I have my best friend trapped in my drawer. I think that phrase to myself every morning when I wake up. I lay in bed and think about her sitting there in the pitch-black of my drawer, only a foot or two from my head. She's only a few inches tall, and depends on my generosity to survive. I'm her world. An overwhelming sensation of power rushes through me every time I think these thoughts. I'm the most important person in existence to her.

Slowly, I roll over and stare at the drawer. I need to get into character. She can't know what I think. She can't know how surreal this all still is to me even now, weeks from when I first discovered her. Back when I'd nearly crushed her, oblivious to her presence at my feet. When I'd finally heard her tiny calls and spotted her, I remember being in awe. I've always been fascinated by dolls, and here she was, and she was perfect. She was better than lifelike – she was alive. I could brush her hair and have her tell me how good it felt. I could change her clothes and she'd thank me. I would set her up in a dollhouse and watch her live her life through the windows. All these thoughts ran through my head as she squeaked excitedly about something from the palm of my hand.

That had been then. That was when I was still optimistic about our relationship. When I'd explained what was going to happen to her, she'd been... less than enthusiastic about the prospect. She took it as a joke, and when I made it clear I wasn't kidding, she called me insane. She said that she was a human being, and that I was going to treat her like a toy. She didn't understand! She didn't understand that my intentions were pure! She would have lived a lavish life of love. I would have cherished her every day we spent together. I still do, even now. I'm just... I have to be more stern with her these days. She's quite disobedient.

I take a deep breath, and slide the drawer open. She lays curled up on her Kleenex mat, half of it folded over her pale, nude body. I gently slide the cloth away, exposing her, and run my finger down her side. She moans at my touch, rolling to get out from beneath me, but I don't let her. Her skin is so smooth. She's like a porcelain doll, but warm. And she squirms – oh God, her squirms. Biting the back of my bottom lip in anticipation, I gently lift her out of the drawer and wrap my fingers around her. She twists and stretches, waking up. I shudder slightly at the feeling.

“Good morning, little Jo.” I say softly down to her, stroking her soft blonde hair with my thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, ma'am.” She calls me ma'am as a compromise. I told her if she was going to be a petulant child, then she would call me “mommy” 'til she learned better. She hates that name, and tries to use ma'am whenever possible. I usually let it slide.

“That's good. Do you want to know how I slept?”

“Yes, ma'am.” I give her a squeeze and she yelps. “Please tell me how you slept, ma'am!” She knows I hate repetition. It's lazy and shows disinterest.

“I slept very well, thank you for asking! I had a lovely dream about Stephen. Do you remember him?” She nods that she does. Stephen was the object of her lust for some time. While it would have been strange for her to forget him, I also don't expect her to hang on to the memories of her old life for very much longer. “Well, in the dream he and I had a night out on the town. We went to a movie and then he took me to dinner at a fancy restaurant.”

Jo looks upset. I can see it in her face when she has something she wants to say, but is stopping herself out of her own self-interest. I smile. This is progress! She used to quip and jab at me whenever she could, but lately she's been biting her tongue. One too many spankings, I suspect. She's learning to be a good girl.

“Anyway, I was thinking about asking him out. Doesn't that sound great?” Jo nods slowly again. “Aren't you happy for me?” I prompt.

“Yes, ma'am, I'm very happy for you!” There's even a chirp in her voice as she says it. I'm beaming down at her. For the first time since I found her, I'm starting to think there may be hope for her after all.

“Well thank you, little Jo. Now come on, it's time to get ready for the day!” I take her with me to the bathroom, setting her down beside the sink. She winces uncomfortably at the cold porcelain against her bare flesh. I try to imagine what it's like for her, and smile at the thought. Of course I don't want my little dear to suffer, but when she does... it's not the worst thing. I brush my teeth, watching her in the mirror. She stands with her arms folded down the front of her body, covering herself from me. As if she can keep anything I really want from me anymore. I lean over the sink to spit, intentionally brushing against her head with my breast. She stumbles forward a few steps and falls into the sink. Before she has time to regain her bearings I spit on her, covering her in a frothy white combination of saliva and toothpaste.

