Patrice was on her feet, a step away from the couch, peering down at.... she wasn't sure what.  A woman had stood here a moment ago but then there'd been lights and confusion and things Patrice's mind wouldn't accept .  And now the woman was gone, leaving what looked to be a child's toy, a doll, behind.  But where had she gone?  Patrice stared dully at the doll on the floor, trying to concentrate, to get the roaring in her brain to stop.  Dimly, she was aware of Bryan standing next to her, of movement as he bent to the floor, then stood again, hand on her arm.  She looked over at him and saw he'd retrieved the silver object the missing woman had thrown before she disappeared.  The object that had enveloped Gwen in its glow before she disappeared.

'Where'd she go?  What happened to her?'  Patrice's heart was beating a mile a minute, her fear ebbing maybe, but the recent hammerblow shocks still dazzling her, leaving her adrenaline levels jacked way too high, brain awhirl in the remnants of a brandy haze.

'Oh, she's still here,'  Bryan assured her.  'She hasn't gone anywhere at all.'  He beamed in satisfaction as he looked down before him.  Patrice followed his gaze to the little object lying on the floor.  A doll, is all, she thought, just a...

Then the doll moved its arm.  Its head turned, its hand went to the floor.  Pushed.  The doll staggered to its feet and stood still.  Patrice looked closely, disbelief still in charge of her perceptions.  Slowly she allowed herself to realize this wasn't a doll standing before them.  This tiny unclothed figure was a living woman, the very woman, in fact, who'd burst in on them.  Bryan's wife.  Gwen.

Patrice stood amazed.  This thing, this device could shrink people.  The shrunken  woman on the floor before them was proof of it.  A shrunken woman who alternated  looking down at herself or else at the the too-close carpet, apparently in shock.  'She wanted to do that to us,' Patrice breathed.  'Make us like that.  Why didn't it work?  Why didn't it shrink us?'

'Out of range, I think.'  Bryan's smiled.  'I told you,' he lectured the little figure on the floor, 'You didn't know how this works.  You were too far away, seems as if.  Wish I  knew why it went off by itself when you threw it, though.'  He frowned briefly, but his smile immediately reappeared.  'But all's well that ends well.  Don't you think?'  He turned to Patrice for confirmation.

Patrice's eyes were glowing as she stared at Gwen.  The concept of a living person being changed like this, to be shrunken in size while otherwise remaining alive and well, had never occurred to her.  She'd never imagined it but she was finding she liked it.  She crouched down and reached toward Gwen, who instinctively cowered away.  'She wanted to do this to us, to me?' Patrice breathed.

'Looks like it,' Bryan agreed.  'Don't know how she found out about this or how she got hold of it.  She was trying for us though, that's for sure.  Both of us, either of us, who knows?  Who cares, now?'  He chuckled as he very carefully put the shrinking device on the top of a bookshelf.  He turned back to see Gwen backing away as Patrice crept toward her, both arms reaching out.  Gwen stopped with a jolt as she backed into a wall and suddenly Patrice swung her hands together, one high, one low, her left wrapped around her shrunken prey's bare legs, the other cradling her naked shoulders and back.  She rose to her feet holding her captive in triumph.

'She's real,' Patrice announced.  'I can feel her move.  She's alive.'

'Obviously,'  Bryan observed.  'But maybe you should put her down,' he suggested.  'You could hurt her if you're not careful.  We wouldn't want that.'  He gestured to the bookshelf.  'Put her up on that,' he suggested.  'Not the top shelf,' he added.  'She might be tempted to try something up there.'  His eyes glanced to where the silver shrinking cone safely rested.

Patrice reluctantly deposited her burden on a middle shelf but stood close, her eyes only inches away from the shrunken trembling form.  'She's shaking like a leaf,' she told Bryan.  'I think something's wrong.'

'Nah,' he said, glancing over.  'She'll be fine.  She's just a little shook up.'  He leered at his tiny, cowering wife.  'You're OK, hon, aren't you?' he taunted.  'A little chilly, maybe, undressed like that.'  He looked to the side and saw Patrice's light jacket hanging on a chair back.  He plucked it up and spread it on the shelf.  'Here, you can borrow this,' he jeered.  Wordlessly, numbly, Gwen reached out and drew a  corner of it around her.  It was like crawling under a collapsed tent but it was cover.  Something warm.  A place to hide.

Bryan looked around to see what Patrice was doing.  She had stepped back and now was raptly gazing at Gwen and him.  With a full-sized person for comparison, Gwen's new size was more fascinating than ever.  Patrice reached out to grip Bryan's arm.  'We can do that to people,' she breathed, not a question, not quite a statement.  Her skin was flushed, her eyes glowing.

Suddenly she was beside him,  embracing him, while her hands were busy tearing at his clothes.  Buttons from his shirt flew across the room as she pushed him back onto the couch, her mouth pursuing his.  His surprise quickly turned into a passion to match hers as his pent-up release from earlier danger combined with the full realization of the power he now held.

************* **************** **************

Gwen was overwhelmed.  The past few minutes were a blur of surprise, fear, shock, bewilderment.  Too much, too sudden, too fast.  And above all, too much out of control.  Gwen didn't have much adult experience of being out of control and she had absolutely no skill at dealing with it.  Still her consciousness struggled to reassert itself, refused to surrender to the panic lurking in her, refused to beg.

And all at once her brain snapped back to attention.  She looked out from the enormous jacket covering her, fully aware of where she was and, more importantly, what she now was.  She well remembered the girl who'd been her victim earlier that night and all too well she remembered her homecoming.  And its obvious consequences.  Still everything was strange to her.  She was on a giant-scale  bookshelf next to giant-scale books, in a huge living room laid out just like her own, but nothing was familiar.  In spite of herself, Gwen couldn't restrain a chill of fear as she accepted, a little, what she now was: tiny, an altered, shrunken, woman.

Her contact lenses had vanished at the same time and in the same way as her clothes, so her view of objects even a few feet away was blurred, but she could see the living room couch and the two enormous beings wrapped together on it well enough.  Their movements and their mutual immediate intent were plain.  And there was nothing wrong with her hearing or her sense of smell.  A distant, calm part of her was shamed  but her dominant reaction to the hugely magnified lust nearby was not of shock.  It was compounded of fear overlaid with dim sights and clear sounds and an overpowering musky aroma.

She was getting turned on.

Gwen had never been a voyeur, had never been interested in the sexual activities of others.  Truth to tell, even the satisfaction of her various partners had always been of secondary importance to her; as long as she got hers, that was enough.  Things were different now.  The helplessness she had to acknowledge and the unprecedented  situation of being surrounded by gigantic lusts blended together.  The blurry sights, the sharp, sudden sounds, above all the overwhelming smell of sex kindled her in a new way.  Without thinking about it, Gwen began to touch herself, to fondle herself, to clutch at herself.  Dimly she was aware of Patrice's shuddering cries and Bryan's low moans but her own perceptions surged to the foreground and soon her own gasps and shouts  were part of the chorus of sound and emotion in the room.

She couldn't say how long it lasted.  Minutes? Hours?  It was a long time, too long a time but somehow not quite long enough.  Eventually, spent, her consciousness retreated again, aware of where and what she was but little else.  She felt more than saw it when her covering was momentarily raised some while after that, felt more than heard the sigh that followed it, was totally unaware of the shrug that Bryan gave as he turned away and staggered to the bedroom, leading Patrice by the hand.

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