Mini Vacation

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Xinunar
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Mini Vacation Part 28 - A Long Dinner Into The Night

Post by Xinunar » Sat Apr 02, 2022 11:59 pm

The two families chatted, long into the evening, catching up on each other's lives. Of course, Joyce pulled out every detail of Margaret’s experience as a mini. Margaret even caught herself telling some of the fantasies she had.

"Oh, my goodness. I can't believe I just told you that, right in front of the children."

"I wouldn't worry about it, dear," said Joyce. "Jackson's had a mini for over a year, and his and Steph's support group includes ex-cons, drug addicts and one porn star."

Jackson and Steph aren't the ones who might decide to turn one of my naughtier fantasies into reality, thought Margaret.

"It sounds like Michael has been very creative, while keeping things on an even keel," said Joyce. "But it also sounds like he's a bit too constrained to give you the full mini experience."

"I'm not even sure I really want that," said Margaret.

"Which is exactly why you should try it."

"Try everything once?" asked Margaret. "I don't agree with that philosophy. There are some things better left alone. I'll never try cocaine, for example."

"No," said Joyce. "But try everything that is not likely to hurt anyone--including yourself, and might possibly bring you long-term happiness. Just look at me. I didn't even think I wanted to give men a try, until Richard talked me into it. Now, look how happy I am."

"So Margaret," said Richard. "Who'd you go to for the minning? Please don't tell me you did it on your own."

"I went to Dr. Connors for the pre-min exam, and Dr. Stevens did the actual minning and the post-min."

"Good. Good men," he said. "And what about the follow-up examination?"

"Follow-up?"

"They're not required. But as an oncologist, I highly recommend one. Sometimes people have odd, delayed reactions to the mini. And this is a perfect time for cancer screening. Most growths--warts, moles, tumors and the like--shrink even more than you do, which is good. But sometimes they shrink less. That's not good, but at least it makes them easy to spot. At a minimum, you should at least have a breast exam."

"At least that's something I can do myself, at home," said Margaret.

"When you have me and Richard right here?" asked Joyce. "I wouldn't hear of it. Come over here, Margaret."

Margaret stared at her. She looked back at Michael, who just shrugged.

"Come," she said, patting the table in front of her.

Margaret saw this as an obvious ploy to feel her tiny tits, but after humiliating herself earlier by falsely accusing Joyce, she didn't see any way out of it. She'd rather have a full gynecological and rectal exam, right here in front of the kids, than go through that again.

She just hoped this wasn't going to be a full gynecological and rectal exam.

"Stand straight, dear. Arms down at your sides," said Joyce.

"First thing is to look for any asymmetries," said Richard, pulling out a jeweler's eyepiece. "Has your right arm always been just a little longer than your left?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Good. That sometimes reverses. Your face looks good--in more ways than one. If I saw any blemishes, I'd ask you to wash off the makeup. But I don't see a one, so there's no need. I'll learn more from your back, anyway."

"Here dear," said Joyce. "Turn towards me a bit, so Richard can get a better look at your back."

Joyce had taken off her glasses (they were for distance), which made her look even more beautiful. She used two fingernails to slip Margaret’s straps off her shoulders, allowing the dress to fall to the table. Margaret thought this was so much worse than being naked at Mini Park. This was humiliating! She felt herself getting wet.

"Your back looks great," said Richard. "I wish I had seen the 'before', though. You have just a few moles, but fewer and smaller than I'd expect in a woman your age.

“Oh, Andre, good timing. Would you go see if you can get me a flashlight? I'm giving Magpie here an impromptu examination."

"Her front looks symmetrical," Joyce observed. She hefted Margaret’s breasts with her index fingers. "Her breasts weigh the same, as near as I can tell."

She gave them just the briefest caress, as she released them. Then she nudged Margaret, turning her to face Richard.

"Your front is flawless," said Richard. "Oh, now this is unusual."

"What?" asked Margaret.

"Most minis shave or wax," he said with a grin. "Now, are you always so red?” He grinned, and Margaret blushed even deeper.

“OK. Let’s just wait a minute for Andre to get back with that flashlight. Are you cold?"

"Just embarrassed," she said.

"You were nude at the mini park, and this is educational for the kids."

"It's still embarrassing."

"Oh, Andre. Good. That was fast." He winked at the waiter. "Give me a minute to get situated, then turn off the lights for a moment. Jackson, use a menu to shield that candle, when we turn on the flashlight."

The Millers had reserved one of the better tables – a secluded corner booth, with a large round table. It had privacy screens going almost to the ceiling, and the lights at their table could be controlled separately from the rest of the room, which was kept dim for ambiance.

Joyce held the flashlight to Margaret’s upper back, and Richard framed her body with his hands, pressing her firmly but gently against the light. Joyce turned it on, and the light shined through her. They could see the bones in her arms, and a hint of her internal organs. Her skin looked pink and clear. Joyce moved the flashlight lower. Then they had her turn around to repeat the process.

"You can't see the food in my bowels, can you?"

"Just it's shadow," said Richard. "Don't worry. It doesn't look gross. OK. Andre, turn on the lights. Margaret, you have had a near-perfect reaction to the mini pill. Which is great, so long as you don't try to take the antidote.”

“What?” she exclaimed.

“Just kidding,” Richard chuckled. “Joyce, she's all yours."

"I wish!" said Joyce. "Margaret, how long since you've done a breast exam?"

"I do them often, Joyce. I really can handle this on my own."

"Have you done an average of four a day, for the past thirty years? Have you read all the latest literature? Have you discovered literally hundreds of cancerous lumps and correctly identified hundreds of false alarms?

“I can't even imagine why you'd feel self-conscious. Your back is to the children, and I'm going to walk you through it. I wish I could do it for you; trust me, I really do. But I can't, so I'll just have to show you. So, with all due modesty, I think the boys (and men) will mostly be looking at me."

Joyce pulled down the front of her already low-cut dress, revealing the most perfect breast Margaret, or anyone else there, had ever seen. Of course, Margaret had never seen one that large before. To her, it looked about four feet in diameter, with a one-foot diameter areola, crowned with a four-inch hemispherical nipple. It was gorgeous! And very intimidating, just a few inches in front of her.

"First things first," said Joyce. "Get comfortable. You don't want to do this standing. Kneel right here. No. Spread your legs a little more. Your husband was career Army, so: parade rest! Good. One good thing about being a mini, as light as you are, you could kneel like that pretty much indefinitely, without discomfort.”

I could stand, pretty much indefinitely, too. Thought Margaret.

“OK. Just do like I do, mirror image. Lift like this. Now rub here. You should feel the gland. Press firmly like so. Harder, harder....

“Alright, now rub gently, making a circular motion like this. That should feel pretty good. Does it? Good. You won't find anything this way, but it's a good way to reward yourself after all that. OK. Let's do the other breast. No, you can't just keep doing that. Maybe later."

After the breast exam, Joyce asked Margaret all the questions she would normally ask of a patient, and a few more besides. Margaret kept wanting to ask if she could get dressed, or at least stand, but a cross look from Joyce kept her focused on answering the questions, not asking any of her own.

"Well, then I think the only thing we have left is the matter of diet. I hate to tell you this, but I see a little tightness in the belly that indicates the skin has not yet adjusted to some new girth. Minis tend to eat too much and drink too little. Don't worry. Just leave everything to me this evening. We'll work up a good diet for you, for the rest of the week, later."

She washed her hands with a towelette and rinsed in the fresh-finger bowl, then dried with a clean napkin - paying extra attention to her fingernails. Then, using just her fingernail, she fed Margaret a tiny bit of caviar.

"Don't think you’re going to fill up on that. That's just the appetizer. But you are in for an evening of sinfully delightful treats - all carefully balanced for your dietary needs. I'll discuss a proper exercises regimen with Michael later. He's got you doing some good things, but you can do better. And you shouldn't skip days."

"You know," said Joyce. "I shouldn't be so nice to you, considering how mean you were to me earlier."

"I really am sorry, Joyce."

"And yet you haven't even offered to try to make it up to me. Is that any way for a proper mini girl to behave?"

Margaret could hardly believe Joyce was hand feeding her, while she was kneeling, naked on the table, surrounded by their children and Joyce’s husband. At least the children could only see her back and the top of her bum. Richard had a better view, and while he did not leer, he certainly seemed to appreciate it. Margaret was a jumble of mixed emotions – flattered, humiliated, excited….

"No,” she said. “I mean, how can I make it up to you, Joyce?"

Joyce smiled, "How about a small penalty? One that isn't even much of a penalty, considering that you are trying to get the full mini experience. You know, lots of minis refer to all big people as Master or Mistress, not just their guardians. Do you think you could do that for the rest of the evening?"

Margaret started to look back at Michael but thought better of it. She gave a little nod.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, Mistress," said Margaret.

"You don't mind treating Steph as an honorary big person, this evening, do you? She misses out on so many things."

"No, Mistress. I don't mind."

"No Mom. That's not right," said Stephanie.

"What?" asked Joyce.

"The custom, for some minis, is to call all big people Master or Mistress. Not big people and minis, with rich parents. If she has to call everyone that - bigs and minis - then she's not just being a mini; she's being a slave girl. She didn't sign up for that. I think I know a little bit about having to play a game I never signed up for."

"I'm sorry, baby," said Joyce, sounding very upset. "Was I upsetting you, with the little game I was playing with Margaret? Oh! I can't believe I offered to trade you! You know I was just joking, don't you?"

"Of course, I know!" she said in exasperation. "Here, look out."

Stephanie took a leap at her mother, bouncing off the top of her left breast and up, onto her shoulder. She sat down and gave Joyce a kiss on the cheek.

"I can take a joke, Mom. What I can't take is always pretending I'm not what I am. It's like saying my life sucks so much that you have to help me escape into a fantasy. I like to do that sometimes, when I read a book or play D&D or something, but not all the time."

"Maybe sometimes I need to pretend you're not a mini," said Joyce in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

"Why? You like minis."

"Too much," said Joyce.

"Dad likes girls. He doesn't have to pretend I'm not a girl!"

"But being a girl is wonderful!" said Joyce. "Being a mini isn't, not for you! And I don't want to take even the slightest pleasure in my daughter's pain. Do you understand that? I want to make that pain go away, not get a kinky thrill out of it. You almost left us, because you were afraid that I'd do that, remember?"

"Yeah, well. I've grown up some since then. And being a mini isn't so bad. And being a girl has its downsides too, you know. About once a month, I think I'd rather be a mini guy than a big woman. Mom, I don't want you to treat me like you do Mrs. Kincaide, any more than I'd want to be your lesbian lover, if I was still big. But it's OK if you think I'm cute. Actually, that part's pretty cool—like, I got my wish."

"Huh?"

"I remember lying in the hospital thinking, 'I got my wish. Now, Mom will think I'm pretty.' Be careful what you wish for, I guess."

"What? What are you talking about? I always thought you were pretty. You're my daughter! Of course, I think your pretty! I just didn't want you to think I was... gaying on you. I didn't want you to think I was a freak."

"You are kinda freaky. But I love you for it.”

Stephanie saw that her mother was still upset and thought about how to make her understand.

“There was this girl in Micro City, who killed herself. Judy. I just barely knew her, but we had one therapy session together, and I heard her story. Before she came to Micro City, she tried letting a friend take care of her. It reminded me of me and Misty, which is one reason I decided not to let Misty or Michael take me in.

“Anyway, she and her friend are just trying to make it work, you know. The way Judy described it, it was like she had her in one hand and 'Minis for Dummies' in the other. So, she's on the table, and her friend is treating her a lot like you were just treating Mrs... Magpie, and her mother walks in, unexpected. And she is so shocked! She starts screaming, 'What are you doing?' So, Judy runs off, crying. And she makes her friend send her to Micro City. And a couple of months later, she was gone.

“I remember thinking, if that had been my mother, walking in on me and Misty, she would have just said something like: 'Misty, do you mind if I give your mini a treat?' And everything would be okay.

“I wouldn’t choose to be a mini. If I could be big again, I would be. But there are good parts to being a mini – a lot of them, really. And I’m glad you can see those good parts and maybe help me to see them to. It makes the bad parts a lot more bearable.

“Mind if I sit here a few minutes?"

"You'll give me a crick in my neck, trying to kiss you there," said Joyce.

Stephanie leaned forwards to make it easier. Joyce kissed her, then settled in to eating, feeding and stroking Margaret and chatting with the whole group. She made a point of making it clear to Margaret that she did not have any kind of 'speak, only if spoken to' rule.

"Have you talked to Misty?" Michael asked.

"No," said Stephanie. "I talked to Bill and Henry and Dexter. He invited me to the game, this Friday. He even renewed his offer of letting me play a storm giant - as long as it's first level. I told him I'd have to see how my week goes. I've got a lot on my plate. But I still haven't gotten up the nerve to call Misty."

"Out of bounds to ask what happened there? You two were so tight."

"No. It was totally my fault, which is what makes it so bad. She came over, after I got home from the hospital, and tried to cheer me up. Only, I wasn't in the mood to be cheered. She was trying to be sympathetic, but I could see - she thought it was cool. She had the mini bug. She started talking about things we could still do together. She even said she could take me to the D&D games, on Fridays. So, I told her I didn't want to be her mini.

“And she says, 'what? are you going to be Jackson's mini, or your moms? Look Steph, I'm just trying to help out. I'm not talking about you becoming my pet or anything. I'm not even a lesbian!' And I just started screaming: 'get out! Get out!' I haven't talked to her since."

"That doesn't sound like totally your fault, but it does sound like your move."

"Yeah.... Michael, can I ask a big favor? If we need to, could we get together at your house? Grandma's is really crowded, right now."

"Sure," said Michael. "I still can't believe he said you can play a storm giant. All he ever allows are humans, hobbits, dwarves and elves."

"Oooh,” said Stephanie, “I'll try extra hard to make it, if you promise to play a hobbit."

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Xinunar
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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Sun Apr 03, 2022 12:00 am

I think the story might have dragged a bit here. But now I don't have the heart to cut it.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by slepytyme » Sun Apr 03, 2022 12:10 am

I forgot just how well written this story is. I was wondering about the porn star character you referenced a couple of times is she Vicki from "Interview with Vicki" tts did? Another classic in the sw community.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Sun Apr 03, 2022 12:24 am

slepytyme wrote:
Sun Apr 03, 2022 12:10 am
I forgot just how well written this story is. I was wondering about the porn star character you referenced a couple of times is she Vicki from "Interview with Vicki" tts did? Another classic in the sw community.
Thank you! And no. There was a reference to Vicki early in the story. Margaret saw her on TV. This porn star was just background.

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Mini Vacation Part 29 - Interlude

Post by Xinunar » Sun Apr 03, 2022 2:05 pm

After dinner, Stephanie and Margaret sat in Stephanie's carrying case, in the Millers’ Lexus. It was buckled in the middle of the back seat, between Jackson and Michael.

"Hey, what time are we supposed to be there, tomorrow?" asked Stephanie.

"Oh, right!" said Michael. "Well, Mom's appointment was at 12:00, but when I called back to say that we might have two, the guy said to just get there as early as we could, and he'd squeeze us in. They open at 9:00."

"Up at Turtle Beach?" asked Richard. "You guys are going to need to get up mighty early."

"Jackson?" sang Stephanie. "May I spend the night at Michael's?"

"No!" he said. Stephanie was surprised, and disappointed. "But you can sleep over at Magpie's."

Stephanie smiled, and so did Margaret; she said that would be fine, as long as Master had no objections. Michael didn’t. And his expression said how much he liked being called Master. He wondered if he should have her keep doing it after they got home.

Margaret was quiet for a while, absorbing some of the revelations of the evening. She had been shocked and incredulous when Joyce told her how much James had wanted her to become a mini:

'I remember the conversation very clearly. I think my first clue was when he said, "I can't let Margaret know how much I love the idea of her as a mini. For one thing, I think she might just go ahead and do it, whether she really wants to or not. She's kind of...."

"She's your love slave," I said.

He said, "I was going to say, 'very giving.'”

But he said that, with Michael only eleven, and him going to Iraq - or probably going to Iraq, it wasn’t certain yet, as I recall – he decided to hold off mentioning it, until after he got back. But he told me that he did mention to you that he’d love to go to a mini park, with you as his mini, and that you seemed to like the idea. I told him that Richard and I went every year, while the kids were at camp. We used to always find a young woman to be our mini for the week.'

Margaret wasn't sure which disturbed her more: that James loved the idea of her as a mini, or that he and Joyce thought of her as his love slave. Oh no! Stephanie's sleeping over tonight, and I really want to just go home and masturbate!

"Magpie," said Joyce, "now that you have rekindled my... interest, I hope you know that there are certain things that you could do that would... hurt me. Messing around with my daughter..."

"Mom!"

"...wouldn't be one of them."

"Joyce! Really...,” said Margaret.

"Mom geez," said Stephanie, "do you really get off on embarrassing me?"

"Of course not, dear. But, under the circumstances, my not saying anything would be about tantamount to saying no."

"But it's.... It doesn't matter, Mom! She's Michael's mother! They're both... friends of mine! And I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not a lesbian. Sorry Margaret, Michael. Sometimes, she's just... weird!"

"All I know," said Joyce, "is that the hardest part about being a mini is not having someone your own size to 'snuggle' with. That's what all the studies say, what just about every mini says - who doesn't have a playmate. As for Margaret, I got her pretty worked up, and now she's not going to have any 'her' time. That's like putting a horse away hot - and wet."

"I think someone has an inflated view of how easily she can get me - hot," said Margaret.

Joyce turned around in her seat and stared at Margaret until she blushed. She managed to maintain eye contact with the giant woman, but the effort was evident. Joyce grinned, then turned back to face forward again.

They all went into the Kincaide's house for a few minutes, mostly to give Michael some paperwork. Jackson, Joyce and Richard all signed releases to let Michael take Stephanie flying before they headed home.

Michael took his minis up to their cage. Both of them were his now, temporarily at least. That gave him a little thrill, just thinking about it, even though he couldn’t do anything remotely sexual with Stephanie. He probably wouldn’t even get to see her naked, even though she probably would sleep that way, under her covers. And her being there meant he couldn’t do anything with his mother, either. But he was still glad she was there. He went to the restroom, while the girls freshened up in the cage.

When he got back, he had a surprise. Margaret was naked, and Stephanie was….

"Supergirl?” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?"

Under her dress, Stephanie had been wearing body paint. Jackson had decided that it would be cool for Stephanie to go flying in her Supergirl ‘suit’. Stephanie thought so too, but she didn’t get a say in it. Even though Jackson didn't know she was going to spend the night at the Kincaide’s, he knew that he wouldn't have time to paint her in the morning.

As usual, Jackson did a very professional job, and the Supergirl costume was one he could practically do in his sleep. It was mostly body paint, but there was also a miniskirt and panties. She even had her red dress on, over her back, as a cape. She posed for Michael, legs slightly spread and fists on her hips.

"I'm not Supergirl. I'm Smallgirl, Superman's other cousin, from Kandor. Isn't this Smallville? They were supposed to send me to Smallville."

"No. I'm afraid you're not in Kansas anymore," said Michael. "So... they must have used the enlarging ray, that takes Kandorians from microscopic to... about your size?"

"Yes, it's strange that they call me Smallgirl. To my parents, I'm like five miles tall! Talk about l'enfant terrible!"

"Well, you've made a terrible mistake, that's for sure," said Michael. "Now I have you, just where I want you. I'm a super villain, and your 'weak in the knees' power is no match for my steel cage and fiendish laugh. Hah, hah!"

"It's true," said Margaret. "He's kept me, naked in this cage, for days now - only letting me out to have fun. He's, he's trying to destroy my will power!"

"Oh no!" said Stephanie. "That sounds awful!"

"Well... not really."

"What? Don't you want me to rescue you?"

"No. Just keep me company."

"OK. We'll think about escape tomorrow."

"Good. Uh, unless we're having too much fun."

"The fiend!"

Michael got his camera and took a few pictures of the two of them in the cage, then he let them out to take a few more. He took one, with them holding up a ruler, to show how small they were. A couple of just Margaret, on her vanity, to re-create her getting ready for dinner. And several with them posing with some family photos. Finally, Michael took a few selfies, with both girls on his shoulders, and one with him holding both of them in one hand like a greedy King Kong, before putting them back in the cage, so they could go to bed.

"Here," said Michael. "Get up on Mom’s bed and let me put this in there."