“Oh no, I'm so sorry!” I say, my broad smile surely betraying my true intentions. “You poor thing. You need to be more careful!” She's making adorable sounds of obvious disgust, flicking her limbs and shaking her head violently. I turn the faucet on and dunk her underneath, ignoring her sharp cries against the cold. I rinse her off, running my thumbs over her frigid, thrashing body, then set her back down above the sink. She shivers powerfully, wrapping herself in her arms. I take a hand cloth and dry her off, then hold her to my face. “There. All better, right?” I ask cheerily. She nods.

After that, I take her down to the kitchen. I place her in a small glass on the table so she can't run away while I start to make breakfast for myself. What should I make today? I could always go with eggs. Eggs are a good choice. But that would take so much time – it would just be easier to pour myself a bowl of cereal. I nod, having made up my mind, and pull a box of Chex down from the cupboard.

“Are you hungry, little Jo?” I ask. I don't know if she knows I can't hear her from this far away, but I like to think she tries to respond anyway. I set the bowl of cereal down on the table, taking my seat shortly after. I tilt her glass over gently, letting her spill out onto the table beside the bowl. Then, I start eating in silence. She knows what she has to do if she wants to eat.

“Please... ma'am, please may I have some food?” I swallow my mouthful of cereal and shake my head.

“Mm-mm.” I say. “That's not what you call me, is it?” I try to get her to say it right at least once a day. Eventually it will just become second nature to her, I imagine. She closes her eyes, grimacing. She really doesn't like calling me this.

“M-” She chokes on the word as I take another bite. “Mom, may I-”

“No.” I cut her off, prodding her gently in the face with my spoon. She flinches away from it. “That's not it either. Come on, don't make this difficult.”

I don't really care about the meaning behind the word. In fact, I probably would have forgotten about this long ago, except that it makes her so uncomfortable. I chuckle softly, watching her struggle with her pride. “Mommy, may I please have some food?” She finally says. I nod.

“Good girl.” Is the only response I give, before returning to my cereal. I take another two bites, watching her watch me with desperation in her eyes before she speaks up again.

“Ma'am?” She asks. I ignore her, chewing my food. There's an audible sigh from her. “Mommy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I please eat? I'm so hungry.” I look down at her. She's sunk to her knees, and her hands are clasped together. I grin.

“Aww, I can't say no to that adorable face.” I reach down and pluck her up by her hair, pinching it between my fingers. She grunts uncomfortably, and twists back and forth as she dangles freely. “Of course you can eat.” With that, I drop her into my cereal. There's a short, truncated scream as she falls, splashing into the milk and submerging for a moment. She quickly resurfaces, coughing in deep breaths.

“Go ahead. You can eat whatever I don't get to.” I offer. Immediately, she grabs a square of cereal and starts chewing on it, knowing her time is limited. I playfully tease her with the spoon, sweeping her off her feet several times just by passing it under her. I scoop her up into the spoon, just her and a small puddle of milk, staring up at me. I let her sit there for a moment before turning the spoon and letting her drop back into the cereal. She's a very well-trained girl. Through all this, she eats when she can. The first few times I'd played this game with her, she wasted all her time trying to avoid the spoon. In the end, she hadn't eaten 'til dinner that night, each time moaning loudly about how hungry she was, despite having ignored my generous offer. She doesn't do that anymore.

As I finish the second to last bite, I grin excitedly down at her. I scoop her and the rest of the cereal into one spoonful, lifting it up. She's still gnawing on a piece of Chex, staring up at me. She knows what's coming. I carefully wrap my lips around the stem of the spoon, then slide it out of my mouth, scraping the tiny girl off in the process. I can hear her whimpers inside my head as I bat her around with my tongue. I press the tip of it against her chest, working it against her soft breasts. She tries to fight it off, but her entire body isn't enough to hold back my tongue. Keeping her pinned against my front teeth I swallow, the rest of the contents of my mouth sliding down my throat. I wonder if she suspects that she might join them one day. I wonder what she thinks I'll end up doing with her.

