The men bow at your request and lead the way out of the building. As you follow, the crowds parting around you probably due as much to your greasy breakfast stink as anything else, you notice that everyone is taller than you. Indeed, they all seem to be more in scale with Jennifer! The size-reduction setting you chose - one three-hundredth your regular height - seems to not be the standard that has been used to shrink these people, and full-grown men tower over you!
Doing a little quick calculation in your head, you work out that you are proportionately under five feet tall to them! Maybe... four foot eight inches? Somewhere around the stature of a ten-year-old? For someone who used to tower over six feet back at normal size, it's both humbling and scary to be surrounded by all these massive strangers, whose language you can't understand. It's like being regressed to childhood...
You are lead to a small hut, and the door is opened before you, your guides bowing to beckon you inward. Doubtful that they'd go to this much effort to kill you, you thank the tiny giants and step inside.
It's a lot more roomy than you had expected, with a high roof and dark shadows in the far corners. In the centre, a middle-aged woman in what passes for finery here - her shapeless grey clothing has two layers - reclines upon a throne.
"You, uh, you Shara?" you ask.
"Wow, a newcomer from the world above!" she squeals, clapping her hands. Her face lights up with child-like glee, and she brushes her unruly mop of hair from her eyes as she stands up. "Yes, these people call me Shara, but that's just because they believe names with more than two syllables are reserved for the gods: 'big names for big people'."
Walking up to you, proving herself to also be far, far taller than your quarter-inch form, she sticks out a hand. "Back in the land of the large, they called me Cheryl Raleigh."
You allow her great hand to engulf your own and give it a too-firm shake, seeing from her expression that she's disappointed. "No reaction? The name doesn't..?"
Your shrug makes her sigh. "Have I been gone so long that people have forgotten me? I'm an investigative journalist, and I was ready to bust this whole operation open! Then we got caught, and Elizabeth ate my camera crew in front of me..."
"Holy shit."
"Still not sure if it was merciful or cruel for her to shrink me down and keep me here. With something to always remind me of the past."
You follow her eyes to see that her throne has been re-purposed from a large-world artifact - in this case the bud of an ear-piece, the ring serving as the cushion for this queen. You step up to it to run your hand across its familiar, alien surface. "So you what, you rule here now? You get special privilege?"
"That I do," she says, her voice louder as it comes from above you, the woman standing directly behind you now, her powerful hands on your shoulders. "I can breach the language barrier, and in return I get first dibs on everything. Living quarters, food, mates..."
You look back at her, and she winks. With a gentle shove from her, you sprawl onto her throne, and Queen Shara of the Micro-People looks down on you. "We have to breed to keep the upper classes happy, but those drones out there are so dull - taught those two that brought you here English, and they're still no good at conversation. You at least can give me some juicy goss on what's been happening up there!"
This has not been going how you expected. You just want to find a size machine, maybe reuinite with Jennifer, and instead you're here with a horny shrunken woman that still towers over you. What's a tiny survivalist to do?
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