Marta doesn't notice and leaves them alone.
Family's New Shrink Ray
chapter 9
by
copier
· original author:
arca88
"Wow, these don't look like your typical Barbies, do they, Emily?" Marta said with a crooked smile, holding Debbie immobilized between her thumb and forefinger. The giant mother seemed to find silent amusement in the display. Embraced by the darkness of fear, Debbie could only focus her gaze on the gigantic moles on Marta's hand, which looked like craters.
"They feel very different. Softer, Mom," Emily insisted, reaching out to awkwardly pat Derek, who felt as stiff as a broomstick.
Marta gave a dry laugh, a sound that echoed like muffled thunder overhead.
"Yes, 'soft,' honey. And very... detailed. Look at this, Emily." Marta held Debbie up to the overhead light, her gigantic eyes scrutinizing every inch of the dwarfed nurse. Embarrassment was a wave of heat that scorched Debbie from head to toe. She was completely naked, being inspected like a collector's item by her enemy. She could smell Marta's expensive perfume, a tangy mix of jasmine and something metallic, which made her dizzy.
"Emily's right, the craftsmanship is incredible. Look at her, Emily. She even has... freckles! Who makes dolls with freckles?" Marta tilted her head, and that slight tilt made Debbie's world spin. In the light, Debbie felt Marta's scrutiny linger dangerously on her face, on her half-closed eyes, on the fear she was unable to hide.
"Don't move. Don't breathe!" The head nurse's voice shrieked hysterically inside Debbie's head. She and Marta had clashed for years, mostly over trivial matters: who would get the last parking spot at the hospital, who would get invited to the most neighborhood parties. But this... this was absolute humiliation. If Marta noticed, hell wouldn't have enough fury.
Marta, with casual interest, turned Debbie over to examine her back. The touch of the giant's fingertip against the micro-woman's skin was unbearably invasive. It was the touch given to an inanimate object, a gesture devoid of all consideration.
Derek wasn't having a better time. He'd been placed across Marta's palm, which was as big as a hospital bed to him. He tried to make himself tiny, to blend into the lines of his captor's life.
Marta picked Derek up and looked at him. His thick body hair trailed down his back as he felt a little closer to her.
"And look at the boy, Emily," Marta said, her tone more playful, bordering on lascivious, given her giant's perspective and the naked object she held. "My God, the craftsman outdid himself with this one. He's... ambitious." Definitely not for an afternoon tea set.
Derek felt himself turning red all the way to the roots of what remained of his hair. The reference to his anatomy, even disguised as a comment about a toy, was heartbreaking. He wanted to scream, to curse, to demand respect, but his voice refused to leave his throat. He was at the mercy of a giantess holding him like a hunting trophy.
"I want to dress them, Mom! Do you have any clothes?" Emily protested, impatiently jumping on the rug, creating gusts of air that were like small gales to the tiny captives.
"Don't be impatient, darling. You have to appreciate the artwork." Marta smiled, that gesture Debbie knew well: the smirk.
Marta pulled Derek closer to her face. The giantess's breath was warm and heavy with the smell of morning coffee, a miniature air storm.
"Wait, is there something here?" Marta frowned slightly, her eyes focusing on the tiny skin. She thought she saw a small imperfection, an unusual shine, but attributed it to the light.
She gently brushed the back of Derek's neck with her neat fingernail, forcing him to jerk violently back. The touch was as casual as it was lethally terrifying. Derek choked back a scream that would have sounded like a mouse's squeal.
Debbie, seeing her son about to be crushed by indifference, felt a primal maternal urge.
No. Don't let her win.
Just then, Marta looked at Debbie again, a glimmer of recognition, or at least of thought, crossing her face.
"Hey, Debra..." Marta began, her voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. She was about to utter the name of Debbie, the nurse, the rival, the one with similar freckles.
Everything stopped. Debbie felt her heart stop. The word was half-formed in the giant's mouth. Was Marta seeing the tiny woman, or was she simply remembering someone she looked like?
Before Marta could complete the sentence or the thought, Emily burst in impatiently.
"Mom, now! I want to play! Are these for my dollhouse? I'll make them dance at the party."
Marta sighed, the distraction breaking her train of thought. The moment of truth faded.
"Of course, honey. They're yours, a birthday present from that garage sale. But be careful with them, they look fragile," Marta said, handing Derek to Emily, whose grip was less professional and more... like that of a child who doesn't know how to gauge her strength.
Emily took Derek and roughly placed him on a dresser decorated with glitter and unicorn stickers. Derek fell facedown in a layer of dust that felt like desert sand to him.
Marta, still holding Debbie, gave her one last look.
"They need clothes. I can't let you play with them like that, Emily. Your grandmother would go crazy," Marta said, feigning moral disgust. "They're too... natural."
Suddenly, Marta's phone vibrated loudly from the back pocket of her jeans, a deafening sound that shook the bedroom. The tiny babies' fear intensified. Now, Marta was on the move.
"It's Lucy." He's probably calling to ask if we're home yet. You know how he is." Marta rolled her eyes.
With the distraction of the call, Marta completely forgot about the "toy" she was holding. She needed to free her hand to answer. With a swift, unconscious movement, she dropped Debbie onto the same surface where she'd left Derek: Emily's dusty, sticky vanity, next to a rubber boat and a pile of half-peeled stickers.
Debbie landed sideways, letting out a small gasp of air that only she could hear. The impact wasn't devastating, but it was enough to remind her of her fragility. She turned cautiously and saw Derek, also slightly dazed, a few inches away.
Marta took a few steps away from Emily's play area, raising her phone to her ear.
