Discovery - Part III (Patreon)

The pool was twenty meters long and about half as wide, segmented into lanes that could occupy a single swimmer each. Participants swam from one side to the other, performing several laps in what was another experiment. It was an exhausting workout to complete so many laps, yet the pool they splashed in could be uprooted and held in one woman’s arms. That one woman was Overseer Duval, standing beside one end of the waist-high table that the pool was designed for. Her watchful eyes were easy to forget about when they hovered so high, but one look outside the glass enclosure would remind anyone of the titanic scientist’s presence.

Amidst the discord of bodies splashing through the water were two arms that scrambled onto an edge. A head cropped from the surface to cherish a victorious inhale, followed by the rest of its drenched body. It was Kendall, fatigued but successful, that beached herself with an arm pumped up. She continued to gasp for air while water dripped off her orange swimsuit, the same uniform color that all the subjects wore.

“I did it!” Kendall cheered the moment she had the breath for it. She celebrated on her knees, “First! Me! I wo--”

“Congratulations!” A giant voice announced Kendall’s victory onto everyone, despite being meant for her alone. Duval clapped and bounced slightly where she stood, producing crashes of noise and a subtle rumble underneath the shrunken people. “Always so competitive, Kendall~ I’ll bring some gelato tomorrow as your prize.”

Kendall had shuddered under Duval’s booming words, but when she next looked up, a hand was there to meet her. Though she had been the first to complete her laps, she wasn’t the only one out of the pool. Sierra had been waiting there at the end, completely dry in her standard jumpsuit uniform. Kendall took her neighbor’s hand gratefully and was pulled up.

“You look like you got your ass kicked,” Sierra giggled, keeping Kendall’s arm held while she composed herself. “Congrats. You really like to win, don’t you?”

Kendall smiled but lacked the stamina to laugh. “It’s more like I hate losing,” she replied while panting, “even if there’s nothing to win. What’s gelato, again?” She was guided to a table where dry towels had been set out, eager to toss one over herself. Immediately she sought to dry her face and pull back her soaked hair. “What a shame that you had to miss pool day! This was the most fun any of the overseer’s tests has been! You must have been bored out of your mind up here.”

“I find ways to keep myself entertained,” Sierra said, stepping back from Kendall as she dried. At that thought, she turned her attention up to that towering scientist, whose clean lab coat acted as a white backdrop for that corner of the enclosure. She much preferred studying Duval in peace rather than participate in another laborious challenge.

It had been two weeks since Sierra injured her arm in one of Duval’s obstacle courses. She had committed the stunt in hopes of spending some time with the overseer, but she hadn’t expected this much attention. Her sprained arm was now the center of study for Duval’s research; Sierra was the first of the shrunken test subjects to be meaningfully injured, a title she took with no pride. Every two days, they would meet for a private check up where Duval would record precise data on Sierra’s state of recovery. One such appointment was scheduled for that day after the swimming tests, and so Sierra convinced Duval to let her tag along until then.

Sierra sought to cherish each of these extra minutes as much as she could, but it appeared that time was reaching an end. Indeed, a moment later saw two more swimmers surmount the challenge. Like Kendall before them, they slugged forward on their knees after pulling themselves up. “Excellent job, everyone,” Duval congratulated, her knees bent so that she could hover closer over her subjects. “These results look great! You should all be proud of yourselves, this was no small feat.”

Both Kendall and Sierra offered themselves forward to aid the two swimmers. Sierra offered a hand, but regretted her generosity when she heard him spit a remark. “Nothing to be proud about,” Chase said, spoken to the floor under him as he took Sierra’s help. “No small feat… It’s like we swam across a puddle.”

Sierra glared, but eased her expression before Chase or anyone else could see it. She practically dragged Chase to his feet and then turned away from him just as quickly -- a gesture that did not fly so unnoticed by him. He sighed, “... That arm of yours must be feeling better.”

“Excuse me?” Sierra blinked, then glanced at her arm. She hid it away from Chase, keeping it clutched with her other hand. “Well, it has been healing. What about it?”

“I think Chase just wants an excuse to get out of these tests, too,” Kendall joked from over the shoulder of who she escorted to the towels. “What, Chase? You never swim a few laps before?”

“I’m just wondering if she still has to do those check ups,” he said, yet to catch his breath for this argument. “If your arm is healed up, why does she need to take you away every other day?”

“That’s what a check up is,” Sierra plainly explained. “Besides, she’s also researching the recovery of people with bodies like ours. What does it matter if I need them or not?”

“You are way too comfortable about all this… It’s about--” Chase winced. His eyes pointed up along the white curtain that stretched high over them. Closer than before, the scientist was leaned in above him and the others, her smile still displayed for the sake of encouragement. Under that kind of pressure, all fell silent.

“Is something the matter?” Duval asked, the only time her smile flickered away. The air of her speech was enough to make any calm parts of the pool shiver. “No one was hurt, were they?”

Kendall motioned to Duval with both arms, signalling to her that all was fine. Sierra took the opportunity to distance herself from Chase, but not without a glance back in his direction. Of course, when asked by Duval, he had nothing to comment, but everyone in the shrunken community knew well how Chase felt about their situation. An ire had grown, if quietly, towards Duval right under her nose. Chase resented this experiment and what it had left him with, and this feeling was shared among others, this distrust towards Overseer Duval.

But the attitudes of others failed to sully Sierra’s perspective. Though she still did not quite understand it about herself, she understood the depths at which this attraction went. Whenever possible, she would openly gawk at the giantess, always amazed to be a beholder of such a tremendous sight. It had been months since she had been shrunk, yet the first few steps of Duval’s walk through the labs every morning always managed to impress her. That shockwave which represented so much weight, and the contrast onto her, a being so small and feeble that she was literally a test subject to someone so powerful. Even the idle motions that came with standing still took Sierra’s breath away, but she wouldn’t gawk here and now, not while others were joining her at the poolside.

There would be plenty of time later to simply stare, Sierra reminded herself. Not long after the last of the testers made it to the finish was everyone filling the transportation shuttle, including Sierra. Where she had once boarded the shuttle hesitantly, a span of two weeks had made her jitter not from fear, but anticipation. Out of everyone, she was the first to buckle into her seat, more excited than anyone for lift off.

A flank of the shuttle’s windows were suddenly filled with Duval’s watchful eyes. “Everyone ready? We’re making a small detour to my office first,” Duval said while doing one final headcount. With everyone accounted for, Duval stretched to her full height and gripped the shuttle with one gloved hand. A dozen people were then lifted into the air as effortlessly as that, clasped by giant fingers that tangled around the shuttle securely.

The shuttle flew at the pace Duval strolled. Outside the windows, miles of geography passed by, giant monuments that were merely typical features of any lab or workspace. It wasn’t unlike traveling by plane for the tiny passengers -- Sierra found the comparison enchanting -- but Duval crossed the halls as casually as ever. It didn’t affect her that the safety of over a dozen people hinged in her grip, to the extent that when her phone began ringing, she answered it without missing a step.

“Hello, Tina?” Duval answered, speaking up over her clacking heels. “I’m finishing up on my end, yeah. There’s one last-- oh? Oh. Err… The director?” She paused, having arrived outside her door but without a way to open it. Regardless, the conversation on the phone seemingly weighed heavier. “Now? As in, right now? … Well, if it’s the director, th-that’s important…”

The passengers all acknowledged the delay, but Sierra sleuthed for an explanation. Ever invested in Duval’s doings, she listened to as much of the phone call as she could, but with only the overseer’s side, it wasn’t a narrative that could be pieced together. Sierra chuckled, I’m so nosy, but she did catch fascinating glimpses of Duval’s career. It didn’t come up much in their few chats what kind of work Duval was responsible for, but it was evident that she was a busy scientist. Meetings and papers and deadlines, it was a stressful world that Sierra accepted was far beyond her.

She continued listening in as the conversation was wrapped up. Duval replied, “Sure. Sure. I’ll be down in the lobby in… umm, five minutes.” Sierra’s head perked up, having expected a different estimate if any at all. Thus far, no check up had ever been so brief. “Yeah, that’s great. I’ll see you soon. Bye-bye.” The phone wasn’t pocketed, instead partly used to twist the doorknob into her office. She moved as fast as she had been, as if kicked back into gear after having halted.

All was still in the room, as it was supposed to be, but Sierra felt a life in the office that the others did not. The community that they all lived their shrunken lives in was, of course, scaled to their needs. Days could be spent within their houses, the subjects living as carefree as they had before the shrinking, reminded of their size only when a gigantic scientist stomped into their neighborhood. The tests that Duval would set up, too, did not often impact anyone with the reality of their size; the environment, as it were, felt adjusted to them, even if the tests focused on their smallness. But the office, a space Sierra was exclusively growing familiar with, was not like those locations so designed to have them feel normal. It was a giant’s office, and appropriately so did it continuously weigh on Sierra that she was impeccably tiny, and that these titanic objects were in fact unabashedly mundane to the rest of the world.

