The Shrinking Machine Ch. 02

Story Info
Rachel must ensnare and shrink Dr. Jennifer Rose.
17.7k words
4.7
23.9k
26

Part 2 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 07/20/2015
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

"Thanks for coming over, Dr. Rose, Mr. Stalvert." I widely swept a hand inside. "Please come in."

The woman standing at the front door of my condo gave a perfunctory smile, cordial but brief. I gave her a quick up and down as she passed me, breezing in through the front door and looking around. She was in her late forties to early fifties, maybe; about ten years younger than Dad had been when he passed a month back. Her red curls - peppered with grey-white streaks - were tied back into a short ponytail, and she was wearing a simple green-colored jacket and blouse with matching pants.

She had a good figure, too, especially for a woman of her age; apple-size breasts, a trim waist... her hands and neck belied her years, though. Dr. Rose was, of course, taller than me at about five feet and eight inches - roughly the same height as the man following her in, though he didn't walk straight-backed and proud, as she did. He was boring-looking; middle-aged, with receding hair and a flat expression, and was wearing a black pinstriped suit with a similarly unimaginative blue tie. He had a leather case in his hand. That would be John Stalvert, her attorney. Why couldn't I get away from those?

I myself was wearing a tight pair of jeans and a heavy, black woolen sweater - along with a pair of walking shoes and a hairband. My chestnut hair was swept back and tied into a short ponytail, freshly brushed and not quite as scraggly as usual. Of course, for those who didn't already know, I'm a lifelong shrimp - barely five feet tall, scrawny and small-breasted... but I'm cute as a button, or so the boring and sex-hungry men I used to sleep with would tell me.

In the spare bedroom, adjoining to the kitchen where I was inviting in these dreaded guests, was my lovely little Summer - the girl I'd used the machine on two weeks ago. I'd used its sort-of limitless power to make some adjustments to things about her body, the way she thought... and, of course, to make her about eight inches tall. In the same room was the machine itself - where I had set it up - and the primary emitter was aimed straight through the wall at the dining table. All according to plan!

It had taken me almost four days to get it into working order after we packed it up and got it out of my Dad's old place... and, fortunately, there had been no serious mistakes in the process. I had been expecting at least some, given how often I decided to take little sex breaks with Summer and lose my place in the re-assembly process. I'd been exploring all kinds of interesting possibilities with my miniature toy lover ever since I used the machine to shrink her.

She was so incredibly fucking sexy at her new size - and the twists I'd put into her psyche made her love it, and she came just as hard during our games as I did. In the past twenty-four hours alone, she'd been lovingly inserted almost completely inside my pussy, twice, then carried around in my purse for half a day around town, and then been coated up to her neck in chocolate syrup and sprinkles - which I then slowly licked off her as she squealed with delight.

To her credit, she was adapting to her new existence well - I was still trying to figure out a good way to work around her fear of heights, and the vulnerability of her new size to cold and a few other things I hadn't though of before we'd jointly 'decided' she was better off permanently reduced to pocket-size... but there was no rush. I just had to turn up the thermostat in the meantime; more excuse to walk around naked.

Not right at that moment though. Houseguests. I had the thermostat back at seventy. Summer was safely bundled up in the machine room.

Anyway, earlier in the week, once I was sure I had the machine set up correctly, I'd targeted a willing Summer for a few test runs, trying small changes like altering her hair color and making her only able to speak French for a little while.

Once I was satisfied and had reverted all the test changes to Summer, we'd begun using it surreptitiously on a few of the neighbors too - but I'd shied away from seriously altering them. Just a few little things, mostly already reversed.

It would be too difficult to get out of if something went wrong, especially if I burned too much charge on the accumulator in the process - and I couldn't count on the bulky, power-hungry, overheating-prone machine to bail me out of any trouble I got myself into. Not yet. I needed to know more about the underlying theory, and the limitations of the technology.

"Thank you, Rachel, for meeting with me like this." The red-headed woman straightened her jacket. "I'd hoped from the start that you and I could come to some understanding. I'm sure Michael wouldn't want us fighting over his estate." She glanced around. "Weren't you going to have your own lawyer here?"

