Kimberly, Roy, and Trina arrived at the Speed house bearing food and gifts. The occasion was Andy's 41st birthday. One guest hadn't arrived yet, which was fine because Roy and Trina wanted some private time with Andy before the party started.

Standing on the arm of the couch, he hugged each of them as they walked in. He held Kimberly a touch longer than was noticeable to inhale her sweet perfume and nuzzle her buxom chest, her parents none the wiser; by rote, they gave the toddler-sized man the benefit of the doubt.

They had gone on half a dozen "dates"—some chaperoned, some not—over the last 4 weeks. He attended regular family functions like church on Sundays and Wednesdays, and was their guest for dinner on Thursdays. She was allowed to call him whenever she liked, but it was usually no more than twice a day and 15 minutes at a time.

Every day Andy was getting a little taller and a little stronger. Normal activities were coming back to him. He could use the bathroom and shower on his own. He could feed himself on his own. It wouldn't be long before he would be able to return to work and drive a car again. He was wearing normal clothes now, albeit clothes designed for 3 year-old boys. Long gone were the plain, ill-fitting shrinking fatigues that came in inch-tall increments.

On his last visit to the doctor, they took an X-ray and found a fracture in his left fibula that had healed incorrectly. His limp was permanent, an ever-present reminder of what breasts like Kimberly's could do to a shrunken man if he got too careless.

Brooke took the food and gifts and put them on the dining table with the cake she had baked (with practice, she was turning into a decent cook), while Roy and Trina stepped out the back door to talk to Andy alone. They walked to the far side of the pool to stand in the shade under the trees.

"We have a special gift that we didn't want you to open with the others," Trina said. She reached into her skirt pocket and handed him a small, felt-covered jewelry box.

Andy accepted it from her, looking questioningly from her to Roy.

"Open it," Roy urged.

He flipped the lid of the jewelry box open. Inside was a diamond engagement ring on a white gold band. The stone was cut in the shape of a heart. His mouth fell open.

"It was my grandmother's engagement ring," Trina explained. "She wanted Kimberly to have it."

"Does this mean…?"

"Yes," Roy said, smiling down at him. "I'm sorry we doubted you, Andrew, but your relationship came as a shock to us. We had no idea all this was going on while you were shrinking. I was concerned about Kim acting impulsively around you, based on the issues she came forward with earlier this summer, but that you would return her affections never crossed my mind. And, frankly, the age difference, more than the size difference, made me suspicious. But now that I've gotten to know you better and I've seen you two together, I believe it."

"WE believe it," Trina corrected, putting her arm around her husband's waist.

"Welcome to the family."

Andy took the ring out of the box. The clear, heart-shaped diamond reflected the tree leaves and the clouds in the sky. He slid it over his ring finger. It was only a little loose.

"It's already fitted for Kim," Trina said.

Andy's hand closed around the engagement ring. Heart thumping rapidly, he raised his eyes to his future in-laws.

"May I—"

"Yes! What are you waiting for? Go get her!" Trina said mirthfully.

The proud parents watched Andy turn and run into the house to officially propose to his fiancé.

During the commotion going on inside, a middle-aged woman parked her car on the street, strode up the walkway to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

Brooke broke off from the others to answer the door. "Can I help you?" she asked the stranger.

The woman held up her hand. "I'm Catherine, with All Sizes Home Care. I'm here to drop a visitor off for the night."

Brooke looked down at the 3-inch tall man standing in the woman's palm. She had to look closely to tell who it was. "Hello, Mr. Briggs!" she bellowed to the tiny figure.

Paul cowered as the girl's powerful voice rang in his ears like a jet taking off from an aircraft carrier. Who was this vixen standing in the doorway? She obviously knew him. Why didn't he remember her? She was obviously worth remembering.

She recognized the confusion on his face. "Don't you remember, Mr. Briggs? It's me, Brooke Speed."

"Brooke?" Paul said, his voice amplified. There's no way this is Brooke, he thought. He had met Brooke a grand total of three times since he got to know Andy. She was a scrawny kid, with bee stings for breasts. Not anymore, appsarently. Nothing could have prepared him for the foxy babe who stood before him now. She looked like Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad, but with a bigger rack and minus the hideous makeup.

"In the flesh," she chimed. And what flesh! The blonde bombshell wore a sleeveless, light-gray blouse that hung loosely over her narrow waist, and a pair of cut-off jeans that showed off her long, silky legs.

Catherine handed Brooke an overnight bag and a wrapped present.

"For me?" she said, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

"His clothes and everything he needs for the next 12 hours are in here," Catherine said, ignoring the flirty teen. "His shrinking pace is 1.4 inches per day, so he could reach his minimum while he's with you."

"How small is he projected to get?" Brooke asked breathily. The opportunity to spend time with a shrunken man who wasn't her dad reignited her yearning for a tiny man of her own. All the things she wanted to do to Andy but couldn't reoccurred to her knowledgable but inexperienced mind.

"One to 2.5 inches, based on the recent numbers from the specialist," Catherine answered. "He just woke up from a nap, so he shouldn't require sleep for at least a few hours."

"Aww, did Mr. Briggs have a good nap?" she cooed, as if talking to a baby.

Catherine's eyebrow ticked up. She handed Brooke a form. "I can't release him to you until you sign here twice. I also need your verbal consent, Mr. Briggs."

"I consent," he said.

After Brooke signed the form, Paul walked off Catherine's hand onto hers.

"Someone from the agency will be along to pick you up between 7 and 8 in the morning."