I tease her around my mouth some more, closing my eyes and focusing on both playing with her as well as keeping her safe. I slide her onto my molars and close my jaw slightly, pressing against her from two sides. She squirms and squeals, sending thrills of joy through my body. Of course I won't do any lasting damage to her. She's my cherished pet, after all. I let her writhe for another minute before I spit her out onto my palm. She looks like a drowned rat. Her hair is matted in clumps to her face, and she's panting frantically, staring at the palm of my hand on all fours. I stroke a finger down her back.

“You're such a fun little treat, you know that little Jo?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Her voice is low and hoarse. I smile.

“Are you ready to start the day?” I ask her. Through everything else she's doing, I can feel a definite shudder, and I know she knows exactly what I mean. She knows today is a Saturday. I have the entire day off. Which means I get to spend it all with her.

Back when I'd first discovered her, one of the questions that had of course occurred to me but I'd foolishly deemed unimportant was “How?” She didn't understand my intentions with her, and that had led to a lot of animosity between us. When I finally got around to asking her how she got this way, she'd started to explain before she cut herself off. I think she knew what I'd do with the information. It's the last wall of resistance that exists within her. Even now, she holds out. She won't tell me how it happened. But I will get the truth from her.

“You know, good girls are rewarded. Good, loyal girls get treats. They get presents.” I say as I put the bowl in the sink and carry her into the living room. I lay along my couch, setting her down on my belly. “Bad girls are punished. Don't you want to be a good girl for me?”

She stares at me. She used to show nothing but contempt and obstinacy against me when I would question her, but her resolve has degraded so much that her countenance is now nothing but forlorn. I giggle.

“Don't look so sad. You know you're only bringing this on yourself. And besides, there are much worse things I could be doing to get the information out of you. I'm not starving you to death, am I?”

“You can't starve me to death.” There's bitterness in her voice, and her words irritate me. It's true. I'd tried to, though I hadn't been overt in my intentions. But when I realized she really would go without eating rather than tell me, I'd started feeding her again. She's too valuable to me to lose. She's one-of-a-kind.

Until, that is, I can get what I want from her.

“Watch your mouth, little girl.” She hates being called girl. “Don't speak back to me that way.”

“Sorry, ma'am.” She says monotonously.

I think about her words. I can't kill her. And I've spent weekend after weekend degrading and abusing her. I smile ruefully to think it, but she may have broken me. My mind stirs as I try to think of something else I can do, something... something more.

I try to think back to the day I found her. She was scurrying at my feet in my living room. When I questioned why she was there, she wouldn't say. She was already wary of me by that point, and after then she wouldn't give any details about anything. Did my house have something to do with it? I'd lived here for the past four years, and never noticed anyone shrinking. I'd found her nude, but I never found a bundle of clothes anywhere. Was she carried here? Teleported? Could she have walked? It all seemed so improbable, but here she was!

She must have noticed my hesitance. “Ma'am?” She asks. I shake my head.

“Nothing. Get on your knees.” I command. She nods and obeys, looking up at me past the swell of my breasts. I frown. What can I do to her I haven't done dozens of times before? I reach out and unimaginatively flick her across the face. Her tiny body goes flying, rolling a few times and falling off the couch and onto the carpeted floor below. I roll onto my side and look down at her.

“You okay, honey?” I ask sweetly. She doesn't move. I watch her for a few more moments, waiting for her to do anything. “Little Jo, are you all right?” I ask again. She remains still. I reach my hand out and roll her over. Her body is limp, and her tiny eyes stare up blankly. My heart starts to beat faster.

“Jo, honey, are you okay?” I scoop her into my hand and run my thumb down her side. “You better not have died on me, you hear?” I'm losing it. I can't have killed her. After all that, that can't have been what killed her. I shake her roughly. “Wake up. Move, stupid. Come on.” I think I feel her breathing, but she doesn't make a noise. I hold her still, and the sensation I was feeling stops. I frown.

