Discovery - Part V (Patreon)

“... as well as being able to move the Rook around the showfloor, we also have the ability to raise and lower the floors themselves, allowing us to bring attention to particular areas.” Duval demonstrated such features by rotating the structure and using a remote to alter its height. She was eager to gauge a reaction from her audience, which stood before her atop a mobile table. Sixteen subjects had been arranged, only three of which were familiar faces to Duval, whereas the others were lifted from terrariums looked after by other overseers. Yet it was Duval that was elected to lead the upcoming showcase, just as it was her task currently to explain the procedures the subjects would be a part of.

Impressions were positive, with nearly everyone awing at the structure presented to them and its unique properties. Nearly everyone -- situated at the rear of the crowd was Sierra, her arms crossed as her attention swayed to other corners of the studio they had been transported to. Not long ago had she been taken here before, a private and improper excursion offered by Duval. The Rook and its neighborhood of fake buildings had changed marginally since that time, and so rather than gasp and mutter about the feature like the others did, she instead looked directly to Duval where their eyes met and their smiles were subtly exchanged.

“But this is just the outside,” Duval continued, her hands clasped together excitedly. “I’m sure you all are interested about what you’ll actually be doing inside the Rook. Let’s all take a look and get comfortable, shall we?”

Sierra’s heart fluttered as Duval approached the wide platform she and the others were on, sensing the minute quakes of every footfall as it traveled up the table. She studied Duval intensely as the scientist wrapped around their positions and began lowering the platform to ground level via a mechanism on the side. While her peers were aflame with discussion about the Rook and the thrill of being able to travel outside the labs, Sierra was fixated on Duval, blatantly staring up at the massive person, her heart thumping the lower the table sunk. She earned an unexpected prize when her staring, she assumed, was assertive enough to make the overseer blush and look astray.

The subjects walked to the Rook’s base as if invited to an exclusive club, the height of such a structure imposed upon them like nothing their shrunken lives had seen before. It truly felt like a real, albeit elaborate building, despite its shortest form standing half as tall as their overseer. Their intrigue continued to rise as they entered the elevator within, but Kendall was jittering with anticipation as she walked alongside Sierra.

“It’s so nice to be out of the neighborhood!” Kendall stretched, relishing the new environment. Her arm swung down, nearly hitting Sierra beside her. “I can’t believe I got picked for this -- and you, too, Sierra!”

Sierra shuddered away slightly while brushing her elbow. “Pretty unbelievable,” she admitted, taking a gander over the other subjects. It was the first time in awhile that any of them had met new faces, let alone with folks equal to their size. Sierra felt especially cramped in the elevator, being surrounded by figures that were notably more fit than she was; athletic builds and confident postures alike belittled Sierra, who knew very well that her acceptance into this showcase was the result of smudged results.

Knowing that, however, was empowering in its own right. When the first floor was revealed, opening to the same physical fitness center that she had secretly explored before, Sierra immediately looked out the window to Duval, her ankles the only part of her in sight. That was her friend, she was reminded, a friend far bigger and more significant than anyone standing inside the Rook. A friend that was willing to bend the rules of her company just for her. As impressive of a structure as the Rook was, nothing interested her more than the giant towering over it.

Said giant’s face was then in full view of everyone after the Rook was risen and she had knelt down. Duval sported a microphone that wrapped over an ear and down to her mouth, too small to hide her grin. “Um, check, check?” Duval tapped the microphone, both her voice and her taps amplified within the Rook through speakers planted all along the inside of the chamber. “Hello~ Wave if you can hear me. Am I coming in clear? Good, good! I’ll be able to communicate to you through this when we’re on stage together.

“But, for now, welcome to the fitness floor!” Duval’s hands spread to her side as if revealing the blue-tinted room they had already entered. Curious subjects were already ahead of themselves poking around the various equipment; treadmills, weights, and other fitness equipment were arranged alongside heart monitors and exercise balls. A swimming pool sized for minor competitive uses was also built into the floor, though it remained unfilled; “Once we get the water generator ready, you can absolutely go for a swim! Err, of course, only if you’re assigned to the fitness floor.”

Kendall peered over the empty pool, hands at her hips. “I forgot that this is all just a… weird performance,” she chuckled, glancing at Sierra. “Where are you hoping to be assigned? I wonder if we’ll be paired up.”

“I don’t know yet,” Sierra replied, pretending to cast interest over the gym’s supplies. “I don’t think we can be a pair, though. Duval said earlier each floor will have a male and a female.”

“Oh, lame. Hah, knowing my luck, I’m gonna end up with Chase.” Only after saying his name did Kendall look back to make sure Chase was on the opposite side of the floor. “I hope I get a fun floor, at least.”

Sierra nodded, wondering the same thoughts as Kendall. She had already lucked out being selected for this procedure and would be spending so much time with Duval, so she had little concern with how else the dice rolled. “I’d like a relaxing floor,” she replied, putting aside how favorable fate had been to her. “One of us is ending up with him, though. I just know it.”

Duval then directed the subjects to continue up the Rook to explore the other levels. The next stop introduced a scene far flung from the one before it; rather than a gym cast in a blue light, the second floor was an illusion of an outside world, with a grassy lawn and stone pathways which connected the various locations. Here, everything was cast in a brilliant green, from the gardens to the plowed lots, and the tool sheds to the empty pond.

Greater than before were the subjects astounded by this new floor, Sierra included. She squinted through the surprising green color, stepping outside into an open stretch of grass. Under her feet was real dirt, and others were quick to point out that the vegetation growing was all genuine. Duval introduced this room as the cultivation floor, a glimpse at what agriculture will be like for a society of tiny people.

The tour continued, each earning unique reactions from the crowd. Subsequent floors included a work floor and commerce floor, chambers that expressed more modern and mundane aspects of life through the perspective of a cubicle office space and a typical grocery store. This concept peaked with the day-to-day living floor, which represented a stable household fit for a shrunken family. Above this was another natural experience, an outdoors floor designed like a forest mixed with both shrunken foliage as well as ordinary flowers, left to be big compared to the little people between them. After this was a return to normality with a floor dedicated to dining, a fake restaurant near the top of the Rook that allowed the subjects to see nearly eye-to-eye with Duval outside.

“Are we gonna get real food?” Kendall was quick to ask, hovering beside a dining booth along the curved wall of windows. She took a seat while Sierra sat across from her, testing the comfort of the setting. The view outside their table was a marvel to behold, though while Kendall looked out across the horizon of buildings, Sierra instead gazed at Duval, whose head bounced around the tower with bubbling enthusiasm.

“You will!” Duval replied over the intercom. The answer was a surprise to Kendall, not having expected herself to be heard. “There won’t be much food, just enough for the demonstration, but everything you see here is intended to be functional. We hope that one day,” she scoffed, knowing it to still be far, “entire societies could actually be living like this! Maybe not in the Rook, specifically, but with all the conveniences of normal-sized life.”

Sierra exhaled upon hearing Duval’s reply, her emotion turned away from Kendall. She would not speak of it, but there was a bitterness that weighed on Sierra with every new floor they toured, and the mention of conveniences tipped her to her own attitude. Though there were many outstanding features that the Rook heralded, none of it mattered to Sierra. Whether it would be a stroll under shady trees or enjoying a date in a five-star restaurant, all of this was inaccessible to her, so long as she dreamed of sharing it with the person she loved. All of these conveniences, truly, had been left behind along with her normal-sized life.

The subjects were then taken to the final and highest floor, a tier dedicated to luxuries and leisure. A purple shade set the tone as a scene of nightly pleasure, as though the volunteers had been taken to a high-class resort. They were in awe of their elegant surroundings, the entire floor a lounge with long couches, a square dance floor, three mini-bars, a pseudo-home theater, and two hot tubs. The open space allowed for maximum comfort, with the design intended to emphasize formal parties of special occasions. The atmosphere was of a lifestyle few participants had ever lived, particularly so with Sierra, who felt largely out of place in this room of decadence and prestige.

Meeting them outside the windows was Duval’s eyes, which were level with the luxury floor when the Rook was extended to its full height. “We expect this to be the most immediately impressive of the floors,” Duval explained, “at least… as far as the investors are concerned. If you ask me, I think the cultivation floor is a much greater achievement…”

The huge eyes then centered on Sierra, who for once seemed immersed with the setting. She strolled alongside the curved outerwall, touring the floor without Kendall following her. It was embarrassing for her to admit, but she was enraptured with the high-class environment. She felt rich simply walking through, admiring the postmodern imagery and the collection of liquor shelved behind each bar. Curious of that in particular, she took a bottle down, only to be surprised to find that it was empty -- all the bottles were just props for the show.

Sierra looked out the window ahead of her after glossing over the pinot noir she had taken. She had felt a concentrated gaze on her, and she smirked upon making eye contact with the overseer. She giggled nervously, prompting Duval to speak over the intercom, “I’m sure most of you will want to be stationed here, but it’s a lottery that decides what floor each person is assigned. We wanted this experience to be as… impartial, a-as much as possible...”

The stutter in Duval’s remark made Sierra smirk as she handled the empty bottle, well aware of just how impartial this process has been. “It’s a shame none of these are full,” Sierra said, as if commenting to herself -- her glance hinted otherwise. “I wonder if someone got to it before we could…”

Duval’s face lifted with a pout, her stare quivering on Sierra. She couldn’t say anything about that tease against her drinking habits, not without drawing suspicion. Instead, she simply poked at the window, gesturing to Sierra with its quiet tap. Sierra muffled her amusement, returning the empty bottle but with her thoughts lingering on it. An empty wine bottle, a prop, resonated within her as a symbol of her conflicting emotions; elegance without substance, a beauty to bewonder and nothing else to it -- a wish for fulfillment.

Sierra was joined at the bar by another subject. Leaning against one of the stools was Chase, his typical disgruntled expression aimed at the shelves of empty spirits. After her glance over him, Sierra returned the bottle exactly where it had been. As she did, Chase sighed and asked, “No chance of us having anything to drink if we’re stuck up here, huh?”

“... I suppose not,” Sierra replied, her head turned away from him.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked across the tier and all of its luxurious features. “This is already blatantly unfair, isn’t it? Some people get to relax up here all day, while others are going to be working on a farm. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

Sierra bit her lip, but not her tongue. “You could back out if you wanted,” she let slip her thoughts. “It’s a volunteer project. Why’d you come along in the first place?”

“Get some fresh air. Look around.” Chase rotated a shot glass while listing his mundane desires. “You don’t seem very excited, either. Why are you volunteering?”

“Well, I…” Sierra froze; it was not a complex truth that had her hesitate, but its simplicity. “... Duval chose me, I didn’t want to make it complicated for her. And, maybe I wanted some fresh air, too.”

Chase nodded. “Wouldn’t want to upset the overseer, right?” He slid the shot glass back and rose from the stool. “I wonder where she’ll end up putting us in this Rook thing.”

“She said it would be random -- a lottery.”

“Yeah. She said that.”

Sierra’s eyes narrowed on Chase as he left to join the others, his odd tone lingering in her mind. Wondering his implications distracted her so much that she nearly missed Duval’s directions for everyone to exit the Rook through the elevator. The tour was complete, and the Rook would not be seen again until the day of the showcase. Sierra had one week to mentally prepare for the adventure that travelling across the state would be -- a week to wrestle with anxious emotions and ever changing expectations.

The day of the showcase. Preparations began before sunrise. Sierra thought herself to look tired, but Duval seemed entirely sleepless when she appeared before the terrarium with a greeting that forced enthusiasm past the deep bags under her eyes. The first procedure worth the early effort was to load the subjects for transport, of which the other volunteers for the showcase had already been put into. Their homes, being so doll-like, were unlatched from their properties and carried into a large windowed vault where they would be docked securely inside. Referred to as the safehouse, Sierra thought of it as a cage that their homes were shelved into, limiting their freedom throughout the hours-long trip.

The travel itself was steady, yet Sierra still felt sick along the way. The safehouse was stored in the back of a closed truck, watched over by two scientists nearby. She had no sight of the world rapidly moving by outside, but she felt the distance being made, the speed they were going. Kendall and the others were content in their houses or out on their patios, but Sierra wrenched over a sickness on her sofa.

Ironically, it was when they had arrived that the shrunken subjects most felt jogged by the motions around them. The safehouse was taken into a secured room located at the convention center, and from there, they were given small packages containing their outfits, custom made to fit the floors they were assigned to. As such, this was also the reveal as to where they would spend the showcase and what role they would be performing.

Sierra gasped at what was in her package. It was a clean silk dress with matching gloves and footwear, a stylish design fit for elegant occasions. She tried to process what this meant, but her embarrassment befuddled the normal conclusion, that she was assigned to the luxury tier. Even when she accepted that reality, she had difficulty accepting the dress itself. She held it against the jumpsuit her and the other subjects wore, but she could not picture herself in it. Never before had she worn something so classy, and yet she was expected to be an example -- A model, she anxiously thought. Regardless of how she felt, she put on the outfit with an embarrassed grimace aimed at the mirror. She thought the shimmer was too much, that the collar was too low, and the back -- there was no back at all, exposing her skin no matter what posture she tried to take.