The shuttle was perched onto the center of Duval’s desk, its size and weight fittingly similar to that of an ordinary stapler. Duval’s hand remained nearby while she waited for the one departure. Sierra disembarked with her bag lazily in hand, offering a wave to Kendall and the others just as she stepped onto the perfectly flat surface. She stood a fair distance away from the shuttle, but close enough so she could feel its take-off, keenly observing Duval’s prowess in lifting away something so heavy and stocked with people. It left her legs quaking to watch the trailer be plucked away in such a delicate grasp.

Duval, always one to be safe, brought the shuttle to her eyes closely for one other headcount. Confirming all was well, she turned her attention to Sierra, where her demeanor turned preemptively apologetic. “I hate to spring this on you last minute,” she began, “but I actually just got off the phone with a colleague, and our director is calling for a meeting. Would you be able to wait here for about thirty minutes? I’m so sorry about this.”

Sierra stared blankly back at Duval. The wide space of the desk felt as though it stretched even wider to isolate her. “Thirty minutes?”

“No longer than that,” Duval swore. “I wish they would warn us ahead of time, but it’s been… hectic lately, for all of us. I hope this isn’t too upsetting, Sierra.”

“No, i-it’s…” Sierra bit her lip, choking on her lie. She wouldn’t express her disappointment, not over something so trivial, but it was how she felt. Even such a minor delay felt like a cosmic attack on her -- at which point, she realized she was being too silly. She nodded approvingly, “I can wait it out, i-if it’s just thirty minutes.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Duval replied amidst a stress-relieving sigh. Her smile returned briefly for Sierra before being aimed at the shuttle. “Let’s get everyone home and… and call it a day, haha~” Taking a moment to straighten her back, Duval then exited her office. The door closed behind her, but the clacking of her heels could be heard through it, a rhythm that Sierra was linked to until it finally faded too far.

She’s definitely been busier than usual, Sierra took note. It was the first thing to her mind the moment Duval’s footsteps disappeared, but it had been a recurring thought for the past several days. Ever since these check ups began, Duval appeared to move about the labs more quickly, at least the few times she could be seen at all. As the week went on, the overseer was seeing less of her subjects, between infrequent visits and not investing as much time.

Sierra was first drawn towards the medical station atop Duval’s desk. It was the only structure there that was scaled to her size, as well as a familiar place in general, having showered there two weeks before. It rekindled that memory among others, which she sought to walk away from; she had to change out of her uniform and into a patient’s gown for these check ups, and with Duval elsewhere, she figured it best to change now. Her bag was deposited on one of the empty beds, the privacy curtain was cautiously closed, and she was soon dressed in the breezy pink gown.

The open air chilled her skin where exposed with the essence of loneliness, but the huge emptiness of the office was something she actually enjoyed. The space to think and the freedom to explore were perfect attributes for meditation, but the thoughts rumbling in Sierra’s head were not stressless. When left alone to dwell on her thoughts, it was only a matter of time before Sierra burdened herself with unresolvable worries.

Like a sharp prick, Sierra reached a conclusion: Obviously Duval’s busy when she has to make time for me like this. The hard taste of regret was in the bite of her lips and how her arms crossed. It made too much sense to ignore, that by faking this injury as much as she has, she’s added more work onto Duval’s already steep load. It was only recently that Duval’s tired streak began, the same time at which these research-heavy check ups started. Although these sessions generally only lasted an hour, that was still one whole hour stolen from Duval’s day. That could be an hour sleeping in, Sierra argued, or an hour spent getting actual work done. Instead, I’m having her babysit me for something I made up…

The problem arm was given a look over. It had been too easy to trick Duval all this time, Sierra realized. The overseer was too huge to accurately read how injured the arm was, and so she relied on Sierra’s word. She had been expected to be honest and cooperative, but Sierra knew now that she had been acting selfishly. What was I honestly thinking?! she raged at herself, her anger manifesting in a cold scoff. Even a child could tell me what I did was wrong.

So, why did I do it? Sierra dropped to a seat with a huff, immediately taking her head into one hand. She breathed through her fingers, her thoughts coming up empty. There wasn’t an answer waiting for her, but the space to come up with one herself. The outline was obvious, I just want to be with Duval, but what was left unfilled unnerved her for how out of reach this part of her psyche was. There was more to this, Sierra considered, than just a typical crush in an atypical environment.

Those thoughts had time to dwell, and then even escape her. Sierra had closed her eyes, internally at conflict with herself, yet enough time passed that she felt the issue slip away. Her thoughts went elsewhere, but then she looked to the office chair that stood a short distance from the desk. It was huge, and empty -- “... Duval?”

An electric clock on the desk told the time, and it revealed to Sierra that it had since been longer than thirty minutes. “I must have dozed off,” she grumbled, concernedly getting to her feet and pacing around the desk. It wasn’t like she could fetch Duval herself, but walking around felt better than sitting in total helplessness. She knew it possible that Duval could be uncharacteristically late, given that nobody could be perfect, but time continued to tick even after she noticed how long it had been. Eventually, an hour had gone by since Duval’s leave, and another thirty minutes more after that.

Sierra had paced around the desk two complete rotations before she succumbed under the fatigue and worry. There was yet to be a hint of Duval’s arrival, and so Sierra wondered what was to come next. She had occupied the desk for an hour and a half, and only then did it dawn on her that she was stranded. She was trapped as this insignificantly sized person atop an office desk, abandoned and at Duval’s mercy. Who else would come for her otherwise? Who other than Duval did she utterly rely on?

There was a click, and a clack. Sierra’s head popped up. It was heard again, and so she twisted towards the door. Another click-clack from the hallway, a pattern that neared closer until finally, the mighty door was unlocked and opened. Sierra sprung to her feet at the sight of Duval entering her office, washed once over with relief, then again with uneasy suspense. Duval had walked in, but the air surrounding her felt incorrect.

The door was closed by the weight of Duval’s back. She leaned against it into a hard slam of a close, enough force to make Sierra hop even from her distance at the desk. Yet Duval was unflinching to the noise, seemingly even at rest to hear it, for she lingered there against the door while her arms hung loose at her sides. She wasn’t dressed in her lab coat this time, a fact Sierra immediately noticed. The coat was instead draped over her shoulder, freely displaying her earth-colored blouse and her strict black slacks. A curl of black hair was out of place, a particularly minute detail that Sierra also took hint of.

Most pressing, however, was the silence. Duval brought energy to the room with her massive presence, at least from Sierra’s perspective, yet it all died with the shutting of the door. The scientist had no greeting for Sierra, nor a remark towards anything. She stayed slumped against the door, her only motion being to raise her wrist so that she could check the time.

Duval yawned with graceless performance, not even a palm to cover herself. Sierra didn’t giggle aloud, but the sight tickled her in a unique way. “And that’s the day,” Duval sighed, a comment edged with a short laugh and a shake of her head. She peeled off the door and into a stumble of steps towards the center of her office, perhaps the most casual of walking Sierra had ever witnessed from the overseer. “Good grief. Let’s get old Ophelia into a chair.”

Old Ophelia? Sierra shuddered in how she restrained her giggle, thinking of that silly name. She openly smiled, but in her gut, she was uncertain how to feel. Is she joking around? she wondered, weakly raising one arm as a gesture towards Duval. As the giantess drew closer, Sierra spoke up, “H-How was the meeting? I was getting-- almost, a little worried, since--”

“Not that one…” Duval interjected -- so casually, it couldn’t have been intentional, but Sierra shivered from such an abrupt reply. Duval pointed at the lavender couch, like a spotted enemy, “I’ll fall asleep in that, I just… like last time…” Sierra barely followed the slurred words, a description she dared to admit was the case. Instead of sitting on the couch, Duval dropped her lab coat along the arm as she continued walking to the desk.

Her shadow swept over Sierra, colder than it ever had before. Duval reached for her chair and pulled it towards her, nonchalantly putting on display her power to move monuments -- Sierra stumbled nearly off her feet as the massive furniture was spun suddenly out of its stillness, and yet to that point, Duval herself hadn’t said a word to her. As the woman’s tremendous weight shifted over the chair, Sierra braced for the inevitable impact. Only a short distance from her, Duval’s massiveness collapsed into the chair, the action of her lazily claiming her usual seat imposing the gravity of a comet.