“Fine, you want to play games with me?” I press my thumb against her face. The soft pad compresses against her, covering her mouth and nose completely. I hold her in my hand like that, watching her intently. Every second that passes eats at me. I actually killed her. Her stupid, weak little neck snapped at a flick. I feel miserable. I can't believe I was so thoughtless as to kill her before getting what I needed from her!

A full minute goes by. I'm almost ready to call her dead when her entire body suddenly gives a powerful jerk, and her limbs start flailing, beating on my thumb. Instead of relief, I'm overcome with anger.

“You dared lie to me, you ungrateful bitch?” I keep my thumb pressed against her head. She's thrashing with what I can tell is all her might, but it's nothing more than tapping to me. I can feel her head trying to twist to one side, but my fingers are too powerful for her. I could end her now. I always have the power to end her.

I let her drop onto the hard wood coffee table. She immediately begins gasping in breaths, sucking in air because her life depends on it. I smile from above.

“Did you learn a lesson today?” Through her heaving I can tell she nods. I prod her back. “And what lesson is that, little one?”

“That you... are terrified... of losing me...” I can almost hear a giggle in her voice as she breathes the words. My happiness melts away.

“Watch your tongue, little girl.” I command. She shakes her head, rolling onto her back so she can look up at me. Her breaths make her chest swell in and out, a point of which I make fleeting note.

“I don't think I will. I think I can do whatever I want.” She's smiling. My dollgirl is smiling at me. I see red, and nearly smash her into the table with the heel of my hand right there. I take a few deep breaths. I have to get back at her. I have to regain control. A thought occurs to me, and I refocus my eyes on her, nodding.

“You're right. You're absolutely right, I'm not going to kill you.” I pluck her up and carry her with me back to my room, where I've left my pants. She twists in my hand, but I don't pay it any mind. Fishing through my pockets I pull out my phone, and start going through my address book as I return to the living room.

“What're you doing?” She asks when I sit back down and put her back on the table. I smile, holding the phone to my ear. There's a moment of silence.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end says.

“Hi – Becky?” I ask. I keep my voice in a muted whisper, though both Becky and Jo can hear me clearly. It's just for effect. My pet girl's eyes go wide at the mention of her sister's name. I wink.

“Yes.”

“Hey, it's Samantha.”

“Hey Sam. What's up?” There's an undertone of unhappiness in her voice. I suspect I remind her of her sister, who for all she knows disappeared a few weeks ago, never to be seen again.

“I know it's kind of strange to be calling you like this, but Jo's... here. She just showed up at my house about a half an hour ago. She's talking all sorts of crazy, and says she doesn't want anyone but me to know she's back.” I pause deliberately. “She doesn't want you knowing she's here, but I don't know what else to do.”

There's a beat of silence. “I'll be right over.” She says. I smile.

“Great, thanks.” I hang up the phone and look down at Jo.

“Don't do this...” She whimpers. The bravado is gone. The courage is gone. The tiny woman who dared to stand up to me is gone. And in her place is a sniveling girl wrapped around my finger. I grin widely.

“You brought this on yourself, little girl.” I say derisively. She lowers her eyes. “I'm not going to kill you. However, I am going to kill your sister while you watch.”

“No!” She shouts, taking a step towards me. I reach over and push her down onto her ass.

“Stop me.” I taunt. I stand up and shake my head, pacing around the table. When I look down again she's back on her feet, watching me circle her. “You know, I wanted to give you a good life. I mean, I really tried, even when you rebelled against me. You could sleep in a bed every night, you know that? I have a dollhouse that is ready to go, just waiting for an obedient little girl to occupy it. But no. You resist me day in and day out.” I lower myself to my knees, hovering over her. “Did you really think I would kill you if I could make more tiny girls?”

“Th-that's not the point!” She calls back to me.

“What is the point, then?”

“It's wrong to kidnap people! I... I couldn't live with myself if I subjected people to this life! You're horrible to me!”

