing her teeth."

A few moments pass without running commentary from Jackson. Then suddenly, the entire world shifts 90 degrees. The two miniature people tumble head over heels in a flurry of 'oofs' 'ouches' and 'arghs'. They roll to a stop against the soft, yielding flesh. The only noise is the omnipresent heartbeat far above their heads.

"Yup - she' s in bed." They both say simultaneously.

* * * * * * * *

After brushing her teeth, Theresa crossed to the bookshelf in her bedroom. Grabbing a half-finished tome - an old Percy Gardner spy novel she picked up at a used store once upon a time - she walked across her room, sat on her bed. She flicked on the night stand light and lay down.

It had been a long, busy day - filled with a bunch of annoying, controlling people who insisted on getting their own way at the upcoming wedding. Mothers demanding this color, fathers insisting on this flower arrangement. It was a mad house she hated to put up with. She was tempted to throw it all in and run off to elope somewhere. It would serve them all right.

She sighed. Finally, her time was her own. She was completely, totally isolated - nothing to disturb her, no interruptions on hand. She'd disconnected the phone, the door was locked - she was alone.

Suddenly the flutter at the pit of her stomach was back again. She shook her head, tried to ignore the sensation, and went back to reading. The feeling came back again, this time much stronger. It felt as if a butterfly had been caught within her belly as was trying desperately to escape.

She set the book down, and pulled up her nightshirt. All she saw was her taunt abdomen muscles - certainly nothing that could be causing this. She shuddered, as the feeling started again - much stronger and this time more sustained. The feeling lasted for nearly thirty seconds, as opposed to the brief spurts from before.

John and Megan tickled, poked and prodded their fleshy chamber for all they were worth. Meg used everything in the Official Cheerleader's Handbook to Jumping she knew - and some things she didn't know. John simply went six rounds with the stomach shaped punching bag. But despite their best efforts, the giant prodding fingers never returned. Finally, the whole stomach shifted to the left ninety degrees, sending the two occupants bouncing into the far wall.

"What the hell is the matter with her?" Meg said, kicking at the wall with her foot. "She *HAS* to be noticing this!"

John just lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant heartbeat grow slower and slower. The roaring sound of her breathes slowing, and becoming more regular. "Theresa must think that we're figments of her imagination or something."

"I'll give her figments!"

"You might as well give it up." He said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "She's going to sleep."

Meg sank to her knees and flopped on her back. "How could she possibly go to sleep with two teeny people constantly poking her from the inside?"

No response.

Megan rolled over to glare, but her boyfriend had fallen fast asleep.

She flopped onto her back, rolling her eyes. "How typical."