Sierra waited outside her home, her arms crossed over her chest as she checked in every direction. She blinked as her eyes darted from figure to figure, searching for the iconic white lab coat and rubber gloves of her overseer among the movements of the stage crew and assistants. Rather than see Duval, she heard her; the clacking of heels, still distinct even in the flustered environment. It was from someone Sierra had glossed over, only then realizing that the woman approaching them was in fact her: Ophelia Duval, appearing not in her work uniform, but a dazzling blue dress with a thin silver line down a flank, her shoulders and arms fully exposed, her wavy dark hair radically done-up and styled with an appealing shine.

Duval appeared far brighter than before, greeting the subjects with a smile as she leaned in towards the safehouse’s window. “Good morning! Er, again,” she said. “The showcase should begin in about an hour. If there’s anything you have left to do, now’s the time to do it!”

As if warmed by tender sunlight, Sierra showered under Duval’s glamorous presence, genuinely stunned by the beauty she witnessed -- not once had she expected a change of attire from Duval, though it made complete sense that she would be dressed for the part of a showcase presenter. Their outfits, to that end, were quite similar in their sparkling elegance, but Sierra could not even compare herself to Duval. In the gown she wore, she felt silly and out of place, especially compared to the clothes other volunteers wore; overalls for the cultivation floor, workout attire for the fitness floor, and other setting-appropriate styles clashed together as one mob of people waiting to be taken to the Rook.

Sierra savored that moment and its peace, knowing it would be fleeting. The process continued at its rapid pace, with Duval guiding everyone into a transport trailer and then moved over to the Rook. Despite being so close to her, Sierra still felt alone and distant from the woman she hoped to share this moment with. While loading into the Rook’s base, a bite of doubt gnawed at her after yet another glimpse of Duval; she would have stayed back with the others and waited for Duval to return, had she known the event would unravel like this. At least, that was what Sierra was telling herself, her eyes always drawn to where Duval lurked out of view.

At the top floor, Sierra stood away from everything, her hands close to herself as if afraid a single touch might break something. Chase was with her, dressed in a tuxedo that appeared purple in the luxury tier’s light, much like everything else. It had earned a scoffed giggle from Sierra that Kendall had been wrong about her luck, but she wondered just how much chance was truly involved with her being selected for the most desirable floor. That feeling of not belonging lingered as she hovered around the furniture, saying nothing to Chase as Chase said nothing to her.

The Rook moved, wheeled forward by Duval’s pull. The whole floor rocked slightly, but it was intelligently stabilized to make movement almost entirely unnoticeable. The jerking motion was enough to upset Sierra’s balance, and so she slumped into a chair by the windowed wall. Despite the movement being the source of Sierra’s dizziness, she was intrigued with the view of the world and how massive everything was. Perhaps the others did not mind as much, but Sierra shivered intensely to see so many normal things backstage, including the people that thundered by, their footsteps lacking the grace and consideration of someone like Duval. Indeed, she was a beacon of reliability for Sierra to observe, her hugeness providing comfort and security whereas all others imposed fear and worry.

The lights backstage dimmed. Stagehands hurried around the Rook as Duval wheeled it. An announcement could be heard beyond the Rook’s walls, bellowing from faraway speakers. Sierra held her breath, and so did Duval -- the showcase was beginning, and the unseen audience was ushered to take their seats. More lights went black and backstage crewmates quieted themselves, making way for a host that would act as the primary speaker. The music that occupied the auditorium faded, signalling the start of the presentation.

Duval kept an arm wrapped behind the Rook, her fingers nervously stroking the glass. Sierra saw as much, glancing to the back of the luxury floor and seeing her long fingers slide and brush along the glass. Somehow, it was comforting to know that Duval was as stressed as she was, perhaps even more so. After all, her only responsibility was to maintain a normal appearance for hundreds to see, while Duval would be in charge of so much more. Sierra was drawn to the back where this hand was, quietly placing her own hand where the pointer finger was on the other side.

“Good luck, Duval,” Sierra whispered. Her eyes went up above, to the intercom speaker hidden in the ceiling. She smiled, wondering if she could be heard by Duval like she was able to the week before. The shiver of Duval’s fingers did not go unnoticed.

The introduction began with the speaker first going over the fantastical concept of shrunken society, listing examples of where this could improve life, the conveniences it could revolutionize. Its lofty description made the idea seem ridiculous, but of course, that was part of the sell. Once hooked, the host passed the conversation onto Ericka Slate, continuing where it had been left off. She spoke highly of Shoote Labs and the sheer genius among its ranks, the incredible work ethic that made “it” possible. She posed it wonderfully, what this “it” entailed, and her smile lured the audience into a wanting applause.

Duval stuttered, “I-I-It’s time! Th-That’s our cue!” She cleared her throat and breathed away the last of her trembling, posing herself as confident and strong with every footstep forward. So obsessed with looking presentable, she nearly forgot the Rook, quickly lunging back to pull it along with her. Sierra chuckled, but her amusement was diminished as the Rook was seeped into blinding stage lights, and drowned by a rainfall of cheering.

“Introducing…” Ericka waved her arm to stage right, as if the one to cast a light in that direction, “... your first look into what a miniature life has to offer.”

Duval stepped out onto stage along with the pillar that was the Rook. She made no effort to bring attention to herself, instead letting the glamor of her dress and the strength of her strut speak on her behalf. Eyes were not directed to her, but the eight floors under her watch, the different colors separating each moment of life from the other. On stage, it was difficult to peer directly inside the windows, but the tiny movements confirmed that there was life bustling about in each tier, and the three giant screens that lined the back of the stage all displayed close-up views of the various people.

Sierra flinched into one of the bars as she noticed the telling purple color appear on one of the massive screens. She feared a camera was on her, but it was pointed onto Chase situated at the other half of the floor, lounging with an empty book in hand. Before long, the camera was onto someone else, but Sierra still trembled, never knowing when and from where she would be watched. Her dizziness was swelling again, and getting even worse, as the Rook began shifting its height and adjusting the gaps between floors.

Each floor was given individual time to be shown off and explained, a few words detailing the aspect of life it represented. Sierra prepared for this moment, but even with as much time as she had, the sensation of being watched hit her with a hard, cold wave. She inhaled and looked around the area she had mindlessly strolled into, her lip bitten as she thought of how to present herself. While the points of a luxury lifestyle were being mentioned and talked aloud, Sierra was stiff, flustered, and awkward -- I’m ruining this, she told herself, I’m ruining it all for Duval…

But a pleasant hum spoke to her from above, a gentle voice that her and Chase both heard. “Just relax and sit down,” Duval whispered, spoken just into the microphone clipped to her. “Anything you do looks perfect. You’re nailing this.”

Sierra unfroze, though her mind went blank while processing Duval’s suggestion. Without delay, she slowly spiralled into a lounge chair, sinking into the plush material and exhaling some of the excess stress. She saw Duval outside, the luxury floor made level with her shoulder. Just that glance of Duval’s lips, or the hair that swung into view, was capable of inducing relaxation into Sierra’s bones. Not realizing that a camera was pointed onto her, she smiled calmly and massaged her back into the chair, depicting the leisurely moment that was desired of her.

“Good job guys,” Duval spoke again, her voice barely audible over the round of applause the Rook had received. “Now for the hard part. Chins up.”

The presentation on stage was moving onto more advanced topics, and so the Rook was taken off the stage floor and down to audience level. Members in the audience, composed of esteemed scientists and investors, were allowed up-close viewings of the tiny people within. Duval was always on guard as she passed by the rows of seats, calm and collected while she knew her subjects were looked over. She read the expressions of those that looked in, the gasps of awe that overtook every single person to witness humans at such a tiny size, thriving in their simulated worlds.

But it was not at all joyous for Sierra, who had since clambered over to one of the bars for support. She was frightened by the many eyes that rushed into view, the countless giants spying into this little world she was trapped in. Her back bumped into the wine shelves, her hand instinctively flung to the bottles to prevent them from falling despite not being the case. The feel of the bottles resonated to her touch, adding to that persistent dizziness with its reminder of alcohol -- she was disoriented, beyond being just dazed or sick. Outside the window, eating at her view wherever she stared, was the grim reality she had chosen. Normal people studied her like some sort of zoo animal, normal people living their normal lives without understanding the weight of their movements, the consequences of every careless action.

Sierra grew faint, and she resided in a lounge sofa for the remainder of the showcase, huddled into a corner while maintaining only the most base level of awareness. Don’t ruin it for her, she scolded herself. This is so important for Duval. She trusted me. Don’t ruin it. These thoughts repeated in her head, only easing on her when she looked out the windows and to Duval. She wished to be held in the hand that managed the Rook, finding greater comfort there than to be locked inside this strange conflict between two realities.

Fortunately for Sierra, the end of the showcase was near. Duval, the savior she was dreamed as, directed the Rook back towards the stage floor. The presentation was formally concluded, but members of the audience were allowed and encouraged to gander at the miniature marvels as they dispersed out of the auditorium. Eyes more eager than earlier were keen on prying into the little lives, acting as one final test of endurance for Sierra. She tried to ignore the giants and how they thundered outside the tower, but not even Duval’s presence could ward off every unwelcomed look. Indeed, some investors were close enough that they poked at the glass, their tapping striking fear into Sierra’s heart as though they were beasts trying to get her.

The last curtain of onlookers was pushed past. The Rook was pulled back onto the stage through an incline and then ushered to the darkness of backstage. Even Duval had seemingly hit her limits, ushering through the crowd during the last leg with a particular impatience and meeting the stagehands with sluggish, tired reactions. She contorted the Rook down to its base height, gently tapping the roof proudly. “Good job, everyone,” Duval said into the intercom. “That was just amazing -- no other way to describe it.”

Sierra exhaled with a smile that crept wider the further away from the stage she and the others were taken. It unburdened her to know that Duval was pleased with the showcase, though she reflected on the matter in hindsight, wondering if she did her part well enough. Was her anxiety-caused slouching really going to win over any investor? The moment felt impeccably revolutionary and yet simultaneously dull and unmoving. She did not quite understand the measure of success, but she believed Duval, like she always did; more than ever, she wanted to console with her and talk, as if this had been another obstacle course or check-up where they could spend time afterwards together.

On the way through the backstage maze, Duval was called over and stopped. “Ophelia, over here!” The friendly greeting came from Ericka, cutting through a pair of stagehands in order to reach her. Sierra felt the rumble of Duval’s superior, though it was a rumble only she imagined, a recollection of how this woman once loomed right over her in a deadly situation. “Exciting presentation, wasn’t it? You did amazing, you looked great!”

“Hah, well… thank you,” Duval replied, her blinks a signal of her flustered thoughts. “Y-You were wonderful, too. The whole team was. Including them,” she giggled, patting the Rook’s roof again, “we were all great--”

“Indeed, about them. I’m headed to hotel security as it is,” Ericka said, her fingers already starting to claim the Rook from Duval’s grasp. “I figured I would see it off and let you get a headstart on dressing down.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” Duval stammered, “but that won’t be necessary.” She moved the Rook and all of its occupants closer to her, but Ericka’s grip was maintained. Sierra watched the scene from her perspective, only able to clearly see the hands and how they grappled the walls of the building. “I’m fine, I-I just need a little water on the way there.”

“You deserve more than just a drink of water,” Ericka giggled, reasserting her take on the Rook. “Don’t make me make it an order -- I have the others waiting at the VIP lobby, a big party in the ballroom is being set up. Lots of investors will be down there, you don’t want to miss these connections.”

“Err, I’m sure I don’t…” Duval sighed, letting the Rook slip from her possession. Ericka was persuasive with her upbeat attitude and, of course, her authority as a supervisor. This was no place for an argument, in any case, and so she was won over. The Rook was pulled from her, Ericka offered a smile of appreciation, but Duval stooped low, keeping the Rook from leaving. “J-Just a moment,” she requested. Ericka nodded, allowing Duval to have her goodbyes.

Sierra felt uneasy about the transition the moment Ericka took over. She paced around a circle of lounge chairs, nervous of something, though she could not quite describe it. Chase, certainly like the others, was nonchalant -- beat and overwhelmed, they cared little about who saw them back to the safehouse. But Sierra wanted Duval, yearning for her through the glass. She went up to the window as Duval knelt before it, hugging one arm as if to console herself.

“It was fun working with you all,” Duval said, forcing a positive expression. She glanced all through the floors, identifying the people she had gotten to know and work with, but she was naturally most attached to the subjects of her own domain. She smiled down at Kendall, then stared into the luxury tier where Sierra and Chase were posted. “I know this was a lot to take in, and it was probably scary. I seriously appreciate everyone’s work, even if no one else understands…”

Duval bit her lip, an emotion only the highest floors had a chance of noticing -- Sierra did, her spirit flinching at the emotion she studied. Before separating, Duval pressed a digit against the glass of the luxury floor. The lone pad of the finger spread across the window, just level with where Sierra stood. It appeared to be a gesture meant for everyone, but the weight of Duval’s eyes weighed on her singularly. The face, as widely sized as it was, spoke to her in silence. Sierra hesitated, but she offered forth her own hand, planting it against the glass with the finger, just like before.

