Chapter 2 - Diagnoses
The steady sound of traffic and birds chirping slowly lulls Alison out of a deep slumber, her heartbeat pounding in her skull like a jackhammer.
“Nngh” the girl moans as she smacks her pasty lips, rolling over and slowly opening her eyes.
“Oh god...ow, ow, ow” she moans in pain as she lifts her hands to her head, her voice sounding strange in her own ears. She rubs the left side of her forehead as she blinks her eyes rapidly, the fresh morning sunlight penetrating her vision like an icepick being jammed into the top of her skull.
She struggles to sit up, her muscles heavy and sluggish to respond to her brain’s demands. She swings her legs from the bed, expecting to feel the cold hardwood beneath her soles. Instead Alison feels the inside of her pajama pants. It takes a moment to realize exactly what is going on, but Alison pieces the puzzle together very quickly as she looks down at her shirt, which hangs over her body like a dress. Alison’s lower lip quivers for a moment before she opens her mouth wide and unleashes a blood curdling scream, jumping out of bed and falling to the floor beneath her now heavy clothing, struggling to remove her sleepwear, which now seemed about three sizes too large.
“Oh my god, this isn’t happening, NO!” The now smaller Alison whines desperately as she rises, stark naked from the pile of clothing, running into the kitchen, her bare feet pounding against the wooden floor of the apartment. As she runs she feels like she is in someone else’s home, her once familiar dwelling taking on an entirely different feel as the kitchen countertops, which once were around stomach level, now came up to her chest. She picks up her phone, which now fills out her entire hand and taps the touch screen, dialing 9-1-1 onto the keypad and putting the phone up to her head, her hand visibly shaking.
“Yes, hi... I need an ambulance” The girl nervously stammers into the phone as she begins to pace back and forth on the cold kitchen tile.
“I woke up, I woke up, smaller...” Alison begins to cry into the phone, tears streaming down her reddened face. “I can’t, I’m so scared!!” The little girl sobs hysterically into the phone.
“Man..Manhattan!” she stutters into the phone, “O.K.” she says, calming herself down a little bit and taking deep breaths as she raises her forearm to her eyes, wiping the tears away.
“Two-forty-two east twenty second street, apartment three - A” the girl stammers into the phone, her voice becoming more composed. “Thank you, yes, I can reach the doorknob...” she says, looking over at the front door, the knob hanging easily within her reach.
She hangs up the phone and stretches over the now deep counter, unplugging the charger and bounding off into her bedroom. She swings the closet door open and grabs a blue bathrobe, tossing it over her shoulders and then looking down at her footwear collection. She frowns when she realizes they all looked like size tens instead of her normal size six. She spots a pair of pink, worn out sandals and drags them out with her little bare feet, slipping her feet in and gripping the toe separators between her toes. She looks over at the full length mirror, and blushes at how ridiculous she looks, the bathrobe bunching over her tiny feet, completely covering them. She shuffles awkwardly into the living room and bends down near the front door, grabbing her small handbag and tossing her phone inside. She rises and reaches over, grabbing the lock on the doorknob and giving it a twist before shuffling over to the kitchen and sitting down in a chair, the flip flops dangling as she clenches them between her toes, waiting in desperate silence for help to arrive.
After a few tense minutes there is a knock at the door. Alison jumps down off of the chair, almost falling over as she steadies herself in the thick flip flops, sliding one foot forward, and then the next awkwardly as she shuffles towards the door, as if she were on ice skates. She lifts her hand to the knob and turns it, pulling the door open and awkwardly staring upwards at the two paramedics standing on the other side. A short woman with blond hair, a little taller then Alison, and a tall, thin young man with a slight five o’clock shadow. The man has his hands on the handles of a wheel chair, which he rolls inside as Alison sidesteps, giving them enough room to enter her home.
The woman looks down and frowns. “Aww, sweetie, you must be going out of your mind.” she coos down, her slight spanish accent ringing throughout the dead silent apartment.
“You can say that.” Alison replies, her voice downtrodden as she slips the strap of her bag over her comically large bathrobe.
"Well you just take a seat right there” The man suggests as he opens his palm towards the wheelchair.
Alison slides towards the chair, lifting herself up and losing one of her pink sandals in the process. Without another word Alison feels the chair twist around, and roll out of the door, the woman locking the apartment up before the pair roll her down the hall towards the elevator.
"Wait, my flip flop.” Alison calls out, twisting her body in the chair to look behind her as her apartment grows more distant.
