It was barely 7:28, and it was almost oppressively warm and humid. Spring around Vista was known for erratic weather, and after the rather nice day yesterday had been, today looked to be a sticky scorcher. 

Good thing Cameron planned to be in an air-conditioned movie theater all day. 

He'd ordered two tickets to the movies last night, and he held the printed vouchers tightly in his fist- he couldn't help it, he was pretty nervous. Who wouldn't be when they landed a date with Rebecca fucking Sullivan? She was very tall for a woman, and given Cameron's own lacking height he often found her perfect behind in his face if he was ever walking behind her on a staircase . . . which he often was, given that Molecular Biology and Cinematography were in the same tower of the main building, and they had their respective classes at roughly the same time of day. 

Back to the present, however, Rebecca's door swung open at 7:30 precisely, revealing that she'd chosen a rather casual outfit for the day, given the lack of uniform enforcement during break- a plain white blouse that folded and creased in just the right way to draw the eye to her chest, jean shorts that exposed miles of smooth leg, and, surprisingly, no shoes as of yet. "Ah, you're . . . Cameron, correct? Come in, we'll get the experiment portion over and done with, and then we're free for whatever date you'd planned." Her voice was soft and neutral, betraying nothing of her current state of mind beyond a mild sort of satisfaction. 

"Y-yes, ma'am," Cameron stammered softly, taking a step inside the bedroom of arguably the single most sexually attractive woman anyone inside Vista had ever seen. It sadly didn't reveal much more about the girl than everyone already knew- it was a bit cluttered, surely, but mostly with schoolbooks, clothes, and idle, half-finished science experiments of various disciplines. Basic, focused on knowledge, and without a single clue to what she was actually looking for in a romantic or sexual partner. Drat. On the bedside table were seven hypodermic needles filled with identical-looking neon orange fluid, laid neatly out in a straight, even line- for Rebecca's newest experiment, evidently. 

"Now, feel free to select any of them, for any reason whatsoever, but I do recommend you hurry," Rebecca added, her tone never changing, as she closed the door behind her. It seemed rather . . . rehearsed, but that was just how Rebecca was. Nothing she ever said or did told anyone what was going on in her head, and in fact, no one had ever managed to successfully land a date with her prior to this. The fact that shy, socially awkward Cameron had been selected as the first person to get a glimpse inside her head practically made his head spin . . . and he chose the needle second from the end, revealing a tight, basic "6" had been printed beneath it. 

"Number 6, then," Rebecca asked flatly, not waiting for confirmation before simply taking the needle from Cameron's hand and gripping his wrist. "This will pinch, and you may feel mildly sick. I ask that, if you do feel the urge to vomit, you keep it in your mouth. I'd rather not need to clean the carpet." With that said, just as Cameron opened his mouth to confirm his understanding, the needle was plunged into a vein in his forearm, and the plunger depressed to deliver the serum directly into his bloodstream. 

"Mildly sick" was putting it very mildly. The moment that the hypodermic was drained, Cameron's whole body revolted. His stomach jolted, his heart hammered, and his limbs turned to absolute jelly, and his head spun. Nothing made sense, and the overweight young man immediately passed out in shock.

---Later---

"Time of resuscitation: 9:04 AM. Subject is stirring." Rebecca's voice seemed to echo loudly from every direction, as if she were shouting into a microphone hooked up to a ball of speakers that Cameron was trapped inside. Blearily, he opened his eyes . . . and was completely, utterly shocked. 

The lovely, gray-eyed redhead seemed miles away, and yet her face seemed to dominate the horizon like an image on the biggest IMAX screen ever. Cameron could see the tiniest details of her face, every individual pore and minor muscle twitch . . . it was astounding. He'd been reduced to an absolutely miniscule size . . . it wasn't like he could question something like that, he was standing on the leather seat of a chair he'd been sitting on mere moments before.