Sierra was startled into speaking up, “Duval!” Instinctively, she strayed towards the center of the desk, constantly looking up in hopes that she had been recognized in the slightest. But Duval’s next sweeping motion came, a throw of her upper body forward as she hunched towards something under the desk. “D-Duval! I’m right here!” Sierra desperately called out, but the overseer did not respond. She proceeded to open a cabinet, a door to a trunk-sized fridge, and from it she withdrew her prize; a tall, thin bottle of white wine.

Without delay, Duval uncorked the bottle. Sierra didn’t believe the popping sound, but it was happening before her eyes; the overseer was drinking. It was the stinging aroma that made her blink out of her denial, confirming how true the scene was. Duval scanned the shelves of her desk and only broadly across its top. When she couldn’t find a glass, she vaguely shrugged to herself, and drank directly from the bottle. Sierra found it possible to be even more astonished, circling back to rejecting the truth all over again.

A hum of satisfaction followed the taste Duval took. Her eyes remained closed, savoring the world the wine delivered her to. Gentle sways from left to right kept her relaxed but awake, her eyes never drifting too far from the lip of the bottle. Sierra was overcome with emotion, and so much of it could have been ecstasy, had she not felt the terror of being forgotten about. In this situation, she was a speck not only abandoned on Duval’s desk, but abandoned in her memory as well. The more comfortable Duval displayed herself to be, the worse Sierra’s stresses became.

Duval took another chug -- slam, the bottle hit the desk hard on its bottom. Sierra jumped to the side, as if dodging a bomb drop from only so far away. The wine’s impact rattled her where she fell, inflicting a persistent tremble while she tried to stand. She squeaked Duval’s name again, but the giantess grumbled over her, a nondescript complaint related to some other, unspoken thought. It didn’t matter to Sierra, who had fortunately thought of a way to get Duval’s attention -- an attempt, at least.

Sierra dashed to a nearby corner of the desk where a trio of pens had been brushed aside. Behind her, she heard Duval mumbling on about a supervisor, a director, but any noise the titan made only rushed her anxiety. Short of being in a rage, Sierra crouched down and grabbed a pen by its halfway point. It was lighter than she expected something so long to be, and so it was flung to the edge of the desk, skittering once across the polished surface before tipping completely off. Sierra ducked down and cowered, watchful of how Duval might react.

It was a delayed response, but Duval twitched and grimaced. A furrowed glare of confusion was beamed at where she heard the pen’s fall against the floor. The unpleasant expression gripped Sierra by the heart, as though she had disturbed a monster from its rest. Her lips quivered into forming an apology, melting into regret for acting so reckless.

The push of Duval’s stare fell onto Sierra. Her grumbling came to an end, leaving a pause where silence stood firm. “... Noo,” she feebly whispered; not the bark Sierra had expected, but a coo. “Oohh, goodness… Sierra…”

“D-Duval?” Sierra stammered. She peeked past the arm she had risen to defend herself, but still remained coiled on the desk. It was of little assurance that Duval’s expression had softened to that of sympathy. The wine bottle was still there, present in the corner of Sierra’s vision as tall as a telephone pole. She couldn’t ignore it, nor could she forget how Duval had so casually helped herself to it.

In a fluster, Duval slid the wine aside to the opposite end of the desk, as though relocating it so little would take it out of mind. “Sierra, I-I am so sorry,” she rambled with a twisted tongue, her nervous giggles making talking that much harder to do. Her hands were raised in defense, but there wasn’t an argument stowed away in her thoughts. “The meeting happened, and, err-- I just… forgot.” She shook her head and giggled more openly, her fingers stretching outward in a symbolic flash, “I forgot. Completely.”

Still imbalanced, Sierra struggled to say something in return. There was relief that she had been noticed and remembered, but the atmosphere surrounding Duval was uneasy. Gradually, Sierra accepted the explanation that had been given -- at least, what amount of it had been hinted at. She found herself fumbling an apology, “It’s my fault! I-I’m the one taking up your schedule!”

“No, don’t say that!” Duval whined, stroking her own cheek in distress. Her volume wasn’t as considerate as Sierra knew it to be, instead being as loud as though she were speaking to someone of the same size. “How could it be your fault? I left you here all day, oh god,” she took her head into her hands and sighed between them, “something could have happened! To you!”

Sierra swallowed, forfeiting the reply she had originally planned. Duval’s frustration at herself was seemingly genuine, and her concern for Sierra’s safety was uplifting. Where a moment ago, Sierra was tripped over with fear of the massive person, she now leaned in with a desire to comfort her.

“L-Luckily, nothing happened,” Sierra explained, timidly walking forward. “I was more worried about you, a-actually. You’re never late. I thought that something could have happened to you.” She chuckled, but only to herself. It was difficult to conceive anything troubling a woman so incredibly strong, before remembering how it was Duval that lived a normal life between them.

“Ohh, I’m fine! But now I feel worse!” Duval laughed, sparking out of the dismay she was hunched in just before. “All this time left alone here, a-and you were thinking about… something happening to me.” She sighed again, her hand naturally reaching but falling short of where the wine bottle was. “I wasn’t in any, well, real trouble. As you… might have noticed by now. The director was really unhappy, and a couple of the girls-- er, colleagues, wanted to get something to drink, and… I suppose I lost track of time with them…”

“It sounds like you were having fun,” Sierra said, her eyes faltering to the wayside. She knew it was unintentional, but Duval’s explanation stabbed into her. She was an afterthought, so it seemed, and worse yet was that she was interfering with more enjoyable plans. “You sound busy… P-Perhaps we can do this tomorrow. It can wait, I don’t want--”

“No no no,” Duval hurriedly argued, trampling over whatever Sierra had left to say. “I can do it now. We can do it! L-Let’s just get it out of the way!”

Sierra shivered -- never before had she been wary of Duval’s enthusiasm. “Um… Are you sure…?” She chuckled, glancing at the wine bottle and the hand that was close to it. “If you’ve been… drinking, err…”

“I’m not drunk, Sierra,” Duval giggled, “it was just a few drinks! Wine, of all things. Look,” and as a display of her sincerity, she claimed the wine bottle and swiftly deposited it back into the fridge. “Gone! I can’t be tempted if I can’t see it! So, don’t worry about that, let’s focus on that check up. If it’s not done today, it would hold me up tomorrow, realistically…”

“Oh-- um, well…” Sierra’s feet froze her in place. The last thing she wanted to be was a bother, but it seemed no matter what angle she approached the problem, she would be interfering with Duval’s schedule. Sierra’s conclusion came with a shrug, “Yeah, we can get it done now, if you’re feeling confident.”

“Absolutely~” Duval hummed as she moved her arms over her desk, organizing the items she would need for the check up. Among the most necessary items was the microscope, a modified version of the normal tool specially equipped to study shrunken subjects. Despite Duval’s efforts to move it delicately onto the desk’s middle, it was released from her grip to produce an audible thud. “Don’t do that,” Duval groaned at the technology. As she twisted away, she spoke back to Sierra, “Go ahead and, uh, get under. I’m not... forgetting something, am I?”

Sierra warily approached the microscope like an eerie house, one that had just been erected there by a tipsy god. The thought truly did amuse Sierra, even against the flow of stresses. She never imagined she could catch Duval like this, so unlike her usual self. The cautious way she moved was only vaguely present, the professionalism left behind back where the lab coat had been discarded. As Sierra took her position on the cold table of the microscope, she thought of these differences, but acknowledged that these were not two separate people. This was not Overseer Duval, but Ophelia Duval.

The lens hanging above Sierra blinked several times as Duval situated herself to use it. “There you are,” the scientist playfully remarked, earning a jitter out of Sierra. “Hi, Sierra.”

A blush bloomed across Sierra’s cheeks. “Err… Hello, Duval,” she muttered, waving up at the lens meekly. Her other arm, being the target of interest, was spread out to her side. She intended to follow the usual procedure, but right away, Duval was treading off course. Riddled with nervousness, Sierra tugged at the edges of her gown to as far as they could cover, hoping to survive the check up with minimal embarrassment.

The process never moved faster than a drag. Every step of the procedure was fumbled in some way due to Duval’s negligence. Documents were closed without saving and other programs were mismanaged, resulting in more than one vocalized curse from the scientist. Sierra also endured from her point of view, dealing with Duval’s mishaps as they came up; a blinding light was spontaneously turned on, the bed’s angle was adjusted back and forth while she laid on it, and multiple attempts were had at successfully obtaining an x-ray of Sierra’s arm. While Duval toiled through her work, Sierra remained patience, at a minimum grateful that thus far, she hadn’t been accidentally hurt.