The finger tapped, twice. Little beats, barely producing a sound, but distinct and audible. Sierra shivered as the vibration traveled up her arm, but she kept her hand there. A pause went by, then two more taps. The rhythm was the same, and Duval’s stare seemed intentional the longer it persisted. It came with another hesitation, but Sierra then tapped the glass back, her palm lightly smacking the glass the same cadence. To this, Duval grinned, and she tapped the glass as before once more. Immediately after, she was being twisted out of sight; the Rook was being moved along, navigated by Ericka. Sierra clung to the glass, following the curved wall and the picture of the giant, blue-dressed woman that was pulled away from her.

Duval disappeared, whisked away by her peers and lost behind busy workers. Sierra slumped away from the window, falling back to the tower’s center. Ericka had no words for the people under her watch. The walk to the secured storage room of the hotel was straightforward and silent, without so much as a remark even as Ericka unloaded the occupants from the Rook’s base into the grid of homes within the safehouse. From her patio, Sierra watched as the last of her neighbors were returned, and subsequently, the closing of the glass door that contained them. Ericka soon departed, leaving the safehouse behind with a few dimmed lights behind her.

Sierra wanted to collapse, but as exhausted as her body was, she could not find the peace of mind to lay herself down. Though the couch called to her, she chose to stand, feeling unfit for some time to move beyond where her feet were rooted. She felt like a package, some item from a stockage of others like her, and equally as lifeless as such an object would be. It was these cold thoughts that inspired her to find comfort in her living room, slipping under a blanket and curling into a corner of her sofa until this showcase event was completely over.

Overbearing silence riled Sierra awake. Having drifted into sleep so quickly and so early, she was unable to rest for the entire night. She spent minutes awake on the couch, twisting and yawning, trying to fall back -- but couldn’t. It gnawed at her to know that she was not in the usual neighborhood, with its simulated sounds and environment to disguise the silence. She was in a cage, a box within a cage, which itself was locked in a secure room distant from any normal-sized human. This did not feel like a world to be resting in, but one she should be escaping from.

Of course, there was no reason to escape, but the sensation burned inside her nonetheless. Sierra pondered if this was a natural reaction to anyone who was imprisoned; truly that was how she felt, captive to a situation she had no control over. At least let me sleep through this, she begged herself, flinging an arm off the cushions in frustration. She closed her eyes, exhaled, but remained wide awake.

Then, a tapping was heard. Sierra lifted her head, though she knew it was no knock at her door. From where she lay, she tried to peer out the blinds of the front window, but all she saw were vague shadows moving across what dim lights had been left for the shrunken people. It was evidence enough, however, that someone was out there. It was short of midnight, Sierra noted, so what business did anyone have in the safehouse?

The tapping happened again, but another detail was figured out. Sierra sat up, and she waited to hear it again. Another tap, two taps. The same as before. There was no coincidence to this pattern, its familiar but simple beat resonating in Sierra’s palm as if it was there to be tapped against. She stood up from the couch, only then realizing that she had never undressed from the white outfit given to her. It would have to come with her as she slid to the front door, curious and hopeful of what she might discover.

Outside the community and on the other side of the glass window, the gigantic face of Duval waited, her size swallowing the entirety of the view. Glimpses of her shimmering dress could be seen, indicating that she had also not yet changed out into other clothes. Her eyes lit up upon seeing the tiny front door open, the figure she had come for peeking out from the little gap. Excitement flourished across her expression, but she did not vocalize even a peep of that energy. Through the silence and sternness of her gaze, Duval communicated to Sierra -- she was breaking her out.

Sierra stuttered over nervous laughter, but Duval was quick to shush her with a finger against her lips. The situation was serious; this was no daydream that Sierra was lost in, but an actual departure from the safe and secluded storage of houses. Despite the risks, Duval had come this far, and she would not see her efforts ruined by waking up the wrong person. She was elated to have gotten Sierra’s attention, but it was urgent that they leave immediately, and so she unlocked the safehouse and opened its window just enough for her to sneak a hand in front of Sierra’s miniature house.

In Duval’s grasp was a transport pod, just like the ones used at the lab. Dozens of questions made Sierra hesitate, but the pleading eyes pointed at her persuaded her to take the same leap of faith that Duval had. There was no time or place to talk this out first, and so after gathering her courage and wishing for the best, Sierra hurried into the pod and situated herself in its harnesses. With the same stealthiness as before, Duval resealed the safehouse and crept out of the dim corridors of the security room, her hands tightly balled around the pod as to hide it from view.

Sierra could only guess as to what the world outside the hands was like as she was rushed through it. Only cracks of light filtered past the coil of fingers, followed by the vague murmur of people or an ongoing event. Duval was not caught saying a single word, likely hurrying past others and sneaking through the edges of crowds. It was a crime happening unbeknownst to any of Duval’s peers, a pressure that weighed heavily on both her and Sierra. There was a break from the noise only once they had reached the elevator; neither would dare jinx it, but both felt fledging confidence that they had managed to go undetected.

Finally, the fingers uncurled from around the transport pod. The light blinded Sierra after she had become used to the darkness, but she forced her eyes to open anyway, desperate to see Duval and where she had taken her. Her face was waiting for her, just like before, but there was now an uneasy smile that greeted her, a shamble of joy for having made it this far.

“Sierra… a-are you alright?” Duval asked, checking first for Sierra’s safety. She barely breathed, still choked by her own silence. “I-I was moving so fast, I was afraid I was shaking you, o-or that your harness snapped, or--”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Sierra answered, her hands held up to try and slow Duval’s rambling. From within the confines of the pod, it was all she could do to calm her. “I’m really confused, though. Uh, where are we?”

Duval sighed, relieved that Sierra was unharmed. Before answering the question, she first sought a place to set Sierra down, propping the legs of the transport pod so that it stood evenly on a black marbled surface. “Well, take a look,” Duval chuckled nervously. “It’s the only place where you and I can… be alone.”

With Sierra’s view of the outside fully opened, the answer spoke for itself that this was Duval’s hotel room, an elegant chamber that was plenty wide for the one person occupying it. A warm, secluded atmosphere was made by the color scheme of the walls and furniture, creating a prestigious scene of wealth and comfort. Where Sierra was placed was a mini-bar in the middle of the room, complete with two clean wine glasses out on display that loomed over her position. One half of the room was a living area with lounge chairs circling a coffee table, dimmed lights keeping only the minimum illuminated. The other half was a more open area that surrounded a pristine bed, its thick sheets and comforter yet untouched, and a courtesy curtain provided for privacy when demanded. Most stunning of these sights, however, were the tall windows surrounding the mattress, which offered a fabulous view over the nighttime cityscape.

“This is your hotel room?” Sierra exclaimed, so taken back by the setting that she struggled to undo her buckles within the pod. Even without the significant size of everything in relation to her, the impressive and rich design of the room itself was stunningly modern and elite. “It’s… so much. It’s so pretty!”

Duval glanced over the room and some of its finer details. “Shoote really, um, goes over the top like this,” she said. “We’ve traveled a few times, and it’s always to such gorgeous places like this. Normally, none of us even spend much time in our rooms…” Her attention went back to Sierra, smiling at how bewildered the little woman was in reacting to the hotel room. “Tonight, that’s going to be different. Tonight is very different, ha ha…”

Sierra worked her way out of the pod and onto the cool surface of the mini-bar. The openness immediately chilled her into huddling into her own arms, feeling no less alien to these surroundings while wearing a dress outside her usual wardrobe. “It’s certainly no lab,” she commented. Indeed, there was none of the structure or sterility that the labs were designed with -- it was an unexplored frontier, and Sierra’s spirit for adventure had succumbed to timidity under such overwhelming circumstances.

“I’m sorry for being so hasty about all this,” Duval chuckled nervously. She paced around the mini-bar, her heels clacking against the tiled floor of the kitchenette. “Y-You can imagine, I’m sure, that I had to be quick about doing this. You know… kidnapping a subject. Just kidnapping a subject…”

Sierra chuckled into a cough, feeling about as anxious as Duval. “Would it really be considered kidnapping…?”

“It’s breaking the rules, so it... might as well be.” Again, Duval snickered, but the seriousness clearly weighed on her. She sighed, “I didn’t think this through very far… I never do once alcohol gets involved…”

“Oh. You’ve been drinking?” Sierra had noticed how Duval’s cheeks were flushed and the slacking posture she walked with, but only then connected the thoughts.

“A little bit,” Duval admitted, fixing loose strands of her hair. “A few martinis, a-and some other drink Ericka gave me… oh, and the shots with all the overseers. Hah, th-they’re all partying pretty hard down there. The showcase was a big success… You should be down there too!”

“Me?” Sierra shuddered as she imagined such a scene. “Err… I don’t think I’d fit in.”

“I mean all of you! All the subjects!” Duval clarified. “You were all an important part of the showcase. Thinking of that was, well, what inspired me to come get you in the first place. I never feel comfortable in big crowds, anyway.”

“Neither do I…” Sierra turned where she had been standing, having been too hesitant to move once having exited the pod. “Especially, err, big crowds.”

“Mm. I suppose the experience in the Rook was… a little much?” Duval’s shoulders dropped, reading accurately into Sierra’s pause to reply. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this, Sierra. I-I wanted this to be a fun experience… I’m hoping I can help turn things around.” She offered a smile, wishing to inspire some positivity, including within herself. “Oh! Y-You look amazing in that dress! I-It sure beats wearing that jumpsuit, right?”

Sierra glanced at her white gown, yet again forgetting she had it on at all. “I-It is lovely,” she bashfully replied. She gazed over Duval’s dress, an excuse to awe over the overseer’s innate charm. “But, you look… stunning. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when you came to get us.”

Duval giggled, her cheeks warmer than before. “It’s definitely fancier than a lab coat and slacks…”

“I do like the lab coat, though,” Sierra added, but after such a bold comment, she fretted back a pace. Though Duval’s smile was welcoming of the compliment, Sierra felt embarrassed for what she had said. The environment was so unusual to how they normally spoke to one another. As relaxed as the setting was, it equally had its own stresses. It could not be shaken from Sierra’s mind that she was alone in a hotel room with Duval, a dynamic that had her feeling even tinier.

Duval’s hands rubbed together as she sought to fill in the silence. “I suppose we should be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” she said, her eyes sparked with more life. “I did bring you all this way. H-How about I open some of this wine a-and we can have a toast?”

Sierra stuttered to answer, but Duval was already knelt down, fetching a tall bottle of burgundy from the rack under the bar. She was in her own world as she retrieved a wine opener and removed the cork, resulting in a gunshot pop that made Sierra jump. “Oops. S-Sorry about that,” Duval apologized through gritted teeth, continuing to open the bottle with more care. She sat the bottle on the counter and arranged the two glasses, casually repositioning what were tall pillars to the woman on the bar. Duval twisted the label towards her, “Do you, um, like burgundy?”

“... I-It’s alright, but,” Sierra coughed, “I don’t think I can… drink that.” She gawked at the bottle in front of her as though it were a monument that overshadowed her. Despite its grand weight, Duval made light of it in her hands as she reconsidered the idea. “B-But you can drink! Don’t let me stop you!”

“Are you sure…?” Duval wondered how good of an idea it was -- it was not a good idea, she plainly knew, to once again be drinking alongside a shrunken subject. That was a serious rule to be abided by, but the night was a trail of broken rules thus far, and so she was convinced to follow through with what would certainly ease her nerves, if nothing else. “I-I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” she promised as she poured what seemed like a swimming pool’s worth of wine from Sierra’s perspective. With the bottle still in hand, Duval lifted the glass and took a long, satisfying sip, not realizing how intrigued Sierra was to be watching such a mundane scene.

Sierra shied away into the middle of the mini-bar. The light scent of alcohol wafted in the air, tingling her nostrils with its alluring sense of excitement. As Duval enjoyed another drink from her glass, Sierra pondered on the amazing world she was surrounded by, and how out of reach it all was. All the luxuries that a normal person could cherish were far too huge for her; once again, she felt disconnected from her surroundings. It was only Duval herself that brought a familiar center to the surreal landscape, and like an idol to be followed, Sierra felt herself pulled towards this newly rebellious nature the scientist was exhibiting. All of this fraternization was wrong -- yet temptation nevertheless crept up Sierra’s spine.

Duval leaned forward as the pause kept her in giddy suspense. “Is there, uh, anything you want to do?” she inquired, eager to know how she could vitalize Sierra’s experience. “You’re finally out of your cage. D-Don’t you want to explore? You know, stretch out a little?”

Loose hair was nervously curled around Sierra’s finger. As Duval ushered closer and pressed more for her to open up, Sierra trembled towards announcing her obscure want. “Well, there’s… some place I’d like to be,” she giggled quietly, “maybe…”

“Oh, do tell,” Duval pleaded. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. “Anything! Or, anywhere! Ah, anywhere within this room, rather… I know it isn’t much, but…”

“C-Could I, uh, go onto the floor?”

