Well damn, you’ve missed the chance to get the view of a lifetime, but after all you went through to get this far, it doesn’t upset you at all, and the original goal still stands to see how your neighbor reacts to your fun-sized self, and the related fun-times that will undoubtedly follow. The only other remaining questions are “When to?” and “How small?”; after all, you don’t want to jump at her right now… well, not like that at least, she might not like your peeping-tom approach at all; and you don’t want to look too much like a bug when you do show up, lest you end up squashed like one. Finally, you decide to hold out your reveal until she’s lying down on her bed, with another couple-or-so inches added to your current height; although for now, you’ll just grow yourself up to a couple of inches for the sake of travel. Screw walking a mile just to get to the doorway. So you aim the device on your hip and-
*SHRIIIIIP*
“OH FUCK!”
The moment you’re about to pull the trigger, the half of the double-parachute you’re hanging from wins the tug-o-war against its twin and begins slipping down to the floor with a quick, loud zipping. Instantly you feel as if the carpet was pulled right from your feet, dragging you along to the edge of the world. Another onset of paralyzing vertigo hits you as the tiles down below scroll by your view, getting further as you come closer, until it hits peak once you can see the ones directly below you at the hamper’s base. Then you reach the point when you cannot keep your standing and fall down!
Falling on your hind was a fight in itself – a fight that otherwise would have ended with you skydiving straight to the floor tiles – but as soon as you did, you kept slipping down the silk track, and in a bout of quick reflexes, you grabbed the cloth behind you and clung back on to it. Your beat was running a marathon all the while, but you did manage to land a hold by the time you were sliding around the other cup. Holy fuck.
Even after the floor turns back into a climbing wall for you, it falls a short distance down before hitting a short stop once the losing cup rises to the rim of the bin. From there, it’s a sequence of quick, intermittent descents while the higher half of the top keeps hitting the faulty brake of friction against the cloth cover of the hamper. But it’s only a matter of how many ridges it hits until it slips out completely and you freefall to the floor; although with your place on the cup, it’s likely that it will land first and cushion your fall, if you keep hold tight that is.
The zipping noises pipe down while your drops lengthen out as the cup finds less resistance as it tips over the edge, meanwhile you fight to climb a bit higher and clip in for the incoming fall. Looking up towards the top of the wall, the other cup is almost all the way out, which means that you got a plummet incoming in 3…
*Shriip*
2…
*FWEEP*
“WHOAAA-!”
…1? Whoops, late start.
G forces immediately take over your body when the silky garment finally exits the hamper, resulting in a sharp drop towards the floor that has you gripping the bikini like mad all the way through; although despite your triple-deadlock safety measure, it still feels like you’re going to come off any second, and you swear you can feel your every last blood-cell in your body herding its way towards your head. It happens fast, really being a matter of seconds, but still feels as if each one had quadrupled in length, and you worry that you’re going to pass out before landing; all the while the top just keeps falling down and down and-
*Shrii - SNAP*
And it stops tight just a fair bit short from the floor, no higher than about a story tall for you; leaving the whole piece hanging limply outside the hamper and you panting like a soon-to-be-offed extra in a slasher flick; it’s been all day long and you’re still getting used to sudden movements and sharp, life-threatening drops, you pansy; it’s exciting, yes, but damn. Once the cup abruptly hits its stop you bounce in the rebound, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve just been in an odd, more extreme version of bungee-jumping. It seems that the other strap of the top snagged up on something up there.
When your mind finally catches up with your body, you take a moment to assess your situation. The floor, while still not close to your feet, was still just a short way down, and you can see the other strap lying on the floor just below you, so you could either drop or climb down; your own clothes were miraculously still stuck to your person; and your neighbor was still hot, still taking her shower behind the pane curtain. Luckily for you, the remote was firmly secured on your hand the whole time as well; after all, you wouldn’t like to repeat the mishap of flinging it on accident like you did way back at your neighbor’s dessert. Lessons learned and all that. But upon closer inspection, you see that it has been depleted of power once again. Uh oh. Looks like you had an accidental discharge up there. Curious, you search around the room for the recipient of the misfire, but fail to find anything out of place. Then again, it’s not like you’ve been here before, much less ant-tall. Oh well, it’s not like Ms Summers will mind a longer towel or a bigger bottle of lotion or whatever; although it irks you that you’ll have to remain this small for another while, more so when you actually have to move on your own like so.
