Short Story: Escape Artist (Complete)

My first story post here. Wrote this one tonight while taking a break from a much longer one that I hope to someday complete. No promises on that one.

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Dressed for her act, Wanda presented herself as a voluptuous redhead with an ample chest. In truth, the hair was extended considerably by a wig, and though she was endowed well enough naturally, she wore a revealing top and stuffed underneath to accentuate her gifts towards exaggeration. Truth, though, didn't pay in this game, she mused to herself as she straightened her "hair" in the mirror.

"Five minutes, Madam Wanda." Her stage manager called.

She sat down the brush she had been holding nervously and picked up her trademark necklace from the table, sliding it over her shoulders and fastening it in the back. "On my way!" She replied, hurrying out of her cluttered dressing room. At the last mirror on her way out, she stopped and checked herself. The outfit barely covered anything, with light stockings up to a legless and armless black unitard, the midsection of which was open both in the front and back, exposing all but the most indecent parts. The v-neck top nearly reached the midsection gap, accentuating her facade of real breasts atop a layer of padding. She wasn't fooling anyone that the attraction here was her act, but the act was what set her apart from other shows.

In the auditorium, the lights faded and the crowd hushed along with it. The stage manager yelled out to the crowd. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, once again, the Roliard Theatre is proud to present our very own, Madam Wanda!"

The spotlight flared on blindingly on red satin curtain. Suddenly, four feet to the right, a puff of smoke materialized, shooting upwards several feet. It dissipated quickly, revealing Wanda waving her arms as if to get someone's attention. "Hey, mister spotlight guy, I'm over here!"

The spotlight swung and found it's mark, shining brightly on her and causing her to squint. The stage manager called out, "Sorry folks. She's still working on her aim. Last Tuesday she was off so far she ended up in the audience in some poor gentleman's lap. We'd like to thank him for generously forgiving her, and for coming back every night since." Several members of the audience laughed at the innuendo.

While the laughter subsided, the spotlight slowly lowered and focused in on Wanda's chest. "Hey!" She replied, "I'm up here." In response, the spotlight returned to it's previous height and focus, amid audience applause and laughter. "These people didn't come here for that sort of nonsense," She began. The stage lights came on in preparation. "They came here for THIS sort of nonsense!" She flicked her wrist, sending a wand along a thread behind her bare arm and into her hand, making it appear out of thin air. The crowd oohed at her first magic since her entrance, making her smile. She then waved the wand in a circular motion, ending with a snap of the wrist that hid her movements pulling another thin strand that made a bouquet of flowers spring from her bust. The audience broke out in another round of laughter.

Taking the flowers out from her chest, she found attached to them the classic string of handkerchiefs, and continued pulling until the last handkerchief came out, tied to a bra. She pretended to be embarrassed, wadding the whole mess into a ball. To dispose of it, she walked across the stage to a small but thick-legged table with a basket on top and stuffed it inside. "One of the perks about being a magician." She said, lifting up the basket. "You never have to take out the trash." At that comment, she flipped the basket around, revealing the empty bottom.

Next, she took the basket back to the table and sat it down again. "Of course, not everything fits in a basket like this." She walked past it with her hand on the top. As she continued past what should have been the end of it, it continued for an extra foot, ending at the far edge of the table when she walked past it. The audience applauded the illusion, not having seen that she simply rolled out the doubled back side of the basket. "So folks." She asked. "What's the trashiest thing you think we can fit in here. Just point me to it and we'll see if it fits in here."

A man from the audience shouted, "That'd be you!" and several others cheered at the jab.

"Me?" Asked Wanda. "I don't see how anyone could think that, but ok. I'll throw myself away." She walked over to a small step-stool by the edge of the stage and pushed it up against the leg of the table. Stepping up onto it, she heard the audience grow quiet again in anticipation. At the top, she stepped into the basket, standing up on the table. "You sure you want me to go in there? It's dark in there."

The audience cheered and a few made cat-calls. The man from before shouted "Do it!"

"Ok." She continued, reaching up to hold her nose with one hand as if to swim and the other taking hold of her necklace. She jumped up in the air above the basket, curling her knees up to her chin. Just as quickly her momentum ran out and she fell back into the basket, seemingly to crash into it and the table, but as she passed the top edge of the basket there was no sound, she simply fell past it and didn't appear on the other side. Were it not for the bright lights and the shadow from the table, someone of particularly sharp vision might have seen a tiny form land on a net hanging behind the table and then scurry down grooves in the back of the table leg. They couldn't have seen it then slip into a small hole in the stage beneath the stool, though. She had made certain that part wouldn't be seen at all, even by her stage manager.

The audience gasped at her failure to collide with the bottom or crash through the table. On cue, the stage manager took over. "What have you done, ladies and gentlemen? You've thrown away our star? Well, it's a good thing Madam Wanda believes in recycling."

While he was speaking, unseen, a small form pushed through a hidden panel behind a trash bin at the base of the stage. It reached up to it's necklace and began to grow. First doubling to six inches tall, then to a foot, then stopping at nearly two feet. The smaller version of Wanda pushed in a panel in the trash bin that was usually intended to allow easy removal of the plastic bag inside. Pushing it aside she held her necklace again and grew twice more, reaching her full height, crouched inside the trash bin. At the word "recycling", she pushed up the top of the bin and knocked it off. "It's not about the environment." She replied. "I just don't like seeing a good me go to waste."