He had a folded hand towel, wrapped in a silk handkerchief, for use as a mattress, and another handkerchief for a sheet. He laid them on the floor of the cage, while the girls sat on Margaret’s bed. Then he got the cage cover.

"You two ready for lights out?"

"Why the cover?" asked Stephanie.

"I thought you might want some privacy," said Michael.

"Michael!" said Stephanie. "I'm sleeping on the floor!"

"I know. I mean I don't care - uh, you guys sleep or... whatever. Look, privacy's a two-way street, OK?"

Stephanie giggled and thought about saying something, but he draped the cover over the cage before she could come up with anything pithy.

Margaret did not know it, but Michael could still see them, as silhouettes, through the thin cover, though they couldn’t see him. He had bought the cover and a mini light for safety – mostly. (That’s what he told himself.) The light was deep red, almost infrared. Most thirders, and all minis smaller than thirders couldn’t see it. To Margaret and Stephanie, the room was nearly pitch black. There was a small nightlight on Michael’s side of the room, but that wasn’t bright enough or in the right position for them to see Michael through the cage cover. But he could see them, only slightly obscured, through the thin blue cloth. It blocked very little red light.

Margaret quickly moved to the mattress on the floor.

"You're company," she said. "You are not sleeping on the floor. I won't hear of it."

...

"Margaret," Stephanie whispered, "are you enjoying your vacation?"

"Yes, very much. I've had a lot of fun, and it's very... comforting to be... taken care of. I haven't felt this way since James left for Iraq."

"So, you think you'll stay?"

"I... don't think so. It's different for you than for me. If I stayed a mini, it would be so that I could chuck my responsibilities and be taken care of. That would mean becoming Michael's pet. I have a lifetime of upbringing screaming at me that no self-respecting woman would do that. And even though he’s enjoying it now, it wouldn’t be fair to Michael to saddle him with that kind of lifetime commitment."

"Michael wouldn't make you be his pet," said Stephanie. "He obviously likes the idea, but he wouldn't force it."

"Then what?" asked Margaret. "I can't just abdicate all my responsibilities to him, without giving him the authority to go with it. The idea of being his pet is demeaning, but at least I'd be earning my keep, in a way. And it's also exciting. After this evening, I think I can admit that much. Just dropping out, on the other hand, that would be even more demeaning and not at all exciting. Michael says I have an overactive sense of guilt, but I think you understand. I think you and I are a bit alike that way."

"Yeah, it's like: if I'm not Jackson's pet, then what am I, his remora?"

"Stephanie, Jackson has gotten so much out of taking care of you. He's not just happier, he's just... more than he would have been. More confident, more mature…. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Yes, I do," said Stephanie, with a regretful tone in her voice.

"What?"

"Letting you sleep on the floor, when there's lots of room in the bed."

Margaret got in bed, beside Stephanie. “Snuggle?” she asked.

“Yes please,” said Stephanie.

Margaret turned on her side and draped an arm over the smaller girl.

"Oh!" said Stephanie.

"What?"

"Score another one for Mom. It has been too long since I had anyone my size to just snuggle against. It's.... I...."

Stephanie was snuggled comfortably against Margaret when she started trembling, then shaking. And Margaret could tell she was holding back full wracking sobs.

"There, there dear. I'm right here." She put her left arm under Stephanie, hugging her, while she stroked her hair, face and shoulder with her right. She kissed her face and tried to comfort her.

"It's all right. Mommy's here."

That gave Stephanie a start, and she looked up at Margaret through puffy eyes.

"I'm sorry, Steph," said Margaret. "You are like a daughter to me. That's what I would have said to Michael, if he was crying."

"No. I'm sorry," said Stephanie. "You're like a mother to me too. I, I don't know what came over me."

"It's OK. You don't need an excuse for a cry or a hug. But I can also listen, if you want me to."

"It's just... Being held by a giant is a thrill; it really is. I understand why some people give up everything for it. But sometimes, sometimes I want to be held by a regular person - as a regular person."

"I understand. Is that what you want, for me just to hold you?"

Stephanie hugged Margaret back and kissed her on the face - several times, until their lips met, and Stephanie thrust her tongue into Margaret’s mouth. Then she pulled back and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Stephanie, you're like a daughter to me, but I'm not your mother."

Stephanie’s mind went a different way than Margaret intended. Her mother would never instigate sex with her – unless she thought Stephanie really needed it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kincaide. I...."

"I'm not your mother," she continued. "On the one hand, we’re not related; on the other, I’ve never really even thought of myself as bisexual. But I seem to have discovered that I am rather submissive. All you have to do is tell me or show me what you want, and I’ll do it – happily, and without guilt or reservation.”

"I'm... not sure. Mi... my girlfriend..s and I never got past necking."

"Then you're one up on me," said Margaret. "Well, then I guess you'll just have to tell me what you don't want.”

Being inexperienced, Margaret set about it methodically. She started at the top, with a light kiss on Stephanie's forehead, and worked her way down.

“Am I going to smear your costume?” asked Margaret.

“Not unless you have alcohol,” said Stephanie. “And there’s a touch-up kit in my carrier.”

It was several minutes before either of them said anything again - at least, any full sentences.

Michael felt guilty. This was worse than peeking on his mother; she had chosen to be his mini for the week, and that gave him the right to do a lot more than peek. But it was different with Stephanie. He knew he should look away and not invade her privacy, but he couldn’t. The scene was just too sexy.

Margaret kissed, licked, and sucked Stephanie’s tits, giving extra attention to her nipples. She teased them and bit them lightly, before sucking them like she was trying to draw milk. This made Stephanie moan and arch her back in pleasure.

Margaret’s full lips easily took in Stephanie’s entire nipple and part of her breast. Her seventh-scale reduction made her slightly larger than eighth-scale Stephanie. It made the smaller girl seem about the same size, that she was when they first met, and Stephanie was only twelve. Margaret would never, in a million years, admit the kinky thrill that gave her. Bad enough to be doing this with a seventeen-year-old. At least, now, Stephanie was age of consent.

It wasn’t pedophilia that had Margaret so aroused. Rather, it was nostalgia and affection for the sweet little girl - who had been so kind to her little boy, when he was a shy and scrawny eleven-year-old. It gave Margaret great pleasure to be able to repay that girl now, in a way she never would have dreamed of doing back then. She released the nipple and started kissing her way downward.

"Oh," Stephanie gasped. "You... you don't have to do that."

"The magic words, if you don't want me to do something, are: 'I don't want you to do that.' And don't worry; I'm not expecting you to reciprocate."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm loving everything I'm doing, and I don't want you to do anything that you don't love too."

A minute later, Stephanie again started to object, but the magic words would have been dishonest.

Margaret’s tongue lathed down Stephanie’s labia. It was small and baby-smooth, again reminding her of a little girl. It made her blush with embarrassment, and she was glad Stephanie couldn’t see that. She took the clitoris into her mouth, and she was glad that it was not like a little girl’s. She sucked on it, and her tongue toyed with it, before dipping deeper. Soon she was thrusting deep into Stephanie’s cunt, and both women were glad that Margaret’s tongue was oversized. It didn’t take long for her to bring Stephanie to a loud and glorious orgasm.

Later, they lay next to each other again, catching their breaths.

"I can see what Mom sees in that. Score another one for her. In fact, now I'm having a hard time remembering what I like about men."

"I'm sure it will come back to you."

"Give me a moment to catch my breath, and I'll see what I can do for you."

"I just want to snuggle."

"You sure? Why?"

"I'm pretty much back in mommy mode now. I don't want you to try to pay me back; it wouldn’t seem right. And... well, you're so young and vulnerable, it would really make me uncomfortable if you did anything more than a little kiss on the lips, right now. It might seem strange, but doing it for you is one thing, you doing it for me is another. Seriously, Steph, it would feel like I was taking advantage of my own daughter. I'm not saying never. Just right now, let's snuggle."

Stephanie didn't feel taken advantage of - or that she would be. But she understood the sentiment and decided not to argue.

"Wow," said Margaret. "I can't believe some of the positions I was just in. You weren't kidding about a mini's flexibility."

"I'm surprised,” said Stephanie. “After I told you about that Saturday, I figured you'd experiment with it that night!"

"I did," Margaret whispered, even lower than they had been. "But I have a few more years and a few more pounds - uh grams on me than you do. And I had this terrifying image of having to yell, 'Michael, help me; I'm stuck!'"

Stephanie giggled and said, "Then allow me to demonstrate. You can't complain that I'm taking advantage of myself."

"Stephanie, you... you don't have to do that. Oh, my goodness. That's amazing. That's... what is that?"

"What? What's happening?” asked Stephanie, straightening up. “Are we having an earthquake?"

"I think it's a Mike quake."

"Oh, no!"

"I think maybe we didn’t keep our voices down as well as we intended - and that cover didn't work as well as advertised."

"Oh, I think it worked exactly as advertised," said Stephanie under her breath.

She recognized the thin blue fabric that reflected blue light, absorbed green, and let red pass through it. There weren’t many mini products she hadn’t read about – often with morbid fascination or dread.

"Maybe it's just coincidence,” said Margaret. “Yeah, I'm going with that."

"Is that snoring?" asked Stephanie.

"Probably not, but I suggest we do the same."

"How am I going to face him in the morning?"

"With a smile, dear. With a smile."

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Sun Apr 03, 2022 2:37 pm

For those wondering where they left off. I have posted 5 chapters, in the past few days, starting with Chapter 25 - Decadence (the one with the chocolate).

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Mini Vacation Part 30 – Crusin’

Post by Xinunar » Wed Apr 06, 2022 4:52 pm

"Mom, Stephanie," Michael said, softly. "You two need to get up, if we want to get there by 9:00."

He looked down on the two sleeping beauties, entwined together. Margaret lay mostly on her back, only partially turned towards Stephanie, who lay more fully on her side, facing Margaret. Stephanie's upper body was nestled in the crook of Margaret's left arm with her face buried in Margaret's hair. Her arm and knee lay across Margaret's stomach and leg. They were on top of the sheets, and Michael worried that the cage cover had made them too hot.

He carefully opened the top of the cage, but it still squeaked, which woke the two minis. They both looked up at Michael and smiled.

"Good morning, Master," said Margaret in her playful voice.

"Good morning... Master," Stephanie echoed, also playful but adding a bit of sarcasm.

“Hmm,” said Michael. “I wasn’t sure if I should have you keep doing that or not. But now I like the sound of it. And Stephanie – that’s real nice of you to make Mom feel more comfortable about it. You know, all those papers I signed kinda do make me your master for the day. So… you too, ‘kay?”

Stephanie and Margaret both gaped at him, but he could tell they weren’t upset about it. In fact, he could see that it pushed one of his mother’s buttons – the ‘on’ button.

"You two ready for flying lessons?" he asked.

They both said yes Master, before they moaned and yawned, and began to stretch and disentangle themselves. Soon the two were sitting beside each other, in Michael's right hand, riding to the bathroom vanity.

"Both sinks, or just one?" he asked.

"Michael!" said Margaret. "Don't you know there's a water shortage?"

Michael started to run some water in the sink, thought for a minute, then said, "I'll be right back." He left, and was back a minute later with a D&D game screen. He finished running their bath, and when the two minis got in, he set the screen up so that it blocked their view of the shower.

"I'm like naked all the time, but you're not going to let me see you?" yelled Stephanie.

"That's right!" Michael yelled back, before the sound of the shower made communication with the tiny girl all but impossible.

"I don't get it," said Stephanie.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," said Margaret.

Stephanie thought for a minute or so. "He's shy? In front of me?"

"Duh."

"Is he ugly? Does he think he is?"

"No. And no," said Margaret.

"But he doesn't want me to see him?"

"Not yet."

Michael finished his shower but then discovered he had forgotten a towel. He ran out to the linen closet to get one.

"Then when?" Stephanie whispered.

"When it means something."

. . .
"Stephanie, have you seen 'Iron Man'? asked Michael, casually, as they drove up the coast.

"I, uh, no," she said uncertainly. "But Michael...."

"Are you about to give me the 'let's just be friends' speech?"

"No," she said. "No... we're more than just friends. But Michael, we can't date. Minis are for owning, not dating."

"Oh, come on!"

"No. I'm serious. Look, for one thing, there's jealousy. Sometimes, I need to be with someone my own size. If we have a romantic relationship, then you'll get jealous, if I'm with Bruce - or someone."

"Well... I might get jealous of Bruce. But I promise not to get jealous of 'or someone'," he said.

Michael gave a small grin. Margaret and Stephanie both blushed.

"Michael," said Margaret, "you have to promise not to crack jokes like that in front of Joyce."

"Or Jackson, or... or anyone," said Stephanie. "Especially me!"

"Ok, ok," said Michael. "But seriously, yeah, I might get a little jealous, but that doesn't mean I'd get hurt or angry. A guy has to... adapt to the situation. You ever watch 'The Dead Zone'? They have all this angst that Sara loves both Johnny and Walt. But I say, just deal with it. I'd tell them: When she's with the other guy, just pretend she's out with her mother - or your mother."

"That's very mature," said Stephanie, "and your last freebie. The next one's gonna cost you.

“But it's not just your jealousy I'm talking about. What about mine? What about my... lover's? It gets complicated all around. And what about your friends? How do you think they'll react, if you tell them, you don't 'have' a mini; you're dating one?"

"The ones worth keeping won't care," he said, quoting something he'd heard his mother say once.

"Yeah? Test your friends' open-mindedness, and toss out the ones that don't pass? I don't want you to do that - not to your friends, and not to mine! Michael, I bet half the guys in the D&D group, as nice as they've been to me, couldn't accept me as an equal. And I don't want to make them choose between me and... society. I think I'd lose.

“And I think we know where Tobby'd stand."

"He's not a regular," said Michael. "And you don't even like Tobby."

"I like Jenny. I'd love to see her again; I think we'd have a lot to talk about. And I'm sure she'd love to see me - now that I'm smaller than her.

“You know she'll expect to dominate me, don't you?"

"What?" Michael started so hard, the car's right tires went onto the shoulder of the road before he regained control.

"Well, she can't," he said fiercely. "I won't let her."

"Make her treat me like a big? Like mom almost did with Margaret? Don't you know anything about mini etiquette? I'm a mini to her - as small to her as she is to Tobby, unless he's had a growth spurt. She'll expect about the same privileges with me as you have with her. Make her treat me like a big, and she'll be totally humiliated."

"Better her than you."

"You know that's not right," said Stephanie. "She has a harder life than I do. Besides, I just said she'd dominate me, not humiliate me. She'll probably treat me about the way you treat her. How do you treat her?"

It was Michael's turn to blush.

"I just let her sit in my lap. And we kiss a little - since you got minned."

"Oh... that's sweet. And before that? Did you... oh no," Stephanie's voice trailed off. She bit her lower lip in a nervous habit that she had almost stopped doing.

"What?" asked Michael.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked Margaret.

"Truth or dare." Stephanie shook her head. "We played truth or dare almost three years ago. Tobby let her come to Candy Lane's sleep over. Let her play with the girls - or let the girls play with her. We played truth or dare, and every dare involved doing something with Jenny. Well, really, having Jenny do something with us.

“I bet you guys will get a nice show. I recommend you wear baggy pants." She gave a nervous giggle and bit her lip again.

"It's OK, Stephanie," said Michael. "Tobby almost never comes, and he wouldn't bring Jenny unless we asked him to."

"No. You need to ask him. I want her to be there."

"You want her to?" asked Michael, incredulously. "Is this like a fetish thing?"

"No," said Stephanie. "It's like an honor thing. I played truth or dare. I didn't have to play. But Jenny did. I could have chose truth. And I did - on the first round.

“Now, I want to be Jenny's friend, if she'll have me. And I've got to... balance my karma, or something. I just know, I've got to be as good a mini for her as she was for me.

“Oh man. This is exactly the kind of thing I've been hiding from for almost two years. And now I've got to face it. And I just know everybody's going to be there. Once word gets out that Stephanie and Jenny are going to be there...."

"Dexter's going to have to invite the football team, just for crowd control," said Michael. "Just kidding, Steph. We'll just have the regular group, plus Tobby and Jen."

"That's everybody!" Stephanie cried, "everybody but my girlfriends! And I've been playing phone tag with Misty. She'll tell... the world!"

Margaret could see that Steph was getting herself worked up, and not in the good way. She thought a joke might help Stephanie relax and put things back in perspective.

"I've got it!" she said. "We'll have Jackson paint me, and we'll pass me off as you!

“Hey, a lot of minis gain weight (it's the huge serving sizes), especially if their masters aren't strict, and we all know yours isn't. Anyway, you won't have to worry about a thing. Let Mamma Magpie take care of everything."

Stephanie stared in shock, then started laughing. "Oh, you'd love that; wouldn't you."

Margaret shrugged and gave an innocent look. She checked to make sure Michael wasn’t looking, then nodded vigorously. He still saw it, out of the corner of his eye.

Stephanie laughed again. "No. I'll be OK. But don't blame me, if your cage shakes off the dresser that evening. Don't believe me? Just look at him.

“Michael? Did you get another mini without telling us? Or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey, look! We're here!" said Michael, in relief.

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Mini Vacation Part 31 - Jumping The Shark

Post by Xinunar » Thu Apr 07, 2022 2:40 pm

After parking the car, Michael started to get the girls, but then he stopped.

“Um, Stephanie,” he said. “I um…. Look, I don’t want to make things too awkward. I get it, or at least I kind of get it, about social pressure and about you wanting to ‘embrace the mini’ and not be sometimes a mini and sometimes like a really short, big person. So, if you weigh all that in and decide that you just can’t go out with me or don’t want to go out with me, then it’s fine. You’re still my best friend, and we’ll still have a good time here today.

“But um… I looked over those papers your dad made me sign last night, and there was kind of a loophole. I don’t have to get you back, right away, after we’re done bird flying. I just have to have you back before the end of the day. So I could take you with me to see Iron Man.”

Stephanie grinned up at him. “Yeah, I guess you could do that,” she said.

She looked very pleased with the idea, and Margaret looked like she approved.

“But I really don’t want to do that,” said Michael. “I don’t want to borrow Jackson’s mini. I want to go on a date with my friend Stephanie.”

There was an awkward silence, as they looked at each other.

“And again,” said Michael, “I will understand if the answer is still no. I’ll drop it, at least for now. And we’ll be past the awkwardness by the time we have you rigged up to fly on a parrot or condor. But I really wish you’d say yes. I don’t think it will be too weird – with each other, or with our friends. And it is just a date, so if it doesn't feel right, you can cool things back down.”

He stopped talking, and looked at her, anxiously. He started to say, “Please” but decided he was being whiny enough already.

Stephanie looked back at him, like she was studying some kind of specimen - or maybe a portrait, trying to decide if it looked right, not sure what to do with it. Then she shook her head, and a look of sadness and determination took over.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” she said. “You can take me this evening, like you said. Or you can borrow me from Jackson later. Don’t act like that’s the same as borrowing Jenny from Toby; Jackson would never make me go with you, if I didn’t want to. I do want to. But it has to be as your mini, not your date.

“I’m sorry. That’s just the way it has to be.”

Defeated, Michael didn’t say anything. He put on the carrier, with the girls in it, in silence. He thought about what she said.

In a way, it didn’t make any difference. He could still take her to the movie. And with her as his mini, he’d have an easier time getting his finger under her dress than if she was there as his date. But the thing was, she was wrong about one thing: Jackson would make her go, if he thought it was good for her. But it wouldn’t feel right, if it wasn’t her own decision.

Once again, Michael had tried to turn his friendship with Stephanie into something else – and failed. It was the sort of thing that could really spoil his day, but he resolved not to let it. Stephanie was still his friend. But that was that.

The building was a small house, just across the road from the beach. A large aviarium had been added on. Michael got out of the car and walked around the glass structure, with the two girls in the carrying case, on his chest. In an unfamiliar place, he felt nervous to let them ride on his shoulders. Inside the aviarium it looked like a tropical rain forest. There were platforms on the walls, where a few large birds nested. The ones they saw looked like vultures.

Inside the house looked much like a pet shop, specializing in birds. But what caught their eyes was a raised walkway, suspended from the ceiling, about four feet off the ground. It meandered about the shop, had several branching trails and was obviously designed for minis. Margaret and Stephanie quickly got on it and began to explore the shop.

The pet supplies held little interest for the girls. What did were the many paintings and photos decorating the shop. Most were of the same woman, often showing her standing beside, petting, or riding various birds. The photos showed her at many different sizes. In some, they wouldn’t know she had been reduced, if they hadn’t seen her even larger. In others, she was as small as Stephanie, or maybe even smaller; it was hard to tell.