Sighing in reluctance, but determined still to make the most out of your tiny day off at your neighbor’s house, you drop off to the bra strap on the floor and begin your way out of the bathroom from there, marching out to the sound of the pouring waterfall and your neighbor’s sing-song humming.
On the way out of the bathroom, you come across a crystal-clear pond of semi-still waters and a deep hatred for your perception, seeing as it gives you no end to grief at assessing its depth at a first glance. At best, you can guess that it’s waist-high compared to you, since the water ripples around your hips at entry. It must have dripped from Ms Summers’ wet hand after she reached in the shower, as it was too far from the shower to be a spill. While she obviously wouldn’t pay attention to a measly puddle, you really couldn’t ignore the giantess-made lake that stood between you and the sky-high mahogany gate to the rest of her house. In the very least, it’s warm enough to be pleasant for a quick bath.
While you certainly had enough water to forego the themed-parks and its now-flimsy wave pools for another month or so, having the chance to clean up without worrying about extreme temperatures, drowning, or sudden shifts in the current was too welcome to skip; after all, you were still feeling dry from the pool water and a bit sticky from threading apple sauce for awhile, as well as… other reasons. Kara had already entered her shower after all, and when in Ms Summers’ house…
First, you dip your clothes in the puddle to get their wash out of the way, sweeping them left to right in the water so they soak in a good amount; and then you lift them out and give them a good hearty dozen of flaps and rinse, then leave them on the side to dry out. Afterwards, you take a deep breath and submerge your head, washing up your whole body in the pleasant liquid.
Ah…
Any and all stiffs, itches and aches leave your body one by one while you take the dip, resting your back on the surface of the water and splaying out your limbs and doing snow angel-like waves, jetting up some small whirlpools by swirling your arms around and swaying slightly by stroking the water with your legs afterwards. All in all, you feel completely renewed by the end of the five minutes that you spend relaxing in the pool, and you’re almost tempted to stay, but you decide to carry on and leave the bathroom. Still, you jot another mental note in the list of things to do again when you’re this small.
When you finally reach the sky-high-and-beyond wooden tower leading out, it doesn’t surprise you to find that you can just walk below it without even having to hunch down and still have quite the space between your hair and it’s underside; although you get a fit of claustrophobic anxiety while making your way outside, as you couldn’t help but feel like the ceiling is coming down to flatten you, and each noise echoes with resounding depth in the tunnel. Thankfully, the walk out is short, and when you step out to the light, you’re standing in what you surmise as Ms Summers’ bedroom, judging by the nearby bed taking up the center of your view a few miles from the door.
The room itself surprisingly hasn’t much to write home about, given the rest of your day. A building-sized desk flanks your left by the door while a yoga ball the size of a moon takes up the view to your right, itself adjacent to a set of drawers about as tall as the desk is; but that’s about it, there’s little else of interest in the room as far as you can see.
Meanwhile, as you were at the end of your trek across the bathroom, Kara had almost finished cleaning up. The waterfall had all but quieted by the time you stepped into her room, and as you were learning its layout it was later replaced by the grind and crash of the panel door sliding open and the soft thumps of Ms Summers’ steps in the distance. It was a good notice for you to get out of the door’s way, lest you wanted to risk dirtying your neighbor again.
With your bearings in tow, you take temporary residence in the cranny behind the desk. There’s not much in the way of light along this much deeper tunnel, but thankfully you weren’t planning on crossing this one; just camping it out while the remote charged up. Speaking of camping, it’s late now and the whole day has taken its toll on you, perhaps it’s time to call it a day and carry on in the morning, when the remote’s ready for round 3.
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