"She's not able to sit down with us today -" I lied just a little - she could, but she'd probably raise some eyebrows, being my eight-inch-tall lesbian slave - "but I'm going to put her on speakerphone." I waved my cell phone in one hand. Summer's old cell phone was propped up next to her spot at the machine's controls; I'd broken it open and done a few hacks I found online to modify her tiny spoken voice to sound, over the phone, almost like she had before I reduced her.

Stalvert chimed in, Mr. Helpful. "Our office is available too - there's no need to use your personal residence. The firm doesn't charge either party to use it to meet." He said it in a monotone, nasal pencil-pusher's voice; polite but distant. I'd seen his name on the top of half a dozen letters in the past week - all notices that Dr. Rose, my father's former colleague, was suing to have all of Dad's research released to her, on the grounds that, as she'd collaborated with him remotely off and on, that she had more claim to it than I did.

It was true that my place wasn't much. I had a dingy two-bedroom condo in Brooklyn, complete with creaking laminate floors and heavy steel radiators in every room. I was on the fourth floor of a ten-story building, the avenue it was upon half-forgotten even by those living there, and my roommate had moved out earlier in the year - annoying at the time, but now leaving me a convenient place to house the machine.

Hairline cracks and a few spots of concrete were visible along parts of the white walls, the dozen-layered aging paint on the window frames was peeling, the multi-colored shag carpet was probably older than I was, and my décor and furniture were cheap at best; it was all a bunch of mismatched stuff I'd snagged over the years.

Sure, I'd told Summer I could use the machine to get rich, which wasn't a lie exactly - just, you know, later, when I was sure I wouldn't get caught. Summer hadn't complained about the little fib once she was down to size and happily enthralled. Hadn't complained anything else at all, for that matter.

The stained coffee table, the cheap faux-leather arm chair I plopped down in, and the frayed plaid love seat the other two used at it would serve as our meeting place. Summer was loaded, and while she was happily making sure she wasn't actually listed as a missing person, I didn't want to touch her money now - there might be someone keeping an eye on her accounts.

I waved a hand. "Here is fine. I do owe it to you, Dr. Rose, for being there for him. I know Dad was a bit of a crackpot..." I gestured widely. "... but I think you and I are the only ones who were really talking to him at all in the past ten years or so, right?"

"That... sounds about right." She gave a thin, but maybe knowing, smile; hiding something? I felt a little spot of worry cross my thoughts.

"Um - I'd like to get started, if you don't mind." Stalvert opened his bag, glancing at us both. "Could you dial in your attorney now, Ms. Cartwright?"

I nodded, and pressed some buttons on my phone. I set it on the table. Summer's voice piped out from it. "Hello?"

"Hi, Summer. This is our one o'clock, remember?"

"Of course. Hello, everyone, I'm Summer Whates; I serve the Mi- I mean, I represent... Rachel... Cartwright." Summer was still kind of capable of mimicking her old self when necessary, but I could tell she had to force my actual name out instead of 'Mistress'. I suppressed a sigh. I'd changed her too much for her to pretend at being the old Summer, or even a decent lawyer. Summer tried to continue. "You're Dr. Jennifer Rose and John... Stalvert, right?"

Dr. Rose nodded... as though Summer could see that. "Ah, yes. Getting started, then - hopefully we can be finished in an hour here. Ms. Cartwright, you've received our letters, correct?"

I frowned. "The ones claiming Dad's notes and stuff?"

"In a nutshell, yes." Stalvert nodded, gesturing to Dr. Rose to please let him take the lead. She didn't look thrilled with it, but went along. "We're here to try and work something out. Dr. Rose does have a valid claim to the work, I can assure you. Now, please understand, my client doesn't even want to take any physical property or monies from you. She only wants copies - not even the originals - of your father's notes and research, and rights to review and analyze any and all devices of his construction, including any blueprints or plans. I can show you the..."

For the following ten minutes, I sort of zoned out as I pretended to listen. Summer occasionally chimed in with some question or other, doing a marginal job of making the whole interaction seem legitimate... and agonizingly slow, if intentionally so on our part. Unfortunately, one - among many - of the machine's limitations was its calibration period when it was acquiring a new target. It had to get a super-accurate picture of what it was working with before it worked its magic - as in, molecule by molecule accurate.