In some of the photos, the woman was dressed very elegantly, and she was quite beautiful. But their eyes caught on a photo of the tiny woman riding a red macaw. She was lean and tan and completely bald. Nude to the waist, she looked fierce, like a native-American or African warrior - complete with knife and spear. But, in a wild and dangerous way, she was as beautiful there as she was in any of the other pictures - as beautiful as Joyce Miller, dressed to the nines.

"It's the same woman, but all different sizes," Michael observed.

The girls nodded, knowingly. Michael was confused.

"Cancer, baby," said Margaret, as if that explained it. Michael was still confused.

"Sometimes," Stephanie explained, "when dad has a really tough case, he'll use the mini treatment. The tumors usually shrink more than the healthy tissue. He'll use a very low dose. Shrink the patient five percent, and the tumors might shrink ten; shrink her fifty percent, in one go, and the tumors don't usually shrink more than sixty. This woman was shrunk again and again - over several years, it looks like."

"Aye, that was me Katie," said the man who had come to join them.

"She was very beautiful," said Margaret.

"That she was," he said wistfully. The man introduced himself as Aaron McHenry, the shop owner. He looked to be in his early sixties. Tall and lean, he had a nearly white beard, that one could barely tell used to be red.

Michael introduced himself and the girls: "This is my mother, Magpie - uh, Margaret Kincaide, and this is Stephanie Miller." It was unusual to introduce minis with their full names, but if the man noticed, he didn't show it.

"Miller?" said Aaron. "Is your father Richard Miller?"

"Yes," she replied with a cheerful caution. "Was your wife one of his patients?"

It was a dangerous subject. People who lost loved ones often blamed their doctors. The doctor could have done more, and maybe saved her; or less, and caused her less pain; or been more sensitive or less expensive; or he could have known more or been less of a know it all. It's hard to like the person who let your loved one die, no matter who’s fault it was. But it was too late to remind Michael that first names or nicknames were prudent. Besides, the man would see both her name, and her father's, on the releases.

"No," said Mr. McHenry. "Well, we had the one consultation – secon’ opinion. He tol' us what we already knew and di'na wan'ta hear."

"I'm sorry," said Stephanie.

"Nuttin t' be sorry for, child. She fought the good fight. But the ol' man, he always wins in the end," he smiled grimly. "I recognized yer name from the newspaper. Tha' war a terrible injustice. Here for yer free ridin' lesson, er ye?"

"Free lesson?"

"Aye. Offered one with the card, I did. Di'na have no expire date. I knew it'd be a time 'fore ye felt up to it."

"Oh. No, I wouldn't feel right about that," said Stephanie, feeling a bit awkward. "I'll pay for the lesson. I'm really here just to keep Magpie company anyway.

"Magpie," he said. "Now there's a great name fer a rider. Ya should help Miss Miller pick one."

They walked as they chatted, making their way over to the aviarium. Margaret’s eye caught on a picture of Mr. and Mrs. McHenry, that was probably taken a few months before the one with her as a warrior; she was larger than she had been in that one. Margaret was surprised to see that Mr. McHenry had taken a mini and was about the same size as his wife.

The two of them were both standing next to different birds – she, with her red macaw and her husband with a blue and gold parrot. It looked a little incongruous, since she was smaller, and her bird was larger. Margaret suspected it was because Katie was the more expert rider. She had lovely red hair that one would not have known for a wig, if they hadn't seen the other photos. She was pretty and looked happy, if a little tired.

"Do you fly often, Mr. McHenry?" she asked.

"No, an' call me Aaron," he said. "I prefer handlin' them from the ground -an' at me own size. Joined her, for a while there," he said pointing to the photo. "Though' it might be for abou' a year, but was only a few months afore she needed to shrink again. An a few months after that, she was gone." He paused a moment. "Me nephew, Ian, looked after us an' minded the shop. Good lad. E'll be finnishin' at Chapel Hill in a few weeks.

“Don' know which terrified me more - ridin' the bird or bein' a mini. I envy you riders, but I canna be one."

Margaret’s eyes almost welled with tears, and she dabbed at them surreptitiously with her knuckles. This man had been willing to spend a year as a mini, despite being terrified of it, to be with his wife. The odds of the antidote working, after a full year, were less than fifty percent.

"They were all girls," Michael whispered to Stephanie, as they walked. Margaret was chatting with Aaron, like they were old friends.

"Huh?"

"At the party - truth or dare - it was all girls. It'll be all guys at the D&D game - except you and Jen. That's not the same, and not fair to you!"

Stephanie made a half amused – half derisive hiss through her lips. "You think Jenny was more comfortable with a bunch of giant girls she didn't know and couldn't trust, than I will be with you guys? You're all my friends! Plus, I know you'll be there - making sure things don't get out of hand.

“Buzz. No kewpie doll for you, but thank you for playing.

“Besides, you've got enough kewpie dolls already."

They came to a cage wall with several doors in it, separating them from the aviarium. Aaron called to the birds: "Polly! Magellan! Mini girls! Go fly!" He pronounced Polly with a long 'o' and soon the blue and gold parrot, which they had seen in several photos, flew up. "Good Polly, good girl," he said.

"Mini girl. Go fly," she repeated. Aaron pet the bird through the bars, and she caressed his finger with her tongue. She stood on a perch, level with the platform the girls were on. She stood more than half again as tall as Margaret, and her tail hung down almost as far. She repeated "mini girl" and "go fly" several more times. Then she climbed to a higher perch and hung upside down, with her wings spread to get their attention.

"Awe," said Margaret. "She wants to go fly!"

"Loves to fly outside, she does," he confirmed. "An knows a mini girl means that's what she'll be a doin. Now, don' yer try t' pet 'er. Me insurance will go through the roof, we lose another hand."

Margaret jerked her hand back from the bars of the cage. He winked, then assured them that all his birds were very tame - especially Polly - but that she would still be wearing a muzzle to prevent any 'friendly nippin'.

He left to get Magellan, who was not as friendly or as excited about mini girls as Polly. But he assured them that Magellan was also well-trained and a strong flier.

Ignoring Aaron's order, Margaret stroked Polly's tongue, which she stuck through the bars. Michael objected, but Margaret assured him she was being careful. Stephanie also pet the tongue nervously, but the bird seemed to sense which mini liked her better and quickly chose her own favorite.

Margaret observed that the tongue was soft and dry, and in fact felt like a baby's bottom - or like her own bottom! Stephanie, taking the opportunity to compare the two, concurred. Polly turned her head and pressed the back of her neck to the bars near Margaret, for a scratch.

Aaron came back holding Magellan, the red macaw they had seen in the photos. He put the larger bird in a free-standing cage. “Specially don’t try ‘n pet Magellan. E’ll have a muzzle on for ridin’.”

"So, did ye choose yer ridin' name yet, Stephanie?" he asked.

"Oh. I've got it," shouted Margaret, "Starling! It's perfect!"

"That is pretty good, Mom," said Michael. "But why's it perfect?"

"Don't you remember your comic-book lore?” she asked. “Kal El means 'Star Child.' So, his little side kick should be...." She indicated Stephanie in her painted Supergirl costume.

"Starling! Yeah, you're right, Mom. That is perfect. But how'd you even know that? I didn't know you were even into Superman."

"Who do you think read all those comics to you, when you were little?" she asked. "Do you like it Steph?"

"Yeah..." she said uncertainly. "Uh, am I stuck with it?"

Aaron took Michael outside with Polly, to show him how to handle the bird. He normally charged separately for that lesson, but he didn't mention it because Stephanie insisted on paying for her lesson. The girls watched from an outdoor bird cage that was locked and anchored to the ground. This was for safety's sake. Minis as small as them were not safe outside, unattended.

"Stephanie, you know I love you, don't you?"

"Yes, Margaret."

"But why are you breaking my little boy's heart?"

"Margaret, I...."

"I understand you still have strong feelings for Bruce - which might be a good reason to say no if Michael proposed, but not to say no to a date - not unless you're really in love with Bruce, and I don't get that impression. As for friends not accepting it, I doubt either of you will lose any over it. Friends learn to just not talk about certain subjects.

“Michael adores you. And he can see as easily as I can that it's not completely one-sided, so he keeps on trying. Why don't you give him a chance?"

Stephanie was quiet for a minute, as she watched Michael handle Polly on her tether.

"It’s not about Bruce; We’re just friends," she said.

"I think it's so sweet how he doesn't even seem to notice I'm a mini. It's like he's thinking, 'did you do something to your hair? Is that a new body lotion? Something's different, I just can't put my finger on it.'

“Don't you see, Margaret? He's still so in love with the old Stephanie, he hasn't noticed she's not here anymore. But some day he's got to notice. I can't make love to him. I can't cook him dinner or take care of him when he's sick. I can't give him children; don't you want grandchildren, Margaret? I can't even fight with him like a normal wife or girlfriend. And what if he decides to do like Mr. McHenry, and join me? What will you think of me then, Margaret?"

Margaret took a deep breath that was almost a gasp. "If I thought you pushed him into it, I'd be very angry. But I'd respect his right to make that choice... in a few years."

"You have to respect my choice right now, Margaret."

"Yes dear," said Margaret, giving her a hug. "But I don't have to like it."

Mr. McHenry showed Michael how to guide Polly with the tether, which was basically kite string. It was not intended as a chain, merely a guide. Like dogs, the birds would sometimes pull at their leashes, but were not seriously trying to escape. If a bird did break loose, the mini would simply bail out.

The girls were outfitted with self-inflating life preservers. They were originally designed for water safety, but once it was discovered how well they worked for air safety, the manufacturer re-engineered them for dual use. Pull the cord, and the mini was quickly enclosed in a ball that would both slow her fall and cushion the impact. A seventh or eighth-scale mini had such a low terminal velocity in the first place, she could survive a fall from any height - with a little luck. But with the Airachutes, she was unlikely to even get bruised.

"Trick is," said Mr. McHenry, "tuck yerself into a ball, inside the ball. Ye don't want your legs or head sticking out."

He showed Margaret and Stephanie how to fit the birds with their nylon mesh skull caps. These consisted of four thin horizontal and vertical strands that would be interwoven with the birds feathers. He put the first horizontal strand around the back of Polly's head, to affix the muzzle/reins, making her safe for Margaret to work the other three in. She then wove the vertical strands, which were attached to the top strand, into the feathers and hooked them on the bottom strand. A second mesh went around the birds chest. This held the stirrups, and the rip cord to the Airachute was also attached to it; so it would automatically deploy, if the mini fell off. Margaret then helped Stephanie do the same with Magellan. Margaret did most of the work there too, because Stephanie was more nervous standing beside the giant bird. She assured them that she would be fine once she got on him, though; Stephanie had been an accomplished equestrian.

A depilatory (deplumetory?) had been used to create a bald area at the top of the bird's shoulders, where the mini would sit. Instead of fitting the birds with saddles, the girls wore silk breaches, which had soft leather padding that made the girls walk bow-legged, but they were more comfortable, once they were astride the birds.

"Ah Magpie, an Starling," said Aaron, "ye look like real warrior bird riders now."

Margaret laughed. Between the awkward breaches and the bulky life vest, she felt like anything but a warrior. "I don't even have a weapon," she complained.

Aaron produced two tiny pocket knives, about 3/4 inches long, folded. He attached these to the girl's vests. "A lady should ne'er be defenseless," he said.

He scanned the area for any signs of danger. Dogs, cats and even large birds posed real danger to tiny minis. There were even stories of fifth and sixth scales being taken off their master's shoulders by hawks in downtown New York, pigeons having become scarce. He looked worried for a moment, until he decided that kids flying kites a quarter mile away were not a danger.

Margaret was matched with Polly, while Stephanie was set to ride Magellan. He was larger and less docile, but even though Stephanie was smaller, she was the better athlete and her equestrian experience translated well to bird riding. Also, Margaret had gotten attached to Polly.

Michael started Polly in a small circle, which got larger, as he played out more string. Soon he was joined by Mr. McHenry and the two danced in a slow simple circle. Aaron tried to keep the larger, faster bird a half lap behind Polly, by making his circle just a little larger. But Magellan was a larger, more powerful bird than Polly, and Stephanie was lighter than Margaret, and her riding skills quickly came to the fore. Soon she was lapping Margaret, swooping low so that her string would pass under Margaret’s while Mr. McHenry walked in front of Michael.

Margaret didn't mind that Stephanie, who'd ridden horses all her life and worked out daily, was by far the better rider. She felt very maternal towards Stephanie, and parents expect and even hope that their children will excel them. Besides, she was enjoying her more leisurely flight as well as anything she'd done in ages! And leisurely was a relative term. She knew she'd be sore in the morning.

Aaron McHenry was also enjoying himself. He usually gave beginner lessons, and if the mini did as well as Margaret, he was pleasantly surprised. Handling a rider like Stephanie was a pleasure, and he let himself get lost in it, remembering his tiny Katie who was the last one small enough and skilled enough to ride Magellan so well.

That might have been one reason he missed the tiny shape coming at them from the south. At first it looked like one of the kids' kites, and then it was hidden against the brightness of the sun. And when he did notice it, it was close enough to be a real danger. It was an eagle!

"Eagle!" he shouted. "Get 'er in lad! Get 'er in! Walk toward the bird as ye real in the line. Don' try to pull har', ye'll break the line!"

The eagle was hungry. Hunting hadn't been good of late. And she'd spent a lot of precious energy mating. She spotted two birds circling slowly to the north. Buzzards, probably, and where buzzards circled, there would be a warm updraft. She could rest there, circling with the buzzards, while she looked for something good below – or maybe pick off a buzzard, if one got careless.

As she got closer, she could see that the smaller bird was flying with some difficulty. He (smaller birds were always 'he' to her) was carrying something, but humans guarded whatever was left on the ground. Well, easy enough to take whatever he already had from him.

A more intelligent animal might have wondered why the buzzard continued to circle the humans, if he already had his prize, but the eagle was not that smart. Closer still, she saw that what the smaller bird carried was a live animal - on his back, rather than in his talons. It must be his young, rather than his prey. Some animals carried their young on their back, making them easy prey for a daring eagle.

Margaret and Stephanie could tell that Michael and Aaron were shouting about something, but over the roaring wind and beating wings, they could not tell what. But parrots can see three hundred and sixty degrees, while barely turning their heads. Polly spotted the eagle flying toward her, and she instinctively knew a predator, when she saw one.

Michael was trying to real her in, but he was not experienced enough to handle a panicked bird. Polly zigged while Michael zagged, and the line broke neatly at the harness. Polly flew north, away from the eagle, as fast as she could. Margaret looked behind her and saw the fierce raptor coming at her like something out of 'Jurassic Park.' She decided that now was not a good time to test the life vest. A slowly falling ball would be an even easier target than she already was.

Stephanie also saw what was happening. The eagle was above and behind her and would soon pass over her. She was not its target; Margaret was. And Margaret was a sitting duck! Without even thinking about it, she banked Magellan sharply and broke the tether connecting her to Mr. McHenry. She heard him shouting - sharper words and even more loudly, and this time she had a pretty good idea what he was saying. She urged Magellan on an intercept course with the eagle. She wanted to pull out her knife, but there was no time.

Magellan handled like a thoroughbred and flew with purpose. Though different species, Polly was the only other parrot he knew, and he considered her his mate.

The eagle swooped down to snatch the fledgling from it's father's back, but was startled to have the other bird rake her from the side. She twisted around and bit the other bird with her sharp beak, and he quickly retreated, injured, with no more than a claw full of pin feathers and a little blood for his trouble.

She might have turned her attention to this other bird, but it was not wise to try to fight a bird that had managed to get above you. Even jays and blackbirds could be dangerous, pecking from behind. She quickly resumed her pursuit of the first bird; though the brief tussle had given the smaller bird a lead on her, and the small injury slowed her own flight.

Stephanie tried to get Magellan to follow the eagle again, but he refused. So, she guided him back towards Aaron and Mr. McHenry. The injured bird could do little else. The two giants came running up, shouting things like: "Stupid" and "Brave" and most importantly, "What are we going to do?"

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Mini Vacation Part 32 - Joy Ride From Hell

Post by Xinunar » Fri Apr 08, 2022 1:27 am

Michael ran to the car as fast as he could, holding Stephanie as carefully as he could. She curled herself into a ball, so that his hands could completely enclose her. He hadn't asked her to curl into a ball; she just did it. It was the safest position, as jostled about as she was.

If Michael had the time or energy to think about it, he might have felt badly about carrying her this way. He had always thought that was rather degrading to minis - to have them curl themselves into human baseballs, so that they could be tossed or even juggled. But right now, he was running just as fast as he could, and he couldn’t think about anything but his mother.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw that his mother was even further away--and still being chased by an eagle! He reached the car, shifted Stephanie to his left hand, and fished for keys. Why hadn't he done that on the run?

"Damn, that's hot!" he said as he sat on the hot vinal. He started to set Stephanie in the passenger seat but realized that it was too hot. He held her in his lap as he started the car. He was getting angry with her now, for the seconds it was costing him to take care of her. That was unfair, and he knew it, but he was; he was angry with everyone, especially himself. It slowed him even more to calm himself, and make sure he didn't hurt her. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt Stephanie. But he'd never forgive himself or Stephanie if his mother.... He couldn't finish that thought.

"Michael," said Stephanie weakly, "I need water."

"As soon as we're going, OK?" He backed up, shifted, and tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could. As soon as the car straightened on the road, he leaned far over and got a bottle from the cooler in the passenger-side floorboard. He pushed open the squirt top and held the bottle for her. Then, he began squeezing the bottle, to give her a fountain, while he scanned the sky for the birds. The water wet his leg, but he didn't notice.

Stephanie let the water splash over her as she drank, deeply and quickly. "Michael," she said between gulps, "you're going to have an accident! Spray water on the dashboard, then put me up there."

"Huh?"

"Spray water on the dashboard! Quick, Michael, I'm not safe down here!"

"How the hell can you stand on the dash?" he said. He had spotted the birds and was trying not to lose them, and to drive!

"Listen to me Mike! If the airbag goes off, I'm dead! Spray the dash! I'll be safe lying in the air vent, once you cool it off. Spray the damn dash and vent!"

Michael sprayed water on the dashboard, at the defrost vent. He thought it was stupid, but he was trying to do too many things at once. Arguing with Steph was something he didn't have time for. If she wanted him to spray the dash, he'd spray the dash, but putting her up there sounded crazy!

"OK. Lay me in the dash." She almost snorted a laugh at that line, but she didn't have time for it. "I mean in the vent! I'll hold on to the grill. Michael, I'll be safer there than here, and you need me to navigate! Now, lay me up there!"

Her navigating made some sense; he was having a hard time driving and watching the birds at the same time. He still didn't like it, but he couldn't think clearly, trying to do so many things at once, and he usually trusted her judgement. For a moment, he imagined what it must be like to be Jackson. As carefully as he could, he lay her into the recess of the heater vent.

Stephanie had planned out how best she could help, while Michael was running to the car. The daughter of two doctors, she was more than just bright, and she was a very quick thinker. She let one leg drop all the way into the vent, up to her knee. She braced the other against a vane and held another vane with her right hand. Her foot against one vane would keep her from sliding forward; her leg against another would keep her from sliding back; and she held on to a third to keep from flying off, if they hit a bump. She scanned the sky and found the birds.

"There they are!" she said, pointing. "You watch the road; I'll watch the birds."

For the first time since Polly broke her tether, Michael had a moment to think. Well Jackson, I know she wears a collar, but I think I know who's also holding the leash. In fact, he began to realize the import of something she had hinted at before - that her decision to wear the collar was, in no small part, so that Jackson wouldn't feel like her slave. He further suspected that Jackson knew it, and the collar was just there to fool the rubes.

"There's a road coming up on the left, Steph. Do you think I should take it?"

Steph was pointing more and more left of straight ahead.

"Yeah, I... oh! Oh no! She bailed out! No!!!" Stephanie screamed in terror. "It's got her, the eagle's got her! It's veering, Michael, turn! No. Turn around! It's going back the way it came!"

They got back on the road, heading back to the south.

"Damn! Michael, give me sunglasses," she said in a choking voice.

Minis seldom needed glasses or sunglasses. Like the rest of their bodies, their corneas were very flexible. That, and the tiny aperture of their pupils, gave them very sharp vision, in bright light. Normally their problem was poor night vision. But Stephanie was staring almost right at the sun, trying to keep track of the bird. Michael handed her his sunglasses, which she held in front of her.