There was a long pause where Duval was absorbed into her monitor, long enough that Sierra nearly commented on it. An abrupt sigh of frustration escaped Duval, “Why doesn’t it want to add up?” She huffed again, then heard a little series of coughs from under her. She curiously peeked back into the microscope, confirming that it was Sierra making such a noise. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

Sierra turned redder than she had been. She blocked her lips with a fist, “I-I’m alright,” she said, her breath being held. Finally, another cough escaped her, and with it she was able to admit, “Your breath… smells like the wine.”

“Oh… Oh!” Duval lifted away from the microscope and leaned back from the desk. She breathed into her hand so that she could smell it herself, and she giggled in agreement. “Well. I suppose there’s no easy way to tell someone that. Sorry, Sierra.” She was about to sigh again, but at the last moment, withheld it. “I’ve… never thought too much about how I smell to you, o-or any of the others. Never crossed my mind…”

Sierra allowed herself to take small breaths, but it was hard to not bust into a laugh at what Duval fretted over. “It’s never an issue,” she assured her, “sometimes we can smell your shampoo or your soap, that’s it. Oh, and your morning coffee, sometimes…”

“Even my coffee?” Duval complained. “I just can’t hide anything from you little people, can I? Go ahead and step back out.”

“I guess not,” Sierra teasingly replied, giggling alongside the overseer as she maneuvered out from under the microscope. It was a second after that Sierra dwelled on how Duval referred to her test subjects, but the emotion she felt left her without a comment. Yet, the conversation itself felt wonderful -- the two had just laughed in sync, and Sierra wouldn’t let the mood slip away. Her tongue dashed into talking once standing on the desk, “You couldn’t hide your drinking habits, either. I never expected the overseer to keep alcohol in the office.”

“Mhmm, how reckless of her,” Duval hummed, skimming through notes on her computer rather than looking to Sierra. She laughed and shook her head, “Now you’ve got me scared that you think I’m some sort of alcoholic. You don’t think that, do you…?”

Sierra’s smile was unmoving as she looked up at Duval and her pleading expression. It was a face she never before witnessed from the overseer, like a new painting that deserved to be treasured. “O-Of course I don’t, I’m just playing,” she replied after Duval’s words thawed through her. “I’m not trying to judge anyone. I’m sure it gets stressful around here.”

Before replying, Duval took to her keyboard and progressed with some of her work. “It… can be,” she said, nodding her head in agreement. “It usually is, now that I think about it. That all comes with the territory, I suppose. We are shrinking people, after all, and then keeping them for research…”

Sierra kept her hands together, patiently waiting for Duval to finish her work on the computer. The data she had collected was being organized and submitted, but a long list of papers had to be printed. She was grateful for the delay it would bring, allowing her some extra time to talk with Duval -- if she could keep the conversation alive. “I c-can’t say I’m envious. It’s a huge responsibility,” Sierra said.

“For something so small,” Duval joked, her laugh cut off into a snort. “No, no, that wasn’t funny.” Having to wait for the printer, she began clearing off her desk of the equipment she had brought out -- everything was pushed to the far back of the desk, opening up a wide space around Sierra. “And there’s a lot of money poured into these projects. So much. Investors get mad at the company, the company gets mad at the director, the director gets mad at me, and that’s how the wine comes out.”

Sierra winced at Duval’s dilemma. “That kind of pressure has to be intense… D-Does it pay well? I hope it does…”

“It’s worth it. Pays well enough for me to get drunk once a week,” Duval sighed, the humor of her statement underscored by the truth of it. Without thinking about it, her arm was propped up onto the desk, causing an unexpected thud on the floor Sierra stood on. Duval then rested her head into her hand and a yawn bellowed from her, “Well… wine drunk, at least. Believe it or not, I used to be more wild than this.”

“Is that so?” Sierra smiled, quite enjoying this particular topic. Seeing Duval relax the way she did inspired her to take a seat. “That’s hard to imagine. You’re so professional and careful, I can’t picture you more tipsy than this.” But she could picture it, a detailed image in her head of what a sloshed and gigantic Duval would appear like and what she would do. It tickled her enough to hide her trembling grin.

Duval giggled lightly, “This career makes you settle down. It was for the best, some nights I would end up returning home and I would… crash onto the couch, my stomach would feel awful, I would feel awful… I was once in bed all day before I could finally get up and get myself some water.”

“Oh, wow… No one could have helped you out?”

Duval shook her head, still rested in her palm. Her eyes faded to a close, “I’ve almost always lived by myself, so that means lonely hangovers.” She softly giggled, “I don’t think anyone would want to be around me like that, anyway. It isn’t very graceful…”

Sierra despised that thought like an insult -- how could Duval think that about herself? She was unsure of what to say, but her instincts rolled forward, “I wouldn’t mind. If you were that sick, you deserve someone at your bedside.”

Duval again shook her head, laughing more into her hand. She glanced at Sierra, then back at the computer monitor and its sluggish progress with the printer. “You say that now, but I can get ornery~” She giggled again, nostalgic for a time. “No one would have the patience for that.”

“I’m not so sure. If nothing else, it would be pretty funny to see you grumpy and hungover. If I had to watch over you to see that, I think I’d do it.”

“That would be lovely,” Duval sighed, which stretched into a yawn. Left at the edge of such a thought, Sierra began to burn red, only then realizing what she had implied. Duval continued, “but… I don’t think you’re big enough to do that now.”

Sierra’s throat swelled, but she pushed through it. “I-I guess-- I suppose, yeah.”

“Even if I was drunk or hungover,” Duval reached a finger out to Sierra, the tip hovering just above her head, close enough to pet her, “it would still be me watching over little you, wouldn’t it?”

Sierra shrunk under the fingertip. As belittling as Duval’s comments were, they were not false, and the concept intrigued her regardlessly. There was nothing she could do to or for a giant, drunken scientist. Even in Duval’s most miserable state, Sierra was nothing but a four centimeter-tall test subject, leagues apart from one another. The effort of tending to someone she admired would be both hopeless and recklessly dangerous.

Duval withdrew her arm when Sierra had no reply. Her head grew heavier and her wrist weaker, until finally she lowered herself into the bend of her arm on the desk. Sierra was only a basketball court away from that drowsy expression, perhaps the closest she had ever been to Duval’s face. She felt gusts at her feet from Duval exhaling out her nose, and she noticed the gray bags under her eyes, her make-up unable to conceal every feature from such a little perspective. Ribbons of black hair piled around where her head lay, encircling her like a blanket. All the while, the hum of the printer continued, ejecting one sheet at a time.

Sierra looked down at her legs, which she had hugged into her chest. “I am l-little, but I would make good company.” She scoffed amusedly at herself, “I’d try to be, anyway. Or, I’d make things harder on you… That’s how it’s been lately, hasn’t it?” She brushed nervously at her hair, keeping her focus aimed anywhere but the giant across from her. “I hate the idea of you being sick and alone, though, e-especially with how kind of a person you are. I wouldn’t trust any other person to be responsible enough for this… I meant it-- earlier, when I said you deserve someone to… look over you.” A hard blink could not warp her away from what she had explained. She lifted her head as it boiled over, “Wh-What I-I mean is, err-- oh? Uh?”

A long and easy breath in, and a long and easy breath out. A tiny snore, and an unconscious fidget of her head. Sierra hesitantly stood and spoke up, “Duval?” An unflinching silence -- Duval had slumbered off there on the desk. Sierra thought to call out to her again, but held back, swallowing emptily instead. Sierra leaned in as she approached, her footsteps slower and quieter the closer she was to the sleeping giant. She couldn’t actually have…? she thought, but the effortlessly closed eyes and the half-open mouth was evidence otherwise.

The printer ceased its droning as it ejected the last page, but Duval did not stir from her rest. Sierra drew one step nearer, not the least unaware that every bit forward was breaking new grounds in how close she had ever come to Duval. The roundness of her facial features were looked upon differently at this angle, due in part to how the giantess was angled on her side, but their sheer size naturally left the most significant impression on Sierra. The courage to speak up once more came to her, and she too dared to graze the nearby thumb, “Duval…?”

Without a response, Sierra retracted her arms to her chest and stepped backwards away from Duval’s face. Though this massive person devoured her view with her presence, the onset of loneliness began. The hugeness of the world crept on her all over again, a reminder of how dependable she was on someone of a normal size. With Duval asleep, it was just as if she had left the room all over again, and that same anxiety returned to taint what had otherwise been an ideal interaction with the overseer.

“Duval?” Sierra tried again, this time raising her volume above her usual timidness. “They really do overwork you, don’t they?” Still no reply -- not even a normal chat could stir the giantess. Other options had to be considered, but doubt clouded them all. Sierra took Duval’s thumb into both hands and rocked it back and forth; nothing, which proved to her how incapable she could be. She was too little, an obnoxious realization as those very words still haunted her.