“Oh, don’t worry about that sweetie, you’ll hurt yourself wearing those, we’ll get you something at the hospital.” the woman says sweetly as she hits the button, calling the elevator. “You just sit back and relax” she adds as the the pair of paramedics idly chat about people Alison has never seen before.
The elevator dings, the big metal doors sliding open, and Alison is wheeled on. The doors close and the woman hits the button marked L, causing the elevator to descend for a few seconds before the bell dings again, the doors part to reveal the small lobby of the building. Alison can see one of her neighbors, Cindy, putting her key into the door, the young red haired girl, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, an eyebrow piercing glinting in the morning sunlight as she enters the lobby. Alison’s blood runs cold as the girl passes her in the lobby, simply looking down and smiling as the diminishing girl is wheeled out into the street.
Alison closes her eyes as the cool, spring breeze hits her, intimidated by her encounter with her unruly neighbor. Alison replays a scene in her head from last week, which involved her knocking on the girl’s door at three A.M. asking her to tone down her death metal. Alison’s thoughts are quickly broken as she finds herself being lifted in the air. The chair rolls up a ramp onto the back of the ambulance and the female paramedic climbs on board, strapping Alison’s chair in. Alison’s phone rings from within her bag, prompting her to unzip her small handbag and reach inside, she takes the phone out and hits the send button before putting it to her left ear.
“Hello?” she says, her now higher voice still retaining a hint of fear and desperation.
“Rebecca it’s me...” she says into the phone, her voice dropping in volume, betraying her embarrassment as the female paramedic takes a seat and rolls up the sleeve of the thick bathrobe, revealing Alison’s skinny arm before placing a stethoscope on her own head.
“Yeah, I’m on my way to the hospital, sorry I didn’t call you guys, I...I...” Alison breaks down crying on the phone as she tries to explain to her manager what is happening “Have subtraction syndrome!” she blurts out through her tears as the doors to the ambulance slam shut, the female paramedic strapping a sphygmomanometer around Alison’s arm as the engine roars to life.
“Thank you Rebecca” Alison says into the phone, sniffling a bit here and there as she tries her best to compose herself. “I’ll call you guys when I can.” Alison says as she hangs up her phone, placing it back into her purse and zipping it up with her free hand as the woman squeezes a small ball in her own hand, causing the strap around her arm to tighten.
“Awww, sweetie, It will be alright, you know I used to be six foot two.” The woman says as she places the stethoscope under the strap, measuring Alison’s pulse.
“re-really?” Alison asks as she rubs the tears from her bloodshot eyes with her free hand.
“Yeah, I woke up one morning, and found myself in the back of an ambulance, just like you. That was about four years ago.” The woman explains as the ambulance pulls out into traffic, the muffled sound of it’s siren wailing to the backdrop of it’s engine accelerating.
“When it happens real slow, that’s when you need to worry, you’ll be fine!” the woman says with a smile, unstrapping Alisons arm and picking up a clipboard, and scribbling on it with a pen.
“Name?” she asks as she looks up towards Alison.
“Alison Huntington, H u n t i n g t o n.” Alison spells out her last name for the paramedic.
“Ok Alison, any allergies?” The paramedic asks as she writes Alison's name down on the pad.
“Penicillin” the girl says as she stares off blankly towards the silver doors before her.
“Good, good, Insurance?” The paramedic asks without looking up.
“NYC United” Alison responds in monotone, her mind wandering back to Cindy, her large face staring down at her, obviously taking joy in the fact that Alison was going through hell right now.
Alison answers the rest of the paramedic’s questions as the ambulance rolls to a stop, the silver doors swinging open and the driver stepping inside. The female paramedic unstraps Alison’s wheel chair and the man grabs the handles, rolling the chair down the ramp and into the emergency room. Alison looks up as the woman paramedic looks down on her, smiling, the man having wandered off.
“Don’t worry sweetie, you’ll adjust...” she says before wrapping a small yellow ID bracelet to her left wrist, and then staring at her for a long moment. Before Alison can reply the woman turns and walks away. Leaving her in the middle of the ER waiting area. She looks around and takes a few deep breathes, tapping her remaining sandal against the footrest of the wheelchair while she waits, and waits, and waits.
The morning gives way to early afternoon before a middle aged doctor walks into the ER waiting area, tapping on a tablet, his slightly muscular frame covered in a long doctor’s white coat, his salt and peppered hair thick and erratic.
“Alison Huntington??” he calls out as he looks up, scanning the packed ER as his deep, heavy voice shakes Alison from her daydreams.