"You sure it's got her?" he asked.

"I can see her shape hanging from its talons. It's orange.... The life vests are orange," she hastened to add.

She didn't want him to think about blood. Blood on her golden skin--she was wearing Golden You again today--would also look orange from this distance. But she was pretty sure the orange she was seeing was the life vest; for one thing, she saw the eagle catch it. Margaret could still be OK inside that orange cocoon.

"Michael, call 911."

"Mr. McHenry already...."

"Give them an update!"

. . .

"Nine one one dispatch,” said a woman’s voice. “You're mother what? Is this some kind of prank? Young man, do you understand that it's a felony.... Just a minute. Has anyone gotten a call from an old man about a bird? ... Anything about a mini? ... I don't think he was; this young man's saying the same thing.

“You say the eagle's got her now? Just try to keep them in sight, but be careful; you won’t help anyone if you have an accident. I'll... send the cars further south. And someone call animal control!"

“Damn it,” said Michael, holding the phone to his chest. “I think they thought Mr. McHenry was a crazy old man. I’m glad we called.”

. . .

Michael stayed on the line with 911, and soon they saw the eagle light in a tall tree. He pulled the car as close as he could and jumped out, leaving the door wide open. He grabbed some rocks from the shoulder of the road. Then he ran to throw them at the eagle. The best he could do, right now, was to keep it moving, so it didn't have time to... do anything else. He started throwing rocks as soon as he was close enough to have a chance of hitting it. With luck, he might even get it to drop her.

Luck and good aim, born of desperation, were with him, and one of his rocks clipped the eagle. It didn't hurt her, but it did startle her. She dropped her catch and flew away. Michael saw the orange shape drop limply to the ground. "Mom!" he shouted as he ran up to her. The orange plastic had been inflated and then deflated, and now it looked very much like a body bag. It looked like a busted child's balloon. "Mom," he sobbed, as he knelt beside the nine-inch shape.

Stephanie started extracting herself from the vent as soon as the car stopped, and she jumped down to get some water, while Michael ran towards the nearby trees. She was worried about Margaret too, but she knew that she would only slow Michael down. And she desperately needed water. The squirt bottle lay on the passenger-side seat, water dripping from the tip. She struggled for a minute to position it to where she could get beneath the nozzle and drink.

She eyed the open door suspiciously. Michael had been right to leave the door open. The heat inside the car could kill her in minutes if he had closed it. Still, it made her nervous. What happened to Margaret was a grim reminder of how dangerous common animals could be to her - not that it was likely for one to come up to a hot car that had just skidded to a halt. She worried more about two-legged animals. A closed door wouldn't stop them, of course, but having it open still made her feel more vulnerable. She still remembered what the FBI agent, who interviewed her in the hospital, said.

"You need to be careful, Miss Miller," she said. "You're a very rare and valuable mini, now."

"How...?"

"How much are you worth?"

"Uh... kind of a dumb question, huh?"

"I'd want to know," she said with a half-smile. "You're a virgin? Cheerleader. Honor student. Blond hair, green eyes. And most importantly, you're the smallest teenager in the country – officially, anyway. If your parents wanted to put you on Ebay - for legal adoption – they should start at a million, and expect at least three. You'd go for a bit less on the black market – say half a mil to one-five. And that's assuming the doctors and nurses don't blab about....”

She stopped herself from saying what she started to say.

“Feel special?" she asked.

The funny thing was, she had.

Well, she wasn't a virgin anymore, and with the seventh-scale out, she wasn't so rare anymore either. If someone started out about four-foot eleven, they could wind up even smaller than her. So she wasn’t in quite as much danger. That should make her happy, and it did. But still, everyone wants to feel special.

Looking out the passenger-side window, she saw Michael kneeling on the ground, and she could see his despair, even from there. She jumped out of the car and ran under it, towards him, as fast as she could. She heard a loud wail. She saw Michael's tear-streaked face, but that was not the source of the sound. Police cars were coming to a halt behind her.

Michael turned and saw Stephanie. He held up the empty air bag. "Where's Mom?" he said.

Stephanie ran up and wrapped herself around his ankle. "Oh, Michael, I thought... I thought my little mouse heart was going to burst!"

Michael reached down to her, and she transferred her hug from his ankle to his thumb. Michael continued to scan the area with his eyes, as he lifted her up. "But where is she, Steph?"

A policewoman approached them, accompanied by three male officers. "Is this the missing mini?" she asked, indicating Stephanie.

"No," said Stephanie. "I'm just a friend. She's still missing. An eagle... had her. We found her airachute, uh life vest... thing. But we don't know where she is. Michael, let me see it."

"Wait," said the officer, "That's evidence."

"I need to see it! I can see better than you. I need to see if...."

The woman backed off, telling them to just handle it carefully. She doubted this was a case for evidence; clues were what were needed, and the mini might be able to spot them better.

"They're not torn!" Stephanie said. "The straps are unbuckled. And I don't see any blood."

"But how?" said Michael.

"She could have dropped out, after the bird grabbed the vest. You heard what Mr. McHenry said. The fall probably wouldn't kill her; but the eagle would! She could be anywhere from right around here to... about two miles north of here."

"Bob," said the woman. "I want these roads blocked. Let Jim take the South end. I want you to drive north - real slow, real careful. Sirens and lights. Stop every car. Let people get out and help look. Oh. Take Bill with you. He'll need to block Martin Way. Remember, she's less than a foot tall, and she could be lying in the road. Go!"

"Now, I need the two of you to get me up to speed." She grabbed her phone and started talking into it, without waiting for Stephanie or Michael. The boy was obviously in near shock, so she concentrated on the girl. She looked like a teenager, but that was unlikely. Minis’ looks were often deceiving. So was their manner. Just about every mini she knew acted submissive to his or her master - often very submissive. Even the toy soldiers. If you didn’t know better, you'd probably just take them for another man-mini and his master or mistress. They probably found it easier to fit in that way. On reflection, she thought she'd probably do the same; the nail that sticks up and all.

But in a crisis, and she saw a lot of people in crisis, the truth came out. Often it was the mini who took charge. Not all the time, of course, or even most of the time. But about a third of the time, in her experience, it was the mini who held it together and took charge. Little nudie Supergirl here was one of those. She wondered if either of them knew it.

"Mary,” she said into her phone, “we've got a missing micro. Probably injured. She's tiny, and she might be lying in the road, so I want Shoreline blocked from Bayside to Turtle Lane. I don't want any traffic, not even cops. Send someone to Bayside - from the North! We're going to need bush beaters, but they'll have to hoof it. I've got two witnesses here, who say an eagle grabbed her, but it looks like she got away. Yeah, but she's a seventh scale; she might have survived the fall. Her biggest dangers are dehydration, animals and getting crushed by a would-be rescuer.

“OK. The witnesses are her son, uh... Michael Kincaide. He's (how old are you, Michael?) fifteen years old, and another mini... Stephanie Miller. She's... sixteen? Yeah, I know that's not legal, Mary. In my line of work, I seem to see a lot of illegal.... What?

“Uh, is your father Richard Miller, Dr. Richard Miller? She says he is. Huh? Oh. Oh, great. We're going to have a circus. Tell the chief, and don't tell anyone else! I mean it, Mary. Here, I'll get the Millers' number; Chief'll probably want to call them himself."

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Mini Vacation Part 33 - Search and Rescue?

Post by Xinunar » Sat Apr 09, 2022 11:38 am

"Mini Stephanie," said the patrolman, "your master's here. I'll take you to him."

He leaned in to the back seat of the patrol car to retrieve the mini, but she suddenly went into a panic. "No!" she yelled. "Sargent Kennedy has to take me herself. Or Jackson can come get me."

"Oh, for cripe's sake! I don't have time for this." He reached to grab her, but she jumped down to the floor and quickly scampered under the front seat. The car was not fitted for minis, so she was able to go right through to the front, putting a wire mesh between them.

"Sargent Kennedy is my temp. guardian," she said from the front seat. "She's the only one who can touch me - or Jackson." Her voice was very uncertain. She was not sure that rule applied to police. "She's right over there; you go get her."

Officer Hodges was very put out. He thought about finding something to block the passageway under the seats, and then cornering her, but he decided that calling Kennedy over was less hassle.

"What's the matter, Stephanie?" Sargent Kennedy asked. She was polite, she could tell the girl was frightened by something; but she didn’t have the time or energy to coddle a hysterical teenage mini. She was in charge of the mini hunt. And, as she expected, it was quickly turning into a circus. She didn't need any more headaches. The boy who had been the mini’s temporary guardian had left her with the sergeant, while he filed his statement. It was standard policy to have the witnesses file their statements separately. But she did not have time to babysit.

"I can't go with someone I don't know," said Stephanie. "I... Can you take me to Jackson, yourself? Please?"

"Stephanie, I really don't have time. Let officer Hodges take you. He'll take you straight to Jackson and your mother. They're parked just a half mile from here. I promise he won't give you a hard time about getting frightened. If he does, he'll answer to me." She gave Hodges a pointed look that did not accuse but let him know that she was serious.

"OK," said Stephanie. "Thank you." She climbed into Hodges' hand, looking like an acrophobic getting on a ski lift. Hodges headed towards the parking area, and Kennedy went back to her field office.

"What was that all about?" she asked one of her assistants, rhetorically. "A few minutes ago, she was tiny Supergirl, now she's Nervous Nelly."

"Well," he said, "I'm sure she's been taught not to go with strangers. She'd fetch a good price on the black market."

"Yeah, like Hodges is going to go rogue for a few dozen gee."

"Sarge," he said, "she's the smallest teenager in America. And when that footage from the bird man hits the air, she'll be one of the most famous. I'll bet you could get two or three million for her."

"What footage from the...? Wait a minute, did you say two or three million?! Damn! Hold the fort." She dropped the area map she was holding and took off after Hodges.

*

"You’re a strange one," said Hodges.

"Huh? What?" said Stephanie. She was still trying to compose herself and get over her jitters. The policeman was carrying her gently enough, but without much concern for her comfort. She especially didn't like straddling his pinky with no clothes on, but he wasn't really fondling her. He seemed to have about as much interest or concern for a naked mini as he would for a naked mole rat.

"Your master loans you to some high school bud. Lets you go bird riding. You act like Supergirl on the bird - pretty good, for a mini. But now you're scared of a cop? You know, you're supposed to obey police officers, even if you weren't a mini."

"Yes, sir. Sorry," she said contritely. "But he's not just some high school buddy. Michael's my best friend."

"Your best friend? Not your master's?"

"No. I mean they know each other, but they're not really buds. But I trust Michael, and Jackson trusts me."

Officer Hodges shook his head but didn't say anything. Her master was going to get her killed, or at least stolen. He'd seen it before: Jackson Miller still thought of her as his sister, able to mind her own affairs. Their parents were probably just as bad. Well, she's not your little girl anymore, folks. She's a mini. And if you don't watch her, you're going to lose her. As for that other kid, pretending to be her 'best friend' so he could get his rocks off.... Well, boys will be boys. He'd probably have done the same at that age.

"Wait up, Hodges!" sergeant Kennedy called from behind.

"What's up Sarge?"

"She was right," she said, slightly out of breath. "I was supposed to give her back to her master in person. Handing her from person to person is... not a good idea."

Hodges put her in Kennedy's outstretched hand. "Did you think I was going to steal her?"

"No. I just realized I was being... rude."

"To a pet," he said sarcastically.

"To Stephanie Miller. Sixteen-year-old high school student, who's as vulnerable right now as any victim I've ever dealt with."

"Stephanie Miller, high school student, never went around naked or let her brother paint her privates. The mini pill changes people, Sarge. It was a tragedy and a crime for it to happen to her; that's why we put the ones who did it in jail. But she's a pet now. People treating their pets like people - and people becoming pets for the week - are what got us into this mess." He looked at the sergeant defiantly for a moment, then headed back.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie. Some arguments just aren't worth having." Sgt. Kennedy reached down to stroke the tiny girl's hair, but Stephanie jerked her head away. She carried her the rest of the way in silence.

Back in Jackson's hands, Stephanie did not let out her tears, until the policewoman was far enough away that she wouldn't hear. "Where's daddy?" she asked.

"He's helping hunt for Margaret, Dear," said Joyce. "Baby, it's going to be alright." She paused for a minute, while Stephanie cried, then she continued: "Stephanie, I just got off the phone with Mr. McHenry. I told him I'd call him right back. He has video of what happened, and some news channel wants to buy it from him. He wants to know if that's OK. I think he's really just asking for your blessing, not your permission; but anyway, I think you should give it."

"You said I should always avoid publicity," said Stephanie, getting her sobs under control.

"Yes. But this will get more people looking for Margaret. And seeing what you did - it might help people think more highly of minis. We're very proud of you Steph."

"Yeah, OK," said Stephanie.

"Maybe it'll help people think more highly of parrots," she muttered under her breath.

*

"Jackson, am I your pet?" Stephanie asked, as they rode back to their grandmother's. Jackson just looked at her.

"You take care of me, you play with me, you dress me up, you groom me, you feed me, you even change my potty. I think I'm your pet."

"Am I Mom's?" he asked.

"You're her son."

"You're my sister," he replied, echoing her matter-of-fact tone. "Stephanie, you're being dumb. Pets don't do your homework for you - or tell you what to do."

Stephanie smiled, chagrinned. "I don't mean to be so bossy."

*

The Eagle was gaining. She was designed for long distance soaring, while Polly was made for quick, powered flight. By herself, Polly would have already outmaneuvered and escaped it. But she had a mini on her back, and she was tiring. And the eagle was gaining.

Margaret saw that there were thickly foliaged trees up ahead. The eagle would not be able to navigate through them, and they would be like home to Polly. But they were too far away. Margaret had to do something - now.

Bailing out was not an option. Even if she made it to the ground unhurt, the eagle would just snatch her up like a slow rabbit, far from its burrow. The only other thing she could think of was to throw off the life vest. With a little luck, it might hit the eagle, or at least distract it. Margaret managed to loosen the straps, but when she tried to lift up to take it off, the wind practically pulled her head off! That wasn't going to work. And that reduced her options to... none. With the eagle no more than a dozen feet behind her, she let go of the reins, lifted up - and let the wind slam her backward.

The wind threw Margaret flat on her back, and the disruption to her flight made Polly buck like a bronco. But Margaret’s feet were firmly hooked in the stirrups. She lifted her arms over her head, wiggled a little, and let the wind take the life vest. It was ripped off her, painfully, and almost immediately inflated. If the rip cord had been an inch shorter, it would have inflated while still pulled over Margaret’s head. That would have been bad.

Looking up--behind her--Margaret could see the ball almost hit the eagle, which neatly snatched it from the air and flew away. The eagle's talons punctured the ball, which quickly deflated. Watching it fly away, Margaret noticed how the deflated orange ball looked like some grisly corpse hanging from the gallows. She shivered and breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, branches and limbs were all around her, and leaves and twigs were scratching her. Polly had reached the safety of the trees, but in her precarious position, they were not safe for Margaret! She was still lying flat on her back, and she was being jostled too much to sit back up.

"Stop, Polly! Stop!" She had no idea whether Polly understood that kind of voice command. Aaron had not taught her to control the bird by screaming at her. She began to try to wiggle her feet out of the stirrups; it would be better to fall, than to be cut to ribbons or scraped off by a low branch. But then she felt herself lurch forward, as Polly braked. The next thing she knew, Polly was perched on a branch, and she was hanging upside-down from the stirrups at the bird’s neck. She pulled herself back into a sitting position.

Thank God for the square-cube rule. Thought Margaret. The engineering rule that said that strength was proportional to size squared, but weight was proportional to size cubed. Even exhausted, Margaret still felt light as a feather.

"Good girl, Polly." She scratched the bird on the back of her neck, as she surveyed their surroundings. She and Polly both needed a break, but she also needed water! Birds could go without it much longer than minis. She continued to soothe the bird, as she caught her breath. She was even considering taking off her muzzle. Margaret knew that it was hot and uncomfortable, and Polly needed to be able to eat and defend herself. It might be dangerous, but Polly had shown no indication that she might bite. But that might change if she left it on too long. Even a docile bird would run out of patience, eventually. She started to remove the muzzle when she saw something sparkle.

"I think that's water! Come on, Polly." She urged the bird onward. They flew from branch to branch, until Margaret could see that the water was in a bird bath. They were at the edge of someone's back yard. She went ahead and unhooked the muzzle before flying down to the bath. Wiggling her feet out of the stirrups, she fell into the water.

"Any landing you can walk away from, I guess."

Margaret drank her fill and didn't worry too much about germs. She had been dangerously close to heat stroke or dehydration. She made a few adjustments to her outfit - what was left of it; her top had come off with the life vest - and eyed the house nervously. A country house probably had dogs or cats, and of course humans.

Polly tongued and nuzzled her shoulder, as Margaret continued to ponder her situation - and whether she should take off the wet and bulky breeches. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to try to fly Polly back to the shop. She and Polly were both exhausted. She idly scratched her on the back of her neck. "Good girl, Polly." She stopped worrying that the bird might bite her.

"Hey Ron, look!" a boy pushed through the screen door and ran full-tilt at the bird bath. Startled, Polly took off and flew back towards the nearby trees, knocking Margaret down in the process.

"Awe, don't go! Polly wanna cracker?" The boy cried out to the fleeing bird in disappointment. He was about to head back to the house when he noticed Margaret. "Whoa! Hey Ron, come quick!"

"Yeah, Bobby? What is it, a turtle?" asked the older boy coming out of the house.

"Way better than that," said the boy. He picked Margaret up in one hand and held her high over his head, like a trophy. "It's a mini!"

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Mini Vacation Part 34 - The Full Mini

Post by Xinunar » Sun Apr 10, 2022 2:49 am

Our top story is the hunt for mini Magpie, formerly Margaret Kincaide of Charleston. Magpie was bird riding - flying on a trained parrot - at an aviary near Turtle Beach, when she was attacked by a bald eagle! Apparently, bald eagles are making a comeback in this area, good news for the Audubon Society, not so good for micros. She and the parrot managed to escape the eagle, but both are now missing.

Think you've heard everything? It gets stranger, folks. The eagle was chased off by none other than Supergirl! Yes, you heard that right – Supergirl. We've got the exclusive video and the full story, after the break.

The newscast showed a few seconds of Margaret, flying on Polly, looking terrified, over her shoulder. Then they cut to a commercial.

"Whoa, bro!" Ron exclaimed. "That's your mini!"

"Yeah," said Bobby, proudly. "But what was that about Supergirl? And they said her name is Magpie, not Margaret. You been lyin' to us, Magpie?"

Margaret was standing at attention on the coffee table in front of the boys. She had not even turned her head to watch the news story about her, for fear of earning another punishment. She was naked, of course; taking off her riding breeches - and tossing them in the trash - was one of the first things Bobby did, after claiming her as his mini. She had not thought that trick cute when Michael pulled it with her old bathing suit, and she was even less impressed now.

"No, Master. Magpie is just a nick name."

"Or you just hadden 'cepted that Magpie's your new name yet. Well, that's your name now, 'less I give you another one. Understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"What's your name?"

"Magpie, Master."

"What's your full name?"

"Magpie, Master."

The television again showed the same few seconds of Magpie's flight, to get the audience's attention.

That's Magpie, a seventh-scale mini, only nine inches tall, riding a parrot named Polly and being chased by a bald eagle! And if you think that footage is dramatic, wait until you see what happens next. But first, Dave, how is the search for Magpie going?

Well Barb, it's not good. Witnesses say that a few minutes after that footage was taken, Magpie was apparently snatched from the parrot's back by the eagle. But was then dropped somewhere over the area shown here on this map. Now, I must caution our viewers that the entire area, that we have outlined here, is being treated as a crime scene by the state patrol. Unauthorized entry to that area is a felony, carrying up to a five-year prison sentence. It's a stretch of Shoreline drive from Bayside to Turtle Lane and extending a half mile to either side. They have plenty of searchers going over that area, as carefully as they can.

The police are also pursuing a second possibility--that the witnesses were mistaken, and the mini stayed on the parrot's back. They are asking people in the area to be on the lookout for a blue and gold macaw, who answers to Polly - and she really does answer; her owner says she has over a hundred-word vocabulary - and may or may not have a mini on her back. She was last seen flying West by Northwest from Shoreline Drive, near Bayside Road.