Duval’s stillness was like a geographic wonder, and it inspired Sierra’s solution. I’m going to have to wait, she decided in a shrug. It wasn’t a comfortable predicament, but a far better situation than being alone and in suspense over her fate. As small and vulnerable as Sierra felt, there was still Duval to protect her, even in her slumbering state. Her head and her pillow-acting arm formed a threshold to feel sheltered in, a space Sierra could occupy and feel close to Duval. As time passed in this environment, where the air was thick with Duval’s breaths and the temperature warmed by her coiled body, Sierra felt differently about her problem -- was it even a problem, to have to spend more time with Duval?

More of these hidden blessings were found as Sierra immersed herself in the atmosphere of Duval. She spent a minute uninterrupted simply starting at Duval’s lazy expression, part of her expecting the giantess to wake up, the other part appreciating the view. From there, she scoped out the rest of Duval’s body and how it ran off the desk like a mountainside. The arc from her shoulders and down her back, or the peak of her head and its blanket of hair -- all were places that Sierra wanted to stand, like a traveler on expedition, but no place called to her more than what had spilled over the edge of the desk.

Boobs… Sierra could ignore them no longer. How Duval had slumped onto her desk, unconcerned for her posture, had brought her breasts up onto the desk. Her scoop-shaped collar boasted her cleavage significantly, one hill partially on top of the other to form a crevice only Sierra could appreciate -- only she would ever be aware of. A chilling tickle lured Sierra towards it, driven by lecherous intentions.

No further than a few steps from where she was did she stop herself. Sierra swallowed her sinful thoughts, “That’s… asking for a lot.” She couldn’t commit to something that unsavory, not while the guilt of two weeks ago still festered within her. The truth never did come up, and it had no reason to, that Sierra had masturbated inside a glove used by Duval. Greater than her perversions was her desire to not make a list of matters like this. “I’m already lucky enough,” she chuckled, not forbidding herself from an extensive viewing of the cleavage. “Maybe, the luckiest.”

Talking to herself, she realized, was begging for trouble, no matter how hushed she was. A stutter that began one of Duval’s breaths easily threw Sierra into uneasy twitches before learning that the giantess was still asleep. It was risky enough doing just what she was, wandering around Duval’s space. She feared the repercussions of being caught, but she couldn’t deny that such worry was what amplified her excitement. That lingering possibility restrained Sierra equally as it encouraged her, to test the limits of what she could get away with.

She broke out of her trance by whipping around, facing instead towards a ribbon of hair that unraveled down Duval’s arm. It guided her back towards that lop-sided expression, the face of a monument toppled over and sentenced to rest. Unlike a moment ago, Sierra had almost no guilt for taking a few strands of hair into her hand as she strolled by. Her fingers sifted through the threads as though passing under the blossom leaves of a tree, so delicate and light in her grasp yet it sprawled about with such volume. The scent of it clung to her hand after it passed through, the sweetness of a fruity shampoo which enraptured Sierra further in this orchard she had dreamed.

Following the hair had lead her, unsurprisingly, closer to Duval. The idle breaths of her sleep were no longer so passive, as each exhale had enough push to be a gust against Sierra’s approach. She hadn’t realized until then how close she was, doubtlessly closer to Duval than ever before. The face she observed dwarfed her, so large and wide that it couldn’t all be seen at once any longer -- it was unlike a face altogether, but rather a wall with sculpted features that resembled a face.  A beautiful and charming face, if Sierra had to describe it.

Sierra sealed the image in front of her to memory, cast away in a blink. “Duval…?” Sierra said, as loud as she had been before. One eye peeked open to see that her little voice still had no effect on her. She thought to reach out and touch a cheek, but she favored touching her arm instead, shaking and stroking it with both hands, to no avail. “You just pass out, huh?” Sierra laughed to herself, a brief remedy to her worry. “I did say I would watch over you…”

Her hands, so Sierra found, hadn’t removed themselves from Duval’s arm. Some of her weight leaned into the limb which stretched out like a toppled redwood. It was heavy and firm, as much as she could feel beyond the brown fabric of her blouse. Her fingers curled, massaging more than just the shirt but into the skin. Her reach spread outward so that the space between her hands widened, eventually becoming a hug into Duval’s wrist. Like a standing bed, she leaned her chest and cheek into the arm, so intimately close to the slumbering woman that she could faintly sense her pulse.

Sierra’s eyes closed. She sank into tranquility, a headspace where her thoughts echoed back to herself with great clarity. Questions became unavoidable, and so she pondered upon them, What am I feeling? What does this… achieve? Her mental image of herself scaled back, and she pictured herself as what she truly was, a speck of life that was attached to this superior being -- smarter, wiser, and so much stronger than her. She recollected a time where she wasn’t this way, before she shrunk for this experiment. What would Duval be like? What would she think of me? The relationship they had, certainly, would be different, but would Duval still be this godly?

The peace Sierra had acquired was abruptly broken by a jolt. The land-like Duval quaked, a shiver of movement that saw her arm inch away far enough that Sierra nearly fell forward. The tiny woman caught herself only so she could buckle down to her knees, quickly ducking into a defensive position that cowered under Duval’s weary glare.

But the giant eyes did not scan Sierra, and she felt this. Sierra sensed something amiss, and through her paralysis she shot up an arm, “Duval, Duval! Don’t move yet!” But the eyes wouldn’t turn down to her; the head rose off the arm, and while Sierra watched with utter fascination--

Slam, she was mercilessly shoved. Faster than she could have expected, Duval’s arm reeled back towards her enormous body, and the minuscule test subject on her desk was carried along. It was a race towards the edge of the desk and Sierra put forth every effort to stop herself, grinding her feet hard into the desk’s surface but failing to slow any part of Duval down. There was a squeak of a gasp, another shout to Duval that went unheard.

Duval’s torso moved as well; the scientist was stirring from her unplanned nap, and so she peeled herself of the desk as part of a waking stretch. Sierra gathered as much within the panicked moment, but what she gleaned most vitally was where Duval’s arm was unconsciously dragging her. Her destination, as it were comprehended, appeared over the desk’s end, a crevice of Duval’s body that was revealed by the scoop-shaped design of her blouse.

Sierra jumped -- a survival instinct, but she knew too well the shame that would follow. An instant passed and Sierra was face-to-face with what she had reached for from afar, forced into Duval’s bosom from a seemingly divine force. She immediately scrambled over the flesh, her sense of direction lost as she stumbled backwards along a surface too plush to find a foothold. An arm shot from Sierra, an attempt to grab anything -- a lock of hair, which had fared no better than her in getting caught between two behemoths of flesh. A glance back to where she had came terrified Sierra, for so quickly had she soared up high alongside Duval’s awakening.

The shade of Duval’s arm brought Sierra’s attention upwards, the very arm that had swept her in. It was completing its motion, the huge hand arriving at the mouth to intercept a yawn. It was a breathtaking sight, and an incredible noise; Duval’s yawn expelled a wail from her unglamorous expression, like an engine roaring to life and then steadying back to a relative calm. When Duval’s shoulders dropped back down, so too did her chest fall back into place. Sierra was thusly thrown deeper into the cleavage, with nearly enough force to have bounced her out of place. She gasped and again coughed up Duval’s name, but she couldn’t even look to the scientist for help. The bobbing of her breasts was akin to two waves of an ocean that threatened to swallow Sierra, and appropriately so, the tiny woman swam against the softness, sputtering out shouts that continued to go unheard under the bellowing yawn.

Then, all was at rest. The storm had subsided, the world shifted because of one unconscious yawn. As spontaneously as all the motion had begun, so too did it end, leaving Sierra to endure the results. All of the shaking and rolling had left her in a daze that she mentally fought out of, so that she could understand her miserable position. Judging by the stricter tightness that trapped Sierra, she assumed correctly that Duval had laid back down on the workspace, and in such a way that her chest was pressed flat into the edge. “N-No,” she immediately gasped, but there was no further denial. The giantess remained stationary, with such extreme weight that it seemed impossible that something so huge could move again -- though Sierra certainly knew better.

An untrapped arm smacked against the hill in frustration, “Duval! Wake up! Duval!!” Her pleas went unheard, of course; not only was the overseer too deeply asleep, but Sierra was trapped in a blindspot that no one would think a person would be. Panic bubbled within her as she rapidly ran through ideas to be rescued, but nothing was promising. All she could figure to do was struggle and yell, as fruitlessly as she had been. She put herself in that giant, faraway perspective, and how trivial a grain of rice on her chest would be to herself, something so ignorable and possible to look over -- she was worth less than a stain on the scientist’s clothes.

