Brooke slipped out from under the refrigerator and looked up at the towering form of Logan. He was standing in front of the sink, washing Abigail off and whistling as he did so.
Brooke grinned. Well, her plan certainly worked perfectly, didn't it? She almost laughed aloud at her own success, especially the amazing timing of her ploy, but kept quiet. The last thing she wanted to do now was attract Logan's attention. Eventually, she knew he would take Abby upstairs to his bedroom or bathroom, and Brooke would have the rest of the house to herself. Once he was up there, she could tell by his footsteps and the creaking floor exactly where he was at any moment, giving her plenty of time to find a hiding place no matter what she was doing when he returned.
She had no intention of trying to get away now, though. Normally, Logan forgot all about the second tiny woman in the house when he captured the other one, but past actions didn't mean anything. He was chaotic and completely unpredictable. Sometimes he made no attempt whatsoever to catch one of his pets, but other nights he spent hours hunting through the house until he finally had a struggling little prize in his grip. Often he tried to lull them into a false sense of security, then would react with amazing swiftness to pluck her from her hiding place. Was it any wonder why she always moved with such caution, even when he was out of the house?
Even more insidious were the various traps he used to catch them. Sometimes he tried to use a ruler covered with flypaper to pull one of the girls out from under the refrigerator, for example. Hiding places under chairs and couches didn't remain safe if he flipped the furniture upside down and poured in water or other liquids to force his pets to the surface. Even the usually safe boltholes in the walls were of no use if he resorted to smoke or something similar to draw them out an exit. Usually, though, he didn't go that far. He knew that sooner or later, one or the other of the girls would get bored or hungry and come out, and that's when he usually made his move. If he failed, he eventually got fed up and went to bed, but if he caught one--well, he did the sort of things he was doing to Abby now.
The strangest thing of all was that he never kept them imprisoned, except within the house itself. Oh, he had a couple of cages and bottles around to restrain Brooke or Abby once he caught them, but always, when the night was over and he had his fun, he set his tiny prisoner free before going to bed. That just didn't make any sense, Brooke thought. Why wouldn't he just lock them up, so they were waiting for him the next day when he came home? A simple hamster cage and a padlock would do the trick, and yet, he didn't do it, not even once. Why? She had no idea. Never once, in all the time Logan owned them, had he ever bothered to explain.
After a bit Logan finished in the sink and dried little Abigail off, then headed out of the kitchen with his prize, paying no attention as Brooke fearfully scampered back under the refrigerator. His gigantic feet landed just inches from the redhead's miniature body, and then he was gone, passing deeper into the house with his tiny toy nestled safely in his palm. The thumping of his footsteps up the stairs told Brooke it was all right to emerge, and she did so with relief, relaxing as he tromped far enough away to leave her safe for the evening.
Brooke sighed and danced out onto the kitchen floor, whirling about in happiness and satisfaction. The idea with the phone was brilliant, she congratulated herself. Doing that to Abby felt wonderful, especially considering all the times she had to pay for something the little bitch did. Just last week Abby left the water running in the bathroom sink, and for that Brooke had to spend the entire evening in the tub, giving Logan a complete full-body massage under the hot water. This was retribution for that little escapade, as far as she was concerned.
Sadly, Brooke thought back to how she and her college boyfriend once enjoyed long bubble baths together back in school. Making love in a hot tub was a wonderful memory, but doing it at three inches high was another matter entirely. She got no satisfaction whatsoever in clambering around on Logan's immense, slippery manhood until finally he came, covering her all over with hot, sticky juices. Having to clean that stuff out of her was bad enough after a night of passion at normal size, but getting the thick goo off her tiny body and out of her hair was something else again. Logan always loved helping out, though. He seemed to enjoy the way he humiliated her, and that just made it all the more infuriating.
She moved over to the kitchen table, looking up and noticing the edge of the bowl high above. Logan hadn't cleaned up after himself, so the cereal was still up there, as was the milk. She licked her lips, trying to remember what milk tasted like. That hardly mattered, though. She had no intention of drinking out of the bowl if Abigail went for a swim in it! Besides, there was no way onto the kitchen table, unless she fetched her wall-climbing gear, but even then she wouldn't risk it. Climbing down would take too long if Logan came back downstairs unexpectedly.
She sighed. Logan! It always came back to him, didn't it? He was the curse and the blessing of her existence. If only someone else had found them instead of him--but what if the alternative was worse? At her size, she was completely at the mercy of anyone and everyone in the normal world.
Heading back into the living room, happy to be able to relax for a change, Brooke thought back to the first time she came into this place, the day she first learned what kind of person Logan really was...