Thanks for that update, Dave. Now to back up a bit. Magpie and her fellow mini, Starling a.k.a. Supergirl, were riding on two Parrots at McHenry's aviary, when they were attacked by a wild bald eagle. Mr. McHenry had automated cameras going, one locked on to each bird. Let's watch.

Here's Magpie, obviously enjoying her ride, when first Polly, then she become aware of an eagle closing in on them. And here's Starling, and you can see why we call her Supergirl. No, it's not just the costume. Watch what she does. She see's Magpie and Polly in danger. She jerks her mount to break his tether and watch: slam! right into the eagle. Bill, let's see that again. Wow! Linda Danvers couldn't have done any better. Black Canary eat your heart out.

We'll have an update on the search for Magpie at 5:00. And we'll keep you....

"Wow, Magpie. Your friend is hot!" said Ronald, as he turned down and tuned out the TV.

"Thank you, Master," she said simply.

"Awe, don't feel bad, Magpie," said Bobby. "We like you too. And you know what they say about the bird in the hand. OK, Magpie, we wanna see if we can get you a little more trained before Dad gets home.

“Ball!"

Margaret rolled herself as tightly into a ball as she could, tucking her head between her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. Ronald lifted her carefully with his right hand, then rolled her from hand to hand, finally leaving her in his left hand with her bottom pointing up. It was very red; Margaret had made a few mistakes already, and Ronald and Bobby were quick to correct her.

Bobby seemed content to watch his brother play with his mini; Ronald seemed to have more ideas for things to do with her. Margaret was just glad that they weren't fighting over her.

"Do you think you might'a spanked her too hard, that last time, Ron?" Bobby asked, with some concern.

"Nah, they're just red, not bruised. You haff-ta give 'em some discipline, or they'll just go out and get themselves killed, like Magpie almost did today. What kind'a idiot lets his mini go ridin’ on a parrot?

She just needs a little soothing now. Teach her that we'll take care of her, and not just punish her. Now don't do nothin’ gross, Magpie, or you're really in trouble." With that warning, he lifted her to his face and licked her backside. Then he lightly blew on her bottom, cooling it.

"There, does that feel better, Magpie."

"Yes," she admitted. "Thank you, Master."

"Now, you try it," he said.

Margaret responded by blowing on the burning skin.

"Won't do much good, if it's not moist, Magpie," he said in a mirthful tone that Margaret thought sounded like pure evil.

She managed to reach the top of the back of her leg, but that was about as far as she could get and told them so. Ron allowed her to wet her fingers and use that to soothe her paddle burns.

"I wonder if it's true that the mini pill takes away a person's creativity. How about it, Magpie? Can you think of anything else to do, while you're there?"

. . .

"You actually want me to torture you?" Margaret asked, incredulously.

"Yes, Margaret, I really do," James replied. "And I need you to really push it. Trainers at the base put us through some stuff that I know you couldn't even watch: waterboarding, electrodes, stress positions.... But the sexual stuff... that's where they back off - way before it gets too intense. But that's probably for the best; I'd rather you do it."

"Doesn't that defeat the whole point?" she asked.

"No. If I do get caught behind enemy lines - with some ugly, fat, smelly guy doing things to me - I'll be able to just imagine that it's you.

"So I'm a stand-in for an ugly, fat, smelly guy? Oh, you're really in for it now, Mister."

"That's the spirit."

Margaret grunted at the lame joke. "You know," she said, pulling a whip out of the bag of toys he'd given her, "somehow, I always pictured this going differently."

"You mean with me on that side?" he asked. Margaret shrugged innocently.

"I'd never do that, Margaret. I'm afraid we might both like it too much," he said with a grin.

"So... do all soldiers do this?"

"No. Remember, I'm not just Special Ops. I'm Special Missions. We do more b.e.l. work than anyone."

"James, are you telling me that you're the real Rambo?"

"That's classified. You'll never get it out of me. Besides, if I told you, I'd have to fuck you."

"Ooh! Now I really am motivated!"

. . .

"Oh! She's gonna need a Tic Tac after that!" laughed Bobby.

"Hey, great idea Bobby!" said Ron. "But not after - during! Let's get one!"

Ronald took her to his room and set her down, as he rummaged around. She got permission to stand up. The tricks James taught her helped, but she still felt... dirty, humiliated, sick... raped. Becoming a mini had been a journey of self-discovery for Margaret, and one of the things that she had discovered was that she was very submissive. But a submissive didn't want to be dominated by just anyone - but by her lover! And maybe a few close friends.

She most definitely did not want to be humiliated and abused.

Ronald found some Tic Tacs. He stuck one in his mouth, to get it wet and shrink it a little.

"Master," said Margaret in alarm, "I can't produce enough saliva for a giant Tic Tak, and when it starts to dry, it'll stick to me! Minis are very susceptible to sticky things! I could be severely injured!"

She didn't mention that using tape, glue or anything sticky on a mini was illegal. Playing that card was more likely to just make him angry.

"Ron, I don't want you to hurt her!" said Bobby.

Ronald looked disappointed but continued to suck on his mint, as he thought about what else he could do. Then they heard the front door open.

"Ronald! Bob! Did you boys not finish mowing the yard?" a man's voice shouted.

"Uh Oh," they said in unison.

"Dad!" shouted Bobby, "you'll never guess what I found!"

He ordered Margaret back into a ball, scooped her up and ran back into the den. Proudly, he opened his hands and showed his father his prize.

* * *

David Conners was surprised and pleased at his sons' find. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was the mini he'd heard about on the radio. Figuring out what to do with her was a little more difficult.

"I'm sure that my son would be willing to pay a reward for me," said Margaret. She was thinking that the Millers could, and would, pay even more, but that was another card she didn't want to play unless she really had to.

"Doesn't quite work that way, Magpie." He was eating a sandwich. He pinched off a corner and gave it to Margaret. Smashed by his fingers, it was not very appetizing, but Margaret thanked him and ate without complaint. "It’s not like you’re a wild mini – not exactly – you’re registered to your son. We can ask for an finders fee, up to $12,000, but that's it. If we let them know you're here, that’s all we’d get."

"But then you'd get the $12,000. Isn't that enough?"

"It's not about the money." It was about the money. "I'm not sure I approve of letting a woman become the 'toy' of her 15-year-old son. Maybe in a few years, when he’s older.... We'll, I still won't approve, but then it won't really be my business.

“Y’see, for minis, there’s a three-year limit. After that, you’re declared dead, and if anyone finds you after that, they can claim you and register you as a wild mini – you know, those crazy idiots who try it at home and get stuck, or run away from their masters or from a mini town. Anyone who finds them can claim them and sell them for as much as they like.”

Margaret could hardly believe what she was hearing. This man was going to keep her here for three years, so he could claim her and then probably sell her to the Millers. She looked around, trying to see any avenue of escape. But one look at David told her that would be pointless.

"Magpie, you chose this life. Maybe you thought it'd be a different boy owning you, but like I said, that's disgusting.

“Now don't fret; after a few months with the subliminals and conditioning programs, and you won't be able to imagine living anywhere else. I've read a bit about this. The first step is to let you get over any silly notions you might have about going back to your old life. We'll get you a terrarium and some MinFix tomorrow."

The End.




(Just kidding... I think.)

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by ralgar » Sun Apr 10, 2022 3:20 am

I really hope your kidding but I guess we will see.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by javiersolana » Sun Apr 10, 2022 6:48 pm

Kidding about ending the story was the worst joke since the beginning of the year.

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Mini Vacation Part 35 - Vigil

Post by Xinunar » Tue Apr 12, 2022 2:58 am

"How many times am I going to slam into that damn bird, anyway?"

Stephanie was pacing on the coffee table in her grandmother's den. She was feeling very anxious - and useless. Her mother would not even let her field the many phone calls they had gotten. She was worried sick about Margaret - and Michael. There was a very good chance that Margaret was already dead, and that thought filled her with grief. And if she was, then Michael would be devastated. And that filled her with concern. Stephanie was a very logical person, so the concern won out over the grief. Grief was what you felt when there was no longer any need for concern. But she knew that the grief would hit her hard later - if Margaret was dead.

They kept the news on, to hear any updates on the search. But mostly they just replayed the footage of Stephanie and Magellan flying into the eagle and gave teasers of updates to come. It was maddening. "Maybe we could turn away from local news for a while? Dad's out with the searchers; he'll call if anything happens." She had said that before and didn't really mean it. She could no more turn off the TV, right now, than she could go to a party.

"That's not local, Steph," said Jackson. "That's 'The News Hour'. Grandma always watches it at 7:00." She stared at him in surprise for a moment, then sat down in the Barbie lounge chair they had put there for her to watch TV. Barbie was a bit taller than she was, and the chair had no padding; but because she was so light, she was not uncomfortable. Her grandmother brought her a thimble of tea. The thimble was like a large beer mug to her, there was a single shard of ice in it, and her grandmother had put tape around it for insulation. Metal cups were always so cold to hold, and her grandmother was always so considerate. "Thank you Gra'ma."

With us tonight are Dr. Charles Dolphin, of the Mini Research Center in Baltimore, MD. He's also a senior fellow with the Lily Tomlin Foundation - and Dr. George Hartman, professor of psychology at George Mason University, author of 'The Mini Mind'.

Dr. Hartman, in your book you say that mini's are almost totally self-absorbed and focused on hedonistic pleasure. What do you think, watching Starling do what most people would call a heroic act?

Jim, minis - and teenagers, for that matter - have very little concern for the long-term consequences of their actions. Starling didn't act - heedless of the danger, she reacted - without thinking about the danger. For that matter, so did Magellan, the parrot. If we're going to credit her with heroism, don't we have to credit him, as well? We're all glad that they were able to buy Magpie and Polly a few seconds, for all the good it likely did them, but I see that as an act of recklessness more than heroism. Don't let the costume, or body paint, fool you; mini Starling is not Supergirl.

Dr. Dolphin, what do you think?

"Gra'ma! I'm turning it, OK?" yelled Stephanie.

"OK, dear!" her grandmother shouted back. She wanted to hear more but decided to let Stephanie have her way.

Stephanie stomped on the channel-down button on the remote control a few times, then got frustrated and stomped 'off' even harder. "And now I'm Starling? I'm not even Stephanie anymore?"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" asked Jackson. "Shouldn't... uh, wouldn't I have some say in that, Mom?"

"Legally, you can rename her," said Joyce. "But you better not try it! Starling is like a stage name; it helps protect her privacy a little. I asked the news people to leave out her full name – even though the rags are bound to announce it. I hope you don't mind?" She directed that at Stephanie, who just shook her head.

Joyce bent down and kissed Stephanie on top of her head. "I'm worried about them too," she whispered. Just then, her cell phone rang. "Hello? What? No. Absolutely not. First, we are not accepting any solicitations at this time; and second, she will not be doing any celebrity auctions - at any time! What? I'm her mother! Call again and I'll file a complaint!"

No sooner had she hung up, than it rang again. "Though, it doesn't seem to protect her privacy very much," she said to the room.

"Hello!" she said, testily. "Who is this? Oh, Misty! Sorry, we've had a stressful evening. Yes, she's right here. Just let me plug in the earphone, and I'll give the phone to her. Just know: if we get an incoming call, she might have to put you hold without warning. And it’s good to hear your voice, dear. Tell your mother I said hello." She plugged in an earphone and set the phone on its side, leaning against a doll table that Stephanie used.

Stephanie held the earphone near her ear and spoke into the mike on the cell phone, using the modern cell phone like an antique wall mount – talking into a box, and holding a big speaker to her ear. "Hello," she said, nervously. She and Misty had been playing phone tag since the night before, but now she was so worried about Margaret and Michael that she was afraid she wouldn't be as polite as Misty deserved.

"Hi, Misty! No, I haven't heard anything. Michael's still out looking. Yeah, thanks. So do I. Look, Misty, I.... No, you first. No Misty, that was my fault, completely. I was just being awful to everyone back then, you know? It's just a good thing that my dumb parents and brother think that they *have* to forgive me, or I'd still be living in a bird cage! No, I'm just kidding; they never did that - although Michael did! Yes, way! ... Misty, I've got another call. I promise to call you tomorrow, even if it's just to touch base. OK? OK. Bye!"

* * *

Margaret tried to maintain her balance, as the body beneath her bounced around. She glared at David Conners, as she dutifully went through the motions he demanded.

"You know what?" he said without pausing. "I was wrong... to make you look up at me." With his index finger, he firmly pushed down on the back of her head. "And those lips were made for other things, besides pouting."

Later, she sobbed quietly. Alone. That was a scene she had imagined many times--with James! Even having him pretend-force her to do some things were part of her fantasy. And now it was ruined! Of course, she couldn't do it with James. He was gone. But she had been preparing herself to do it with Richard - probably - while Michael was at his game this Friday. He and Joyce hinted about the three of them getting together, while Michael and Stephanie were in the restroom at the restaurant. (And while Jackson stuck his fingers in his ears and sang, “La la la.”) Was that really only a day ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

She had not been with anyone since James; it always felt... too much like cheating on him. But Richard was different. He was Joyce's husband and James' friend. He'd be almost like a surrogate - filling in for James out of friendship - not trying to replace him. Not exactly, of course. Richard was his own man, and quite attractive too.

But now it was ruined!

She felt foolish. She had much bigger problems than one ruined fantasy, and she knew that she should focus on how to escape. But it was a big deal! It wasn't just one little fantasy. It her tribute to James! This vacation was the trip they'd planned and never taken. It was supposed to be like taking his ashes up the mountain he had always wanted to climb. And now it was ruined.

Well, she wasn't going to let it be. Somehow, she was going to get out of this. And she *would* make love to Richard. And he would help her forget this pitiful excuse for a ‘male’, as he helped her remember what a real man was like, as he helped her remember James. She would!

Somehow.

She was in a box, in the boys’ room. It had holes in it - about 1 1/2 inches long and maybe a quarter inch wide - too narrow for her. It was cardboard, but the extra heavy-duty kind. If she had to tear through it with her bare hands... it would take days. And she didn't dare try anything anyway, with the boys sleeping just a few yards away.

They had given her some napkins, for bedding, so she made herself comfortable for the first time in half a day. There had been times today when she thought her gut was going to explode, but she was tougher than she knew - and certainly tougher than they knew! She burrowed into the covers and set her internal clock for 7:00.

David Conners got up at 7:00 to get ready for work. He checked on his sleeping sons and their new pet - mostly the pet; the boys were old enough not to need checking. She was awake but did not look like she had been up all night. The noise of taking the cover off her box probably woke her. In fact, nestled in the silk hanky he had given her, she looked quite comfortable.

"Good girl," he said. She only glared up at him, but he could tell she was coming around. If only all women were that easy to handle.

That made him think about his wife, and showing her the new addition, when she got back from her conference. He sure hoped she'd let them keep her. He'd be sure to keep the receipt on the terrarium, just in case.

* * *

"I'm bored," said Bobby. He was sitting at the kitchen table, where his new pet stood. She was naked and very cute. He hadn't gotten tired of looking at her, not really, but other than that, there didn't seem to be that much to do with her. He stroked her gently, and she responded by moving against him affectionately. That was nice, but he was still getting bored.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said. "I should have gone larger--maybe half scale or point four. But I was going to have my son take care of me; and despite what Da... Master David said, I didn't want to give him too much temptation. You know what they say: Minis are for boys, Micros are for girls."

"Yeah." He had heard that. "I guess it's like playin’ with Barbies, for them."

"I guess," said Margaret, with a giggle. ’After all, Muff-Diving Barbie is the most popular model,’ She thought. She needed to be very careful with her banter. If he thought she was making fun of him, she was in trouble. She also needed to avoid lies. She had a terrible tell; she was the worst poker player ever. One reason she was so casual about nudity was that, back in high school, she lost a lot of games of.... Focus Margaret, Focus.

"It also makes them great babe magnets," said Ron. "'Get a mini, get a harem.'"

"Yeah? Is that right, Magpie?"

"I hadn't heard that expression," she said, "but it sure seems to be true. Jackson -that's Stephanie's master - is only thirteen, and he has *three* high school cheerleaders wanting to be his minis! And my son Michael ran into his old gal pal, while taking care of me. She used to always say, ‘Let's just be friends,’ and now she's practically climbing all over him!"

"See?" said Ron. "Keep the mini; leave the cannoli."

"Huh?"

"I'm just sayin’ keep the mini, and you'll have more girls than you know what to do with. But don't worry, I'll help you think of something to do with the mini, too," he said with a wink.

"I'm sorry, Master, but that won’t work." Ronald gave her an angry look, but she continued: "A mini, or a baby, or a dog - they only work as a babe magnet if you take them out in public. Jackson has three cheerleaders wanting him, because they see how good he is to Stephanie. Same with Michael and me. But as soon as you take me out in public, I'm outta here!

At best, your friends are going to see an unhappy mini you've managed to drug and brainwash into staying with you. Maybe they'll just think I'm a burned-out ex-junkie or hooker, but that's not a magnet. Or if it is, it's north to north – repelling, not attracting."

"That sounds right, Ron."

"Maybe. But dad's right too. You can always send her back later. Let's enjoy her now."

"You won't get as much money later," Margaret said honestly. "My friend Joyce, that's Stephanie and Jackson's mother, really wants me for her mini - right now. I know she'd gladly pay the adoption fee. But later... like I said, Jackson has three girls who want to be his minis, and Joyce will have to 'help out'. What will she need me for then?

If you let her adopt me now, I'll match her twelve thousand with twelve thousand of my own. That's not an illegal ransom; that's just a promise from me to you. Your father's right that you couldn't legally enforce it. But you have my word, and I don't cheat."

Both boys looked uncertain, but Ron spoke up: "How can you pay up, if your someone's mini?"

"Joyce is my friend! She wouldn't make me be her mini - to pay her back or otherwise. I'm the one who would insist on paying her back. And she'd definitely let me take a few days, to get my affairs in order - something that I can't do, if your father gives me MinFix!"

The boys ate their cereal in silence for almost a minute, thinking about her offer. Then Ron spoke up: "I've got an idea. Let's call Sharon! She can keep a secret."

Margaret’s heart fell, as she watched and heard the boys talk about this 'Sharon'. It was obvious that Bobby's brain turned to mush whenever he thought about her. Margaret was pretty good at reading men. Bobby didn't have a crush on Sharon; she was just hot, and almost available; and he was thirteen and gawky, and his hormones were raging--even though he didn't seem to have a good idea what to do about them. He wanted someone like Sharon to show him what to do with the weird feelings he was feeling.

Soon they had her on the phone. "No, I'm not sayin’ me and bobby want to watch nuthin’," said Ron, in a syrupy voice. "I'm just sayin’ we can't leave her alone with anyone. I thought you might just want to come over and see her. Yeah well, bullshit makes the flowers grow. OK, I'll be over to get you soon as I can. Bobby, I'm going to go get Sharon. You stay and watch Magpie."

"Aww, I've been watchin’ her all morning. Can't I come? She'll be safe in the box."

"That's a bad idea, Bobby. We leave her here alone, and Dad'll have our hides."

"But Ron...," whined Bobby. "She's not goin anywhere; are you Magpie?"

That was the opening she had been looking for: "I can't promise you that, Bobby--uh, Master."

"Yes, you can," he said pointedly, with a hint of threat.

"Master, I haven't lied to you - not about the money, not about anything. But if I get a chance to escape, I'll try to escape. If you make me promise not to, then I'll lie. I don't want to lie - so don't make me. I also don't want to be locked in that box for hours. Why don't you just stay with me; I promise to be more... entertaining."

Ron didn't like that business of saying that she would lie if they made her promise not to escape. If she thought that was the way it worked, she had another think coming - as his father would say. But he didn't want to get in a big fight about it now, with Sharon waiting. And if Sharon came over and saw what looked like an abused mini, she might decide to turn good citizen. That led to another thought: "Will you promise not to offer Sharon any kind of reward to tell people about you, or help you escape?"

Margaret though about that, then nodded. "I promise not to offer Sharon any reward. Escape itself is the only thing I won't make promises about. I know you've got to be able to trust me on things like this, or no promises I make will mean anything."

Ron nodded. "Break that one, and you'll just wish you were our pet," he threatened.

"So, can I come?" asked Bobby.

Ron looked at him then back to Magpie. "Do you promise not to talk any more about rewards to Bobby, while I'm gone?" he asked. Margaret pursed her lips and thought about it for a moment. She started to say something when Ron said, "Come on, Bobby. Let's put her in the box."