"Subject has successfully imbibed the variety codenamed "Salt", with no negative effects besides temporary unconsciousness. Full success." She suddenly stopped, and looked away from Cameron's stunned form for a second, far to the right. "Now, as for your payment, Mr. Cross . . . I did agree to one date, and it seems that you wished to take me to the theater off of the grounds. A film called . . . A Distance Traveled? Wasn't that some sort of romantic nonsense?"

Well, there went Cameron's hopes for today. He was the size of a grain of salt, and Rebecca didn't like the movie he'd intended to take her to. Unfortunate, really, given that it'd been nigh-universally loved by critics and moviegoers alike, seen as a beacon of perfect movie romance.

"Still, it is agreed payment . . . however, at your current size, I doubt we'll need the second ticket." She tore the printer paper, as thick as Cameron's body and hundreds of times as long, into considerably smaller pieces before holding out a finger for her dinky date to clamber onto. "Come on, you're an eighth of an inch tall, so you can't exactly walk me there."

"Hey, uh . . . when- when does this wear off?" Cameron asked as he stepped slowly onto Rebecca's unadorned fingernail.

No response. She likely couldn't even hear him. 

"Here we go, Cross. One date to a romantic movie," she murmured, flicking Cameron into her slightly-exposed cleavage, knocking him out again. 

---REBECCA---

"Ugh. Evidently, the durability boost wasn't enough . . . this one seems to be a bit of a wash," Rebecca sighed in annoyance. "That was barely a three-inch shift, at a scale speed of twenty-eight miles per hour . . . can't have been the acceleration. The ratio was off . . ."

It was honestly rather frustrating that she'd gotten the numbers so absolutely wrong on this batch- reducing people to salt-grain-sized slaves that she could work out her less-savory impulses on was a wonderful idea in theory, but evidently the steep ratio of 1 part toughening mix to 5 parts shrinking solution was obviously too much for the reduced to handle any sort of play.

The redhead considered dropping the charade entirely and just squashing Cameron like the bug he was, but decided against it, at least for the moment . . . in fact, she wondered if he would realize that she had essentially cured him of his nearsightedness with even that tiny bit of the durability additive. He must have, given how shell-shocked he seemed to be by her face . . . if that was shock. It was so difficult to tell when she made then that small.

---CAMERON---

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

"W-what . . ." Earthquakes. Distant ones, but they seemed powerful enough to make even this dark mass of gelatin Cameron was trapped in wobble rythmically with significant power, smacking him utterly senseless.

Wait, gelatin? Wasn't he- oh. Oh. OH.

"Oooohh my fucking god," Cameron trembled as the memories came back and he realized where he was. Rebecca Sullivan had shrunk him to the size of a simple grain of table salt and trapped him in her cleavage while she walked into town for the movie he'd ordered tickets for. That explained the smell of butter- she was already there for the matinee, and had decided on a snack of popcorn while she watched . . .

Suddenly, the earthquakes stopped, and something went fishing around- Rebecca's finger was seeking, searching, and found him, pulling Cameron out to rest on a single, mountainous tit.

At least, for a short while. However, given that she was leaning slightly forward (likely to avoid touching the rather nasty seats here), each of the short-haired redhead's gentle breaths sent Cameron tumbling further, further, further . . . until he landed in her popcorn, coming to a sticky rest on a single buttery puff just as the second act began.

Cameron screamed at first- he yelled himself hoarse- but if he couldn't be heard in the silence of Rebecca's room, he definitely couldn't be heard in a theater over the violin-strains of the orchestral score of a dramatic romance film. 

Inevitably, he was lifted to Rebecca's red lips, and even in the darkness he could see thin strands of saliva snap as he was invited to his digestive tomb.

A dropping molar silenced his short-lived scream, replacing it with a loud CRUNCH.

"The movie's still awful . . . but I love it when one kernel of popcorn gets a rush of flavor," Rebecca murmured to herself.