“Here” she replies, raising her hand, her thin arm sticking out of the thick bathrobe that completely covers her body.
The doctor walks over and sits on a chair near the wheelchair, facing Alison.
“Hello Alison, my name is doctor Sherin, what’s going on today?” The doctor says in a calm tone as he leans over a bit and smiles.
“Hi doc, well I woke up this morning a bit smaller than usual.” Alison explains, laughing a bit nervously.
“Oh, I see, I see.” the doctor replies, his face instantly taking on a more serious expression, causing Alison to grow a bit fearful.
“We will have to take some blood, c’mon lets go see what we are dealing with, shall we?” He says as he slaps his hands against his lap and stands up, placing his hands on the wheelchair and rolling it through a pair of double doors, out of the waiting area and down a long white hall.
Finally, opening a thick wooden door and wheeling Alison inside a small room, syringes and vials lay scattered across the counters.
The door slams shut and the doctor walks over to the counter, grabbing a rubber strap, and a sterilized syringe, wrapped in clear plastic. He rips open the needle and looks down at Alison.
“Would you mind taking that off? I need to get to your arm.” he asks dryly, his whole demeanor changing, his eyes narrowing a bit.
“Can’t you just roll up the sleeve??” Alison shoots back defensively, rolling up her sleeve and holding her small forearm out towards the doctor, who places the syringe on the counter.
“It will be easier if you just take it off, hun.” He says, smiling as he approaches the wheelchair, running his index finger down Alison’s reddening face.
“Oh god, what are you doing?” Alison squeals as she squirms in the chair, jerking her head to the side to try and evade the doctor’s large masculine hand, which simply grabs her face and turns it upwards.
“You know, you might find yourself really tiny, really soon. I can take care of you, if you take care of me, of course.” The doctor says breathily as he begins to unzip his pants. Alison closes her eyes for a long moment and takes deep breaths, her bottom lip quivering as she yanks her face away, placing her hands on the wheels of the wheelchair and pushing the wheels backwards in an attempt to distance herself from the doctor, but to her dismay she finds the wheels are locked.
“Nah uh uh-” The doctor is interrupted by a knock on the door, he quickly zips his pants back up and gazes down on Alison, after a moment he leans down and puts his mouth next to her ear.
“Not a word little girl, or you’ll find yourself in the psych ward.” he whispers coldly before standing up and walking to the door, opening it with a half smile.
“Doctor you have a patient in number two. If you want I’ll take Ms. Huntington’s sample.” A feminine voice suggests from the other side of the door.
“Yes, yes, that will be fine, thank you Melissa.” The doctor says as he swings the door open, revealing a young african american woman, dressed in dark blue scrubs, her curly black hair framing her youthful looking visage.
The tall woman enters the room as the doctor exits, walking towards Alison and smiling as the door slams shut. Alison withdraws her shaking hands into the the sleeve of the bathrobe, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the back of the wheelchair as the tall black woman approaches her.
“Hi, Alison, I’m Melissa. I’m just going to take a little blood, roll up your sleeve please” Melissa asks sweetly as she grabs a plastic chair, lifting it up and setting it down next to the wheelchair grabbing the strap, and another plastic packed syringe before settling into the seat.
“O.k.” Alison replies, her voice quivering as she lifts the sleeve off of her right arm, turning her forearm upwards and resting it against the armrest of the wheelchair. Melissa places her large hand on Alison’s small forearm, wrapping and tightening the strap around it, and tapping around for a vein.
“Please try to keep still, stop shaking.” Melissa says as she finds the vein she is looking for, tapping it as she unwraps the needle.
“I’m sorry” Alison apologizes, contemplating telling Melissa what had just transpired before she had come into the room, but the doctor’s cold warning stops her dead in her tracks.
Alison’s thoughts are broken by the needle entering her forearm. Melissa draws the syringe back, filling it with Alison’s blood before dislodging the needle and wiping the blood away with a sterilized pad.
“Hold that there for a minute.” She tells Alison as she rises with the syringe, separating the contained blood from the needle which she tosses into a biohazard trash bin. Alison complies and puts her hand on the pad, watching as Melissa exits the room, the door squeaking and slamming behind her.
Alison sighs as she finds herself alone in the dead silent room, only the muffled sounds of people passing out in the hall breaking the quiet that aggressively assaults her ears. What am I going to do? she thinks to herself. Should I go back home to California? Should I stay here and keep my job at the bank? What happens If I keep getting smaller? What if that doctor comes back and finishes what he started? Her mind rambles on, the flow of time going unchecked.
