Brooke McAllister cursed under her breath as she fought to push the cereal box out of the cabinet. The huge rectangular container towered over her by at least five or six times her own height, but it wasn't really all that heavy, and she only had to move it about a foot. Unfortunately, for someone only three inches tall, that was the equivalent of shoving a building-sized block of cardboard about eight or nine yards across a grainy wooden surface. Things like this were the reason she worked so hard every day to keep fit--that, and the fact that she really had little else to do.
The thought that the little bitch in the living room would be a great help here never crossed Brooke's mind. Never, in all the time she worked at the now destroyed research lab, did she ever ask for Abigail's aid on any project, and she certainly wasn't going to do so now!
Finally, after much grunting and heaving, Brooke managed to slide the box far enough that it began to teeter on the edge. She paused to check the kitchen nervously, afraid that Logan might've slipped inside during her efforts, but the only sound was the faint voice from Abigail's inane soap opera. Satisfied that she was safe for the moment, Brooke went back to the other side of the box, gave it one more shove, and grinned in satisfaction as the container disappeared from sight and landed with a loud slapping sound on the countertop below.
Quickly she hurried to the edge of the cabinet and lowered herself down her improvised rope. The bent staple on the end made an excellent grappling hook, and finding a piece of thread was child's play in a place like this. Once on the counter, she took a moment to shake the staple loose with a few quick jerks on the strand, then rolled up the rope into a tight coil and stashed it under the loose plastic bottom of the nearby toaster. This was not the only such tool she kept secreted around the house, for she prided herself on being ready for just about anything.
Again she paused, making sure Logan hadn't snuck into the building while she moved around. He could return at literally any moment. Normally he worked all day on weekdays, but every now and then he dropped in to surprise his tiny guests, and she needed to move fast if that happened. With the cereal box out and visible, the first place he'd look would be in the kitchen, so she needed to be able to slide down the phone cord and get back behind the refrigerator before he spotted her.
Brooke heard nothing now, not even the distant television. For whatever reason, Abigail turned it off, or muted it. Why? Was Logan home after all? Brooke waited, crouching, eyes fixed on the telephone cord, preparing to run at the slightest noise. Nothing came, so she relaxed. There was no way a man Logan's size could possibly sneak in without at least creaking one of the floorboards. She knew that much from experience.
Brooke moved over and started pulling open the top of the box, inwardly cursing the worthless little brunette in the other room. Abigail was probably even now on her way in here to try and take advantage of Brooke's hard work. She'd never lift a finger to help move the box, that much was sure--the little know-it-all would never admit someone else had an idea worth supporting, least of all her rival. She'd have no trouble picking through the spoils, though. Brooke had seen it all too many times. Abigail was such a hypocrite!
Brooke finally worked the inner lining open, pausing after each crinkle to listen carefully for any distant noises. Her mouth was watering as she finally got to her knees and pulled out a huge corn flake almost as long as her forearm. She moved over to the wall near the telephone, ready to slide down the cable at a moment's notice, and began to break her prize into tiny chunks. The thick whitish frosting on the outside tasted wonderful, and she sighed as she remembered how once she would have added milk to a bowl full of such treats without a thought. Such pleasures were impossible now, and just the simple act of getting an afternoon snack was now an adventure.
As she ate her fill, she remembered what it was like the first time she realized what happened to her...
Despite her act at the office, Brooke was anything but stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. What she lacked was training and education. College was a time for fun and parties, and as Brooke entered her fourth year at Stanford she found herself without the slightest clue what she wanted out of life. That was when she learned what a crafty mind could do when teamed up with a body like hers. A few satisfied professors and interviewers later, and the job at Miles Technology was secure.
Brooke had no idea what Miles Tech was really researching, but she didn't care, and the rest of the staff didn't seem to mind her ignorance. Fortunately, she didn't really need to know such things to do her job. Her position was one of manager, but actually all she really needed to do was motivate people--and that was one thing her college career prepared her for! A few tight outfits, a bright and bubbly personality, the occasional roll in the hay with no commitments...that was all it took to make all those uptight scientist types happy around this place. Everyone just adored her--except Abigail, of course. Fortunately, there was nothing the anal-retentive Abby could do to disrupt Brooke's careful plans. She just loved to use Abigail's nickname in public, too, because she knew how much it irritated her, and it made Brooke feel good to have such power.