She could only stare up Duval while pinned between her breasts, helplessly yearning for this woman that was cherishing an office nap. The uneventful quiet from the sleepy office gave too much clarity to Sierra’s thoughts, allowing her to dwell on her perspective. It was dire, doubtlessly, and the suspense of another idle movement wrestling her into submission was always present, but ultimately, she was trapped somewhere soft, warm, and calmingly pleasant. Her drumming heart had eased into a regular pattern, and her immobilized body was not so tense. It was, after all, the overseer’s bosom that she was stuck to -- Duval’s boobs, her thoughts stagnated, I’m really here squished between her boobs…

Where Sierra’s freed hand had fallen along the slopes of skin, it massaged and pushed. They were gentle touches, just enough to test the plushness and to confirm just how real her situation actually was. In reflection, Sierra mentally laughed at her predicament and its incomparable nature. Facing a huge world in a shrunken body had always felt unreal, but this was a literal fantasy come to life. She was short of suffocating between two enormous breasts, the massive woman behind them none the wiser that she had a stowaway in her bosom. It was all too like a dream, and Sierra feared the inevitable rude awakening.

The meager allowance Sierra had to move was not going to achieve freedom anytime soon. She rocked her torso back and forth in a harsh wiggle, “Duval…! Please, wake up!” Her cry was hoarse, even less likely to stir Duval. Her writhing had only earned her a surprise plummet, sinking deeper into the valley of skin. If squirming was only going to submerge her more, she simply stopped resisting. She swallowed, overcome by the stillness that she now shared with the immense body.

Breathing was all Sierra was left able to do, but even that basic function revolved around Duval. The atmosphere was like a steam due to the scientist’s contained body heat, and thus her scent was impossible to ignore. Through her mouth and her nose, Sierra was breathing off the air of Duval’s body and nothing else. While the fruity aroma was not particularly offensive, it taunted her for being that same clean smell she had teased Duval about earlier. It was a subtle detail exaggerated into a constant reminder that she lived on the overseer, a straggler on Duval’s expansive body.

Sierra grunted and pried loose her other arm. With it, she stretched forward and dug her hand into the softness, pulling herself forward a marginal distance. The progress was too disheartening to continue. She withdrew her hand from where it had plunged into the cleavage, but then took note of the moisture along her palm. It puzzled her for a moment before she huffed, “Sweat…” It was rubbed between her fingers, its particular scent a semi-pungent standout from the soap she otherwise smelled. “It’s… Duval’s sweat…”

A laugh ended the lofty silence. Sierra muffled her voice directly into the skin, shaking her head in disbelief that fate had taken her here. A cosmic joke, karma sent from a greater force; whatever it was, Sierra found humor under the danger. She could very well die like this, squeezed flat between two hills of flesh because Duval fidgeted while napping, yet that very scene made her laugh again. Sierra dwelled on what she had done to deserve this, and it was no mystery. I wanted to live like a pervert, and so I die like a pervert, she maddeningly concluded. “Duval,” she whimpered, “Duval…!”

She regretted it all -- faking an injury to lie to Duval, hiding in her used glove while she was away, any and all efforts of her own to get closer to the overseer. Their relationship was meant to be professional, this was supposed to be a job. Sierra attacked herself, The money wasn’t good enough, was it? I wanted to be held and adored by a giant woman, too, so here I am. Stuck to her skin, like dirt waiting to be brushed off.

Sierra’s head hunched forward, her laughing having dwindled into a jittering giggle. Her arms stretched outward, spread around her in a circular swirl. She felt the mounds that enveloped her with the entirety of her limbs, pulling the fat inwards to her as if burying herself in autumn leaves. The flesh would retract away from her and jiggle about her body, an entertaining effect that she playfully repeated.

If I’m going to die here, then I get to enjoy it, Sierra explained to herself. Her cheeks flared with a red color, her temperature on the rise to compete with Duval’s. Few hesitations stopped her from groping the breasts again, and with each massage and pull at the flesh, it felt less like a woman’s body and more like an aspect of land. Duval wasn’t forgotten about, but her image was made more significant, holier. Sierra laughed and dove her head into the pillowy skin, nuzzling up and down with reckless motions, thinking to herself that she had fallen in love with a mountain.

Kisses came when her lips grazed some of the sweat. They were pecked about furiously, a giggle peppered onto each spot. The kissing became licking, and that escalated into wide strokes of her tongue going between the cleavage. One arm swirled like it had, but the other was given a task between her legs, squeezed into the tight crevice and worked into the bottom-front of her hospital gown. Wrong and right faded to the abstract in her mind, representing a morality that was vague in the confines of this dark, steamy world. She succumbed to it, to becoming little more than a human perspective warped into a lowly speck.

It was divinity that sentenced her here, so her logic followed, it could only be that same divinity to will her free. Every touch and kiss, every grope and lick, perhaps could be a prayer -- a desperate wish to this goddess, sent from a nigh-hopeless worshiper stranded somewhere on her majestic body. It was a fantasy that immersed Sierra and her miserable lust, but she soon sensed from all around her that, somehow, she had been heard.

Everything moved, but Sierra wouldn’t notice until the breasts themselves bounced from Duval’s motion. The world had suddenly jetted forward for Sierra, but it was Duval shifting backwards. Her seat rolled with her and her body peeled off the desk, but Sierra struggled to comprehend what was happening in the normal world outside her prison. It was all a sickening blur to look at while she rocketed upward, a mere attachment to Duval’s body as she rose up into a proper seated position.

“Ohhh, goodness…” Duval’s announcement began lethargically, her words morphing into a wide yawn that bellowed like a great wind. Sierra remained bunkered down after being bull-rushed by gravity, but there was no proper defense for what she was experiencing. It was the second time that she faced the ordeal of Duval’s heavenly stretch, but she was no better off than before. She braced herself, but when the giantess’s shoulders finally relaxed, there was no avoiding the drop. As though the cleavage hungered, Sierra was wedged deeper.

Both arms shot upwards in frantic waves. “Duval!! Duval!!” All anew did she try shouting up at the overseer, but being plunged further into the cleavage, it became even harder to call up to her. Flesh spilled over top of her, and her fight back to keep an opening available resulted in her falling further still. There was no winning, and worse yet, Duval was still moving, repositioning herself into a normal sitting posture. Every idle shake that the scientist thought nothing of was another quake that doomed Sierra into a deeper part of this suffocatingly soft trench. Only one arm still flagged past the surface, a muffled last attempt, “Duval, please…!”

“I’m sorry, Sierra,” Duval replied -- so it had seemed. Sierra froze with suspense upon hearing her name in a groggy grumble, but the huge face hanging in the sky did not turn her way. Duval blinked and massaged her temples with a thumb and forefinger, ever blissful that such movement was ushering Sierra further down her sweat-lined chest. “I-I think I dozed off for a moment. Were you saying something?”

As much as her binding allowed, Sierra jumped with her mouth aimed high, all to propel one more shout, “I’m on you, Duval, I’m stuck to you!” She tried again, but the darkness overcame her, leaving just the tips of her finger to claw at the cool office air. Sierra’s sobs filled the little space she had to herself with a humid despair.

“... Sierra?” Duval said her name, more curiously than before. Sierra’s hope still kicked; “S-Sierra, did you wander off? How long was I…?”

Blind to what was happening past the globes of flesh, Sierra could only guess what all the movement was about, but what she imagined was not far from the truth. Duval hovered above her chair, lifted out of it while she surveyed the desk once, twice, and thrice -- “I didn’t… put her away, did I?” Items were shuffled across the work space, everything being turned or picked up once, then set aside until the main level of the desk was cleared of everything but the keyboard. When her subject still hadn’t been found, Duval rushed to peek into the medical station at the corner. She checked behind every curtain and in the showers as well, but Sierra was nowhere to be found.

“No…” Duval stood completely out of her seat. In her hurry, her chair was rolled backwards, and she whipped back to make it still -- as still as her. Each of her movements going forward were calculated and specific, leaving her frozen in place while she gazed around her office. “Oh god, no,” she murmured, too nervous to even wipe away her beading sweat.

After a pause of consideration, Duval spoke with confidence, “Sierra, where did you go?! Do anything to tell me where you are!” The sense of emergency was apparent in her tone. There were no tipsy jokes or casual comments, but an understanding of the situation’s severity. Her head raced with protocols she had hoped, and expected, to never have to utilize, but for the immediate time being, what she could possibly do was limited. Every step, every action, put Sierra’s life at risk.