“Am I? I give you free food. Free lodging. I provide every one of your needs and all I ask in return is that you love me. Is that so wrong?”

“I want to live my life!” She yells. “I want to be my own person! I don't want to have to depend on you for everything!”

I sigh. “Well, now your sister doesn't get that chance anymore. I'm going to kill her.”

“Please, don't do this!”

“It's too late. It's done.”

I can see it in her eyes. She wants to tell me. She's wanted to tell me for weeks, but somehow she's held out. Now that fire is back, and stronger than ever. “I can...” She starts, but her voice trails off. I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I mean, I can tell you how it happened.”

“I'm waiting.”

“First you have to tell my sister not to come!”

I shake my head. “No. That's not how this works. You don't have any power here. You submit to my commands one hundred percent or she dies.”

I could see her wrestling with the decision, but I could also tell I was going to win. Of course I was. Pets always submit to their masters.

“It's me.” She said simply, her eyes boring holes into the ground at her feet. I was stunned for a moment.

“I'm sorry?”

“I can do it. I can do lots of things, and one of the things is... I can shrink people. Or stuff. Or anything.”

“How?”

“By concentrating. My... my parents always said I could do anything if I put my mind to it.” She smiles up at me. I'm still bewildered.

“You mean all this time you could have freed yourself?” She nods. “Why didn't you?”

“Because... I wanted this. I wanted to be your... uh, well, I wanted to be yours.”

“What was that you were talking about thirty seconds ago, about wanting to be your own person and live your own life?”

“That's how I wish I felt. It's how I pretend I feel. The truth is, I could have stopped you at any time. Everything you've done to me has been because it was okay by me. Some of it I... made you do. But I don't want that. I want to be powerless. I want to be completely dominated. I don't want any of the control I have.”

I frown. “You can do anything?”

“Just about.” She says, the sadness obvious in her voice. “I'm practically a god.”

“Then give it to me.”

She looks up sharply. Her expression is puzzled and inquisitive. “What?”

“Give me your power. Make me a god, become a low human and live the life you truly want.” My heart pounds in my chest. Part of me doesn't believe this is real, but the rest of me sorely needs it to be real. I want to believe so much that I could have such power. She blinks.

“What will you do with it?”

“Whatever I want.” I respond unflinchingly. I can see a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Can I... I mean, will you promise me you won't kill me?”

“No.” It's what she wants to hear, I'm almost sure of it. I reach down my hand and she steps into it.

“All right. I don't know how this is going to work, but I'll try.” She closes her eyes in thought. A bright white light starts emanating from her, and I can feel something entering my body and being ripped from it at the same time. I cry out, falling to my knees. A moment later I lose consciousness.

I wince in pain, frowning. The flood of memories pours into my being. I struggle to arrange them all in order. A lifetime in an instant. Even with my power, it's a little overwhelming. I lay on my back on the carpeted floor. Wait – carpeted? I roll my head to the side. Yep, it's definitely carpeted, just how it should be. To a normal-sized person.

I hear a stirring coming from my other side. Looking over, I see what used to be my body, still tiny, slowly crawling onto all fours. Oh, crap.

“I don't think it worked.” I say. The tiny woman at my side winces, unaccustomed to the volume of giants at her new size. It does take some getting used to. “My powers may be bonded to me a little tighter than I thought.” The girl in my body – Samantha, looking through my eyes – gazes up at me.

“What happened?”

“I tried to put my powers in you, but it looks like... I just put myself in you instead.” I reach out with my Essence, the name I came up with for what makes me able to do what I do. I wrap it around her tiny body and lift her up. She squeals in surprise, floating helplessly in mid-air. I sigh. “Yep. I still got 'em. You wouldn't happen to be able to do anything new, would you? Maybe I... duplicated them?”

She appears to concentrate, but I can already tell she's doing it wrong. She's searching for something inside her. If she had it, she'd know. I shake my head. “Nevermind.” I slowly climb to my feet. “I guess I'll put us back and we can just... I don't know, pretend that I can't do anything to save myself.” Samantha is eager to return to her own form. It's just as I begin tapping into myself that a knock comes from the door. Both of us look at it.

