Is This What You Really Want? Ch. 03

The two women left whispering, with Katie glancing back at him briefly before they went into the hallway. She caught him staring at her, and he immediately turned in his chair and grabbed a stack of papers, pretending to sift through them. She had seen him watching her; he was sure of it. He heard their footsteps disappear down the hallway and he was alone once more. A huge grin stitched itself across his face as he balled up his hands in elation.

"Yesssss!" he whispered to himself. "Yes! Yes! Yessssss!" This was all going so well! He could hardly believe it — it was all actually coming true! He thought back to Maia and the previous night, and how utterly beautiful she was. Was she watching him now? Of course she was — she was a goddess, right?? She could probably see everything that was going on. What had he done to get so lucky?? As he sat in his chair, musing blissfully over his situation, he gradually arrived at the conclusion that the goddess had paid him a visit because she had been watching him his whole life and had decided, after watching him struggle and toil with his unrequited desires, that he deserved to have them fulfilled.

'This is what you deserve, Timothy,' he said to himself. 'After all these years of feeling like a freak, of seeing everyone else just coasting through life and having normal sex and normal love lives...seeing them all happy and satisfied while you were alone and miserable with your impossible fantasies...well...look at everything now." He felt vindicated; he felt that finally, the universe was paying him the proper attention. He couldn't help but wonder when he was going to get that girlfriend who understood him — there was so much to look forward to! Thinking back to the goddess, he felt a great emotional welling-up inside himself, and he suddenly pulled his chair forward to his desk and shut his eyes tightly as he clasped both of his hands together in prayer.

"Thank you goddess!" he whispered, hoping that she could hear him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" He stayed like this for a minute or so, positively worshipping Maia as he praised her name over and over.

"Timmy!" crackled Clare's voice over the intercom. Panic momentarily shot through him as his prayer was interrupted. "You heard Patricia, right? If you have any issues today I want you to go straight to her or Katie, understand? I don't want a repeat of yesterday's shenanigans, ok?"

"O-ok Clare," he said, fumbling around on his desk and pressing the intercom button. "Got it."

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Timothy was eager to try and do as best a job as he could, because he knew that if he had Clare or Katie or whoever having to correct his performance, he would get off to it and shrink down even further. Although this is exactly what he wanted, he knew that he would get carried away and make himself shrink faster than he wanted to. This spell, or magic, or whatever it was, was the most delicious thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to relish it slowly.

He was proud of himself for handling this crazy situation with this kind of maturity and poise. As he worked away at his desk, he imagined that Maia was watching him with approval, admiring his determination not to take her gift and power for granted.

'She probably realizes,' he said to himself as he worked diligently, 'that she picked the right guy to visit. I'm not going to abuse her power — oh no! I'm going to treat it with the respect...and the, umm...the reverence (there, that's the word!) that it deserves.' He worked on at a faster pace than he had ever worked before. He was doing the equations correctly; he mixed the ingredients properly; he made sure that everything was at the right temperature; he didn't go overboard on the phosphoric acid; he ensured that there wasn't too much carbonation in each batch. In short, Timothy had the most productive day at Fizzy Pop that he had ever had before. All day, he worked uninterrupted...there were only a few times when he heard footsteps in the hallway. They hadn't been Clare's, because he could hear her heels clicking far away before he saw her. He had caught Ashley peering around the doorframe at him, but when they made eye contact, she hadn't tired to hide herself — she simply kept staring at him intently, as if trying to understand what was going on. He had given her a little awkward wave, but she hadn't waved back. She had just kept staring at him for another few moments before she went away.

'She clearly knows something's up,' he thought to himself. 'Katie too...those two are pretty sharp. Gotta be extra careful around them. Nothing I can't handle, though.' As five o'clock came around, he surveyed his work and cracked his fingers. A full day's work! And he didn't even have to stay late! And even though the girls might have been whispering amongst themselves and asking questions, no one knew what was going on. He did though — he knew, and as he gathered his things to leave, he felt more in charge, more in control, more power over his life than he had ever felt before.