Duval blinked over this request, her smile frozen how it was before Sierra spoke. “... Where on the floor?”

“Just… the floor. In front of you.” Her tenseness briefly broke as she slouched into nervous giggles. Whenever Duval spoke, gusts of wine-hinted breaths passed over her, the scent of desire wanting to lure her further. “I-It’s silly, forget about it.”

“It isn’t-- well, perhaps a tad silly,” Duval confessed in an abrupt giggle, “b-but I’ll do that for you. Sure! Just, uh, why?”

Sierra froze up again, realizing she had no real answer to that reasonable question. “... I’ll feel more comfortable, pr-probably.” She looked towards the edges of the bar, coming up with a lie. “It feels high up here. I-I think I’d feel more grounded if I was on the floor, for a moment at least.”

Duval rose off the counter just enough to extend a hand over to where Sierra stood. The depth of her cleavage was unknowingly on display while positioned this way, presenting a sight that Sierra stared into as she climbed aboard the flattened palm. Once the transition towards the floor began, Sierra instantly felt sick, as if she were exploring the outer boundaries of a dream. This clash of emotions, her intrigue versus her anxieties, riddled her with regret, but the move was over as suddenly as it began. Descended to the floor, Sierra nervously stepped off and turned towards Duval, who had knelt down onto her haunches to reach the clean tiled floor.

The hand disappeared back towards Duval, laid onto her knees with the other. Duval sat awkwardly over top of her heels, her balance no better after a night’s worth of drinks. Sierra initially feared the unstable pose the giant was seated in, but her angle of Duval was far too alluring to just ignore; instead of worrying that Duval might tip over onto her, she worried it would be too obvious that she was staring openly at how she squatted. The bottom of Duval’s dress was tucked between her legs, but Sierra’s perspective was yet advantaged to see the roundness of the giant’s rear, the plushness of each cheek sunk into the backs of her heels for support. Duval’s legs were like an elegant gate meant to be looked through, so big and significant in how it conquered Sierra’s sights. The grace of her blue heels, the smooth musculature of her calves, the boldness and weight of her thighs -- Sierra was immensely grateful that for being so small, her staring was certainly more difficult to notice.

Duval, however, did take notice of how Sierra did not absorb all of her surroundings. She told herself that Sierra was likely scared stiff and could not move on the cold tile, but another thought drunkenly swirled through her head. Her subsequent blink was slow as she wondered, Is she just going to stare up at me? Is that all she wanted? Duval’s cheeks grew hotter, though she believed the redness could not be seen by someone so low beneath her.

“Well… This is the… floor.” Duval giggled, though she managed to maintain her balance by keeping an arm pressed against the rack of wines beside her. Her legs closed together more tightly, hugged by her other arm. “I-Is there anything else you want? Err, to be honest, I’m worried you might get stepped on, even if it’s… just me that could, well, do that.”

Sierra’s stiffness melted into a shiver when posed with such a concept. She warmed into a chuckle as she replied, “I don’t think you’d do that.” She vaguely looked elsewhere around the hotel room, but the indirect mention of Duval’s feet had her focus swaying towards that lowest point of the towering scientist. The base of such tremendous weight, planted into the ground like unflinching redwoods, yet the exposed toes remained fluid, curling when Duval was ever nervous or shifting to stabilize her squat. The sole of her heels was intimidating by itself, but the life inside the footwear effectively sang to her; a pitiful and lowly part of Duval’s body, but at a magnitude that Sierra could not deny was impossibly attractive.

The trance Sierra had fallen into was broken when Duval began to stand. Sierra flinched backwards as if dropped back into reality, gawking up at Duval as she rose to her full titanic height. She stood so she could savor another taste of wine, but her gaze always kept the tiny woman in her peripheral, genuinely afraid she would otherwise lose track of her. Her swallow of the wine was not very smooth as her worries bubbled up mid-drink; casually repositioning a foot felt more immense, and she clumsily overcompensated her balance by shaking over Sierra.

“... Did you say something?” Duval chirped, tilting her head in confusion. She knelt slightly with her ear turned down towards Sierra, but she giggled rather than listened. “Gosh, i-it’s hard to tell when you’re talking or not. You’re so, so far away… or, maybe that’s the burgundy…”

But Sierra had said nothing, still trapped in her own silence as she surveyed the beauty of Duval’s height. She had been on the floor before with Duval towering overhead, including the time they snuck into the studio and Duval had to quickly retrieve her from under the Rook. During those times, Sierra was unable to truly appreciate the staggering scale at which the scientist stood. At full height, Duval was a sheer mountain of a person, one that teetered side to side, sneaking in an extra drink of wine. Leagues of emotion spiralled inside Sierra, and yet all she had thus far was a steep view of her overseer, enamored with her slow giggles and drifting gaze.

The massiveness then faltered -- Sierra gasped and cowered, falling into fear when she noticed Duval misstep and rebalance herself. The amount of power in this one accident was like a car wreck not far from where Sierra stood, but Duval merely scoffed at the trouble it was to center herself while drunk and in heels. Sierra’s shock went without notice, her feebleness overlooked because of sore feet.

“Hey…” Duval began, hesitating when she had trouble setting down her glass. “Uh, I would feel a little easier about this if I got out of these heels…” Without waiting for a response, Duval kicked one foot behind her and unwedged her foot from the shoe. “My feet are killing me, anyway… I-I hope this isn’t an issue.” She giggled in graceless bursts as that same foot was set down, allowing her to do the same to the other. She shook her head as she added, “Of course this isn’t okay. It’s a big, naked foot. Ugh…” Despite her self-disgust, she held both heels together in one hand, deciding that it was safer overall to be barefoot than risk stumbling forward in one lethal misstep.

It was an innocent gesture that Duval thought would be disliked, and to some degree, Sierra had expected the same. Yet when the naked feet, as Duval had phrased it, were rooted back onto the floor, an overwhelming trill danced through Sierra’s body. Her breathing hastened as if making up for the breathlessness of before, her heart drummed with an energy that she couldn’t justify. Duval’s feet had well been visible while inside the heels, but when stripped of that shell and placed on a level field, Sierra saw this lowest point of Duval as something innately more sensual. As her thoughts raced about in a blur, the odor reached her, a subtle scent of sweat and soaps that hypnotized her with abnormal desires. Beyond even the smell was an attraction to the noises Duval’s steps made, the fleshy thump of her soles flattening out against the hard tiles somehow a sound that Sierra was drawn one step closer towards.

“They’re gross, aren’t they?” Duval laughed in a drunken admission. Not noticing Sierra’s approach, she lifted one foot and tucked it behind the other, nervously sliding it up the calf. “I hate my feet. How can you stand looking at them down there…?” Both amused and tipsy, Duval moved the same foot to where Sierra stood, stretching out the big toe into a point. She giggled as it neared her, “Look out~ It’s gonna get you~”

When met with the toe, Sierra still lacked the drive to move aside, only retreating a step when the toe had hovered right in front of her. The round digit huddled into her, its size close to a big beach ball that was shoved into her arms; Sierra grasped it, stuttering over herself in a mix of conflicted feelings. She quivered into it, Duval’s toe more capable of supporting Sierra’s weight than the other way around. A husky chuckle hummed from high above in response to Sierra’s openness, and deciding to press matters forward, Duval pushed her toe more into the little woman, forcing her to stagger backwards even further.

“Heehee… Get it outta here, get it out~” Duval quietly teased, vaguely mimicking Sierra’s voice. “Th-That’s what you’re probably yelling down there, huh?” Far from obsessed with this interaction, Duval returned her foot to where it was, though she felt Sierra’s grip more tightly than she had expected.

The sudden movement left Sierra stumbling forward, but her brain was more tripped up than her legs. Blood rushed to her head for a dizzying result as she stared forward blankly, her emotions staggered like she was. Her fingers curled, remembering the texture of the toe’s skin; her arms shivered, remembering the width of the foot that could easily have bore down on her at any moment. Her heart felt beatless as she pondered what Duval thought -- was she oblivious to the effect it had on her? Sierra blinked and deciphered the expression hanging up above, a slightly amused arc in Duval’s brow with her grin hidden above her chest.

But Sierra also stressed over what that effect exactly was. The enigma that was her fascination kept her paralyzed as Duval buckled her knees, her hands crossed over her lap along with the heels she still held. Each one had the weight of a dump truck, and yet all it took was a casual toss towards the carpeted section of the room to dismiss them. Sierra jumped to life as she felt the distant sound and resonance of the heels falling to the floor, a shiver running her up her spine that made Duval wince with pity.

“Ooh, sorry…” Duval weakly apologized. She chuckled, “B-Better than getting stepped on, right?” Continuing her teasing, she lifted a foot over Sierra, its length away being indiscernible as far as the shrunken woman could tell -- despite being a fair height overhead, it might as well have been directly over Sierra’s head with how she tumbled onto her rear in astonishment. Yet, Duval still giggled, “I can’t even see you down there like this… Where’d you go, hm? Sierra~?”

The sweet singsong tone of Duval’s remark carried far more immensity than intended as it dropped on top of Sierra. From her prone position, Sierra studied the sole and the details that made it Duval’s own. It was familiar, this exact dynamic; it was a detail she envisioned faraway in dreams, a fantasy that she had assumed could never come to be. But as part of Duval’s drunken stupor, she was experiencing this secondary fascination, struggling to comprehend it as real. When the foot sank closer towards her, and its odor once again forced itself onto Sierra, there was no denying the sheer arousal that was overcoming her. She could argue against it no longer, that she was deeply attracted to this humiliating interaction.

The foot shifted to the side, revealing Duval’s mild concern as it lit up across her face. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “A-Are you alright, Sierra? I-I must be making you sick. D-Do you need a bucket, or…?”

Sierra choked on a reply, unsure of what she wanted. But when the foot began to slip aside to return to the floor, she sat up and reached for it. “Wait! N-No, err--!”

Duval froze, hearing just a cheep from Sierra. She knelt down lower and aimed an ear at her. “Sorry, what was that? I-It’s hard to hear--”

“I want your foot!” Sierra’s eyes clenched close, pretending that if she were blind, none of this would be real, and that her shouted confession would just be a figment. “B-Bring it back! I-I want to-- to hold it!”

“... Sierra?” Duval paused, then scoffed amusedly. “Uh, are you okay?”

Sierra felt too close to let the opportunity be pulled away. She remembered the risk she took sneaking into Duval’s glove, she remembered delving into her cleavage while she napped on her desk. Those were far greater risks to her literal life, and yet she had been bold enough then to leap. When presented with this dreamlike chance, in the seclusion of a hotel room separated from rules and regulations, she committed to her desires -- obtuse as they were.

“I… I want your foot…!” Sierra repeated, opening her eyes to the light of her request. She shuddered under the curling toes, but held steady. “I-I love your feet! I-I don’t know! I j-just love them…!” Her face boiled over with redness, but her glare hardly wavered.

Duval bashfully tried to veil how her lips quivered back and forth, uncertain of how to feel. A long pause persisted as she digested this confession, her flustered mind trying to piece together a puzzle like she would a math problem. “... What would you-- What do you want to do with… them?”

Sierra blanked.

“... Alright.” Duval’s voice was more blunt. Sierra motionlessly panicked, frantic over what ‘alright’ could possibly mean. Duval’s foot returned to the floor, seemingly spelling defeat for Sierra’s fantasies. She watched as the overseer swayed into the counter, downed the rest of her burgundy, and sighed contently. Then, her right foot slid forward while she looked back at the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass in silence until it was filled. “Alright.”

“... Al-Alright?” Sierra repeated the cursed word, nearly mad over the vagueness. She cleared her throat and spoke louder, “Alright…?”

“Yeah,” Duval nodded, her lips concealed by the rim of her glass. In truth, Sierra’s words were not heard, but her hesitation spoke volumes. “Go for it. I’ll watch.”

“Huh?”

“I just want to understand. I’ll observe.” A giggle bubbled into her wine as she sipped from it as an excuse to say no more.

The foot inched closer to Sierra, ushering its availability. Though confused, Sierra stood up and shambled forward, closing the distance between her and the row of toes awaiting her. When the big toe twitched, she flinched backwards and continued more cautiously. As if pulled by a leash, she was bound to this direction, incapable of fretting away like her instincts suggested. Her hand stretched forward, nearing a threshold of seduction that she fathomed could break her spirit.

After a touch with her palm atop the broad nail of the big toe, the anxieties plaguing Sierra melted away. There was a calm that followed as she felt the tremendousness of Duval through this lowly part of her, a single toe representing a skyscraper’s worth of weight in the shape of an ornately dressed woman. It was a plain connection to simply be holding her toe, but Sierra’s heart burned like an engine roaring to life, driven to seize the moment.

