The threat of Lana’s return proved a hefty motivator. You really didn’t want to be shot. You stood back up and placed a hand on Mallory’s sole. It was tough like leather but had no visible wear, no doubt the result of many years spent sitting at a desk.
“Alright, Miss Archer... I’ll do it.”
She didn’t reply. You figured you’d better get used to not being acknowledged from now on and took a deep breath. You pressed both hands into her soles and started to rub. You’d never given a massage before, even at normal size, so a lot of what you were doing was guess work. Should you rub up and down? Side to side? In a figure of 8? Write the alphabet? You settled on doing a mixture of all of the above.
The foot was hardly an attentive audience - it hardly responded to your efforts, bar the occasional twitch.
Your arms began to ache within the first minute. Ten had passed. Your wrists felt like they would fall off at any moment and you were starting to sweat immensely. You couldn’t continue. You let your arms drop and released an involuntary gasp as the pressure in your biceps was relieved. You dropped to your knees once again and let yourself fall on to your back.
It was quiet for only a moment before you heard Mallory shift in her chair. Although your eyes were closed, you could tell she was looking at you.
“You haven’t finished yet.”
“I just need a minute...” you said between breaths.
You thought you’d been permitted a break as Mallory didn’t respond. Ten minutes, you told yourself, then you’d start on the second foot.
But then you found yourself drowning.
The familiar smell of brandy washed over you as gallons of the stuff doused your body. You quickly shot up, trying and failing to avoid swallowing too much of the sharp liquid. You soon found yourself standing in a pool of brandy, and almost certain you’d be drunk within the next few minutes.
“What the hell?!” you shouted up at Mallory, who sat watching you, empty glass in hand. She buzzed out to the girls at the door.
“Can one of you come here and clean this up?”
————————————————
It was staring to get dark outside. The day must be ending. You sat on the desk you’d been left on all day, watching Mallory who was laying on the couch. You looked over at your shirt, which you draped over a stapler in an attempt to dry it but it still looked as wet as it did when she poured brandy all over you.
So this is how your first day at work ends. Shirtless, drunk, and tiny.
Mallory stood up from the couch and grabbed her coat from the rack. She continued to ignore you as she did for most of today.
“Miss Archer? How am I going to get home?”
“Hm? Home?! You can’t go home!”
“I’m not sure I follow...”
“Well, by the time you make it home, it’ll be time to come to work. It would be much more efficient if you stayed here from now on.”
“In your office?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“Yes! I’ll return in the morning and we can continue your training. You still need practice in massages.”
“What about food? What about water? I need a change of clothes! Miss Archer, please! Is there no way to make me big again?!”
Mallory threw her coat on and took a glove out of her pocket. “Perhaps you can sleep in this. Until we can find more suitable accommodation...” she dropped it next to you.
“No, Miss Archer, wait! You can’t leave me like this! Wait!!”
Mallory left, closing the door behind her.
“Shit.” you stared at the door for while, hoping she’d come back and reveal all of this to be some sort of prank. Something they do to all the new recruits. But nobody came. You walked in the stapler and felt your shirt. Wet. Cold. You returned to the glove and felt inside. Dry. Warm.
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