"Good job today, Springer," came Clare's voice suddenly from the doorway. Timothy spun around. Clare was leaning against the doorframe, her high heels crossed over each other, looking sexy in her short, shiny, form-fitting black dress.

"Uhh, thanks!" he said brightly as he gathered his things.

"You didn't even have to ask Katie or Trish for help, huh?" continued Clare.

"Um, nope! Nope, not today!" he said, approaching her with his briefcase. As he neared the door Clare stood up straight. She certainly did seem tall. In fact, as he stood in front of her, he could see that his eyes only came up to her mouth...if that...maybe it was only up to the bottom of her lip.

"That's good, Springer," she said mildly, "that's really good. Maybe tomorrow you can go even faster."

"F-faster?" he stuttered. He didn't really see how that was possible. After all, today was the most productive he had been at any job at any point in time in his life. And Clare wanted him to...work faster?

"Yeah, faster," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You know, when Ashley, Katie, and Patricia were batch mixers they got to the point where they were putting out twice as much as you did today."

"T-twice as much?"

"Yep, twice as much," she said matter-of-factly. "It's because of their habits, Springer. They got into the habit of being productive, and you know, they just got faster and faster with time. Maybe, with some extra dedication and practice, you can get to where they were in a few month's time."

"A few-a few months?" he stammered. He felt confused, and momentarily forgot how happy he was. He was distracted by the other girls' productivity, and by how much he had apparently overestimated his own work.

"Yes, a few months," said Clare, her hands still on her hips. "A good work ethic takes time to build, you know. You can't just have one good day and expect me to be tripping over myself to congratulate you."

N-no, no, of course not," agreed Timothy. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed and let down by Clare's reaction to his hard work. Yes, it had just been one day, but...but...he had maybe expected her to be a little more...something. She could see the discontent in his face, and she took a step forward. Yes, he was certain...she had to be at least three inches taller than him now...and probably a little bit more. He was definitely looking at the bottom of her lower lip. Her breasts (which looked more impressive than usual packed into that shiny black dress) were even with his shoulders. She bent down and looked at him straight in the face.

"I'm sorry for teasing you this morning, Timmy," she said up-close, "but really, there was something to what I was saying, and your attitude now proves it. You really do need to develop better work habits, habits that your female co-workers have already established and maintained. The fact that you're a little miffed right now that I'm not praising you more for one day of average work just shows how far you have to go."

Timothy had been looking into her eyes, but hearing these words he was forced to look down at her feet. They went straight to his core — he knew she was right.

"I need you to develop some grit, Timmy," continued Clare, standing up to her full height. "I need you to try and produce just like you did today, every day. I need you to show me some strength of personality and character, alright?"

He didn't respond immediately; he was still staring at her high heels. He felt a little lurch in his stomach again — was that him shrinking? No, it couldn't be; he wasn't even really enjoying this exchange. Clare reached out her hand and put a manicured finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

"Alright?" she repeated, staring at him intently.

"A-alright," he said.

"Good." She nodded her head smartly at him and turned to leave, her ass making noises against her tight dress with each step. "Oh, and Timmy?" she said, turning around in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"I think I'd go see a doctor if I were you. You've definitely gotten smaller. And skinnier too."

"Y-yeah, yeah, I think I need to get myself checked out," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"Like, I don't mean to be rude, Timmy, but you were never, uh...how should I say it...the buffest guy out there, you know? But...yeah, something's going on, and it's not just the fact that you're shorter. You're...just...uh, and please don't take this the wrong way, but you're...just, shrimpier."

"Yeah...yeah I got it, Clare," said Timothy, a little testily. He could feel that little something in his stomach again, and he knew it was him shrinking again. But he wanted to enjoy it, and this exchange with Clare wasn't really that enjoyable. He felt more annoyed than anything.

She put her hands up. "Just trying to help," she said, and then walked away, her heels clacking and echoing off the hallway walls. Timothy stood there in place a few moments, breathing hard. He was sure he had felt himself shrinking there...why hadn't he enjoyed it? The truth was that he had been enjoying the feeling of control he felt he had over the situation, and Clare had caught him off-guard with her critique of his performance. He resented this brief abdication of control, even though it meant that he had gotten even smaller. Clare's honest and straightforward words had been more humiliating than he even realized, and even though the biting truth of her words turned him on, he didn't necessarily enjoy the feeling.