It began with a kiss before unrolling into a powerful lust. All restraints broke down after Sierra’s lips were laid upon the toe’s skin. Her head moved back with a heavy sigh, her eyes rapidly bouncing across the other toes. Her body shivered in delight before being flung into her desires. She slid between the big toe and the second, succumbing to its grip like forcing herself into an embrace. The wetness of leftover sweat immediately dampened her white dress, but Sierra took pleasure in the moisture, wallowing in its clinginess with an audible moan. Her teeth clenched, recognizing the moan as mannerless, but all rules were null in this space. Tight around her body were two of Duval’s toes, the most bottom points of the scientist’s idolized body; she moaned louder, grinding her crotch into a toe’s side while slumping her torso over the flat nail, her hands itching at their smooth surface like wanting to coil around bed sheets.

The intensity of Sierra’s unchained sexuality was scaled to that of a tickle for Duval’s foot. The reckless and passionate spasms of the woman’s fantasies coming to life were met with a curl of Duval’s toes, a normal reflex in response to the writhing she felt. Duval allowed the scene to unfold with as little interruption as possible, perplexed by what she witnessed and too curious to interfere. Sierra appeared lost in her own world, but Duval remained in the hotel room like she had been, unaffected by the emotional outpour happening at her feet. She felt pecks and gropes, all parts of a miserable display that made no sense to her, but undoubtedly made her feel prized. Beyond just desired, beyond just an ordinary crush, she knew this tiny woman worshipped her, a love that bordered on obsession. Even the most minor twitch of her toes sent chills over Sierra, her diminutive size nearly swallowed when the two toes rose up around her; it was a sight that had Duval giggle aloud, finally tickled enough to release a humble laugh.

Such a melodic tone lured Sierra’s focus temporarily overhead. She panted with her tongue hung out, dry from how it had dragged across the meager inch of sweat-touched skin. Above her, the weight of Duval’s gaze physically drilled onto her. Enormous as she was, Duval had to press her chest inwards in order to peer over it and down at Sierra. It belittled her how the overseer giggled, so unphased and distant, yet that was perfectly how Sierra wished to be humiliated, dismissed like a nuisance. The embarrassment drove her to more shamelessness, pushed past the precipice of regret, and so she nuzzled the knuckle of the big toe with her cheek, massaging what little fat clung to such a minor aspect of Duval’s body.

The rest of the wine was gradually being finished while Sierra tossed and squirmed. Drinking was all Duval felt comfortable doing, but the spinning sensation tempted her. Warmth bubbled up deep within her gut, surfacing atop her cheeks with a red glow. She dwelled on this interaction, this dynamic -- Sierra was an adult woman that willingly submitted herself to this, sacrificing her pride and even risking her health in order to succumb to some obscure fascination. It pained Duval to admit it, but the ridiculousness behind Sierra’s motivations was flattering, and how could it not be? Beneath her, wedged into her toes, was a willing soul that was eager to be not unlike lint trapped with her foot, looked up to like some supreme deity. She humored the thought that they were far beyond being mere researcher and subject, a joke that corrupted what little sanctity remained of their professional, sterile relationship.

Sierra felt the titanic body sway into the counter, her own body nearly uplifted as the toes moved to rebalance. The newly applied tightness on her body was more choking than she expected, but the fact that she had less control was only more enthralling. Duval’s foot succeeded in making her feel weightless as it gently lifted up with Sierra still stuck to it, lifted high enough that her tiny feet could kick at open air. The toes separated and thus her body eventually unclung from the flesh, dropping her back on the tile floor. Disoriented and numb, Sierra collapsed to her knees. She glanced up the enormous body, her questions already answered by what she saw descending over her. Like a stage curtain let loose, the beautiful blue dress Duval had been wearing was undone, released from her body and left to pile up around her ankles.

Sierra squeaked as the mounds of fabric dropped onto her, hiding her as less than a bump rustling under the sheet-like dress. Though lightweight in Duval’s possession, the dress was heavy and unforgiving to Sierra’s efforts underneath it, but she was able to work through it and into the center. Her reward for surmounting the challenge was what had been exposed above her, a sight she did not spare herself from enjoying. Duval towered overhead in silk lingerie, black panties and a black bra that had the privilege of hugging her skin. Despite now standing unclothed, the gigantic woman appeared more intimidating than ever before, stunning Sierra with a perspective and scope she could have only before dreamed of.

“I almost lost track of you… down there…” Duval stirred, her voice weary and unfocused. The coolness of the room did not bother her, as she had enough heat to spare radiating off her exposed body. “Mm… Stay close to my feet… so th-that I know where you are…”

Fearful of being overlooked, Sierra overcame her awe and hurried to the row of toes, collapsing over them so that her minuscule body was noticed. She fell over top the middle toe and wrapped her arms around it, its width still greater than how far she could stretch. Forfeiting any leftover dignity, Sierra unabashedly massaged herself into the toe, her hips guided into a grind along its curve. Her head was fully lurked back, her eyes unblinkingly attached to the sight bestowed upon her; how Duval’s hips curved with her underwear tight around them, the fabric strung in the crack of her underside, and how a blanket of fat was pressed out from them, as if the idolic body was too much to be contained -- details such as these were chronicled dutifully, savored as the luxury that they were by Sierra’s enthralled stare.

“This is enough, is it?” Duval pondered aloud. She smiled when Sierra was not moved by the sound of her voice, so immersed into her obsession, but the slightest shiver against her toe’s knuckle signalled that she was not being ignored. “All I have to do is stand here… and you’re pushed to this, huh…? Do I really have that kind of effect on you?”

Sierra flinched, a moan-turned-grunt bellowing from her when the toe she straddled suddenly hopped. The movement shook her into considering Duval’s remark, particularly noting the condescending tone. It reminded her of how pathetic this all was, striking her with the doubts that she had allowed to build up in the back of her mind. Though she knew her gestures could likely not be understood, Sierra still nodded vicariously, agreeing with the sentiment -- Duval’s toes alone were enough to drive her into madness, regardless of how sickening it simultaneously was to submit herself to something so humiliating.

Gracelessly, Sierra could withhold no longer. She peaked without warning, nothing more than an electric tingle that directed her towards bliss. Under gasping breaths, Sierra was brought to orgasm on top of the toe, her arousal having seeped through the dress she had long since forgotten about. She stuttered as if needing to explain herself to Duval, but it was herself that needed to be convinced of what this orgasm meant, and why it overjoyed her to experience it this way. Physically, Sierra felt invigorated and free, but at her core, she was hollow and lost, slowly sobering up to the consequences of her degradation.

“You, err-- You’ve slowed down,” Duval warily commented, having allowed moments of nothing to pass. Sierra remained slumped over her toe, motionless after what appeared to be an exciting build up. As small as the woman might be to her, Duval still very much felt the raw, sensual energy that had been committed to her -- to just her lowly toes of just one foot. “D-Did you… get off?” She chuckled over those eager words, “Sorry… I had no idea y-you’d be so… well…”

Sierra grimaced, hiding her disgust by pressing her face into the middle toe. Her fingers crawled, but their grasp on the skin was slipping as she realized that it was over. The event, spontaneous and intense, was lived through and experienced. She had succumbed to Duval’s toe like some desperate insect, and now reality was washing ashore, dragging Sierra to its surface.

Under where she lay, Sierra felt the world turn around her. Duval hunched forward, her foot left as still as possible as she knelt down to retrieve Sierra. The little woman was picked up without resistance, pillowed between gentle fingers that elevated her up into the air. When the hands unfolded away from her, Sierra was left stretched on her side, weakly looking up at the woman that held her. She winced like looking into the sun, burned by the gaze Duval concentrated onto her.

“D-Duval, I-I don’t… I can’t explain what I just did,” Sierra stammered, struggling to at least turn and face Duval proper in her palms. Her skin was still red, evidence to her that she should also remain ashamed. More challenging yet was that Duval stood nearly naked, a visual obstacle that Sierra could not plainly face. “Th-There’s so much that’s happened… I was overwhelmed, and--”

“Shh… Shh…” Duval shook her head, raising Sierra higher to be more level with her eyes. It was all she said for a time, but the calming coos were able to bring some level of calm over Sierra. “You… don’t need to worry. You’re-- You’re so small. You don’t have to worry.”

Sierra blinked, as if it was a riddle meant to be solved. “Duval…”

“Oh, no more of this-- whatever this is,” Duval giggled, beginning to sway back into motion. Sierra clung tighter to the skin around her as she felt the giant stir. “Only good vibes tonight… No headaches, no worries, just you and me.”

“D-Duval…?”

“I need-- no, you! You-- We need a drink, we both do!” As apparent in her voice as it was in her expression, Duval seemed to be cracking under an unseen pressure. Sierra, however, was none the wiser to describe what she witnessed, dragged along with her as she turned towards the mini-bar with a nearly mad look in her eyes. “Good vibes tonight, very good vibes… Y-You should try this burgundy, it’s so… tasty, just so tasty.”

A chill grazed Sierra as she watched the burgundy be poured once again into Duval’s glass. With only one hand to manage the bottle while the other contained Sierra, a clumsier effort was made, resulting in a splash that went over the rim. It was laughed off, the bottle dismissed with a heavier thud than Duval intended, and the glass was whisked quickly up to her lips. Sierra watched and heard the beverage slip away, eerily close to the very throat it was being washed down.

Only then did Sierra finally voice her concern. “I… can’t drink that,” she reminded Duval with a disappointed tone. “That’s too big. M-Maybe you’ve had too much--” Her sentence was broken by a jerk of a movement; Duval was moving elsewhere, away from the mini-bar and over towards the grand bed.

“I said good vibes only~” Duval chimed to her palm, smiling over the little woman while always keeping the glass nearby. “You have your overseer’s permission-- permission to drink this wine! Here, should I…?” The glass was then angled towards Sierra, its murky red color threatening to overflow over the side in a wave. Sierra trembled away, but a tilt in the hand under her urged her back towards the rim, enough so that she had to put both hands on the lip to control it. Duval insisted, “I-It’s really good, try some~”

“Du-Duval! I can’t!” Sierra argued in a fit of nervous laughter. The aroma of the wine being forced upon her was strong enough to tease the idea of being showered under the alcohol, at least until its boldness made Sierra cough. “Y-You can enjoy it for yourself! Ah, more for you, right?”

“Nooo, I want to share with my-- my favorite!” Duval whined, showing a gap in her usual maturity. Her word choice was particular and precise, visibly earning a small reaction from Sierra when it was said. Duval’s smile widened far, “My little favorite… I just want to control the whole world for you…”

“Duval…” Sierra shivered, feeling weaker despite the glass’s weight lightening up against her. Duval no longer pushed the rim into her, but it was kept just level underneath where she was held, a pool well within jumping distance. Just as Sierra worried about being dropped in, that possibility came to be; Duval’s hand tilted further, tossing the shrunken subject into the glass with a pathetic splash faster than she could gasp.

Submerged and surprised, Sierra struggled to resurface as quickly as possible. The thickness of the oversized beverage weighed her down, as if purposefully wanting to grip at her from all sides and drown her in the red depths. Upon reaching fresh air, Sierra gasped and called out, “D-Duval! Duval! Wh-What the hell?!” She could not see, not with the alcohol wanting to burn her eyes, but through weak glimpses could she understand the world swirling outside her glass cage. If nothing else, she deciphered Duval’s amusement through the giggles dripping over her head, seemingly entertained with how Sierra splashed and suffered.

“This is too cute,” Duval whispered as she twisted the glass slowly in her fingers. The slightest tilt or sway was enough to conjure waves around Sierra, causing her to rise and sink along the uneasy surface. “You are just… a dot. A speck in my wine.”

“Duval…!” Sierra clung to the glass, her hands never able to get a grip on the sheer surface for more than a couple seconds at a time. Once her vision was cleared, she could see how Duval surveyed her in this embarrassing situation, having to gawk up at the curious smile hanging above. “I-I can’t swim like this! Duval, it’s so heavy…!”

“You sound mad~ Don’t be mad at me, Sierra! I wanted to share!” Duval continued to giggle over Sierra’s dismay, but the genuine fear was not lost on her. Scaring the little woman was intended, but she did not wish to terrorize her. She lifted the glass up so that the surface was even with her eyes, placing the pad of a pointer finger up against where Sierra drifted. “Don’t you trust me? We’re just having fun, Sierra~ I promise, it’s all just fun.”

Sierra breathed frantically, suffocating with each alcohol-ridden inhale. So easily was her world lifted up to Duval, brought to her expansive face to be looked at directly. With her begging expression considered along with her tone, Duval managed to be convincing over Sierra, at least as far as it took to trust that she was not in any danger. This was Duval, after all, that made this promise, and the gesture with her finger on the glass harked back to their interactions at the Rook and the safehouse. While still kicking to stay afloat, Sierra’s hand met with Duval’s own on the other side, approving of whatever fun Duval wanted to cherish.

Immediately after did Sierra’s world flip around by the whim of a wrist. A vortex of swirling wine dragged Sierra into the center of the pool while Duval took a seat at the mattress’s edge, a bounce into softness that shook Sierra’s cage. Every motion had some magnitude of effect like that, a detail Duval had taken deep interest in as she studied how the wine ebbed and flowed with a tiny person in its middle.