“Sam? Is she in there? Are you all right?” Comes the call from the other side. Becky, my sister. She knocks again. Urgently. “Samantha?”

“I'm fine.” I call out. It's the first thing that occurs to me to do. “She's here. She's... safe.” I know what Becky's thinking. I walk to the door and open it. Almost immediately, she looks past me. She's searching for my body.

“Where is she?”

“Here.” I offer up the tiny form in my hand. Becky looks down, and her eyes go wide in surprise.

“This is... what happened?”

“I don't know.” I say. Samantha, the tiny woman in my body, protests indignantly but her voice doesn't carry very far. I... turned down her volume. “She just showed up here, talking about magic powers and something having gone wrong.”

“And she hasn't done anything... strange?”

I feign confusion. It's working. “Strange?”

“I mean, has anything weird happened? Apart from this, I mean.”

“No. No, not at all.” Becky looks nearly ecstatic. She holds her hand out tentatively.

“May I?” Samantha is screaming murder at this point, but it's all for naught. I nod.

“Sure. Are you going to take care of her?” I hold my hand out as well. Becky takes what used to be my body in her clenched fist. She stares down at it hatefully.

“She... she was a monster.” She says. “She was a terrifying monster. She has no concept of morals or ethics.” Becky stares into Samantha's eyes as she says this. “With every person she met, she'd flip a coin in her mind. Heads, they lived. Tails, they died. I... I got heads.” She pauses. She's shaking. “Our parents didn't.”

“I... had no idea, Becky.” I say. I'm an excellent actor. I'm excellent at everything.

She shakes her head. There are tears in her eyes. “No. Nobody did. Nobody knew.” I hear a small series of cracks issue from the tiny body in my sister's fist. Samantha howls in pain. I can feel her agony radiating off of her. My eyes flutter as I try to pretend it's my own. “She'd completely warp peoples' personalities in order to suit her better. She abused her powers in every way she could think of. It's good that she should die.” Becky squeezes tighter. Blood is coming out of Samantha's mouth. She was coughing earlier. Now she can't expand her lungs anymore. She's experiencing terror like she never has before. All her limbs are immobilized. She's suffocating. And through it all, she understands what's happening. She knows she's being brutally murdered for crimes she never committed. I wonder if she caught the part about personalities being warped. Samantha always was a nice girl. A doll collector.

I stand speechless, ostensibly aghast as I stare at what used to be my body being crushed in my sister's grip. The tiny form begins to mold to the contours of the fingers surrounding her. Her arms and legs are all fractured and crushed. Her blood leaks out of the bottom of Becky's fist. It's a slow, excruciating death – and to think, if Becky had had it all her way, it would have been a quick stomp. I think this is much better.

Finally, she opens her hand. The mashed body is stuck to her palm, and she scrapes it off with a finger, dropping it to the ground just outside my doorway. She lowers her toe onto the body and smears it into the ground, making it an unrecognizable streak. She smiles, and looks up at me.

“Sorry you had to watch that. She had to be finished before she could do anything else.”

“Oh, of course.” I say. “I, uh... I'm glad that we're both okay, I guess.” I laugh humorlessly. So does she.

“Yeah.” There's a moment of silence between us as we stare at the red smear beneath us. “Well, I'm going to get going.” She takes a hesitant step backwards and points her thumb towards the outside. I nod.

“Sure thing. I'll... get this cleaned up.” I smile. “I'll see you, Becky.”

“Yeah, definitely.” She says. She doesn't expect to see me again. I close the door on her and turn around. I let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. If only that had been me. I never knew – I mean, I had my suspicions about how she felt about me but I never thought they were intense enough to look through her mind. She thoroughly despised me. And watching her destroy Samantha... it was incredible.

I have two goals now. I need to hose down my front step, and then I need to get “discovered” by Becky, and have her channel some of that animosity towards me. I smile. This'll be fun.