"Hello? Yes, we're home." The sale was a success... I bought you that skirt you wanted, and Emily... Marta's voice lowered as she walked away, leaving the bedroom and heading into the hallway for more privacy.
Emily, now alone with "her" dolls, was more interested in organizing her new dollhouse.
Marta didn't notice and left them alone.
"They feel very different. Softer, Mom," Emily insisted, reaching out to awkwardly pat Derek, who felt as stiff as a broomstick.
Marta gave a dry laugh, a sound that echoed like muffled thunder overhead.
"Yes, 'soft,' honey. And very... detailed. Look at this, Emily." Marta held Debbie up to the overhead light, her gigantic eyes scrutinizing every inch of the dwarfed nurse. Embarrassment was a wave of heat that scorched Debbie from head to toe. She was completely naked, being inspected like a collector's item by her enemy. She could smell Marta's expensive perfume, a tangy mix of jasmine and something metallic, which made her dizzy.
"Emily's right, the craftsmanship is incredible. Look at her, Emily. She even has... freckles! Who makes dolls with freckles?" Marta tilted her head, and that slight tilt made Debbie's world spin. In the light, Debbie felt Marta's scrutiny linger dangerously on her face, on her half-closed eyes, on the fear she was unable to hide.
"Don't move. Don't breathe!" The head nurse's voice shrieked hysterically inside Debbie's head. She and Marta had clashed for years, mostly over trivial matters: who would get the last parking spot at the hospital, who would get invited to the most neighborhood parties. But this... this was absolute humiliation. If Marta noticed, hell wouldn't have enough fury.
Marta, with casual interest, turned Debbie over to examine her back. The touch of the giant's fingertip against the micro-woman's skin was unbearably invasive. It was the touch given to an inanimate object, a gesture devoid of all consideration.
Derek wasn't having a better time. He'd been placed across Marta's palm, which was as big as a hospital bed to him. He tried to make himself tiny, to blend into the lines of his captor's life.
Marta picked Derek up and looked at him. His thick body hair trailed down his back as he felt a little closer to her.
"And look at the boy, Emily," Marta said, her tone more playful, bordering on lascivious, given her giant's perspective and the naked object she held. "My God, the craftsman outdid himself with this one. He's... ambitious." Definitely not for an afternoon tea set.
Derek felt himself turning red all the way to the roots of what remained of his hair. The reference to his anatomy, even disguised as a comment about a toy, was heartbreaking. He wanted to scream, to curse, to demand respect, but his voice refused to leave his throat. He was at the mercy of a giantess holding him like a hunting trophy.
"I want to dress them, Mom! Do you have any clothes?" Emily protested, impatiently jumping on the rug, creating gusts of air that were like small gales to the tiny captives.
"Don't be impatient, darling. You have to appreciate the artwork." Marta smiled, that gesture Debbie knew well: the smirk.
Marta pulled Derek closer to her face. The giantess's breath was warm and heavy with the smell of morning coffee, a miniature air storm.
"Wait, is there something here?" Marta frowned slightly, her eyes focusing on the tiny skin. She thought she saw a small imperfection, an unusual shine, but attributed it to the light.
She gently brushed the back of Derek's neck with her neat fingernail, forcing him to jerk violently back. The touch was as casual as it was lethally terrifying. Derek choked back a scream that would have sounded like a mouse's squeal.
Debbie, seeing her son about to be crushed by indifference, felt a primal maternal urge.
No. Don't let her win.
Just then, Marta looked at Debbie again, a glimmer of recognition, or at least of thought, crossing her face.
"Hey, Debra..." Marta began, her voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. She was about to utter the name of Debbie, the nurse, the rival, the one with similar freckles.
Everything stopped. Debbie felt her heart stop. The word was half-formed in the giant's mouth. Was Marta seeing the tiny woman, or was she simply remembering someone she looked like?
Before Marta could complete the sentence or the thought, Emily burst in impatiently.
"Mom, now! I want to play! Are these for my dollhouse? I'll make them dance at the party."
Marta sighed, the distraction breaking her train of thought. The moment of truth faded.
"Of course, honey. They're yours, a birthday present from that garage sale. But be careful with them, they look fragile," Marta said, handing Derek to Emily, whose grip was less professional and more... like that of a child who doesn't know how to gauge her strength.
Emily took Derek and roughly placed him on a dresser decorated with glitter and unicorn stickers. Derek fell facedown in a layer of dust that felt like desert sand to him.
Marta, still holding Debbie, gave her one last look.
"They need clothes. I can't let you play with them like that, Emily. Your grandmother would go crazy," Marta said, feigning moral disgust. "They're too... natural."
Suddenly, Marta's phone vibrated loudly from the back pocket of her jeans, a deafening sound that shook the bedroom. The tiny babies' fear intensified. Now, Marta was on the move.
"It's Lucy." He's probably calling to ask if we're home yet. You know how he is." Marta rolled her eyes.
With the distraction of the call, Marta completely forgot about the "toy" she was holding. She needed to free her hand to answer. With a swift, unconscious movement, she dropped Debbie onto the same surface where she'd left Derek: Emily's dusty, sticky vanity, next to a rubber boat and a pile of half-peeled stickers.
Debbie landed sideways, letting out a small gasp of air that only she could hear. The impact wasn't devastating, but it was enough to remind her of her fragility. She turned cautiously and saw Derek, also slightly dazed, a few inches away.
Marta took a few steps away from Emily's play area, raising her phone to her ear.
"Hello? Yes, we're home." The sale was a success... I bought you that skirt you wanted, and Emily... Marta's voice lowered as she walked away, leaving the bedroom and heading into the hallway for more privacy.
Emily, now alone with "her" dolls, was more interested in organizing her new dollhouse.
Marta didn't notice and left them alone.
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November 12
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