Worse, the amount of time it needed seemed to be random - I hadn't tried dozens of targets yet, but it had already varied from two minutes to fifteen. I couldn't even tell what the bottleneck was or if I was doing something wrong. It also only had barely enough memory to have one calibrated target at a time, and I didn't trust myself to move Dad's software into an upgraded computer without blowing it. There had been some headway in making sense of his sloppy, un-documented code recently, but I had a long way to go.

In Summer's case, I'd been able to get her data loaded when she first came to visit me to try and claim Dad's estate due to all the debts he ran up - I bought time by hemming and hawing, and demanding detailed explanations of every single document she put in front of me. The next day, she came back and I zapped her unconscious and got to work... and now she was my tiny, devoted lover, always ready to service me.

My eyes caught Dr. Rose's briefly, and she glared at me briefly before suddenly seeming to remember to shine a bright, fake smile. I thought to myself for a moment as I listened to her lawyer. I'd looked up Stalvert's firm online - they weren't cheap. Dr. Rose must have been breaking the bank to have kept him on this so long.

The determination in her eyes, the way she kept her flat gaze fixed on me the whole time only solidified my suspicion - she was after Dad's work for more than just sentimental reasons. I doubted she'd ever did a sentimental thing at all. She also didn't just want to record all of his research for science-ey purposes or whatever professors did. She must have realized that he was on to something... but how much did she know?

I had some doubt she understood its true power - otherwise anyone with their head attached would have done much more extreme things to get my machine than hiring a lawyer and waiting several weeks for paperwork to churn through a half-dozen city clerks - but she might know enough, I realized, that zapping her lawyer's brain a little might not be dissuade her. Not by itself. I frowned. Just then, Summer interrupted Stalvert.

"Ah, Mist... Rachel, can I talk to you off the speaker for a moment?" Summer's voice and tone had changed. I glanced down at the phone, and Stalvert nodded at me, leaning back to speak quietly with Dr. Rose. I turned off the speaker, and picked it up.

"It's just us now." I said it simply.

"Mistress? I'm sorry I called you just by your name just now, it seemed-"

"No no, don't worry about that." I made it sound casual, cutting her off before she got into her rambling-apology mode. "Where do we stand?"

"It's saying it's ready, Mistress. The screen says 'frame capture 100%' - that's what we want, right?"

"That's right." I smiled at the other two, standing for a moment and walking behind the couch, feigning a, um, personal-business-ey... thing. "Just as we discussed... that's the second option, then. It's in the file labeled 'estateplan02'. Just start as soon as it's done loading. I'm putting it back on speaker now." I circled back around, sitting down and putting the phone back on the table.

I trusted that Summer remembered the code words I'd established earlier. It was only because she was so utterly enslaved and worshipful of me now that I trusted her with the machine at all. She was actually quite smart, maybe more so than myself, but I'd kind of trashed her critical thinking skills when I enslaved her.

"Yes, Mistress."

Stalvert and Dr. Rose blinked as the word "Mistress" was played loudly in front of all of us. I cursed myself. I should have waited another second before turning it on speaker mode. I fumed inwardly, but smiled at the other two, feigning like it was a joke. "Oh, haha - that, no, that was just out of context, she and I have this joke going about, uh, these people we met in this mall food court once..." I smiled and waved. Both were raising eyebrows and looking at each other... but fortunately, they seemed to brush it off. "It's a dumb story. Anyway, let's move on."

"Yes." Stalvert took a breath, then fished through his papers again. "I've highlighted here... and here - this is an excerpt from Oregon's intellectual property code..."

I'd set the program to begin slowly with Stalvert. With Dr. Rose still there, she might get suspicious if his behavior suddenly changed, and things could go wrong. Also, using it on low power like that meant the machine didn't run as hot, so those loud steam jets wouldn't alarm anybody. The invisible field expanded from the emitter, on the opposite side of the wall, and focused on Dr. Rose's bumbling attorney. I'd used it enough times in the past few weeks to have a rough idea how long this would take.

Despite the situation, I felt a little heat and wetness beginning to make itself known at my pussy, and my stiffening nipples were thankfully hidden by my heavy sweater. Having the incredible power of the machine under my control - limited though it was in certain ways - did something that made me very aroused, even when I was using it for things that weren't sexy. It got me hot to know I could warp the universe to my will, if only a little.