On any other day Brooke might've been amused as hell to see Abigail reduced to three inches tall and picked up like some kind of tiny toy. Sadly, Brooke realized as she watched her rival drawn up into the air kicking and screaming, the same fate had befallen her, too. She looked around frantically for someplace to hide or some way out of the miniaturized office, but there was nowhere to go. Even if she could've gotten free, what then? She was so small now, she knew instinctively, that she could never survive in the world without help. Perhaps it was best if someone found her, especially a rescue worker like this one. He'd be sure to get her to safety, wouldn't he?
An instant later the gigantic hand returned, the massive, callused fingers wrapping around her helpless body, lifting her high into the sky with no effort whatsoever. Brooke was determined not to whine and squeal like the pathetic Abigail, but she was totally terrified by the sudden change in altitude. The man who carried her stood quickly, and she felt her insides rush towards the ground at the sudden G-forces. Brooke gasped, but instead of struggling or screaming like a little baby, she held on tight to the huge thumb that covered her midsection, trying not to think about being dropped accidentally. No matter what might have happened to her, she didn't want to die. As long as she remained alive, she had hope.
The titan now held her up to his face, alongside the other hand that bore the still-squirming Abby. He regarded both of them like a shopper might do when trying to decide which product to buy off the shelf. His colossal blue eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight, and Brooke could actually see the individual hairs protruding from his poorly shaven face. She just stared at him in awe.
"Wow," said the man after a moment. His voice was so loud it almost deafened Brooke, and she put her hands over her ears and trembled as the sound seemed to shake her all over. "Look at you! I don't know what they were researching in this place, but I like it!"
"Please help us!" shouted Abigail pathetically. "The singularity must've collapsed space around us as it came apart! There was a theory about that, but I didn't think it could do something like--"
"Damn, I can barely hear you!" boomed the giant. "Well, I don't really care what happened, anyway. You sure are cute like that! Two little tiny women! A couple of living dolls! I must really be living right."
He shifted his hand slightly, probably a motion that barely took any thought at all, but to Brooke it seemed like the whole world moved. She suddenly found herself dumped almost upside-down, and she tumbled with a shriek into the other palm, landing up against the cowering Abigail. Abby screamed and shoved Brooke away roughly. "Get off me!" she shouted in frustration, pushing herself back as if her rival was poisonous to touch. She stopped whimpering and scowled angrily at Brooke, leaning back against their captor's massive index finger haughtily.
"Sor-ree!" replied Brooke sarcastically. "It's not like I jumped into you or anything. He just dropped me here!"
The gigantic face continued to loom over them, and the man was grinning hugely, showing teeth like slabs of polished ivory. "Now, now, little ladies, there's no reason to fight," he chuckled. "After all, you're both in the same boat now, aren't you?" He began to laugh, as if this were all some kind of joke. To him it probably was, but Brooke just felt insignificant, like a bug in his hand. Even the fact that the high-and-mighty Abigail was just as small gave her no satisfaction at all. If only she hadn't been in that office! Yet, she thought as she looked around in detached horror at the smashed remnants of the building all around, anywhere else and she might've died. The gigantic man was standing in the middle of a pile of crushed rubble that bore little resemblance to the research building that once stood on this spot.
Brooke got to her feet, looking up at the rescue worker with a plaintive expression, the same look she'd given countless men in order to get her way in the past. "Please don't hurt us!" she shouted as loudly as she could. "You have to take us to the hospital or somewhere, so they can find a way to put us back to normal!"
He reached a finger over and pushed her backwards, his smile transforming into a cruel leer. Brooke screamed as the massive digit began to move up and down along her trim body, finally stopping to press down on her breasts. That's when she knew the horrible truth about what fate really had in store for her.
"Oh, no, I don't think you need to get back to normal size any time soon," the man called Logan said, licking his lips in anticipation. "I don't think that'll be necessary at all..."