Sierra would have cried had she not been so panicked, so eager to be discovered. She chanted Duval’s name while swimming upwards, but she soon realized she had sunk deeper than she thought. Not even the cool air of the outside could be felt, for she was entirely drowned under pillowy flesh. It tormented her to hear Duval’s voice, which resonated from inside the body she was so close to. The concern was a rope tragically too short to be grabbed, but it was the one chance she wouldn’t let pass her by.

A barrage of kicks and punches stemmed from Sierra where she was trapped. In any direction and without any regard to the giant body, Sierra spasmed in a full assault for Duval’s attention. She forced open as much space between the skin as she could, throwing any part of herself into the walls. Each blow bounced back and coated her with a touch of sweat, but having unleashed her panic, Sierra spared no mind to these details. It was truly pathetic to resort to such mad desperation, but it was far more respectable than suffocating inside Duval’s blouse.

At that same time, Duval happened upon a possibility. She had studied her desk to figure out the method Sierra had left the desk, at which then her focus turned from beneath her, to onto her. With as little movement as she could, Duval brought a hand to her shoulder, then down the other arm, gently sliding two fingers along the places Sierra could be. There was no other way off the desk, not unless Sierra miraculously became an expert at scaling down furniture by hand. This left only her body as to where the tiny woman could be.

Her hands patted at her clothes while she concentrated on every square of her skin. She looked foolish patting herself down while standing behind her desk, she knew as much, but it was a necessary caution. Even her chest had to be examined with these tender grasps, Duval unable to rule out the possibility. She smirked halfheartedly, thinking, Certainly she did not go into--

Duval twitched upon feeling a lump. A moving lump, situated between her breasts. She stared straight down, both tickled and itched by what she felt, but ultimately held in wonder. “Sierra?” she whispered quickly, not instantly seeing a hint of the woman.

Light showered onto Sierra with a swirl of fresh air. In her squinted vision, she saw figures seep into the flesh nearby, digging into the softness without any trouble. Fingertips, Sierra realized, and just as effortlessly did they widen the cleavage. The wall-like breasts separated and opened the view to Duval’s gasping reaction, granting Sierra merciful relief -- only for it to be whipped away from her.

In her surprise, Duval flinched and pulled aside her breasts too far. It took only that instant for Sierra to slip, not at all prepared for the breasts to be moved. The moisture slid her deeper than she thought the valley went, and then further still. Just as she dropped from the bosom entirely, she was bouncing off the brown fabric of the blouse, tossed into the dark underworld of inside Duval’s clothes. From above, sparse light continue to shine in, but Sierra had slid out of Duval’s view, screaming as she plummeted down the towering body.

Too terrified to close her eyes, Sierra loosely watched the world around her be reshaped. She felt it as well, that Duval was surging into movement in order to rescue her. It happened so fast, despite how gargantuan every motion was. The distant sight below, of the tiled floor that a pair of high heels stood upon, was swept away by the black of Duval’s slacks. The giantess was sitting down, throwing herself into her office chair just as Sierra was at her stomach. Her lap was flattened out, making for an emergency platform that Sierra landed on. Twice she bounced along the firm surface, rolling down the legs like a ragdoll until Duval perked her knees up. As an additional safety measure, Duval also blocked off Sierra’s path with both hands, forming a wall that encircled the tiny woman’s position on her lap.

The harsh stumble had left Sierra dazed and breathless. Up and down were just suggestions while she came to, dizzyingly reaching out for support that wasn’t there. The spinning had made her sick, but she was too exhausted to even cough. She rose only as far as being hunched on her knees, both arms propped forward and pressed into the pitch black ground. The texture of processed wool was smooth under hands, a hint that she had yet come to terms with where she had fallen.

“Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” Duval bombarded Sierra with her worries, leaned in over her test subject. One hand disconnected from the circle it had made so it could be there for Sierra, offering a fingertip that she could support herself with. Originally, she had wanted to scoop the woman into her hands and immediately carry her to safety, but Sierra’s staggered movements had her wait for the time being.

Duval stuttered over herself, at one point trying to lecture Sierra before devolving into an apology, which itself was mostly her berating herself for such carelessness. Sierra lifted a quivering hand to signal to Duval, but what it meant was uncertain. When she tried to explain herself, her throat was empty. Her mind had only then accepted that this black-dyed terrain and its peculiar roundness was, in fact, Duval’s thighs. Once having comprehended this, Sierra could think of nothing else, surveying her baffling surroundings. She looked to her hands and knees, how casually they graced this personal area of the overseer.

“Sierra! Speak to me!” Duval urged. An instinct to shake her leg for emphasis almost manifested, but she managed to sustain being motionless.  “Please, t-tell me you’re okay! I won’t forgive myself, p-please, sh-show me you’re okay…!”

It was enough to snap Sierra out of her trance, but she still babbled when it came to saying anything. She waved at Duval, but could not crane her head back enough to look at that mountain peak head. “I’m alive!” she called out, the first thing that came to mind. It was genuinely her best evaluation, otherwise unaware if she was harmed or in danger. “I’m… alive…”

Seeing that a fingertip was waiting for her, Sierra grabbed it by the nail and used it’s offer to stand up. She took a step forward without it, but immediately tripped off the rounded ground of Duval’s legs. Her stumble left her face-first in the crevice that was her thighs, but unlike Duval’s bust, this cleavage did not threaten to absorb her. She hurriedly crawled back up, grasping the fingertip and keeping it held while she regained some composure.

“You look exhausted,” Duval muttered, still teeming with nervousness -- Sierra could sense as much beneath her, how the legs just slightly swayed and rumbled. “H-How’s your arm? Tell me if anything, anything hurts!”

“I-I think I’m okay,” Sierra said, stroking Duval’s finger with both hands as if trying to calm the panicked scientist. “Really. I-I’m… alright. Nothing hurts, j-just dizzy-- erk,” her shoulder recoiled, the same arm she had landed on two weeks ago. Once again had it been injured, rolled over on top of at least twice when she spiraled down Duval’s body. “Well… m-maybe my arm,” Sierra scoffed, a half-chuckle at her predicament, “it may have been whipped a bit too hard.”

Duval maneuvered her fingertip so that it could lift the arm in question. The limb was dainty compared to the thick finger, drooping back to Sierra’s side the moment it was let go. After a quick study, Duval returned to supporting Sierra’s balance. “You poor thing… You just can’t catch a break.”

“I-I don’t know about that… I think, actually, I’ve been really lucky.” Sierra didn’t wish more stress onto Duval’s shoulders, so she shuddered away from mentioning how scared she had been. Truly, had anything happened differently, she likely would have become a splatter somewhere on the floor, or somewhere on Duval’s body. To end up dazed on the overseer’s thighs and with her tenderness being showered onto her, Sierra admitted, spoke volumes of her luck.

But just as Sierra was beginning to relax, Duval dragged her back to moments before. “What even happened, Sierra? Y-You could have died… Surely you realize that?”

“I do,” Sierra coughed, “I-I’m sorry. It won’t-- I swear, I won’t do that again.”

“What did you do? That’s what confuses me the most.” Duval frowned, burdened by this curiosity. She felt the little body shiver against her fingertip, a sign that something was being hidden. Her mouth stayed open during a pause, “Sierra… y-you were in my… shirt. Between them.” Her lips curled inward, not much more comfortable to bring up the subject than Sierra was.

Sierra hesitated to reply, instead wallowing in her own heat. Those moments from before, as dangerous as they were, felt so fantastic and so adventurous, but when retold by Duval, it was shameful and belittling. It had not been some grand tale, but a miserable anecdote, where her existence had succumbed to being little more than lint stuck to a person’s body. Her head swirling among those thoughts, it was a challenge to speak up of anything, when the truth was as ridiculous as any lie.

“Sierra?” Duval pressed it again, dissatisfied with silence. Though her volume was considerate, it stung with a serious tone. “How did it happen? D-Did I do something when I was drunk…?”

“No,” Sierra answered that fast enough. It ached her just to think of Duval misinterpreting things that way, that she had done something selfish and sinister in her drowsy state of mind. “I-It wasn’t like that, it was just an accident. You moved your arm and I got, well, pushed in.” Though finally peeling that off her chest felt relieving, it also left her exposed to the cold judgement. “I… got up close to you while you were sleeping. If I had stayed where I had been, then…”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that in the first place,” Duval sighed, “but… true, you really shouldn’t have been there. What made you do that? I-I could have done anything in my sleep th-that could have hurt you, something worse than this. I wouldn’t even have known about it-- I almost didn’t know about this!”