Margaret started to make herself comfortable, as soon as she heard the car doors slam, but she didn't open the knife up until she heard it back out of the driveway. "A little sticky," she said to herself, "but none the worse for wear."

She had hidden the one-inch pocket knife that Aaron had given her the only place she could, as soon as she saw the boy running towards the bird bath. Thank God and Aaron’s foresight it was a pocket knife and not a bowie knife.

At times, it had been uncomfortable, to the point of being painful; to her, it was a full seven inches long. James had been bigger, but he was also soft and flexible. And she had never kept him in while doing the kinds of exercises and contortions the Conners had put her through. But she hadn't been too worried about injuring herself. In fact, she had considered injuring herself enough that they would have to take her to the hospital.

That was still a backup plan. But right now, she was focused on plan B. Plan A had been to get them to sell her back, but she could still try that again, if this failed.

The first part of plan B was to expand one of the air holes enough to squeeze through. That turned out to be tougher and take longer than she expected. The only thing that was very effective was to use a serrated part of the blade to saw through the tough cardboard. But that part was less than half an inch long, so it was slow going.

The next part was even trickier. She wasn't sure if she wanted to risk going outside. Outside was dangerous! But she at least wanted to make it look like that was what she had done. Then she could hide inside the house and wait for an opportunity to contact someone. The Conners didn’t have a house phone, so she might have to wait until some night that David got drunk and use his cellphone. That plan sounded almost as scary as going outside, but it also sounded possible.

She went to the kitchen, which was at the back of the house. The best way out was probably to break a window. And for that, she would need some kind of tool. On the countertop, just below the window, was a coffee cup - just about perfect.

Margaret weighed about 2/5 of a pound, but she could lift almost three pounds--about seven times her own weight. This was another case where the laws of scale worked to her advantage; she was much stronger, relative to her weight, than she had been at full size - seven times stronger, in fact. But she couldn't possibly jump with that much weight. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to. The hard part was getting up on the counter. It was too high to jump, but she was able to climb up, using the cabinet doors for purchase.

She cut off a section of the curtain drawstring to make herself a belt. She slipped the cord through the eyelet at the hinge of the knife and tied it around her waist. She tied it in a slip knot, so she could easily free the knife if she needed it.

She tied the curtain drawstring to the cup handle, then climbed up it to the windowsill. She started to pull the cup up, but then she saw something that made her heart skip a beat. In the back yard, at the bird feeder, was the most beautiful bird she had ever seen – Polly! She hung upside down on the feeder and helped herself to some sunflower seeds.

Margaret tried to get her attention, but Polly couldn't hear her through the glass. Quickly, she hoisted the cup up and began to use it to tap on the glass, harder and harder until Polly noticed her. Now that Polly was aware of her, she just hoped that she wouldn't be too startled by the sound of breaking glass.

This was dangerous. If the glass shattered too violently, it could cut or even kill her. It was also a lot harder than she had hoped. She stood on top of the bottom window, bracing herself against the runners. She swung the cup to make it hammer at the glass. She could swing it, side to side, but not out and in, not enough to do any damage.

There was a hook, even further up. Steeling her resolve, she climbed up to it and wrapped the cord around it until the cup hung at the same level as the glass. Nearly exhausted, she made her way back down to the top of the top of the lower window. Now she could use her feet to push the cord further out than she could with her arms.

And it still wasn’t enough!

Margaret slumped on the ledge and let despair wash over her. She looked longingly out at Polly, still chilling at the birdbath. She looked in Margaret’s direction, but Margaret wasn’t sure if she saw her. Margaret looked down at the cup, dangling against the glass. She took a few steading breaths and climbed down to it.

Standing on the windowsill, she pushed the cup away from the glass. She stepped up backwards, so she was standing on the bottom board of the window, leaning forward about forty-five degrees. She stepped a foot against the glass and began walking backwards. She had her arms stretched out over her head and managed to get almost parallel to the floor before she slipped and fell into the sink.

Even at one-seventh gravity, it hurt. She got up and noticed the open drain and disposal a few inches from her. She was reminded of the famous scene in “The Incredible Shrinking Woman.” It wasn’t on, and she wasn’t as small as Lily Tomlin had been, but it still gave her chills.

She climbed back up the cord to the windowsill. A corner of the pane was broken off from the rest. Yes!

Carefully, very carefully, she pushed the piece out. It fell, and broke in two, lying between the window and the screen. Danger was everywhere, but Margaret didn't have any real choice. There was enough room for her to get out without touching the razor-sharp glass, if she was very, very careful.

She took off her belt and used the knife to push the shards out of her way. Then she eased through the hole, careful not to touch its deadly edge. She then stepped lightly over the glass to get to an area where she didn't have to be quite so careful. She was gratified to see that Polly was still looking at her quizzically from the feeder. The noise had not scared her away.

"Polleee! Mini girl! Go fly!" Margaret called out to her.

Just as she did this, she heard a car pulling up around the house. Quickly, she got her knife open and cut a hole in the screen, giving a quick prayer of thanks that it was nylon, and not the old-style aluminum.

Outside the window was a decorative flower trough, but there was nothing in it. To Margaret, it was just a wooden ditch, as deep and wide as she was tall. She jumped across it, dropping her knife in the process, and landed precariously on the opposite side. Now she stood, with a nine-inch drop on one side and a much deeper one on the other. She guessed she was about five feet up. It looked so much higher. She had to remind herself that such a drop probably wouldn't hurt her.

She could hear the children entering the house; it was now or never. "Polly! Polly!" She called. "Mini girl, go fly!" She twisted herself to hang her head and torso upside down, in imitation of something she had seen Polly do. She waved her arms and called again.

Polly did not recognize the urgency of the situation, but she did recognize the mini girl - who reminded her of her old friend. Birds have very good memories. She remembered her friend holding her, when she was little and riding her when her friend was little. She remembered the words and the friendly gesture; hanging upside down and spreading their wings was one way parrots flirted and greeted friends.

Lazily, she flew over to the perch where the mini stood. She almost knocked her down with her wings, but Margaret managed to dodge them. Margaret quickly climbed onto the bird, just before the boys came running into the kitchen. They shouted, which startled Polly, so she took off with her little mini mounted snugly on her back.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by ralgar » Tue Apr 12, 2022 4:41 am

Ok that’s good, u had me bloody worried there for awhile. U have done a very good job with the tension in this part.

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Mini Vacation Part 36 – Two in the bush

Post by Xinunar » Wed Apr 13, 2022 7:22 am

Margaret brought Polly to a stop on a tree branch to assess her situation. Her biggest concern was the hot South Carolina sun. She was completely naked. With no clothes or sunscreen, the sun would cut right through to the bone. But she should be able to make it back to Aaron's in about Fifteen minutes. She could get there even faster, if she could fly straight there, but she didn’t know exactly which direction it was. Her best bet was to fly East, to the sea, then follow the coastline to Aaron’s.

She remembered a conversion chart, showing relative sun exposure. Fifteen minutes, to a mini her size, was the equivalent of over two hours. Two hours of South Carolina sun in May…. Margaret burned easily, and the sun was as bright in May as it was in July, even if the air was colder. It was almost eleven o’clock; the sun would be high and strong. And what if she took longer than she expected?

Two hours of sun on her naked back could put Margaret in the hospital. She had no choice but to wait. She needed to stay in the thick shade until the sun was less harsh. Wait to at least three or four, five would be best. Scary as it was to be a mini in the wild – literally in the wild – the sun was the biggest danger now.

Stephanie couldn’t stand it. She had turned off the television three times, only to turn it back on again a few minutes later, each time. "Magpie and Starling. We sound like a comic book. And why does Magpie get top billing anyway?"

Stephanie gasped and started biting at her lower lip, as soon as those words were out of her mouth. How could she even think something so petty, much less say it, with Margaret missing and probably dead.

"It just sounds better," said Jackson. He noticed Stephanie's reaction but decided not to mention it. "I bet somebody will make a comic book out of it - or a movie! That'd be great!"

"You should do it," said Stephanie, idly. "You're a great artist."

"Wow! Do you think I could?"

"Sure."

"Will you help me?"

Stephanie tried to get out of it, but Jackson played the 'master' card. He didn't do that often - almost never, in fact. And he didn't need to do it now, except to speed things up. Of course, Stephanie would help him with his artistic projects - and it was well within his prerogatives to require it. But if he hadn’t played his trump card, she would have put him off a day or so, while she beat herself up and worried herself sick.

Jackson decided he'd seen enough of that, so he put her to work as model, muse, co-writer, and editor. It didn't stop her from worrying, of course, but it did help cut down on her beating herself up over things she couldn't have done any better.

Misty called back at ten. They talked a short time, and Stephanie said that it would be alright if she stopped by sometime the next evening. She didn't know if it would be a reunion or a wake, but Misty was welcome to come.

Richard called at eleven. The police were making Michael take a break. They had a skeleton crew searching through the night, mainly to keep wild animals away. He and Michael would try to catch some sleep at Michael's place. The full search would start up again at six - and continue to noon. If they still hadn’t found her by then, they would open the beach back up.

Stephanie started crying and did not stop until she fell asleep in her mother's lap. She woke up early the next morning, lying where her father would normally sleep. She looked over at her mother's pretty face. The giant face was only a few inches in front of her. It didn’t scare her, not exactly; she knew her mother would never hurt her, but it still filled her with a kind of awe. She understood why some people, like Margaret, chose this, were willing to risk everything to have this feeling.

She told herself that she would never have chosen this if she had a choice. She told herself that, every few days or so. It absolutely used to be true. Then it was mostly true. Then she had to remind herself every few days that she didn’t want to be what she was, no matter how many up sides it had. Now, she decided to stop doing that. She was what she was, and hating it didn’t help a thing.

She felt an embarrassing excitement she worked to suppress. That was her mother, not some elegant goddess. Find some other giant to feel in awe of. But she knew she would have a hard time finding any other woman or man who had her mother’s mix of beauty, sternness, majesty and compassion. She would never let her mother know how much this turned her on. That was her new resolve, one she planned to stick to.

Looking at her mother, she saw a sadness there that she had not seen since shortly after she got minned. As she watched, her mother's eyes fluttered open. She looked at Stephanie and gave a wane smile. Stephanie was sure that she had not made any noise or movement that might have waken her mother; her mother simply had as good a biological clock as she did.

"Do you need anything, dear?" she asked.

Stephanie wanted to say no, but she was thirsty and needed to use the rest room, and her grandmother's house was not very mini friendly.

Margaret was going to be sick. Polly was a restless bird, who liked to move around a lot. She was probably as uncomfortable with a mini on her back as Margaret was sitting on a giant bird all day. She so wished she could get down for a while, give Polly a break and stretch her own legs, but she had learned her lesson at the birdbath. If Polly got startled and flew off without her again, she’d wish she was back at the Conner’s.

Maybe not, it’d be close.

Through much of the day, Stephanie continued to work on Jackson's comic book. She edited what he had already written, drew out some story boards - and watched the news. Hope, already in short supply, dwindled by the hour.

It was time – though Margaret had no idea what time it was. The shadows were getting longer, so the sun was getting lower. A lower sun was a weaker sun. It wasn’t as weak as she would like, but it would have to do. She was getting saddle sore and thirsty. Polly was getting restless. The bird already nipped at her, a friendly warning. Polly could easily chomp through her arm.

With a few deep breaths and a tight grip on the reins, Margaret spurred Polly into flight.

That first dip was always the worst. Then the majestic bird spread its wings and pulled up from a dive that looked like it was going to leave Margaret splattered on the forest floor. Margaret was glad she hadn’t eaten in a while; she just wished she could have made a pit stop.

They flew East by Southeast, until they saw the sea, then turned South, towards Polly's home. They crossed Shoreline drive about a quarter mile south of the police's northern roadblock, so Margaret didn't see it. The police were letting cars through now. They only had a couple of patrol cars there, on the off chance that one of the searchers found something. At this point their main purpose was to keep the searchers themselves from getting in trouble.

Margaret could feel herself getting hot and thirsty as the aviarium came into view. Aaron had installed a few pet doors high on its outer walls, and Polly made a bee line for one of them. It was a one-way door and had a small porch on each side. Polly landed and pushed through the door. It bumped roughly against Margaret but didn't knock her off. Polly quickly flew up to her nest, where there was a feeder and water.

Margaret wanted to call out for Aaron, but her throat was too dry. Instead, she waited for Polly to get a drink of water. Polly had never tried to bite her, but it's never a good idea to interfere with an animal when it was eating or drinking, especially one that weighs six times more than you do and could crack your skull like a Brazil nut.

Polly finished, and Margaret started to get some water, when she saw two of the most frightening things she had ever seen. Two condors, much larger than the eagle, were flying at her from opposite directions. She screamed a hoarse dry scream and fell to her stomach as the two birds landed on the perch, one just after the other.

Margaret tried to yell for Aaron, as the two giant condors started to peck at Polly. Polly squawked and snapped back at them but also moved forward to cover Margaret with her body and wings. Margaret was grateful that Polly's mothering instincts had been triggered - perhaps by her weak croaks for help, but she knew that Polly could not last long against the two giant scavengers.

What had triggered this reaction from them? Didn't they always coexist peacefully with the parrots? Maybe Polly had picked up some smell while she was outside. Then she realized it was probably her! The smell of mammal flesh - sunburned mini, and sweea, and sex and fear was driving them into a frenzy. After all the times that Polly had saved her, she was getting Polly killed!

Margaret tried again to call for help. "Aaron! Aaron!" she cried. But her voice was so weak she doubted he could have heard her if he was standing on the ground below her. Then she heard Polly repeat: "Aaron! Aaron!" Other than a little metallic twang that said it was a parrot speaking, it was probably Katie McHenry’s voice. Margaret stroked Polly's chest and said, "good girl." Then she continued to call for Aaron and Polly continued to repeat it.

Aaron heard a small ruckus in the aviarium, but he didn't think much of it at first. Then he heard Polly's voice calling: "Aaron, Aaron." That was unusual. She was more likely to greet him by calling out her own name than his. Then he did a double-take: Polly!

He ran into the aviarium. There was Polly, up in her nest. The two buzzards, Mortis and Rigor, were up there too, and they looked like they might be getting into a fight. He saw no sign of Margaret.

"Hear 'ear, lads," he said, as he started to climb the ladder that stood beside Polly's nest. The ladders used to stand mounted perpendicular against the walls beside the bird's nests, but as he had gotten older, he had the ladders angled, so that now they were almost like stairs. "What's the trouble ‘ere?"

"Aaron!" he heard again, but this time it was not Polly. It was a woman's faint cry!

"Margaret? Margaret! Here lass, I've got you." He stroked and scratched Polly, then carefully extracted the tiny woman from beneath her. With Polly being in mother-hen mode, he had to be careful, or she might start snapping. He had a few scars to prove that she could bite hard, when her dander was up.

"Oh Aaron, I thought they were going to kill me! And Polly!"

"Who, lass?" asked Aaron, as he backed down the stairs.

"The vultures! Those!" she said indicating the birds behind her.

It took Aaron a moment to catch up. He thought some outside birds must have chased her again. "Oh no, lass. They's just greetin Polly – lovin’ on her. See? Now they’s preenin her."

"That didn't sound like preening!"

"Well, I reckon Polly's bein’ a mother hen – protectin’ you. An’ the lads don’ understand why she's bein’ so snippy."

Margaret looked at Aaron in shock, then she started to laugh - or at least she tried to. Her throat was so dry she choked on it.

Aaron rushed her into the kitchen and quickly got her a spoonful of water. He held that for her, as he looked around for something better. "Aye," he said, "Polly's near 30-year old. An’ she takes all the new chicks under her wings."

Margaret grinned and blushed at that.

"It's a shame she canna have none o' her own. But then, I dunna think she really misses bein a 'natural' mother. All o' the other birds think o' her as their ma, anyway."

He found a suitable cup. "Do yer want some sweet tea? Or would ye like somethin' a bit stronger?"

Margaret said that tea would be fine.

"Magellan now, he got a bit o' oedipal complex."

"I guess that's natural too," said Margaret wryly, "or as natural as a scarlet macaw bonding to a blue and gold."

"Folks worry too much about what's nat'ral. Parrots lookin' after a brood o' buzzards - or a mini woman - that's not nat'ral, but I'm glad of it. Buzzards tearin' up a weakened bird or mini; that'd be nat'ral, but I'm right glad they din. Takin' care o' the one's that love you - nat'ral or no - tha's what's important. E'en the buzzards know that, and they's nowhere near smart as parrots.

“Now, where is that police woman's card? I know I've got it ‘ere somers."

As he talked on the phone with the police, Aaron readied a sink full of warm water and bath oil. The sink even had a jacuzzi attachment, that dated back to when his wife was alive. It still saw a lot of use - many of his customers were stiff and sore after their rides.

While Margaret soaked, he got Starling's parents number from her paperwork, and gave her mother a call. The police were already calling Michael, of course, but he wanted to give Starling the good news. When he called the number, he got her father, Richard Miller, on his cell phone.

Richard and Michael were still out looking for Margaret. He had parked his car five miles from the police command center and were working their way back to it, searching in a zigzag pattern. A couple of other searchers still did the same. Richard said that Michael would catch a ride with the police to Aaron’s shop. He also spoke briefly to Margaret and told her to wait for his lawyer friend to call her before giving the police a statement.

When Aaron heard the patrol car pull up, he rushed to help Margaret dry off and get dressed in some riding clothes he gave her. Margaret had decided that she would look less... abused if she was dressed. She didn't want to upset Michael any more than she was sure he already was.

"Mom!" Michael shouted, as he rushed up to her. He lifted her up, kissed her and pressed her to his cheek. He looked - and smelled – even worse than Margaret did, before her bath. And he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

After a week of seeming like a younger version of James - handsome, competent, and confident - Michael was suddenly her little boy again. He could barely hold back his sobs. And for the first time all week, Margaret wished she was not a mini, so that she could hug him properly and shield him from the world. Of course, when she was at the Connor's she had wished that she had hidden away a bottle of antidote, instead of a knife. (James had taught her hand to hand, and giving David a thrashing would have been very satisfying.) But that wasn't really the same as wishing she was not a mini. Mostly, she had just wished she was home.

Margaret was angry with herself for putting him through this and for thinking and acting as if he was ready for full adult responsibilities. He wasn't. He was close, and he certainly could step up if the need arose, but it would not be right to force him to. She was even more angry with the Connors. They had hurt him more than they had her. She suddenly realized that she was a bit snippy when she was in mother-hen mode too. One more bond she had with Polly.

The police wanted Margaret to give a statement, but then George Thompson, Richard’s attorney friend, called. He had Margaret talk to him before she talked to them. Aaron had a phone equipped with a mini mike in his office.

Margaret told George what had happened to her. George said that she could tell the police everything, except to leave off the part about breaking the window or cutting the screen; the Conners could sue, maybe. George wanted to look into that some more.

“Just say that you found a way out of the house,” said George. “They’ll press for details, but tell them your attorney said not to get more detailed without him present.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about the sexual… assault. I doubt the law will call it that, since I’m a mini, but I do. I’m not sure if I want Michael to hear about it, especially today. He’s still distraught.”

“It’s best to tell them,” he said. “Leaving out that much could trip you up later. Can the phone there be set on speaker?”

“Yes, it can,” said Margaret.

“Set it to speaker, then ask the police to interview you in there,” said George. “You don’t need him present, if you’ve got me present. I’ll stay on the line, through the interview.”

After telling her story three times – once for George, twice for the police – Margaret pled exhaustion and trauma and asked Richard to take her and Michael home. Each time she went over it, her anger built. By the end of the third telling, she had made up her mind not to simply let it go.

In the car, she explained what she had in mind. Richard didn't completely approve. Payback was the kind of bitch that turned on its own mistress. But he conceded that Joyce would probably agree with Margaret. And in any case, she should have a long talk with George or another lawyer before she did anything else.

Richard convinced Margaret and Michael to come back with him to his mother in law's. "Stephanie and Joyce have been worried sick about the two of you" was all he had to say.

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Mini Vacation Part 37 - Reunited

Post by Xinunar » Thu Apr 14, 2022 10:27 am

“Tell us, why did you become a mini – in your own words,” the woman asked, in her famous, comforting voice.

"My husband was killed, while serving his country in Iraq, two years ago this August. I've grieved for him every day since then. And I've felt an enormous sense of guilt that I never gave him this one fantasy that I knew he wanted. Other people want to go to Europe or Hawaii or Alaska. But the trip that James wanted to take was to spend a week or so with me as his mini. So, this year, as Memorial Day approached, I wanted to do something special, in his memory. So I did it. I became a mini."

