With a sharp gasp, Eric looked down at his suddenly miniature form, his heart racing like a marathon runner in the final sprint. He had just stepped out of the shower in Krystyna's bathroom, toweling off the last droplets of water, when the world around him grew to monstrous proportions. The tiles stretched into an endless desert of porcelain, the toilet seat a throne for a giant, and the sink a vast pool threatening to drown him in its depths. His hand, once a manly tool capable of lifting weights and gripping his girlfriend's waist, was now a tiny, trembling paw.
He stood there, naked and utterly exposed, his three-inch-tall body feeling the cold, unforgiving air of the unheated bathroom. The towel he had been holding lay on the floor like a forgotten blanket, useless to his new size. Krystyna's laughter echoed from the bedroom, blending with the music and chatter of their friends getting ready for the club. Panic clutched at Eric's chest, a cold fist that seemed to shrink his heart along with the rest of him. He tried to call out, to scream for help, but his voice was a mere squeak, lost in the din of the party preparations.
Gathering his courage, Eric took a tentative step toward the door. The floor was a treacherous terrain of dust bunnies and unseen obstacles, but he had to get back to Krystyna, to tell her what had happened. As he approached the door, it swung open who comes in?
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