“I was trying to wake you up! Yelling your name a-and even nudging you, none of it worked. I was too small, I…”

Duval’s hands gently formed around Sierra into the shape of a platform, ushering her into silence. Without argument, Sierra allowed herself on, and was then elevated slowly up to level with Duval’s eyes. Even when she wasn’t being looked down on, Sierra trembled in her vision. She sat on her knees and with one arm hugging the other into herself, awaiting to be lectured for her actions.

But instead of that, there was a pop of a question. “Why?” Duval asked as much, but seemed as confused as Sierra did regarding what she herself meant. She elaborated, a small shake of her head, “How can you be so comfortable around me? Why don’t I scare you…?”

Sierra still struggled to understand the question. When it was as simple as she initially thought, it was a muffled laugh that first responded. “A-Are you trying to be scary? Sh-Should I be scared of you?”

“... Yes! A little, at least!” Duval rippled with giggles that poured past Sierra, pooling around her and tickling her into her own fit. “O-Obviously you shouldn’t be terrified of me, you can trust me. But I am this… walking, breathing skyscraper of a woman to you. I’m huge! T-To you, anyway. Doesn’t that, err, bother you? Don’t you know-- you must know, Sierra, th-that when you’re around me, it would be… just, so easy. Something could happen to you.”

Sierra kept her head down, wishing for her bright blush to go unnoticed assuming her warmth didn’t give her away. The exact word choice Duval used was secretly exhilarating, for it was quite rare for her to speak so openly about her size. A pun here or there sometimes slipped out of the scientist, but the topic was usually avoided or mentioned vaguely. She wanted to hear it again, a recording to repeat of Duval admitting out loud, “I’m huge!” Such a cheery bounce in her voice, and so plainly stated.

She hadn’t meant to leave Duval on hold, but the silence spoke for her. Duval’s amusement trickled away. Before Sierra could reply, Duval submitted her own answer, weighing it in her head several times over, “I… get it. I’m sorry. Maybe it was more obvious a-and I should have noticed earlier.”

Sierra lifted her head, but much of her riled hair hid her eyes. She could see Duval’s grounded expression, notably how it glowed with its own redness. She leaned in inquisitively.

“It’s… important for me to know. It’s important for both of us, s-so I’ll just ask. Are you feeling attracted to me?”

It was like a car crash, a violent collision that began as just a glimpse of oncoming traffic. The question circled around Sierra like a predatory animal, cursing her with a frozen spell. All the fluster-made heat in her body was expelled and a chill settled in its place. Sierra swallowed, painting a smile for appearance’s sake, “What do you mean by that?”

Duval withheld a sigh, having lured Sierra in her hands closer than she realized. She glanced away, thinking her big eyes might overwhelm the shrunken woman when she was clearly at her limits already. “It came up in our debriefings, but I didn’t think it would happen. An effect we were warned about with the shrinking experiment was that the changes in perspective and power could… alter your ability to form relationships. That’s just part of why the lab is organized the way it is, with the subjects living together in a simulated community. The intent was to keep everyone socializing at a normal scale. Life was supposed to remain as normal as possible for you all, including who you interact with. Then, there’s our relationship, as an overseer and as a subject. It was considered that a shrunken person could theoretically develop an attraction for their overseer due to our height difference. You still process me as a human, but I’m… also more than that. A lot more, c-compared to you or any of the others. I’m big, a-and not like how an adult is to a child.

“I’ve noticed you a few times, especially recently, that you can end up… staring at me.” Her seriousness briefly collapsed with a giggle, “I-I don’t pay that much attention, mind you, but I’ve felt you looking at me. And I’ve felt you wanting me, enough that I’ve considered that your arm’s injury might have been a little exaggerated.”

Reflexively, Sierra gripped the arm that had been hurt, shuddering with genuine pain. “I-It is real!” she stuttered, looking between it and Duval’s observant eyes. “If you think these check ups aren’t valuable, th-then we can just stop them. I don’t want to be in the way…”

“It isn’t about that,” Duval assured her, raising her smile in hopes it might relax Sierra. “I’ve never minded our check ups, in fact, I’ve looked forward to them. But, if you really do have feelings for me, wh-whatever those feelings might be, it’s important for us -- and the experiment -- that we be on the same page.”

Yet Sierra’s heart still pounded as though she were caught in a trap. She regretted everything in that moment, from choosing to approach Duval while she slept, to as far back as signing up for the experiment. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she confessed, “I-I just felt alone. And you’re… always there, always looking after us…”

“I understand, Sierra, I do. When you’ve become that small, it’s natural to want to be cared for and to secure any kind of power.” Duval tilted her head, hoping that Sierra was following along. “It makes sense you would do so much to build a connection with me. I’m… big and powerful and independent. You… You’re not. It’s only natural that someone in your position would want more.”

Sierra fell silent while reflecting from what had been suggested. Could it be as simple as Duval phrased it? Certainly there was something that pulled Sierra towards the overseer, something strong enough to make her want to breach the standards of their relationship. This attraction wasn’t normal, she agreed with Duval on that. It was beyond anything Sierra had felt before, so certainly some element of the experiment was to blame. But she also wondered, what if that was the case? If her gravitation towards Duval was due entirely to being shrunk, or because of Duval’s role in the experiment, what of this affection had for her? Was her longing for Duval just a side-effect of being made tiny? Was this ever a sincere attraction?

“Sierra?” Duval asked quietly. “I hope I haven’t upset you.”

“I’m not upset, but…” Sierra started to speak, but her words sifted through her fingers like sand after only that much. “It’s… a lot to think about. It has felt like I haven’t been my usual self lately.” She brushed a hand through her hair, fixing the places that most bothered her while her tired expression remained downward. “I… I feel like a creep,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, Duval, really. I promise, none of this will happen again, I’ll stop getting in your--”

“Sierra, dear, i-it is fine! Seriously!” Duval giggled, her palms curling in towards Sierra but not closing in around her. “Your attention is flattering, after all! The way you look up at me has always felt just a little different from the others. It’s… more amazed, to put it one way. It feels special, and I suppose I haven’t minded it before all this time. Admittedly, i-it does build confidence to feel… worshiped. As if I were a god with… a little follower.”

Duval broke from her mumbling and into a laugh, her shaking too much for Sierra to not bunker down. “Sorry, sorry~ I think I’m still working through that wine, haha… What am I talking about…”

“R-Right,” Sierra swallowed, not speaking loud enough to be heard. She twisted where she sat; at the very least, what Duval said served as a distraction from the prior topic. Her heart beat to the rhythm of that fascinating concept, looking up to Duval like she was a god, and she did so then. The overseer was impressive and massive and anything she whimmed at her scale was made real, like divine intention. She giggled, which may have eased Duval, but truthfully what tickled Sierra was her wish for that to be reality. She wished that Duval were a real goddess to be worshiped, and that she be rescued from the anxiety of this lab experiment.

Duval stood up, reforming her hands so that a protective shell was around Sierra. “Ohh, Sierra, I’m… I feel awful,” she explained as she turned the corner around her desk. “Just awful. I’ve put you through so much because of how careless I’ve been. I owe it to you to at least take you home as soon as possible, let you get some rest after today.”

“Wh-What about our-- err, my check ups?” Sierra asked as the door was opened. She stammered in her hurry to come up with an excuse, “M-My arm is still sore after that fall, and--”

“We’ll definitely be meeting again,” Duval interrupted, intensely focused on keeping her steps stable through the halls while she carried Sierra around. “I… can’t say exactly when, but I’ll let you know.” She offered a sympathetic smile, which brightened when she saw that Sierra was turned around to look up at her. “Hah, there’s a lot from today that we need to discuss. But, I do look forward to having that time with you, Sierra. You’re always pleasant to have around.”

There was more Sierra wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart to argue. The afternoon had been eventful enough, and Duval promised that there would be time to talk in the future. She recalled how excited she had been before to have a private appointment arranged with her, but now that same prospect produced dread and anxiety. Looking forward had strangled her into a silence, persisting up until she was standing on the one street, offering her farewell to Duval.

Sierra shuffled into her house, lacking the energy to even flip on a light switch. As weakly as possible, she undid her gown and let the fabric pool at her ankles. She only made it as far as her sofa before she rolled into it, gracelessly spread out upon the furniture. Her face sunk into the cushions, but its softness stirred memories, and those memories cast away the delusions that enveloped her. The living room, the house, the neighborhood; it was all a lie to hide reality, the truth of how small she and the others were. As normal as everything felt, she saw the shadows behind every surface, viewing everything like it were a theater prop pretending to be real. It was all too cramped, constricting, suffocating.

A desire then formed, like a pit in her stomach. She understood little as to why, but she wished for it be fulfilled. The world outside the community’s glass walls called to her, with all its dangers and freedoms. Only out there and in Duval’s possession did Sierra feel genuinely alive.