"No matter!" he said out loud after a few moments. He could feel his mind clearing, and the joy of his present situation returned like the sun behind a cloud. He was eager to get home and do one thing: measure himself again, to see how small he had gotten.

'And I won't just measure my height this time,' he said to himself as he walked quickly to his car in the parking deck, 'I'll measure everything...waist, hips, shoulders, arms, legs...everything! Gotta keep track of the shrinking!' By the time he reached his car he was positively giddy from excitement. He had taken care to park in exactly the same place as he had the previous day, and before getting in his car he took a few moments to look around and remember the exchange he had had with the goddess less than 24 hours before. As he looked around at the bare concrete, and at the "Clearance 6'6" sign and the tree branch that she had plucked the caterpillar from, he couldn't stifle an audible sigh of pleasure that seemed to come up from the middle of his breast. As if in response, a light pleasant breeze suddenly kicked up and blew around his face, rumpling his hair. Although it was not nearly as strong as it had been the previous night, he could smell it: just a hint of roses. It was her, he knew. It was her kissing him with her breath. He closed his eyes and sighed again, feeling, for all he was worth, like he was the luckiest man in the world.

As he winded down the concrete labyrinths, his anticipation grew. He had been forced to readjust both his car seat the steering again, and this provided concrete proof that he had, in fact, shrunk again. But by how much?? He couldn't wait to get home to find out — as he turned out the parking deck, his mind was awash in excitement over what he was going to do when he got home. He'd make a height chart that documented his shrinking as it happened each day...he'd keep detailed records of everything...how it happened, when it happened...and how much he shrank each time. He's start to carry a tape measure with him wherever he went, and...he suddenly realized that he didn't own a scale.

'No problem,' he thought to himself as he drove down the road, going faster than normal in his eager anticipation, 'I'll just stop by the store and get one.' He briefly wondered where people bought scales. They weren't the kind of thing that you bought everyday, so...he was slowing down for a red light, and he briefly looked down at his phone to check to see where he could go to get one...

*BAM*

Evidently he had not slowed quickly enough, because he had just rear-ended the car in front of him. It was't a bad accident by any means — he had only been going a couple miles per hour, but even at that speed, he lurched forward in the driver's seat as his car came to a sudden stop.

"Oh fuck!" he yelled in surprise. The suddenness of the impact, even at that low speed, was jarring to say the least. Immediately, he turned off his car, put it in "park," and stumbled out, hoping to god that the car he hit wasn't driven by some big angry man. He had a couple seconds to survey the car he hit and the damage: a black car, sporty...he could see that it had a bumper sticker in the corner of a...was that some kind of skull? His heart sank — this person was gonna be so pissed at him and he was gonna have to...but at that moment his mind stopped thinking, because the driver's side to the car he hit opened, and he saw a long leg emerge, wrapped halfway up to the knee in what looked like platform gothic boots. Timothy's breath caught in his chest. The long leg made contact with the ground and...Timothy could see the swell of the thigh as the leg flexed and brought out...the rest of the person...a woman...a young woman. With a mane of black hair that billowed around her pale face — a beautiful face, with pale, rounded cheeks, a sharp chin, lush, full lips with black lipstick, and large deep-set eyes that were highlighted by heavy dark make-up. Timothy barely had time to notice everything: the proud way she held up her magnificent head that exposed her long, elegant, snow-white throat, her form-fitting white t-shirt that did little to hide her impressive breasts, and her low-cut jean shorts that barely contained the curves of her hips and ass and only went about a third of the way down her notable thighs.