Balance was not allowed to be found for Sierra as the world shifted again. Drawn to where gravity went, Sierra gasped at what took over her vision; the parting of giant lips planted along the rim of the glass. The sight was unreal, a straight shot into a human mouth -- Duval’s mouth, of all mouths, opening just wide enough to allow the nearly endless amount of wine to pour in. The stream was too strong to resist, even if Sierra had the nerves or power to do so. She was carried by its flow regardless of how she feared the prospect of being swallowed, a reality that was swiftly upon her.

Sierra crashed into the upper lip, her fingers digging into the pillowy texture so that she could not get dragged down and submerged. She very well felt that possibility at her feet as the wine continued to filter past her, sipped into the gigantic mouth to never be seen again. A leg was nearly pulled in, and Sierra screamed with her head just above the bubbles, “Duval, no!!”

At that moment, the world shifted again. The pool of wine tilted back the way it was, and so Sierra was washed back into its middle, twisting and writhing about in the beverage that drenched her. She spat up wine that had forced its way down her throat amidst her efforts to stay afloat, her head swirling with more than just grief and fear. For the time being, the risk of being swallowed alive was no more, but Duval’s carefree giggles suggested that had never been the case.

“You know I won’t actually drink you,” Duval coyly remarked. “You do know that, right? Did it feel like I would?”

Sierra stuttered in a rushed reply, “Y-Yes! Yes it did!”

Duval shook her head, “I would never! Oh, Sierra, I… told you to trust me.” Her smile faded, but did not disappear entirely as it was aimed into the glass. “... Weren’t you sort of turned on? Don’t you like this kind of thing?” Sierra did not reply, her face having fallen blank under such questions. “You were so excited just to have my toes. I had hoped you would like my lips as much, err, maybe more...” She choked slightly on the lingering taste of alcohol, but her grin persisted. “A-And for me, i-it felt incredible… knowing what you were doing down there… how you felt about me… I-I wanted to see it closer, just what you looked like…”

Sierra was speechless and pale, every breath a fight to overcome the wine’s scent and stay afloat at its surface. The glass was tipped again, resulting in waves pushing and pulling at her towards the rim once more. She heard the wind whip as Duval inhaled, the wine pouring over her lips while Sierra swam against the current. Her efforts were useless as the stream forced her towards the giant’s mouth, but her scream was subdued, minimized to a quick shriek when she felt her legs slip into the abyss, tickled by the wine’s flow. Again was she gripping onto Duval’s upper lip, her body pressed against it while resisting the weight behind her.

Yet impossible to resist was the emotion churning inside Sierra. At the core of all her fright and horror was a pounding heart that wanted this. Though her sights were blurred by splashes of red and an intoxicating air, Sierra saw clearly the details of Duval’s massive face. She felt a gust rush down her, wind that was exhaled through Duval’s nose while she savored the drink. Her lips closed together, trapping Sierra’s legs between them. Their plushness proved difficult to kick free from, but she was encouraged to stay when the lips nibbled at her calves and thighs, tenderly smothering them as though they were a treat to be suckled. Sierra grunted and complained, but her panic was instinctual; still deep down did she find this to be dreamlike, made even less real by how Duval equally desired this.

Sierra slipped further between the lips, pulled there by a careful bite that encompassed more of her body. The boundary she was situated on, the border of the glass and Duval’s mouth, began to widen. The glass was being taken away, forcing Sierra to grapple the upper lip to avoid the fall below. Plucked out from the drink and without support, Sierra groaned as she arced forward, grabbing hold of a nostril to keep herself hugged into the lip. This nearly failed when Duval scoffed, a mundane exhale that threatened to blow Sierra down and away, but she endured and remained with her lower half still caught in the massive lips.

Pinning Sierra between her lips was causing Duval to ward off a fit of giggles. As concerned as she was for the little woman’s safety, she was also endlessly amused by how she was at her mercy, bound to her. Of course, she would never let Sierra slip and fall, and a free hand hovered nearby below as a safety net, but the tiny pinches around her lip and nose were sincerely desperate, a very valid fear. So much emotion and drama, all centered around her and these drunken whims.

The mouth opened as Duval’s head reeled back slowly. Sierra squeaked as she felt gravity warp around her, putting in her a position where she no longer risked falling down the massive body, but was more likely to be swallowed by her mouth. Sierra pushed down to rise up, but her attempts to kick her legs over the pink lips failed as the serpentine tongue under her tangled around her feet. All at once, Duval’s lips parted completely, leaving Sierra dangling above a black pit that clicked with saliva. The edges of teeth teased her torso and a warm breath traveled up and over the wine-stained dress. Sierra closed her eyes tight while still trying to squirm her way up, but the tongue craved more than just the tips of her toes. It rose out of the abyss and behind Sierra, barely in the corners of her vision as a beast awakening just for her. The tongue then smacked her back, curling as if trying to drag her into the cavern. Sierra gasped and flailed to fight back, all while maintaining her grasp and balance along the lip.

“Duval! Duval!” Sierra shouted, but no volume could break the scientist out of her trance. Drunk and empowered, Duval had a mission in mind that only she could understand. Her tongue took Sierra decidedly, no longer pretending to be fought off. It wrangled her legs and pulled her back between the lips, a stubborn stickiness keeping her locked in place. From there, it continued to bend around Sierra’s curves, overpowering her kicks and punches while rhythmically traveling over the pitiful body, particularly where she would be most sensitive or vulnerable. Her legs and ass were not just licked, but savored; in response to such deliciousness, Duval moaned pleasantly, a hummed tone that vibrated Sierra’s body further. She was enjoying this thrill of power, and Sierra understood how fortunate she was to be at its other end, the powerless victim that was being toyed with. Though terrorized by the tongue, its wet strokes across her frame were not aimless, but intentional attempts of coaxing Sierra into arousal again.

Duval closed her eyes, concentrating hard on not laughing at how much control she had over someone. So many thoughts with drunken logic wished to be teased aloud, but she restrained herself, dedicating that cleverness instead to how her tongue performed on Sierra. It lapped around her hips, it hugged her chest tightly, as if manipulating the most intriguing lollipop. After some time, she noticed that Sierra’s screams had ceased, succumbing to the lust and instead shifting into long moans. Rather than push or pull in an attempt to escape, Sierra instead squeezed at whatever flesh she could grab, her body falling limp like a ragdoll. This was fair for Duval, whose most fun was knowing she had this incredible effect on someone, the power to take over their world and their body and to thrust all that into a scene for her entertainment.

Quicker than anticipated, Duval felt the quivering of an orgasm. Her eyes lit up, all motion of her’s pausing while it cherished how Sierra spasmed between the lips. A dry voice unleashed a whining moan that spoke Duval’s name like a plea, a tune that had Duval shiver with excitement. A mere drink of wine and some whipping of her tongue had produced a woman’s second orgasm for that evening, a sensation that satisfied her to no end. This diminutive person was obsessed with her, and Duval was addicted to this dynamic.

Duval released Sierra into her hand, a graceless exit for what had been a belittling scene. A glob of saliva clung to her legs, a reminder of what had occurred and how spontaneous it had all been. Duval winced at the results, “You got so dirty… You look like a little mess…” Splayed out in Duval’s palm, Sierra could not disagree, glancing at her crimson stained dress and the spit soaked into it. She could barely budge, her legs lifeless after what she had been exposed to, but her staggered efforts made Duval giggle with bubbles of pride; I did this, she thought to herself happily, I’m responsible for all of this!

Sierra found the strength to sit up, but not any further than that. Dazed and flustered, she could not accurately describe the feeling she was in, a combination of bliss and panic. The world seemingly did not matter, but reality hovered at the edges of this plateau Sierra stood from, like gray storm clouds brewing on a horizon. What more did this ocean of opportunities promise? That ocean, after all, was Duval herself, her whims being the tides that dictated where they would explore.

And exploring was all Duval dreamed of doing. The sensation of being a god-like figure had fully consumed her in its enticing grip. Never before did she have this much power and authority over another person, and that power manifested itself in sheer arousal. Witnessing this little woman peak over such minute aspects of her body had tickled her like nothing else, swallowing her into a vortex of desires. Before the night ended, she wanted to achieve her own wish with Sierra, though the image of what she wanted remained a spiral in her mind.

“L-Let’s get you out of this,” Duval said simply, without the poise or stature that one would expect from neither a goddess nor a scientist. Two fingers pinched the back of Sierra’s dress, lifting up on it with a careful tug. Though hesitant to be so exposed like Duval was, Sierra also disliked wearing a dress that was heavy from wine-infused spit, and so she did not refuse being stripped. In any case, the cold of the hotel room instantly spun Sierra into shivers, prompting an empathetic hand to embrace the half-naked figure. “You are too cute, e-even when you’re all shaky like this…”

Sierra meant to reply, but she could only cough on her own breaths before she felt everything twist around her. Duval collapsed backwards into the range of pillows, her comfort coming at the cost of Sierra nearly being jostled out from her grasp. Though that did not happen, it encouraged Duval to put both hands around Sierra, cradling her with a thumb under each arm and the rest of her fingers forming a seat for her to occupy. Sierra felt uneasy about the world taking shape around her, but her trust in Duval was unflinching. It was difficult to not trust such a massive smile and gleaming eyes, nor did she need convincing that Duval was in total control.

For a long moment, Duval simply stared at Sierra, and Sierra stared back at her, unable to turn away or do anything else. “You are so precious, Sierra,” Duval sighed, her fingers lightly massaging her. “It’s so hard to not just squeeze you… I never want to let go…”

Sierra’s breathing was finally on route to becoming tamed again, certainly aided by Duval’s comforting touch and tone. She was able to relax after such a heated encounter, melting into the fingers that held her and cuddling against them so that the affection was returned. She was never good with opening herself, and even worse when in front of Duval, yet the words flowed effortlessly from her, “I love you, Duval. I love you.”

Duval laughed and shook her head, her huge eyes too feeble to look into Sierra’s after such a remark. Instead, she glanced at her own body, its mountainous scale compared to Sierra. An eye opened, clumsily relocating Sierra into its vision. “I wouldn’t want anyone else here to look at me like this. It’s so embarrassing, b-but when it’s you… I just can’t let go. I don’t want it to end. If I could, I’d… close my hands and keep you forever, you know?”

Sierra swallowed. She lifted herself to speak, stuttered, then chuckled into her thoughts, “I-Is it bad that… I wouldn’t mind that?”

“Is it bad? Mm, hmm…” Duval pondered the weighty subject over, but her drunken thoughts were not going to make heads or tails of something so complex. “But… this all feels wonderful. For once, I feel like my own person… No limitations, no restrictions. What I want, and what you want. That’s it. So, so simple… for as long as this lasts…”

The hands placed Sierra down, but not onto the mattress or nightstand. Duval placed her on her stomach, her tiny knees and hands sinking into the expansive softness as she tried to find balance in this new zone. Sierra was bounced off her feet after finally managing to stand, due to a jitter along the landscape caused by Duval’s amusement. She tumbled backwards, but rolled forward into a crawl position, surveying her surroundings while sorting out her confusion. Though there was no prompt for being put here, Sierra would not argue, taking the moment to appreciate the geographical-like beauty that was all around her.

“... Explore me,” Duval urged, her eyes slipping closed peacefully. “I want to feel you moving around, making me feel huge… Can you do this for me…?”

Sierra blinked, her fingers curling in the pillowy ground as she processed the request. Knowing she would likely go unheard, her response was to move forward, up the subtle incline that was Duval’s lounging body. Each step squished into the skin, a sensation that worked a laugh out of Sierra as she stumbled ahead, unafraid to trip into something so plush -- and so much of it, to catch her wherever she explored. After not one, but two climaxes induced by Duval, this opportunity to travel her gigantic shape felt overdue, but she was stumped with regards to where to go, where she was wanted.

But just those few staggered steps up her belly was satisfying for Duval, at least to begin. She moaned quietly, her legs squirming against one another as she felt the tiny pinches and presses of a tiny person moving up her great body. It was challenging to resist not swiping away at Sierra and pushing her aside akin to a fallen hair, her hands risen up reflexively when Sierra’s trips were especially ticklish. Her giggles, she knew, roused the very world the little woman trekked upon, yet another detail that had her driven to feel bigger and grander.

Sierra flinched down as Duval’s hands flew overhead towards the barricade-like bra. Contained behind the black fabric, and teased to be released, was an overflow of flesh that her fingers dug into, flexing into the softness and working out a craving sigh. She opened an eye, as if to quietly spy on Sierra’s approach up her body, having found the woman to have come to a standstill. She grinned, “Keep coming~ Come up here…” Middle fingers massaged where her nipples budded into the bra, calling Sierra over with their motion. “Climb them… Are you able to…?” She chuckled, again imbalancing Sierra. “I remember… I remember you climbing into them before…~”

The truth made Sierra wince with shame, but it only electrified her obsession with feeling so lowly and pathetic. Given the command, she would follow through, and so she trudged forward against the steepening incline, moving forward in a crawl-climb towards the massive breasts ahead. The closer she was, the more the pair swallowed her vision, their motions of being pushed in and pulled by Duval’s hands hypnotizing her to continue without question. Once in reach, she lunged for the middle of the bra and took hold, using it to pull herself up into the valley Duval had opened for her.