Margaret had talked with an attorney earlier, who had assured her she was in no legal danger, talking about her escape from the Connor's. Simply put, a mini had the right to escape.

OK, it was a little more complicated than that. Her master was supposed to give her the opportunity to ask for adoption, but he also had the right to prevent her from doing something foolish, like running into the yard and striking out on her own. After all, without Polly she could not possibly have made it back to Aaron's on her own. Her master had, not only the right, but the duty to prevent her from doing something so self-destructive.

The law treated minis as non-competent persons - like children, the insane and the mentally handicapped. But the good news was that non-competent persons could not be held liable for property damage. And now that she was back with Michael, the Connors had no claim on her at all. Even if she wanted to go back to them, Michael could forbid it.

So, Margaret had given a full statement to the police; and now she was telling her story, in her own words, to Oprah Winfrey. Oprah did not usually do video interviews; she liked meeting her guests in person.

But Margaret was a special case. She was not only giving the inside details of a big news story, but she also gave a unique take on being a mini. She was breaking a big rule of mini etiquette - talking about what happened in her former master's home. Most minis wouldn't do that. For one thing, if it was very bad, it was usually too embarrassing for the mini to discuss. For another, it ruined their chances of getting adopted by a nicer family later. Who wants a blabber mouth for a pet? To sweeten the pot, with Oprah, she was accompanied by Starling - the smallest teenager in America.

When she finished her story - punctuated by tears and the occasional breakdown - Oprah asked, "Why are you still a mini now? Haven't you had enough?"

"Miss Winfrey, excuse me, but that's like asking a new bride why she's still going on her honeymoon, if she was raped the night before. I'm going...I'm staying a mini because this is something I want to do, for my deceased husband - and for myself. Our second honeymoon has been marred, but it hasn't been ruined. I won't let it be."

"Thank you, Magpie, or Margaret. You're very brave. And so is Polly, by the way. We should have had her on too." She turned to face a different camera. "We'll have Starling tell us her story, after the break."

Earlier, her reunion with the Millers had been as joyful as any she could remember. She regaled them with her adventure - leaving out only the details of what happened in David Connor's bedroom.

"Joyce, I'm going to have to beg your forgiveness about this," she said.

"Oh?" asked Joyce.

"Well, I have twelve thousand myself, in savings. In fact, I made sure to have that much before I took the mini - just in case. But they weren't willing to settle for that. So, I told them that I was sure you would be willing to adopt me, and I could give them my twelve thousand, off the record. I hated making a promise, on your behalf, without asking you, but I was just in a desperate state!"

Stephanie and Jackson both laughed at that. "Margaret," said Stephanie, "you know Mom and Dad would be happy...."

"Yeah," said Jackson, "they'd pay a lot more than twelve thousand for...." The two went quiet at a look from their mother.

"You were sure I would be willing to adopt you?" asked Joyce with an arch to her eye.

"Well... the other night, you did say.... I'm sorry, Joyce. I know it was presumptuous of me, but I didn't know what else to do."

"No. I understand," said Joyce, understandingly. "You were in a bind. I just feel a little... well, I'm not sure how I feel. Did you mean real adoption, or fake adoption? I mean did you expect me to adopt you and then hand you right back to Michael?"

Margaret blushed and did not meet Joyce's eyes. "No, I wouldn't have felt right about that. But to be honest, I wasn't sure exactly how we'd handle it. Just... whatever you thought was fair."

"Oh, that's fine then," said Joyce cheerfully. "Because you know, it's not about the money."

"I know."

"It's about presuming on my friendship - especially after I confessed my unrequited crush on you."

"Interest," Margaret corrected before she could stop herself.

Joyce gave her a long look, then continued, "So don't you think you own me a little something for that presumption - whether you actually used the money or not?"

"Whatever you think is fair, Joyce," said Margaret contritely.

"One day. My mini. No terms or conditions."

"Mother!" said Stephanie. "You're being totally unreasonable! Margaret was fighting for her life! Or at least her freedom! You know you would have given her the money, no strings attached. And if you wouldn't, Dad would. And if Dad wouldn't, I would - from my trust fund - and Grandma would've let me!"

Joyce sat quietly and patiently and continued to do so, after Stephanie finished.

It was Margaret who spoke: "Stephanie, my love, why don't you worry about Jenny, and let me worry about your mother?" Stephanie gasped and blushed - deeply.

There was a pregnant pause. Then Joyce and Jackson both asked, "Who's Jenny?" Joyce had to buy Jackson a Coke.

"Oops," said Margaret, "sorry about that, Stephanie. Joyce, that does remind me. I do have one condition: you can have my every secret - as long as it's mine to give. I don't – intentionally - tell other people's secrets. OK, I'm making an exception with the Conners, but I don't want to make it a habit."

Joyce agreed. Stephanie took Jackson to their room to tell him about Jenny.

"Shouldn't I be there? You know, to look out for you?" he objected.

"Jackson, we made Jenny do a bunch of embarrassing stuff, but we didn't make her do them in front of her little brother! We weren't *that* cruel!

“My friends will be there, Michael will be there, I'll be fine."

"I'm going to lose you soon," he said, simply.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Jackson shrugged. "Big sisters grow up. They get their own rooms, boyfriends. They go to college, move out, and get married. I just got a little... reprieve."

"Don't be silly, Jackson," said Stephanie. "You're stuck with me."

Jackson kissed her on top of her head. "Don't argue with your master.

“Come in!"

"Two things," said Michael, "Tobby can't make it Friday, but Dexter and the gang are all up for moving the game to tomorrow."

"Okay," said Stephanie, "what's the other thing?"

"Misty's here."

Michael quickly got tired of Misty. She was so condescending to Stephanie - and to Margaret, though she mostly ignored Margaret. She treated Stephanie like something between a child, and a very senile grandmother a... non-competent person. Where had he heard that phrase? Oh yeah, a mini's legal status. But that was no excuse.

And he felt like he was in a Twilight Zone episode: no one even seemed to notice how she was acting, but him! He was glad when they had to go to the TV studio for Margaret’s and Stephanie's interview. But she was still there when they got back.

"Stephanie!" she squealed. "Here Jackson, give her to me. I've got to go talk to her."

"Sheesh Misty, at least let me unleash her." Jackson slid the key down the chain to unlock the clasp. The key was a cylindrical device that looked like a large bead on a necklace. When it touched the collar, it would unhook from the leash.

Misty stared at the gold chain, with its elegant design and intricate interwoven circuitry. "Whoa, that's so petty! Can I?" she pleaded with Jackson before he unhooked the collar.

He looked at Stephanie, who shrugged. Michael's jaw almost hit the floor when Jackson took off the bracelet and put it on Misty. "Five minutes, tops!" he said. "I don't keep her on the leash at home Misty. It's mean."

Happily, Misty reached out and took Stephanie off Jackson's shoulder. For her part, Stephanie smiled and lifted her arms up to be taken. Misty ran into the guest bedroom that Jackson and Stephanie were using and shut the door. Jackson looked over at a stunned Michael, rolled his eyes and shrugged.

In the bedroom, Misty looked at the closed door quizzically, as if she could see through it. She swallowed back a laugh, then turned to Stephanie.

"Michael kept giving me odd looks. I wonder what for?" Then she giggled.

"Why are you laughing?" Stephanie asked, avoiding Misty's question.

"Promise you won't get mad?" Stephanie shrugged a half promise. "Well, I was really upset at the way you cut me out. And then you left, so I kinda took it out on Michael."

"I cut him out too," said Stephanie.

"Really? If I had known that…. Well anyway, you know how I'm on the yearbook staff? Well, they had me writing little blurbs for everyone I knew. And for Michael I wrote: Most likely to min his mom!"

Stephanie had to laugh at that, in spite of herself. "And they let you use it?"

"No. Miss Jackson made me change it," said Misty. "Now it's: Most likely to marry his mini."

That stopped Stephanie's giggles. "Be glad you made me promise," she said. "Is that why we're in here?"

"No. I've got news."

* * *

"Michael!" Misty said sweetly, sitting down beside him on the couch. "Can I ask a big favor?"

Stephanie was sitting on her shoulder, and he noticed with some irritation that the leash still connected her to Misty's wrist. But Stephanie just smiled, so he didn’t say anything.

"My mother gave me permission to sleep over with Steph," said Misty.

Joy, thought Michael.

"But Mrs. Holiday doesn't have enough room. So… can we have a sleep-over at your house? Dr. Miller said it was OK, and so did your mother - if you say OK."

"Your mother's OK with you sleeping at my house?"

"Sure, your mother's going to be there, and she knows I don't like you."

"That... makes sense."

"I mean 'that way'."

"Sure, you do. Uh, can I take Stephanie for a minute?" He pointedly removed the leash and went into the guest room, with Stephanie on his shoulder.

"What's wrong with you?" Michael asked, in a harsh whisper.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Misty! She's treating you like... like...."

"A mini?"

"Oh, come on! Most people don't treat you like that. I don't!"

"How many people have you really seen interact with me Michael? The staff at 39? They'd be polite to a poodle if its owners were good tippers. Mr. McHenry? He's a special case, because of his wife. And you... OK, you don't treat me like that - much, but you do your mom, a bit."

"Mom likes it - mostly."

"And you like the power rush. And I'm not trying to pick a fight, but you need to understand. People are the way they are – and they act the way they think they're supposed to. Every other mini Misty knows is a pet. That's the only way she knows how to relate to one.

“Look, either she's going to come around, or we're.... Or she and I will drift apart. But right now, just be patient.

“So, can we have a sleep over, or what?"

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by slepytyme » Thu Apr 21, 2022 3:42 pm

Simply wonderful thank you for reposting this story. Isn't "too tall susie" in the next chapter?

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Thu Apr 21, 2022 5:10 pm

slepytyme wrote:
Thu Apr 21, 2022 3:42 pm
Simply wonderful thank you for reposting this story. Isn't "too tall susie" in the next chapter?
Thank you ❤️
No. I think you might be confusing it with another story.

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Mini Vacation Part 38 - Sleepover

Post by Xinunar » Wed Apr 27, 2022 12:35 am

"Ugh! That's... that's it." The muscles and veins bulged on her face, as she strained with all her might.
"Come on Raven. Just a little more."
"N'ugh. ... No. That's it. ... That's all I've got."
"All right, back off a little. Don't just collapse," said the man in a white lab coat.
"Two foot, eleven and one quarter inches, essentially unchanged for four days. I told you we should have tested the formula on Bobo first. It was a mistake to only test it on smaller primates.
“Dr. Clement - Raven, I think it's time to accept the facts. Two foot eleven is under three feet. You're officially a mini. And you can't sustain a height greater than two and a half feet without visible strain. You need to take the antidote."
"No, Bobby - Robert, I can't." The tiny woman stood on a dais, covered only by sweat - and tiny electrodes taped to her body. "The formula is a success! I can control my size from almost three feet… to less than one inch!" The electrodes peeled off, and the yardstick standing beside her seemed to move away from her, as the woman shrank. She took a few steps to stand beside it again. The top of her head was now level with the 7/8th-inch mark. The man stared in shock at the tiny nude woman.
"More importantly, the bird antigens allow me to utilize the smaller gap between my neurons, in a way that no normal mini can. My intelligence has gone up a full fifteen percent! My IQ is now over two hundred.
And that’s why we couldn't test it on Bobo. This is wonderful to me, despite the downsides. But a fifteen to twenty percent increase in his intelect would have made Bobo fully sapient--and utterly miserable. Neither humans nor orangutans would ever accept him."
"But Dr. Clements - Raven, can you really handle being my mini?" asked Robert.
“Your mini?” she asked, looking more amused than shocked.
“Oh, yes,” Robert said, grinning. “I, of course, will give you the antidote, right now. It would be completely unethical to withhold it. But if you decline it, I’ll get you to the mini registration bureau so fast you’ll think I invented a teleporter.”
Raven laughed. "Then I think you should be asking if Tina can handle having a roommate, and if you can handle having a mini who's IQ is 48 points higher than yours!" she said with a smile.
"What? You haven't even seen your own results yet. And I know you've never seen mine! How did you?... Whoa. You really are smart!" Dr. Robert McHenry looked at the paper in his hand - IQ test results. The number read 207. "It's 49 points, actually."
"A rounding error," said Raven, dismissively.
Mere blocks away from the lab, two men were discussing drugs of a very different sort.
"That's the third deal gone wrong this week. And I almost got Busted!"
"I know Jerome. Maybe this place is too hot."
"Naw, dude. This place is prime! Buncha 'urban pioneers' with their rich brats, right next to the hood--this place is real prime. It's just that one bitch. An that bitch is goin' down," Jerome opens his fist to reveal a dart, "way down."
. . .
"I take it that's a mini dart for the future Starling?" asked Michael.
"Yeah, Stacy Ling," said Jackson. "Thugs are trying to take over her neighborhood, and she's been organizing neighborhood watches and stuff. So, Jerome gets an eighth-scale dart from an Iraq vet. He hits her with it and takes her prisoner.
“He plans to sell her." Jackson whispered.
"But Magpie rescues her," said Michael.
"Uh huh, after she discovers she can talk to birds," Jackson continued. "But they don't start calling her Magpie until after the fight with the drug dealers. Also, the formula she’s taking turns half her hair white."
Michael nodded. It was formulaic, but not bad.
"Anyway, so Stacy's in this cage in a run-down house, and starlings have made a nest there. So, she keeps calling: “Help. Help!” And one of the starlings imitates her. They do that sometimes, you know. So, Magpie hears that, only she's not Magpie yet, she's still Raven. And she wonders why a bird is saying 'help' and suddenly she knows! And Bobby's not around, so she has to rescue Stacy by herself, cause the gang's about to sell her."
"Makes sense," said Michael. "So, I guess she and Bobby don't get rich off the formula. If they did, there'd be a whole bunch of super-smart minis, and she wouldn't be special."
"Nah, she destroys it."
"Huh? Why?"
"Cause if she didn't, there'd be a whole bunch of super-smart minis, and she wouldn't be special," he said, grinning. "And ‘cause it'd wreck the world. That's what Steph says."
"I don't get it."
"Think about it," said Jackson, pleased to be able to explain something to the older boy. "Lots of people would take the pill, and they'd be mostly smart people, who care more about brains than brawn. And lots of other people wouldn't take the pill, cause they care more about brawn than brains. Pretty soon, there'd be two kinds of people: super-smart minis and not-so-smart norms. And the norms would fear the minis' brains, and the minis would fear the norms' muscles. And pretty soon they'd probably fight."
Michael thought about it and decided that was probably right. "I sometimes think we have a super-smart mini here."
"Sometimes think? You mean you still don't know?" They both laughed at that. "Do you think they're all that smart, and just playing normal, so we don't get scared of them?"
"You mean minis or girls?" said Michael, "I don't know about other minis, but Stephanie was definitely already doing that before she got minned. She just does it more now."
He remembered Stephanie telling him that a lot of big people did not like the idea of a mini being superior, in any way. A lot of guys were that way about girls too. He felt sorry for his friend, having to always hide her light under a bushel, and idly wondered if that attitude would hurt Jackson's comic book's chances.
"Does she wind up with Bobby or Starling's folks?"
Jackson grinned. "Neither. Bobby gets mad cause she throws away, like, a billion dollars, when she destroys the formula they worked on. And Starling's mom is ashamed about having a mini daughter and tries to send her to a reservation. Mom hated that part, cause the character kind of looks like her, and Mom tried to talk Steph *out* of goin' to a reservation; but the story works better this way.
“They wind up this little kid's minis, and they live in his tree house that they call 'The Aerie'. And there's a girl next door who always wants to play with his 'dollys'. The first part ends with them dressed up in frilly doll clothes an' havin' a tea party with her. That's called comic relief."
Michael snorted. "Okay, now that you've spoiled the ending, let me finish reading it. I really like the first part, but it's kinda wordy. And you're going to have to trim it to fit in captions and word balloons."
. . . .
"Whoa! It's so cute!" said Misty. "And kinda creepy."
"It's not creepy!" objected Stephanie. "It was very thoughtful."
"It's a bird cage," said Misty. "He made his own mother live in a bird cage. You gotta admit, that's kinda…. Le'me put you two in it and take a picture."
Quickly she set the two minis into the cage and took a few shots with her iPhone. Stephanie and Margaret both laughed.
"So, speaking of Mr. Thoughtful...." She situated herself on the bed. She looked over at the two minis and started to giggle. "You're both blushing!"
Margaret and Stephanie looked at each other and saw that it was true, which caused them to blush even deeper. Minis blush very easily. In fact, a mini's skin is so thin that it is always more pink than it was at full size. People don't normally notice this, without something to contrast with, but the slightest blush shines through bright and clear. Misty's giggle turned into a laugh, which she choked back. She really was just trying to be playful--not rude.
"Well," said Margaret, "if you girls are going to have pillow talk about my son, maybe I should just go read Jackson's comic book."
"Awe Mrs. Kincaide, don't go. I'll be good," said Misty. "OK, bedroom rules."
Margaret looked confused.
"Things we do or say in the bedroom stay in the bedroom," explained Stephanie.
"It used to just be things we say," said Misty, "until someone discovered a little thing she liked to call experimentation. Anyway, about Michael? OK, I'll start. He doesn't like me. In fact, he dislikes me."
"No, Misty…," Stephanie objected, "he doesn’t dislike you. It's just... to you, I'm somewhere between a friend and a pet. But to Michael, I'm somewhere between a friend and a goddess. I know that sounds conceited, and I know I don't deserve it, but it's true. So, to him, it's like you're dissing his religion, when you treat me like a pet."
Misty giggled. "But seriously, Steph, I'm really trying to treat you like a friend. I mean, you are my friend. But you're also a mini. And minis are, a little bit, like pets, right? Even the mini beauty pageants, they're called pet shows! But a little bit like a pet doesn't mean you are a pet. I mean, you're sure not my pet. Maybe you're Michael's - or Jackson's. They treat you more like a pet than I do. Why doesn't Michael hate Jackson?"
"That's different," said Stephanie. She was a little surprised that Misty had heard about how Jackson treated her these days. The grapevine was long indeed. "Jackson takes care of me twenty-four, seven. I had to - bedroom rules - train him to be dominant. If I didn't, it just wouldn’t be fair to him. I'd rather be his pet than let him become my beast of burden."
Misty thought about that for a minute. She sometimes imagined what it would be like, if what happened to Steph had happened to her. It wasn’t hard to imagine; she had almost dated the jerk who minned Steph.
“Yeah… I can’t imagine being my brother’s mini. It’d just be awful!” said Misty.
If it had happened to her, she hoped her mother would’ve let Stephanie take her. But if it happened to her brother, she could well get stuck with him. He was not high on her mini wish list, ranking below her own mother and Stephanie and even Stephanie’s mother. But he was on the list. And he most certainly would be her pet - and she most definitely would not be in any danger of becoming his beast of burden.
"And what about Michael?” she asked. “Maybe you are his tiny goddess, but I bet he wishes you were also his pet."
She said that, while looking around the room, getting a better sense of him. The room mostly said, nerd. "And considering how quick you were to defend him -and how quick you got me (us) into his bedroom - not to mention how you blushed when I just mentioned him, you can't tell me you haven't thought about becoming his pet."
"Well..." said Stephanie, glancing at Margaret, who looked as interested in her answer as Misty was, "you've got to admit he's not the fourteen-year-old I left. And I still think you two would hit it off if you gave him a chance."
She had tried more than once to fix her two best friends up. She had an image of them as Ron and Hermionie - to her Harry, of course.
"Oh no," said Misty, "you're not putting it back on me! This is about you and Michael."
She decided she didn't like the two of them in the cage together. Next to each other, with all the doll furniture and such, they looked too... normal. She lifted Steph out and set her on her chest, as she leaned back against the headboard. Now, Stephanie sat mere inches in front of her face, and Margaret was several feet away, making her look even smaller than Stephanie.
"You don't just like him like a friend anymore - if you ever did. Look at you - both of you! You don't think some nymphominia is kicking in?"
Nymphominia that was one of the biggest stereotypes about minis. All the worse because there was some basis for it. The drug that made minis sterile worked by effectively regressing the testes and ovaries. The drug companies insisted this did not cause any mental or emotional regression, but a lot of minis, like Gordon Bronson, were infantilized. Of course, a lot of minis like Gordon were infantilized by the young children who had charge of them, but people still blamed the drugs.
And it had another side-effect: It lowered sex drive. So, the drug companies compensated with other drugs to kick start the libido.
The end result was supposed to be a slightly higher sex drive than they started with. But most people believed it was more than slightly. The simple answer: "It's the drugs," was easier to understand and believe than: "It's the fulfillment of their sexual fantasy, for people who choose to be minis; and it's a way to compensate for their feelings of powerlessness, for people who didn't."
And whatever the reasons, minis commonly acted like nymphomanics. Or, like Stephanie, they at least did things they wouldn't have done before.
"I am not a nympho - miniac or maniac or... whatever!" said Stephanie. She sat down on Misty's shirt and looked sternly at Misty. She crossed her arms and crossed her legs in front of her, to look more businesslike. Her tiny feet reached the hollow of Misty’s throat. She didn't seem to notice that the bench she sat on was the strap of Misty's bra, connecting the two 'D' cups.
"Me neither!" said Margaret, sitting likewise on the couch in her cage.
Stephanie's dramatic gesture was spoiled when she realized what she was sitting on. She tried to stand, which caused her to push against Misty's left breast. Realizing her hand was on Misty’s nipple, she recoiled, which caused her to tumble over, flat on her back, with her feet pointing roughly at the dimples on either side of Misty's grinning mouth. Misty's grin quickly transformed into a full laugh, which caused Stephanie's night shirt to flare open in the wind.
Stephanie wore more than most minis, but even she didn’t wear underwear. Even micro fabrics made thick uncomfortable and unattractive panties on an eighth-scale. Seeing Stephanie’s cooch, elevated by the strap of her bra, made Misty laugh even harder, and she started alternating between laughing and blowing.
Stephanie's weight kept the shirt from going up any higher than her waist, but it was very open in the front.
"Stop that!" yelled Stephanie, but her voice also had a hint of giggle. She was having a hard time getting up. Her legs were higher than her head, and she couldn't get any purchase, her hips were wedged into Misty's cleavage, and the only things she could grab were Misty's breasts. But Misty’s shirt was stretched tight on her buxom chest, so Stephanie could not get a grip on the fabric.
Seeing her plight made Misty laugh even more, but she did place her hand behind Stephanie and gently pushed her back up. Misty steadied and supported her, but this also pushed Stephanie even closer to her face. Stephanie was not, however, about to be intimidated.
"Don't call me a nympho!" she said, indignantly.
"I wasn't calling you a nympho. I just said you might have a little touch of nymphominia. Most minis do."
"Well, I don't."
"Yeah? Well...." Something on Michael's chest of drawers caught her eye. She lifted up, causing Stephanie to lean back into her hand, with her feet still resting in the hollow of Misty's neck. She gave a small yelp, but Misty's attention was on the tape protruding from the VCR. She pulled it out and examined it.
"The Story of mOm?" she asked. "Whoa, talk about complex relationships. Oedipal, that is."
Margaret seemed to shrink into the couch, where she had been sitting so confidently. Stephanie tried to come to her defense. "Come on Misty, you're invading Michael's privacy!"
"Hey, you're obviously still trying to fix me up with him. Don't I have the right to know if he's a pervert?"
"It's mine!" cried Margaret, with her hands covering her face. "Michael found it in my room. He was just... curious. He wanted to see... how I'd react to seeing it - while I’m a mini. Ohhh!" She moaned in despair.
The girls looked back and forth from the older woman to each other, wondering what to do. Finally, it was Misty who spoke: "Well, it's still bedroom rules. Want to talk about it?" She reached into the cage and grabbed Margaret and placed both minis on her chest, as she lay back on the bed.
Now, instead of sitting on her bra strap, both minis sat on her tits. She could feel her nipples getting hard under their bums. She was glad she was wearing a bra, or maybe she wished she wasn’t. Her nipples got even harder.
"Nooo," wailed Margaret. "What kind of person even has such a thing? I'm a horrible person, a horrible mother! Maybe I should stay a mini, so I don't put Michael in danger!"
"Awe, Mrs. Kincaide," said Stephanie, "it's just porn. Everybody’s got porn. Lots of people read and watch things they'd never do in real life. Misty loves slasher movies. I still have nightmares, when I think about 'Shrunken Sorority'. But I'm not worried that she's really going to do the things the 'little sister' does in that. Burrr."
"Maybe you should be," said Misty, playfully biting at her.
"I guess so," said Margaret. "I just.... I guess I'm just missing James."
"Nymph *o* minia," said Misty. "You'll be fine, once you take the antidote. It's this poor horny girl we need to worry about."
"Misty..." Stephanie started to point out that Margaret must have bought the tape before she became a mini - probably years ago. Who buys tapes anymore? But then she decided not to further embarrass Margaret. "I don't have nymphominia!"
"Are you sure?" asked Misty, lightly rubbing her fingers up and down both minis’ backs, lifting the silk of their dresses, as she did.
"Yes."
"Completely sure?" With her index fingers holding their dresses up, she rubbed her middle fingers across two bottoms.
"Yes!" said Stephanie. She squirmed in her seat, very conscious of the nipple she was sitting on. Even through the bra and blouse, she could feel the hardening nipple press against her mons.
Margaret closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her bottom being caressed.
"Let's see," said Misty. She pinched Stephanie’s dress and lifted it further, to expose her front.
"Wha... what are you doing?"
"Giving you a zuber."
"Stop that! Why?"
"Last time 'buthup' we had a sleep over 'buthhhp', you held me down and 'buuuthpht' gave me zubbers."
"Just on your stomach!"
"Sorry. It's a small target. If I'm just a little off, like this 'buthphup', or this 'burrthph'..."
"Misty!"
"Then I miss. Oops! Like that."
"Wha? What has that got to do with nymphominia?"
"I want to see if it turns you on. 'buthththp.' Cause it sure does me!"
"Misty! I'm not even wearing underwear!"
"Hmmm, You're right!"
"Misty!! Right in front of Mrs. Kincaide?!?"
"Oh, sorry. You're right. I'm being rude."
It took Margaret a moment to realize what she meant. Then she thought about running - but was too slow by half.
"And you're calling me a nympho?" asked Stephanie.
"With me, it's called microphilia," said Misty.
. . . .
"I like it," said Michael. "I really do."
And he meant it. Michael was pretty sure that, if 'Magpie and Starling' was at the news stand, he'd buy it. It had action and adventure, a little comedy and a bit of sexuality - everything a teenage boy wants in a comic book. And the fact that the main characters were minis gave a good excuse for nudity.
"I wonder what the girls are up to?" he asked, absently.
Jackson shrugged. "Probably watching a video or something."
"Yeah, I.... Ohmygosh!" Michael ran up the stairs to his room.
He knocked on the door, "Uh, Mom, Steph, Misty?"
"Come - in!"
"Yeah, could you girls excuse me for a few minutes, I need to..." Michael paused, mid-sentence. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. Then his jaw hung limply, and the rest of him stiffened. He couldn't move.
Stephanie and his mother were both sprawled naked on Misty’s chest. Stephanie was lying on her back, on top of one nipple. She looked like she was trying to get un, but Misty’s fingertips danced over her body and constantly pushed her back into place, while at the same time tickling and molesting her. He wasn’t sure if Stephanie was laughing or having an orgasm.
Margaret lay on the other breast, also on her back. But she was more propped up against it, not lying across it. And her legs were completely inside Misty’s mouth! It looked like Misty was eating her – and she was! But Margaret’s howls were certainly not in pain.
"Michael!" Shouted Stephanie.
"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "You said, 'come in'!"
"She said, coming!” said Misty, letting a pair of legs fall out of her mouth. “Ing, as in carnaling…."
Margaret squealed and rolled off of Misty’s chest, away from Michael.
"Misty, it's not 'carnal', it's...."
"She's playing word games!” Yelled Margaret. On her hands and knees, she searched frantically for her discarded clothes. She hoped she was low enough that Michael couldn’t see her. In fact, he could see her rear, over Misty’s torso.
"Us, as in the three--not four--of us," said Misty.
"Sorry. Sorry," Michael said, as he made a hasty retreat. "Sorry!"
Misty and Stephanie were both laughing to the point of tears. Margaret was too embarrassed for that. "Don't you want your video?" called Misty, as Michael ran back down the stairs.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Wed Apr 27, 2022 12:36 am