"Thank you." He watched Catherine drop the form into her shoulder bag and walk back to her car.

"What a stiff," Brooke snorted.

"She's okay," Paul said. "She's a professional. She cares for little guys for a living."

"Does she watch you all the time?"

"Only from breakfast til dinner. She alternates days with another woman, Marybeth. That's who's picking me up tomorrow."

Brooke stepped inside and shut the door. "It must drive you crazy, being around such big women who treat you as nothing more than a paycheck."

Paul disagreed, as he didn't find either woman all that attractive and didn't expect them to be.

"Nevertheless, we'll treat you better here. I promise."

She emphasized the point by holding her hand under the shelf of her imposing bust. Her mammoth dimensions filled his vision. He could hear the gray blouse stretching as her enormous breasts wobbled with each step she took.

"Oh, there you are!" she teased, bringing her palm out in front of her so she could see him. Paul chuckled light-heartedly, but he was clearly flustered.

She set his gift on the dining table with the others and took him to the unused room off the kitchen. She set him on an ottoman that rose to below her knees and stood before him, probably closer than was necessary, forcing him to look over her distended blouse.

"My dad and Kimberly just got engaged."

"That's great!" he exclaimed.

She regarded him suspiciously. "You don't seem that surprised."

"I saw them at the funeral and again in public about a month ago. It didn't seem that far-fetched that they would end up together."

She put a finger to her pink, pouty lips. "So you're not jealous?"

Paul played it cool. "Of Andy? No. Kim and I went on one date. We were hardly a thing."

"I see. And how are your testicles doing?"

"My… What?"

"Your testicles. Kim told me what happened on your date, how she kicked you in the nuts. It must've hurt. She's an athlete, you know, soccer and volleyball. She has very strong legs."

"Yes, I remember. They're fine," Paul said, blushing. He had missed a day of work to nurse his injured balls, and he didn't masturbate for over a week. But when he did, he thought of Kimberly.

"Did she tell you… everything about our date?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. She's my best friend. Personally, I think she mistreated you."

"You do?"

"Of course. You're a guy. You can't be expected to control yourself around a total babe like her, in that type of situation."

"So you're not angry about what I did?"

Brooke sighed. "Mr. Briggs, one thing I am not is like Kim. She's very reserved. So you felt her up a little. For most girls on a first date, if they like the guy, that's no big deal. Heck, if it was me and a cute guy like you tried to touch my boobs, I'd say, 'Go ahead. I don't mind. They're meant to be enjoyed.'"

She jutted out her firm chest, which was pleasantly disproportionate to her thin, hourglass figure. He took a long, wanton look at her bosom before lifting his gaze back to her big, green eyes.

"But that's not how Kim is," she continued. "She took it the wrong way and you paid the price, didn't you?"

Paul was nonplussed. Brooke evidently hadn't heard the full story from her friend, how Andy interfered on their date and Paul lashed out at him in anger.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be," he said with a shrug.

She nodded, as if in agreement. "If it was me, I would only kick a guy down there if he hit me or one of my friends. Now, my legs aren't as strong as Kim's, but they're skinny. They can fit into tight places, like the space between a guy's legs where his testicles go up and hide when he's cold. If he hit me or one of my friends, there's no place his little balls could hide."

She bent her knee and thrust her shapely, shipping container-size thigh into the air, simulating the castration she apparently had planned for the first man who crossed her.

Paul gulped. It wasn't difficult to imagine himself on the receiving end of Brooke's righteous, ball-crushing knee, what with the trauma of Kimberly's kicks still vivid in his mind, and considering what he did to deserve them. This girl was out of her mind, though. If she found out the truth about what happened on his date with Kimberly now, a kick in the balls was the least of his worries. She could murder him with a flick of her wrist. Or any other appendage.

She rambled on, delighting in making him squirm. "Anyway, I'm glad your testicles still work after the beating they took. It's funny how a man can be so big and strong, and yet his very essence as a man is so tiny and vulnerable." She looked at him quizzically. "You don't mind me talking about this, do you?"

"Um…"

"I can see I'm making you uncomfortable. You really are a gentleman, Mr. Briggs, despite what happened between you and Kim. I just wanted to say, if your nuts start to hurt again, or you want to test them on something more interesting than your fist, don't hesitate to ask for my assistance."

She walked away, her butt sashaying in her cut-off jeans. Did he hear her right? She wanted to help him "test" his testicles' functionality? No one offered to help you come and meant it at face value. He'd only been given the green light like this once in his life, and he had to butter up the girl for months. Brooke basically propositioned him as soon as he came through the door.

It was out of the question, of course. He was only 3 inches tall. But holy cow, what a body on her, so tight, with such juicy tits, and only 18 years old! he thought. The freckles brought out her youth, while the rest of her screamed maturity. Sure, she was Andy's daughter, but what did that mean to him? He bet she was a freak in the sack. He imagined all the fun he could have with her if he was full-sized. Then he imagined all the fun he could have with her at his current size.

Oh, yeah, he thought, recalling the sight from the grocery store, of Andy as a small bump on Kimberly's huge breast. This archetypal image had risen to the top of his mental stock, and was usually the last one to pop into his mind, before he jerked himself off to completion. That could be me, but with Brooke, he thought. She wasn't that much smaller than Kimberly, now that he thought about it.

He adjusted his miniature trousers to disguise his hard-on. That's when he spotted a figure just outside the room, watching him. It was Kimberly, wearing an engagement ring on her left hand. She'd heard their whole conversation, and there was a cold, expressionless look on her face.

Paul waved. She said nothing and disappeared down the hallway.