Finally she reaches in her bag and takes out her phone, touching the screen, causing the device to spring to life. She frowns when she realizes that she has no service, not unusual for inside of a hospital. She puts the phone back into her purse, zipping it shut while she nervously taps her feet against the footrests of the wheelchair, idly playing with her remaining flip flop as she waits, and waits, and waits.
After what seems like forever the door handle starts to turn, causing Alison to sit rigidly upright in her seat, her heart pounding in her chest as the door slowly swings open. Melissa steps through Alison breaths a sigh of relief.
“Ok Alison, we have your results.” Melissa says collectedly as she wheels Alsion out of the room, down the wide hall, and into another room, which looks like a regular patient room, with a small bed, a sink, a scale, and various other equipment.
“Just have a seat up there and the doctor will be right with you” Melissa says, waiting for Alison to rise from the chair.
Alison rises from the chair and pulls herself on top of the tall half-bed, her body settling against the sterile white paper that covered the cushion as Melissa rolls the wheelchair out. Alison quickly realizes that her flip flop is resting against the footrest of the wheelchair, she lifts her arm and goes to open her mouth to say something, only to have the door slam shut, woman, wheelchair, and flip flop, gone.
After another long wait the door handle turns and Doctor Sherin walks into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it with a smile on his face, a small stack of paper in his hands. He walks towards the counter and leans against it, slapping the small pile of papers on top of the clean surface before turning to Alison who is staring at him, her eyes wide. Alison’s chest rises and falls rapidly beneath her bathrobe as she clutches the heavy garment tightly with her hands, shrinking back from the doctor, lifting her feet up onto the small half-bed.
“Well dear, I have some good news, and bad news, which would you like to hear first?” he asks, his tone betraying the fact that he wants to give the bad news first.
Alison pulls her knees against her chest and narrows her eyes, not saying a word as anger and resentment bubble in her stomach, which also grumbles in hunger at the same time.
“Well, the good news is, we know you have an advanced case of Subtraction syndrome. This is a open and shut case, no long tests, no surgery, no guessing games. The bad news however, is that you have an advanced case of Subtraction syndrome, and as you probably know, there is no cure.” He finishes his explanation as he extends his arm, motioning for Alison to get on the scale.
Warily, Alison extends her legs, hopping down off of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold tile. She timidly steps towards the scale and lifts her left foot onto of the device, followed by her right, cringing as the doctor lifts his arm and grabs the small square slider, balancing out the bar over her head as he determines her weight.
“eighty nine pounds, what did you weigh beforehand?” The doctor asks in a clinical tone.
“One twenty eight” Alison says as she looks down at the ground, wiggling her toes nervously against the cold scale.
“Stand up straight” the doctor half suggests, half demands as he slides the height bar out, lowering it on top of Alison’s head. “Four foot nine, and how tall were you?” he asks in the same clinical tone.
“Five six” Alison says, a hint of depression creeping into her voice as she closes her eyes, trying to absorb what she is hearing.
“OK, you can step down now.” he says as he scribbles something onto a piece of paper.
Alison steps down off of the scale and hops back up onto the half bed, watching the doctor write a few more things down before looking back up at Alison. “Lay down please...” He says, a small smile creeping onto his face.
“Why??” Alison asks defensively, crossing her arms against her chest.
“I have to examine you...” he replies, already moving towards Alison, his hand reaching towards her and making contact, pushing her petite frame down against the flat bed.
Alison begins to fight, pushing against the doctors large, masculine hand with both of her small petite ones, but she is easily overpowered and finds herself laying flat, looking up at Doctor Sherin’s smiling face.
“Do you know what we do to patients like you who wind up in the psych ward?” he asks breathily as his large hand unbuttons the top button of the bathrobe. “When they get too small to care for there, we move them to a research facility, where they run all kinds of tests and test all kinds of new drugs...” he says excitedly as he undoes every button, pulling the bathrobe open to reveal Alison’s stark naked body, her C-cup breasts and her vagina quickly being covered over by each of her hands.
“Don’t...” Alison pleads as Doctor Sherin lifts her left leg, moving her foot to his face and smiling.
Alison does her best to pull her ankle from the Doctor’s grasp, but can only stare on in horror as his lips press against her small wrinkled sole, planting a wet kiss on it’s surface.