I'd never come harder than when I'd used it to make Summer shrink herself into a tiny little toy person for me; it could make my every twisted fantasy come true, and as long as I was in control of it, I could change anybody in any way I wanted. That was if I was clever about it, of course.

Stalvert went on and on, and I began to wonder if something had gone wrong. Summer was keeping up the act well - she was being a good pet, all things considered. I could tell her supercharged sex drive was distracting her. I would have to reward her later. I wasn't lying when I told her I would be a good Mistress to her.

Well, I mean, I kind of intended to be lying at the time, but now I wasn't lying, I was really being a good Mistress. Except I wasn't sure if I still really wanted to be lying and-

Moving on.

He continued to make his case to me, bombarding me with a hundred statutes and obligations I supposedly was under; it was getting difficult to keep up the act that I was holding onto the notes out of anything other than being a bitch - if, of course, one proceeded on the assumption that my dad's work really was just a bunch of worthless crackpot theories.

Finally, after another few minutes, Stalvert began to occasionally glance at his watch. He did it more and more as he went on, until finally Dr. Rose interrupted him.

"Have to be somewhere, John?" She seemed a little testy.

"No, of course not. You booked me for the whole afternoon." He looked at his watch again, then suddenly seemed to brighten up. "I was just thinking - how about I drop into to the place on the corner and pick us all up some gyros? I'm starving. How about you?"

"We started at 2 in the afternoon, John. I would have expected you to handle lunch yourself, beforehand." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"It won't be a billable hour. We've got all day, anyway... it's on me. I'll be back in ten." He stood up despite Dr. Rose's scowl, and gathered up his papers. Stuffing them into the leather case, he smiled down at me, then at Dr. Rose. "Don't go anywhere." With that, he was out the door.

Before I turned back to her, I afforded myself one big, evil grin. It seemed obligatory. Once he was out of our building, John Stalvert was programmed to go to the restaurant on the corner, sure - but to sit down and eat alone as he logged into his company network and deleted all of his files on Dr. Rose. He would then take the rest of the day off, and forget about having her as a client at all - and would go on home after turning off his cell phone, and most of the way back he'd be sporting a big hard-on for whoever he fucked at night. His hand, maybe?

The 'second option' - the backup plan I'd prepared - would then have Summer hurriedly changing out the machine's frame buffer, recalibrating it for Dr. Rose. I'd trained her enough to do that much... barely... though of course I'd expressly forbidden her from even considering using it on me. I wondered what Dr. Rose's first name was. I remembered my dad had talked to to a Dr. Rose on the phone sometimes when I was a kid... what had he always called her... I wracked my brain.

"Well, I suppose we can try to reach an agreement without him." Leaning back into the love seat, Dr. Rose's hands folded into her lap in front of her. Her expression and tone were less conciliatory than what she was saying.

"We should." I tried to make it sound as genuine as possible. "I'd really like for us to get along despite this... I just don't want to give away my father's work so easily, you know? I know he was a crackpot. It's not really a secret. But I don't want to throw it out there in front of the whole world. Does that make sense?"

I pressed two fingers in front of me, doing my cute-and-bashful look. It worked on men fantastically, and women half the time. Sometimes it's good to be super-petite. "And I always suspected there might be something important in all that nonsense he was always spouting, so I just want to make sure he gets credit for everything he did that might be useful... and that might take me a while to figure out, so..."

Dr. Rose was raising an eyebrow at me, openly dubious. "I didn't even know that the two of you spoke at all since you moved out. He barely mentioned you. I only knew you existed because of a picture on his desk. To be honest, I'd thought you two were quite estranged, but I never asked." I grimaced to myself; it wasn't entirely true, but I'd hardly been a loving daughter.

"Wait." I peered at her. "That picture was on his desk at home, not in his office."

"Yeah." She tilted her head, suddenly seeming to drop an act. "No sense hiding it, and you're old enough to know about the birds and the bees. He and I were... involved, for about a year there. It was after his wife left him and you had moved out, obviously. We worked closely together on the foundations of his theory. I got out when the math started to fall apart when we tried to get the different components to fit together... and he fell apart along with it." She sighed, as if it was all a huge mistake on her part.