I wonder if it would be better if I posted the individual chapters as their own topics.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by AB23 » Wed Apr 27, 2022 2:12 am

Nah, this makes it easier to follow. Posting them as individual topics takes away from the single thread nature of it.

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by MrWitness » Wed Apr 27, 2022 4:24 pm

It's gettin' better and better! And Raven? It's gonna be gas!

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Re: Mini Vacation

Post by Xinunar » Wed Apr 27, 2022 9:54 pm

MrWitness wrote:
Wed Apr 27, 2022 4:24 pm
It's gettin' better and better! And Raven? It's gonna be gas!
As I recall (I am touching up and reposting this), that's about the last mention of Raven. Sorry.

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Mini Vacation Part 39 - Nightie Night

Post by Xinunar » Wed May 04, 2022 7:48 am

"What's up?" asked Jackson. Michael was rushing, practically running, down the stairs.

"I... uh, walked in on Misty," said Michael, blushing. He decided not to elaborate.

"Oh." Jackson giggled. "Isn't it kinda funny, Steph and your mom are like naked all the time, but with Misty it's a big deal. Is it just cause she's big?"

Michael snickered at the, probably unintentional, double entendre. Misty was one of the best-endowed girls he knew.

"I don't know," he said, "things like sex and modesty are just... complicated."
. . . .
"That was... nice," said Misty, "and amusing! Like dinner and a show, or at least a snack and a show - or a couple of snacks."

Wearing only panties, she lay on Michael's bed. She was exhausted - mostly from laughing. Two minis sprawled on her chest, one on each side. Her breasts were like large bean-bag chairs to her tiny friends.

Stephanie was lying on her stomach, using Misty’s left tit as a pillow. She propped herself up on her elbows to look Misty in the eyes. She ignored or pretended to ignore the soft flesh underneath her. She resisted the urge to rest her chin on Misty’s nipple.

Margaret was positioned a little further up, so her torso was elevated above her head and legs. She seemed more exhausted than the two younger girls.

"Didn't you just kind of rape us?" Stephanie asked. But her look showed only mock anger.

"No," said Misty, emphatically. "I would have stopped if you'd, like, really objected."

Stephanie looked over at Margaret, who opened her eyes sleepily and shrugged, "Sometimes it's tough being a mini,” she said. “Besides, I think she probably would have."

Misty smiled, then looked back at Steph and began to get a little worried. Minis were conditioned, trained even, to be non-confrontational. That sometimes made it difficult to tell the difference between mock anger and real; a mini couldn't really say no, which gave the big person a lot of leeway. Even what David Conner did to Margaret was not technically considered rape. But Misty knew that, technicalities aside, he had raped her--physically as well as emotionally. And she did not want to be guilty of the same.

Glancing at Margaret, she felt reassured, seeing the tiny woman sprawled so comfortably on her warm bosom. No, she hadn't been raped, not by Misty. But Stephanie's question and accusing look had her worried. She hadn't just raped her own best friend, had she?

Sensing Misty's concern, Stephanie gave a reassuring smile and said, "I guess I'm the one who should be feeling guilty."

"What for?"

"Well... I didn't exactly reciprocate in kind."

"That's okay," laughed Misty. "I know I'm a little more liberated that way than you are. I've wanted to do that to you since... way before you got minned." Stephanie gasped and Misty laughed again. "Still, if you'd become a giantess instead of a mini, I'd probably be intimidated too."

Stephanie didn't rise to the bait of Misty implying that she was intimidated - she was! Briefly, the image of herself as a forty-foot giantess flashed into her mind. It was silly, of course. The maxi pill seemed to have an upper limit of about twelve feet. And that had so many downsides hardly anyone ever took it - even back when it was legal in every State. These days, it was illegal in every State, except Alaska and Montana. Even Texas had recently outlawed it. It was still a favorite fantasy of hers, and she read just about every gts story she could find. Something even Jackson didn't know about – she hoped.

"Earth to Stephanie," said Misty. "Earth Goddess to Mini Stephanie!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I zoned."

"That's okay. I just said that what you're doing is pretty good reciprocation."

"Huh? I wasn't doing anything."

"Well, it's less what you're doing than where you were doing it."

Stephanie grinned and pushed her elbows together, like she was doing chest exercises, and began to wiggle. She even gave Misty a few kisses. Misty's face was too far away, so she settled for what was convenient. Sensing the motion beside her, Margaret too began to wiggle, though she did not lift up. She was very tired and relaxed. Misty just sighed and sunk back into the pillow beneath her.

"So, how do you think I should go about seducing Michael?" she asked, dreamily. Her two masseuses stopped and looked up at her, but all they could see was the underside of her neck and chin. Misty didn't bother to lift her head to look at them. She was too comfortable. "That is what you want, isn't it? How else can we be one big happy?"

"Misty," said Margaret, hesitantly but firmly, "I am taking the antidote in two days. I hope you know that I can't do anything like this, once I'm back to normal. For one thing, there are different rules for bigs and minis; and for another, I just... I couldn't! Of course, you can still date Michael. I just don't want you to think that you'd be getting two or three for the price of one."

"And Michael doesn't even want me for his mini, Misty," said Stephanie. "He's said so."

"Then he's a liar," said Misty. "But if he really is that stupid, then that's all the more reason he needs a girl with a good head on her shoulders. My mom says I've got a good head on my shoulders and two more on my chest – just to keep guys from getting in trouble trying to use their own. But if I was dating Michael, if I eventually married him, then whether you're his mini or mine, it'd work out about the same – right? I mean, if you wanted to."

Misty said that last part hesitantly, remembering how Stephanie had reacted to that suggestion, back when she first got minned. Stephanie was relieved to hear Misty say, "if you wanted to." It was scary business rejecting a giant girlfriend.

"Thank you Misty," she said. "But I want to stay at home with Jackson and my parents--for at least a while longer. I have thought about seeing if you'd like to take me with you, when you go to college, though. That's just a thought, not a promise, but I really have thought about it. As for Michael, I'd like to see you two get together because I think you'd be good together. I mean good for each other!" She blushed. "It's not because I want you to adopt me."

"But you have thought about it?"

"Yes."

"You're not completely opposed to the idea."

"No... definitely not."

"Good enough. So, how should I do it?"

Michael headed to bed, shortly after Jackson. It wasn't all that late, but they were both tired and bored. He wasn't certain what the sleeping arrangements would be, other than that Misty and Steph would be in one room, and he in another. Jackson, of course, was in the guest room. Normally, Steph would be in there with him; but this was her sleep-over with Misty, after all.

Coming to his bedroom door, he noticed it was partly open. When he glanced in, Misty caught his eye and motioned for him to come on in. Looking over at his mother's cage, he saw that she and Steph were sleeping under a light silk handkerchief.

He looked back at Misty. She was propped up in his bed, watching TV, which was turned way down. She was wearing a mother of pearl toned satin nighty. It was not translucent, but it was very thin and seemed to accentuate her breasts more than cover them. Then he realized that there was no way he could really know if that was true. He had never seen her breasts without both a bra and shirt covering them before. So, for all he knew, they could still be de-accentuated, just less than before.

That was an almost frightening thought. As it was, his brain could barely spare enough power to keep him standing. He sped over to her and made a heroic effort to look her straight in the eyes, but not before he also noticed the apparent lack of a panty line.

"Want to watch TV for a while?" she whispered, scooting over to make room for him on the bed.

He again looked over at the two minis and felt both guilty and embarrassed. Guilty, because he felt like he was cheating on them, right in the same room! And he hadn't even done anything! Other than react the way any guy would to a scantily-clad Misty in his bed.

He knew it was stupid anyway. They weren’t going to be jealous. They both wanted him to date--if not Misty then at least some girl, roughly his own age and size.

And he was embarrassed, because he was afraid that she could tell how he felt about both his mother and Stephanie.

From knowing looks and casual comments, he could tell that Stephanie knew about his little (little?) Oedipal complex. But that was okay. She owned his heart, so it was only right that she should know its every nook and cranny. Misty was another matter. He liked her and was attracted to her, but he wasn’t ready to share everything with her.

He sat on the bed beside her and leaned back against the headboard.

"There's not much on," she said and smiled broadly when this had the predicted effect of making his eyes dart downward. "Do you have any good movies? I mean any other good movies." She gave him a wicked grin as she crawled over him to get to the TV cabinet. Her night shirt rode up and was so short that Michael could have verified whether or not she was wearing panties, just by leaning forward. She noted with approval that he didn't. "Knock yourself out," he said, as she bent to browse through his movies.

Misty accidentally bumped her head on the cabinet. "Hey!" she said. "If you want to take advantage of me, don't you think you should at least use liquor?" "Nah. I hate broken glass on the floor." "Ouch. Your mother warned me about guys like you--so did Steph. Well, actually it was less of a warning and more like an advertisement." "Huh? What, what did they say about me?" "Oh, that you're a tricky one, all right: cages, leashes, smooth talk and smoother chocolate. Apparently, you're pretty good at getting a girl out of her clothes. So, I'd better be careful."

"Aha!" she said triumphantly. She held up a movie--Stardust. "Sci-fi chick flick, perfect!" She put it on and came back over to the bed. He didn't bother correcting her that it was a fantasy, not sci-fi. "Scoot over," she said and sat down beside him. "But they also said that he's a good boy. Loves his mother, good to his friends, likes dogs but apparently doesn't know any."

"I might know a bitch or two." "Ooo, just oblique enough for me not to take offense. Here." She gave him her pillow, then backed up to use him for her own support. "Ohph." "What?" "Belt and belt loops. Aren't you uncomfortable? Why don't you go change into pj's?" Why indeed?

"That's better," said Misty, sinking back against him. Michael agreed. The pajama shorts were much more comfortable. They were the same material as Misty's nighty. "I can see why they all like you so much," she said, looking down to turn the comment into a double or even triple entendre. Michael had the beginnings of an erection, and it seemed to him that her breasts were even perkier than before.

"They all?" he asked. "Well, they both--plus Mrs. Miller, although I think she likes you in more of a motherly way." "I think my mother also likes me in more of a motherly way." "Oh, you are cute. Steph told me you were naive." "What's that supposed to...?" "Shhh, this is a good part coming up."

"Are you sure we're not going to wake them?" asked Michael. Misty had just kissed him and was still stroking his thigh. It was no more than they might have done in a theater, but he wasn't sure how far it might go. "I told you, I really wore them out. You're lucky that I'm... amply blessed with enormous... stamina." She took a deep breath. "So, what are your intentions... towards my best friend?"

"What? I, uh..." it took Michael a moment to switch gears and try to answer the unexpected question. "I... don't really know. It's funny. It feels like I've been in love with her my whole life. I only met her when I was eleven, but even then I think it was like I already knew her. And now she's kind of liking me back, but it's awkward, you know? Before, she didn't want to be what I really wanted. Now... she still doesn't, but for different reasons. I mean I think she wants to be my mini, but that's not enough. If she was my mini, then I'd want even more, and she... thinks that's all she's got. But at least now, I think she would give me more, if she could; she just doesn't think she can.

“So... what are your intentions... towards me?"

"Oh, I intend to watch a movie with you, cuddle with you, talk with you and make out with you--but not go all the way. Stephanie said it was OK..." "I kinda figured." "But there are some firsts I don't want to take away from her--unless I have to." "Uh, why would you have to?" "Michael, naive is cute, but don't overdo it."

"I am so hot for you right now," Misty whispered in his ear as she nibbled on it. "But where does that leave you... with Stephanie, I mean." Michael was beginning to get used to her sudden gear-shifts, sort of. "I don't know. Best friends, I guess. I'm not sure what else we can be."

"Michael, nice is sweet and sweet is nice, but don't be a wuss." "What do you mean?" "I mean I'm her best friend. You can't have her. And no, I won't share her. I'll share you with her but not her with you. I know it's hard, but you're going to have to step up. Steph needs a man not a boy.

Fortunately, I know just the girl to make you one."

She kissed him, and he kissed her back. He leaned forward until she was practically lying in his lap. He kissed her the way men kiss women in the movies and on the covers of romance novels. In that position, he could see the cage that had been behind him. For a moment, he thought he saw a tiny face looking over the back of his mother's couch. But in the dim and flickering light of the TV, he couldn't even be sure he had seen it, much less who it was.

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