“But that doesn't have to happen Alison, you can come home with me, I will take care of you, look after you” he offers as he lowers her leg back to the bed, lowering his right hand onto her flat stomach and rubbing it slowly up and down, the expanse of his warm palm weighing down heavily upon the tiny girl, reminding her of just how helpless she was, mentally, physically, and emotionally.
“No...take your damn hands off me, you pig!” Alison snaps as she pushes the doctors hand away with both of hers, succeeding for a moment in removing the warm palm from her stomach.
“But I’m not done with my exam yet” he says, smiling as his hand moves down, creeping towards Alison’s exposed womanhood.
Alison clenches her legs together around the large hand as it rubs against her private area, causing a cold chill to run down her spine.
“I’ll scream...” Alison warms as the doctor’s hand wiggles back and forth, prying her skinny legs apart, which causes Alison to hyperventilate and repeat her warning more earnestly.
“I’ll scream!” she repeats, her voice cracking, she opens her mouth to actually carry through with the threat, but finds herself breathing heavily through her nose, the doctor’s other hand firmly clamped down over her mouth, covering much of her face as two of his fingers slip into her exposed vagina, sending pangs of unwelcome pleasure coursing through her system.
“Go ahead...” He says dryly as he stuffs his fingers all the way into Alison’s womanhood, causing the girl to moan in fearful pleasure against his hot, sweaty palm.
For the next couple of minutes Alison is forced to helplessly writhe against the crackling paper of the half-bed as the doctor’s fingers have their way with her wet, slippery vagina. Her eyes bulging out of her head as he finally removes his fingers, unzips his pants and pulls out his erection. With his hand still over her mouth, he flips her onto her stomach, snaking his fingers underneath the tiny girl and lifting her until she is on all fours, her dripping vagina exposed as she struggles uselessly against his large hands. She lets out a muffled scream against his palm as she feels his penis penetrate her vagina, blinking her eyes in a slow rhythm as her body is rocked forward by his massive thrusts. The pain slowly builds up inside of her raw womanhood as an orgasm is forced out of her, she moans in involuntary pleasure against the doctor’s saturated palm as she feels the penis dislodge from within her. A warm liquid splatters onto her butt crack, slowly dripping down as she shivers, collapsing on the bed weakly as Doctor Sherin removes his hands.
Alison immediately begins to sob hysterically as she feels a paper towel rub against her ass crack, wiping most of the gooey substance from her body.
“Aww, shh, shh, shh little girl. It’s all over now” Doctor Sherin coos as he flips the girl onto her back, covering her in the bathrobe before he walks over to the counter. “I’ll get you your discharge papers and you can go. If you live alone, I suggest looking for other arrangements, most deaths due to the syndrome are caused by victims starving when they get too small to care for themselves. Though I am sure some people occasionally get caught up in a spiderweb, god, can you imagine?” The doctor giggles as he shuffles through papers on the countertop.
Alison buttons her bathrobe and sits up on the bed, disgusted as she feels the remaining stickiness of the doctor’s seed between her ass cheeks, her womanhood throbbing and burning as she silently sobs.
“Here are your release papers, and I wouldn’t tell anyone about your little exam Ms. Two-forty-two east twenty second street, apartment Three - A” The doctor grins as he opens the door, stepping aside and motioning for Alison to leave.
Alison jumps down from the bed, and wobbles awkwardly out of the door, which closes behind her. Alison walks down the long sterile hall, awkwardly, clutching her bag to her chest as she wobbles back into the ER waiting area. She exits the hospital and is greeted with the sound of crowd chatter, car horns, and heavy traffic as people and cars pass the hospital. People oblivious and apathetic to her little dilemma. She steps to the curb, the cool concrete feeling unnatural under her soles and toes as she wears a downtrodden expression. An expression she has observed hundreds of time throughout the years, as she has gone about her life, apathetic to hundreds of little dramas that have unfolded around her. All of those faces flood into her mind’s eye as she raises her hand, attempting to hail a taxi, the late afternoon sun glinting off of the perpetual stampede of cars and trucks as they uncaringly pass her by.
As a checkered yellow cab pulls up to the curb to pick her up, she realizes that today is the first day of her new life. A life where her rights would one by one slip away from her, a life where people like her would walk by, not even glancing downward as they go about their business. She opens the door and climbs into the back seat, a middle aged woman with curly brown hair behind the wheel.
“Where to?” She says as she starts the meter.
Alison hesitates a moment, contemplating telling the cabbie to take her to the nearest police station, but thinks better of it.
“Two-forty-two east twenty second street” Alison says in a defeated tone as she stares out of the window.