Her prize for making it this far was for the fleshy walls on either side of her to close in. Duval giggled as she trapped Sierra in her cleavage, fascinated with how the tiny figure could disappear from sight. She released her breasts, causing Sierra to slip down with a bounce, flushed in a new tone of red. The breath had been squeezed out of her, yet all Duval saw was comical toiling, her best friend having been threatened with suffocation there between her boobs.

“You poor thing,” Duval mumbled, insisting a finger underneath Sierra’s nude rear. With the tip under her, she lifted Sierra up, surprising her into a squeak as she was ushered up the right breast. Where the bra hugged the flesh at the round peak was where Sierra was left, her hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric to prevent sliding down either side. Each breath saw this hill rise and dip, demanding Sierra to find balance at its center -- an erect nipple pushing through the padding became a beacon to cling to.

Duval’s hands hovered to the wayside, electing to allow Sierra to lay atop her breast without interference. She fought back the laughter brewed by the tiny woman’s touches, subduing her amusement into loose giggles. Unknowingly, each of her breaths brushed over Sierra, sending her naked form into chills that rustled against the nipple. At the foot of the bed, Duval’s legs twisted together in a squirm, a distant sight for Sierra to observe while balancing herself on the breast. Such a visual confirmed the raw arousal building up in the world under Sierra, an energy running across Duval’s plains of skin like an electric current she was a part of.

“Come on… Keep going~” Duval urged, tentatively staring down hard over Sierra and the hesitations that had slowed her. She hoped a wide smile might spark some enthusiasm. “Is even this fun for you…? I feel too good, hah, like I’m hoarding all the fun…”

Sierra enjoyed her entertainment from her position, embracing the shape of the nipple even tighter when pressed to do more. It pushed against her as it grew erect, its firmness increasing until it was more like a stone that she massaged her face into. Her expression came with shades of pain as she stretched up and over the nipple, using her own chest to squeeze tightly around it. She hoped her thumping heart, as powerful as it felt in her center, could be sensed by Duval, even as just a little rhythm of life. For her own selfish desires, she pecked kisses all around the bra, savoring these moments for all that she could.

Duval was cast in sweat as the encounter prolonged. Her knees arced up the mattress and her fingers clenched at the sheets. Every motion felt sweeping and heavy, a combination of the alcohol mixed with the power rush she was situated in. Overcome with heat, her body throbbed and swayed, threatening to toss Sierra aside with how she jittered. Sierra clung to the nipple, but the silk fabric around it was too smooth to stay attached to for long. Only then rediscovering her voice, Sierra chirped for help, but a low moan bullied out her plea as Duval delved into her own headspace. Her body rocked, its rippling weight like an avalanche that ultimately beat Sierra’s grip and forced her to cascade in a graceless roll down the body she had just scaled.

In the midst of tumbling, Sierra slid down a stretch of fat that managed to catch her feet well enough to stop her fall, albeit with a few slips. Sierra was out of breath by the time her descent ceased, hugging the skin not just for protection but to stabilize her swirling head. In just an instant, the softness she had grown accustomed to was replaced with a thicker, more expansive plushness. She deduced it was Duval’s stomach, not far from where she had begun, that she had wound up atop of. On cue with this understanding, a bubbled laugh ruptured all around Sierra as Duval found humor in where the little woman had stumbled.

“There you are… Almost didn’t notice where you went…” Duval teased, her head craned into view above Sierra and offering a clumsy wink for additional effect. From out of Sierra’s view, a finger pressed down on her from behind, shoving her deeper into the pillowy gut. Sierra’s surprise manifested as a tickle against Duval, her scrambling for freedom the exact response she had expected. Just as suddenly as she pushed on Sierra, so too did the finger relieve her, with such a pop of release that Sierra slid further down the skin and closer to the territory of Duval’s panties.

“This would bother me,” Duval remarked aimlessly. “A giant stomach… not appealing at all… What would it even be like in there…?” Her disgust was not hidden, a frown tainting her fun as she soured over the context. Unknowingly, her commentary exhilarated Sierra, reminding her just how insignificant she was to something like Duval’s stomach. Compared to it, she truly was a castaway crumb that clung to the belly helplessly, having to feel the rumbling ongoing within. Under closed eyes, she imagined the insides of that organic chamber and what contents must be pooled together; a shiver-inducing imagination that was only broken free from when she was pinched by two log-sized fingers.

Duval forced the speck of a person elsewhere on her stomach, her smile returning strongly the closer the woman neared her belly button. Sierra did not grasp what she was pointed to right away, the size of such a minute feature of Duval’s body distorting how it was comprehended. When understood to be a belly button, the next moment saw Sierra shoved into it, the soft flesh allowing much of her head and shoulders to sink in. Sierra resisted how she always did, facing the threat of suffocation, but the lack of oxygen drove her other senses aflame. She gasped Duval’s name in fruitless attempts of being recognized, all the while being ushered into renewed arousal as two fingers manhandled her body with pushes and pinches intended to make her squirm and kick.

“Even a belly button could eat you up~” Duval mocked, having reached a relative cool while surveying Sierra’s struggles. As she pushed harder into her stomach, she was able to squeeze out a whine from her stomach. It shocked Duval, but immediately after did she hunch forward with laughter, sealing Sierra almost completely into a trap of fatty flesh. “Sorry! A-All that alcohol, i-it can’t be sitting right… Was that loud? You probably got yelled at… yelled at by my stomach…”

Sierra winced as these muffled words reached her. The sound still quaked in her mind of the stomach’s whine, and as if commanded by it, she found herself licking and kissing the skin that enwrapped her with open affection. Regardless of where it hugged her, Sierra twisted about however she could to kiss every pinch of flesh, an action that progressively riled Duval more and more. Particularly tickled by a circling lick around her belly button, Duval roared with a moan and shifted along the bed, lounging with her back flat -- a reposition that flung Sierra upside-down in the hole she was head-first in. The fat clung to her as if not wanting to let go, but Duval’s fingers hugged her hips and plucked her from the containment, allowing the red-faced woman to breath air that was free of collected sweat.

As her giggling slowly faded into control, Duval placed Sierra at the very bottom of her stomach. Exhausted and staggered, Sierra could not hold herself on the rounded surface for long, and she soon after slipped backwards from fatigue. The slope behind her was that of Duval’s crotch bound by black underwear, its material too slick to grab in what little window Sierra had to stop her fall. She could only gasp midway down before she was bouncing on the bed sheet, two wall-sized thighs risen up on either side of her. Imposed upon by Duval’s legs, Sierra felt as though she had been whisked into a new setting and situation, so drastically different from where else on the human body she had explored.

But her confusion paled to the fascination she had with what was in front of her. Robed in a layer of black silk was Duval’s cunt, huge enough to humble Sierra into speechlessness. The underwear outlined the lips as a simple mound, but its size intimidated Sierra, kneeled before it like a mural to worship. She basked in the humidity it and the thighs produced, so alarmed by the crotch despite Duval doing nothing with it. From where she relaxed, her head had to crane forward to see where her friend was, hidden behind that very mound she was obsessed with staring at.

Duval shifted forward for comfort, excited to observe Sierra’s exploits. In doing so, the very point of interest Sierra stared at came rushing at her with a push, knocking her off her feet as if tackled. Keeping her imbalanced was the rocking of the bed and how it reshaped itself around Duval’s body, an element under her control. Blinking free from her gaze on the giant cunt, Sierra gawked upwards instead, caught under the spotlights that were Duval’s eyes.

“Hah… Well… This is sort of familiar,” Duval remarked, idly scratching at her cheek. Her face reddened, but it could not compare to Sierra’s glowing, full-body blush. “Deja vu… Almost…”

Sierra hesitated to move, not particularly wanting to leave this humiliating position. She swallowed, wondering what Duval meant until she admitted to feeling the same sensation. Between Duval’s mountainous legs, posed before her mighty crotch. It was a visual she had never seen before of the scientist, but it was a scene that had played out in unspoken dreams. And just like in those dreams, Sierra’s heart seemed to pause, giving way to the greater significance of what was ahead of her.

“You’ve been here before, I swear…” Duval continued, her slurred giggling difficult to interpret every word. Her legs stretched wider apart, only by a short margin but enough so that it reeled Sierra forward, like massive doors opening for her. Duval stuttered, “N-No, you haven’t… Not actually… But, I’ve thought of this before, you know… How small you are… even to this…” As if needing specification, she drew a finger outside the bulge of lips, revealing to Sierra how plush it was under her touch. That same finger then toyed with the elastic of her panties, allowing it to snap into her waist and force a flinch from the tiny woman. With the fabric having been adjusted, it was more obvious how wet Duval had become, her fluids leaving glossy hints at the corners of her perineum. “You’re actually s-smaller, there,” she stumbled onward, “smaller than I… imagined…”

Sierra’s mouth opened to speak, a hundred ideas dashing her mind, but not one of those thoughts manifested into words. Of all her fantasies, whether daydreams had while staring up at Duval within the terrarium, or when coiled up in her bed alone, it had never been expected that Duval shared in these obtuse desires. Small, Sierra repeated to herself, smaller than she imagined…

Thoughtlessly, Sierra found herself creeping forward to the black wall of fabric. The conversation was paused, and had been since those last words of Duval’s. Permission was boldly not requested before Sierra reached forward and trailed her palm down the panties. The titan did not shiver or move, unfeeling towards such a light touch on her clothes. Another palm joined, and with a small push, Sierra felt the skin beyond the fabric give way, rousing the long legs around her to twitch.

Yet Duval still said nothing, her heavier breathing the only indication of a response, that she wanted the escalation. She took a finger down her underwear, startling Sierra slightly with its presence being on the other side like an animal moving under the silk. The finger throbbed, and another was added. Sierra stood her ground, her hand combing over one of the writhing limbs as it worked to masturbate Duval.

“You… Y-You might want to back away... “ Duval whispered, her pitch higher than usual, more timid. She chuckled nervously, “I wouldn’t want you to… to get hurt, you know…”

Sierra’s heart melted under the heat of Duval’s concern for her. “I… don’t want to,” Sierra said, her volume only loud enough for herself to hear. “I-I want this. I want to be a part of this.” At first slow, her lean into the crotch became a lunge onto Duval’s active fingers, her arms tightly hugging them so that she could be noticed. Her face dug into the panties where she announced, “I love you, Duval!! I’m not afraid of you!!”

Duval’s fingers froze. Sierra, from such a low perspective, worried over what this meant, if she would just be dismissed or pulled away. Instead, a soft voice spoke down to her, “You’re… ridiculous… and I love that.” Sierra looked up at the smile overhead, as if peering up at a cloudless sky. “Everyday with you, i-it’s something new to look forward to… I learn something, sometimes it’s about you… sometimes me… I never want that to stop. You could convince me that you make the planet spin. Tomorrow isn’t tomorrow without you.

“I’m ridiculous too, aren’t I?” Duval scoffed at herself. The muscles in her fingers relaxed into a slow massage over her muff. “Hooking up like this, w-with one of my subjects… but I couldn’t stop myself. Doing this without permission made me so alive… I never want it to end, Sierra. This night… should just be forever, shouldn’t it…”

Sierra gently laid her head against the knuckle of one finger. “I wish it could,” she said, stroking the long digit from outside the panties. “I don’t want to return to anything. I only want to be yours.”

“I-I… I want you to be mine.”

Duval’s body curled forward from its lounged position, her upper body rising high above Sierra at her crotch. Displaced hair was slow to cascade back down her shoulders as the scientist stared down at her subject with a weary, uncertain gaze. Sierra blinked back, happy enough to have even this attention, but there was more to be involved in. Under hot huffs of breaths, Duval pulled forward her underwear, creating thin openings along either thigh for Sierra to enter. She stuttered to give directions, but found them unnecessary when Sierra took the initiative with a few timid steps, peering past the fabric to uncover Duval’s snatch.

As if welcomed into a warm tent, Sierra made headway into the new territory, immediately in awe of what she saw despite how dim. Curls of hair coated this private sector of skin, growing up the wall of flesh like garden vines. A pet pushed aside some of the longer curls as Sierra stepped further in, allured by the bitter scent of human sweat and the little glimpses of pink skin. The air was especially thick, but Sierra savored that feeling, immersed into her environment with such focus that she was slow to realize that the panties had closed behind her. The snap of elastic first alerted her, but then the movement of the fingers spooked her into a hop, as if a machine had been activated just beside her.

The world shook and even seemed to groan with the noise Duval made. A whimper mixed with a moan, Duval felt an erotic pulse with Sierra sealed in her underwear. She stared at the little bulge made of Sierra’s outline, the only evidence that a human being was trapped there. The thought crossed her mind of what it would be like to don her normal uniform, lab coat and all -- would anyone notice? No one had when she stole Sierra across the labs and to the studio, so certainly no one would blink an eye at her if that close friend was hidden inside her pants. The concept truly amused her into a frigid grin, exploring this thought to all its ends while her fingers passively twisted around her clitoris.