Timothy noticed all of these things in a flash as he stumbled towards her, but more than anything he noticed the expression on her face. She looked...hungry.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, ma'm!" he stammered as he bumbled over to her, "I didn't—I wasn't, uh — I wasn't looking where — I thought I braked, but I — I'm so sorry..." he trailed off lamely, as he had reached her and didn't know what else to say. Standing in front of her now, he noticed one thing more: she was tall. Wearing her platform boots, his head came up to her chin...he had to avert his eyes from hers...she was looking at him through her dark make-up with such an odd and inscrutable intensity that he had to look away, and he did...straight forward into the tops of her breasts.

"A little distracted driving, huh?" she said wryly, putting a hand on her hip. Timothy saw that her nails were painted black and were very sharp...they reminded him of Maia's nails. The young woman heaved a sigh.

"Well, little man, what's your name?"

"I'm-I'm T-timothy," he stuttered. This woman was so beautiful, and so big, that it was as much as he could manage just to get those words out.

"Well Timothy," she said, striding slowly and confidently by him to survey the damage to her car, "there just seems to be a little bit of a dent here. Thankfully you weren't going too fast."

"Yes, yes, ah, I'm so sorry, ma'm...about that...yes, I can see the dent there. Well, I'll just — I'll just give you my, uh...my insurance information here —" and he fumbled in his back pocket for his wallet. The woman had strode back around Timothy and had leaned herself up against her car, crossing her boots as she crossed her arms across her large chest, looking down on him with something of an amused expression on her face.

"Timothy," she said, as if savoring the taste of his name in her mouth, "how old are you, might I ask?"

"How...how old? I'm 28," he said, still fumbling for his wallet.

"28?" she said, chuckling, "you don't look a day over 21."

"Well, I'm 28, and I have my license here to prove it," he said, feeling irritated at the little lurch in his stomach that accompanied her teasing. He wanted to have control over when he shrank and when he didn't, and besides, he needed to get home to measure himself...after he bought a scale of course.

The woman waved her hand nonchalantly, as if dismissing his offer, but then she seemed to reconsider.

"Actually, yeah," she said, grinning as she stuck her tongue into the side of her cheek, "can I see your license? I don't believe you."

"What? Uhhh, sure, here you go," he said, handing it up to her. He was having trouble finding his insurance card. "Just...uh, wait a minute, if you don't mind? I'm sorry, ma'm, I'm, uh...I've just gotta find my insurance card."

She waved her hand again casually. "Take your time," she said as she looked at his driver's license. She studied it for a moment, looking at the license, then looking at him, then back at the license, then back at him again.

"Welll," she said, clearly enjoying herself, "it does say your name is "Timothy" here, and it does say you were born 28 years ago..." She looked at him with a grin. "But why should I trust what it says about those things when it's clearly wrong about everything else?"

"What? What do you mean?" asked Timothy, still distracted by his missing insurance card.

"There's no way," said the woman slowly, "that you're 5'8, 165." Timothy stopped what he was doing and looked up at the woman, feeling something freeze inside him.

"There's no way," she repeated, smiling down at him, "because I know exactly how tall I am in these boots, and if you were 5'8, you'd come up to about right here," she said, indicating to the middle of her nose with a flat hand. Timothy noticed then how big her hands were...and how long her fingers were.

"How...how tall are you?" he asked, his mouth increasingly dry.

"5'10," she said casually, flipping her full black hair. Then she looked down on him with wide eyes. "But in these boots I'm 6'2."

"6'2?" he repeated, feeling weak in the knees. The number sounded so big to him, and yet, there she was, clearly real, right in front of him.

"Yep," she said, clearly proud of her stature. "But you, Timothy, you aren't even close to 5'8." She cocked her head to the side briefly. "I'd say you're about 5'4, 130 pounds soaking wet."

He didn't know what to say, and for a couple moments he just stood there gawking at her big, curvy frame as she continued to regard him amusedly with her arms crossed.

"Well, I...uh, I just — I've gotten a little smaller since, uh...since I got that license," he managed to say simply.

"Yes," she laughed, "I can see that." A few more moments passed. Timothy was beginning to feel naked in front of this large woman, and although he could feel himself getting hard under her stare, he felt like he was losing control of this whole situation. He wanted to get home and start making his growth chart. He bent down and looked through his wallet again, finally finding his insurance card. He held it out to her.