Down below, Sierra was a dedicated observer to the initial windings of Duval masturbating. Shuddered with shame for being exposed to this intimate scene, Sierra’s whole body glowed red and shivered with excitement. She reached out and touched the index finger as it worked diligently, its outward power impressing her to know that such strength was used expressly to feed Duval’s lust. It was but a finger, yet it expressed the sheer brawn of a monster all of its own, so huge that Sierra’s presence was ignorable.

And if that were the case, Sierra felt emboldened to include herself, riding that high of insignificance. Without a stable thought in her head, Sierra climbed up the coils of hair, using the finger and the black panties as occasional footholds to push herself up. The hair entangled her like a proper bush, but she willingly submerged herself into its humidity, inhaling the odor that was seeped into every fiber. Handfuls of hairs were bound into fists; Sierra worried this might hurt Duval, but what she found was that the titan hummed pleasantly alongside all her touches. Duval desired this, or at the very least, Sierra was convinced of it, and so she dove further upward, her attention squared onto the pink bulb that the mighty finger protected with swirling motions.

At last, Sierra’s efforts rewarded her with the prize she had eyed from below. Magnetically drawn to it, she first touched the guardian finger that stimulated it, her hand grabbing the hard nail and urging it aside. She wondered if such a meager force could even be detected, but Duval’s finger did retract, curling aside and exposing the clitoris. Another step up the slick slope, and Sierra was upon the bulb, nearly drooling over it with her mouth wide open. She blinked, comprehending the wider scope of her situation, relishing in how little she felt to be propped up on pubic hairs and pussy lips. Then, lacking restraint, she pushed her head forward and nuzzled the clit, guiding her nose around it in circular swirls while her tongue occasionally poked out in tiny licks. The response was immediate, a tremor of Duval repositioning herself slightly on the bed, a muffled moan heard distantly above. Sierra paused while the world settled before returning to her ritual, now applying both hands in a deep massage around the sensitive area.

Sierra was tampering with a planet’s core. Every touch and twist worked up a huge reaction from Duval, even if it was just small spasms of excitement on her end. Sierra was engrossed with this capability, laughing to herself as she dug into the clitoris with a push and then a pull, meeting its tip with her tongue in a messy kiss. Her dedication to the clit resulted in Duval panting in a melody, her whole body rocking to its rhythm as though Sierra truly did have reign over her. It was an unreal sensation for Sierra to be behind such power, to be under something so incredible and greater than herself, and so her own arousal was thrust forward, her legs spreading far to each side in order to grind her cunt into the crevice she hugged.

By surprise, Sierra found herself lifted from her butt and pulled out into the open air. She squeaked, hooked between her legs by a curved finger that was nearly too wide to be seated upon in such a way. Duval reeled her out from the underwear, exposing Sierra to the chill-inducing atmosphere of the hotel room. She leaned onto the fingertip with the same grip she had on the clitoris, her muscles aching to continue much like her spirit -- pulled away from her work, Sierra’s expression was distraught and bothered, her inner heat clearing taking a toll on her swirling thoughts.

But Duval’s grin hanging sweetly above like an adrift cloud was all Sierra needed to see to have her anxieties cleansed. Held in such a lax way, Sierra giggled and sunk over the finger, overjoyed to feel so weightless -- to feel Duval’s raw power so casually applied. Duval was amused as well, her free hand used to keep a breast pressed aside so that she could peer down at her friend. A slight flex of her finger was enough to make Sierra yelp into laughter, her body bobbing up and down with the finger’s motion while Duval’s drunken smile crept even wider. Sierra’s legs tightened around the tendrill for support, yet she always trusted that she would be safe with it.

“... You’ve gotten me so worked up,” Duval chuckled bashfully. “It’s embarrassing, you know~”

Sierra cuddled the finger, her giggling suppressed into the skin. She lifted her head wearily, “Imagine how I must feel.” She grinned, wanting to admit that the situation was sexier knowing how Duval felt about matters.

“It’s been in my thoughts,” Duval teased, her eyes narrowing into a sultry gaze. “How big am I…?”

Sierra stuttered with too many thoughts swelling at once. “... Massive,” she replied in a light laugh. “More than a mountain. Y-You’re huge.”

“Mmm… Is that so…?” Duval tilted her head, a stray thread of hair pinched by her lip. “Is that what I look like to you…?”

Sierra leaned further on the fingertip, her arousal rising as the conversation continued. She nuzzled sweat off her brow onto the finger, “Honestly, n-no. You’re so much bigger, a-and so much… greater. I don’t even know where to begin…” Her words felt frantic, faster in pace than what was normal for Sierra. Enthralled with how tiny she felt, her thoughts rambled on, “Every part of you is… is like a world I want to live on. E-Even now, I wish I could be small enough t-to fit on your finger… even the little ridges…” A finger of her own traced the prints of Duval’s fingertip, circling around them with an intense stare. “You seem like everything, Duval. And I’m so selfish, wanting all of you…”

Duval giggled, her tone low and entertained. Her eyes closed, and Sierra felt the hand around her sink down towards the crotch she had been freed from. “Sierra, Sierra~” Duval sang loosely, “we’re both incredibly selfish… There’s no one else that can appreciate me quite like you do, is there…?”

Sierra scoffed, simultaneously inspired and belittled by this remark, unable to speak up as Duval submerged her back into the humid confinement. Rather than simply leave her to continue where she had left off, Duval’s finger surged and pushed Sierra against the muff, uncaring and unaware of how her pubic hairs coiled around the writhing limbs. A volcanic moan escaped Duval as she pressed Sierra firmly against the pillowy lips, stroking her forcefully up and down the moistened slit. Sierra was bullied by the finger, its length riding her backside furiously and constantly shoving her into the hot crevice. Despite the physical toll this cost Sierra, she was immersed in the sensation, moaning wildly with Duval’s name stuttered throughout as she felt her body -- the encapsulation of so much passion and emotions -- meld with the great warmth that was Duval’s all-consuming lust.

The landscape that was Duval twisted freely across the bed as her ecstasy peaked. A wide smile broke out into a gaping gasp, her core pulsating with burning waves of joy that her heart could barely keep up with. A free hand soon addressed the sweat cascading down her face, sooner than her busy hand was to relieve Sierra of such humiliating treatment -- not too quick to give up her ograsmic bliss, Duval pushed the limits of how long she could keep Sierra pinned to her cunt, jittering with amusement whenever she felt a tiny twitch or kick. Sierra herself embraced her position, nearly drowned in the wetness Duval had produced, peacefully accepting her lowly place as a human-toy used by a tipsy scientist.

When the hand’s muscles finally relaxed, Sierra was left to catch herself among pubic hairs to avoid slipping all the way down Duval’s underwear. She did so with a thrilled squeak, hugging the soaked hairs that entangled her, but she was not forgotten. Multiple fingers curled under her and combed her out of the bush, wrapped around her frail frame like an impressive hug while lifting her out from the panties. Once Sierra was removed, Duval was free to topple backwards into bed, crashing into the mattress like a hundred trees had fallen together. Such a mighty fall rattled Sierra, but Duval’s grip over her ensured she would be contained safely.

Sierra was released between Duval’s breasts, a brief freedom before both hands clasped the tiny woman against the chest. Under the blanket-like palms, Sierra felt Duval rock side to side while giggling aloud, still afloat from an incredible high. The rapid beating of the heart beneath Sierra was like an active engine whose rhythm could lull her to relax. Just as Duval reclined and cherished this otherworldly sensation, so too did Sierra roll on top of the chest, stretching out far while laughing aloud with her friend.

The moment seemed eternal, an unbreakable monument of their romance coming to blossom. Sierra could not recount the hours leading up to the hotel room, having forgotten the realities outside while submerged in this fantasy come to life. The anxiety of traveling and partaking in the showcase all fell behind her, barely a memory that explained how she was here with Duval in this surreal situation. Neither wished for it to end, both breathing heavily under a spell of silence with aimless smiles.

Sierra stroked a hand across the canvas of skin in front of her, exhaling over what she touched. “Duval…” she finally spoke, her throat dry as it recovered. Saying her name after what they had experienced together was a sensation all of its own, like the first word written in a new book. She still giggled, long after she had been tickled, “This feels more like a dream than real life… I-I still don’t really believe it…”

Duval’s hand tightened around Sierra like a strict cuddle. Her eyes closed, rekindling the warmth she had sparked. “It’s… a dream come true, isn’t it?” she replied, her words spoken loose and quiet. She chuckled as her thumb tenderly swirled over Sierra’s back. “A perfect dream… almost. Hah… the headache I’m going to have after this…”

Sierra felt the weight of a hand lift off her, tending to Duval’s temples where a hangover was surely brewing. On her slow descent back to reality, Sierra remembered the stickiness of wine over her body, its scent spurring an electric chill down her spine. When Duval took a deep breath, Sierra felt the hugeness of the inhale, a reminder of how human this woman truly was -- a reminder of how this moment came to be.

Emotionally activated, Sierra toiled under the pressure of a deep question. Observing Duval from under her hand only pushed her to ask it aloud. “D-Duval, you’re not just… drunk… are you…? What we did, i-it wasn’t… just an accident, or--”

Sierra stopped when she felt Duval shake in response, as if the whole world disagreed. “No, no… Sierra…” Duval lifted her head, her hair still a mess from how she tossed and turned on the bed. She smiled down at the little head revealed from under her palm. “Th-This wouldn’t have happened if… I didn’t… love you. I-I don’t know how else to say it,” she giggled nervously, “but I will say… I’m not that drunk, b-but it did wake me up to… to admit what I wanted. I tried to deny it all this time, but… but now, this is where we are.”

“But… what happens now…?” Sierra’s gaze upwards faltered, burdened by these worries. “Tomorrow, and the day after… Where do we go…?”

Duval wanted to provide an answer, an instinct of her’s as an overseer. Her mouth opened, but there was no reply. She dwelled on the question, dancing around the logical obstacles until her mind could dance no more. The future was a flat, featureless vista. It was territory that she had never ventured through, not even in her dreams.

The pause was deafening, but Duval held tightly to what anchored her to hopefulness. “I do not know, Sierra. I can’t tell you what lies ahead, but… I can tell you that I love you. I can tell you that again and again. I love you.” Staring at Sierra conjured tears to the corners of her eyes, and so she looked away, out towards the cityscape past her windows. “We’ll have to meet tomorrow together… and discover what that means for us then.”

Sierra curled her head into a finger, nuzzling against its tip. Her eyes never left Duval’s, perpetually absorbed into their color. “... I love you too, Duval.” Silently and begrudgingly, Sierra agreed with this assessment of uncertainty, and though it pained her to be unsure of the future, her heart did not waver, not while immersed in the peace she and Duval shared into midnight.

The halls were soulless, deathly quiet. The drum of hurried footsteps tore through the silence of 3 AM. Before anyone could be expected to stir into the new day, Duval knew she had to return to the hotel security storage. She had woken up in a startle realizing how late it was, and that Sierra was still beside her, passed out in the crook of her arm. As whimsical of a night as it may have been, reality was dawning, and it was time to take Sierra back to the safehouse.

Duval dashed down the halls whipped up in a nightgown, both hands shielding the travel pod containing Sierra. She double checked every intersection as she made her way down to the first floor, quietly entering the secured room where the other subjects were kept. There was no time or space for a proper farewell, and so Duval’s send-off was a worried gaze cast into the pod, kissed by Sierra’s stare back at her. Wordlessly, Duval slipped Sierra back in front of her home, just how she was picked up. A gentle wave goodbye was the last image of Duval as she closed the safehouse and tepidly exited.

Sierra stood at her patio, watching Duval’s leave through the glass barrier with legs unwilling to move. She stumbled into her door when she finally had to, weak from the whirlwind of a night she had experienced. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but her smile persisted, even as it pained her cheeks to do so. More than ever before in her life, she was fulfilled. Though the future ahead remained a blur, Sierra embraced what she achieved, holding the memory close to her like a beacon of warmth.

Duval sighed as she snuck out of the security storage room, her movements slow from exhaustion. As burdened as she was by the anxieties of what lay ahead, what slowed her the most was her gravitation towards Sierra -- a destiny of her own making that she was deeply attached to. Leaving her after such an intense night of passion felt criminal, she wished that they could cuddle together into the morning like an ordinary couple. But the reality was unshaking, as was her drive to maintain what little she had managed to make for herself.

Her confidence had swelled, only to deflate as she stepped into the hallway. Her path was blocked, a sight so unexpected that it paralyzed Duval in midstep. She stuttered, unable to say the name of the supervisor that had followed her. Across from her, Ericka felt that same hesitation, afraid to admit to herself what she had caught Duval in the midst of.

Ericka closed her eyes. So long of a pause could only be ended by her. “... We need to discuss this, Ophelia...”