The audience applauded loudly and cheered. This was the part of the act she loved. Coming up was the part she was much more worried about, but it had worked for the last three weeks in her act, so what was one more night? She held up her hands to silence the audience.

"I seem to have ended up off stage, would one of you fine gentlemen in the audience care to help me back up?" She looked out over the crowd and pointed to a particularly muscular Austrian looking man in the sixth row. "You, sir, you look like you're my type." She held her hand to her mouth in mock modesty. "I mean you look like the type that could help me."

The audience cheered again at her word play while the man made his way out of the aisle and up to her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Laughing, she announced to the audience, "He wants to know what he's supposed to do. Isn't he so sweet and innocent?" More laughter followed, which gave time for her to motion for him to lift her up onto the stage. The audience grew quiet as he started to do so, but gave way to cat-calls and whistles when he put his hands on her hips and lifted her up. She stumbled onto the stage and bent over forward, giving the man an enviable view. More cheers and whistles followed, meanwhile she righted herself and held out a hand to him. "Come on up, I'm not done with you."

The man took her hand and raised his leg up onto the lower stage lighting, then braced himself with his other hand against the stage. He stepped up and stood beside her, facing her rather than the audience.

"Turn around, you goof. You're on stage!" She chastised him. The stage manager slid out a fish bowl on another table behind them and then backed off the stage the way he came. "You're here to help me with one of mankind's most ancient pursuits." He raised his eyebrows, garnering more laughs from the crowd. "No, not that...yet." She corrected. "Prognosta, um, prognasta... telling the future!" She walked behind the fishbowl and stared through it back at him, her face magnified so much that not all of it showed on the audience's side. "You go first, tell me what I'm going to do with this bowl."

The audience laughed at her cop-out. The man, though, tried to be a good sport. "Um, are you going to make it disappear?"

"No, honey, I just do that with myself and money." She paused to let the audience laugh, then continued. "I'll take over the predictions then. I'm going to pull your future out of this seemingly empty bowl. Ask me any question and you shall have it answered."

"I'll start with the big one then, how long will I live?" He asked.

She reached into the empty fish bowl and swirled her hand around in it, her hand magnified greatly by the glass so that the whole audience could see it. She pulled her hand out and smoke poured from her palm into the bowl. She swung her head back as if in a trance and spoke in a slow voice. "You shall live for another twelve years, three months and seventeen days..." The audience oohed at the prediction, but she continued, "Give or take twelve years, three months and seventeen days."

The audience rolled with laughter and the man hung his head, chuckling. "Very accurate, thank you."

Wanda bowed as if she'd accomplished something, allowing the smoke to settle in the bowl, making it seem clear again. "Ask your next question, good sir."

"Will the Mets ever have a winning season?" He asked with an amused look.

"I don't need a magic fishbowl to tell you that one!" She replied, getting a mix of laughter and boo's from the audience. "Let's have one more question then."

"Is there ever anything good going to be in that fishbowl?" He asked, chuckling.

Pretending to enter another trance, she held her hand over the bowl again, letting another smoke pellet pour into it and cloud the inside. "I am getting a strong signal from the fishbowl. Something very powerful will be inside it, but I can't see what it is. It's almost as if..." Suddenly a cloud of the same color smoke enveloped her. In the midst of the cloud she gripped the side of the bowl with one hand and her necklace with the other. The smoke where she had been dissipated first, revealing her absence and silencing the audience. A moment later the cloud inside the bowl dissipated as well, revealing a magnified but seemingly tiny version of Madam Wanda standing inside the bowl and pretending to be quite surprised. She pounded loudly on the inside of the glass as if she was trapped.

The man, now obviously a part of the act, turned to the audience and commented, "I don't think she predicted that one either." The audience roared with laughter and applause, and several even stood up to applaud.

The fish bowl filled again with smoke to hide her escape, lifting up a false bottom in the bowl and dropping down into a lower part of the table. Seemingly empty now, the assistant checked in the bowl, reaching his hand in and seeing it magnified as before, then he shrugged and returned to his seat. As he was hopping down to the audience floor, the stage manager came out. "And now, we come to the final act of the night. Each night we ask members of the audience to bring in an item. Not just any item, but a container large enough to hold Madam Wanda, though we never really said it had to be comfortably." He waited with a smile for a soft chuckle from someone in the audience. "Tonight, Gregory Jones of Jones fishing has brought in the first container for this act." The stage dimmed and another spotlight came on, lighting a worn wooden crate with large gaps between the boards. With the lights dimmed, the small figure appeared again in the darkness and made her way under the stage. "He tells me that he usually has a wire mesh inside this that he uses to catch lobster. They crawl through the small hole in this box and then into the mesh, but then can't find their way out. Since Madam Wanda is a little bit bigger than a lobster, Gregory assures me there's no way she can get out without opening or breaking it."

He held his hand up towards the opposite end of the stage, where another spotlight appeared on a large oil drum. "Which brings us to our second container. This rather large can is brought to us by Mark Weisell, who wants it back afterwards for the ten cent deposit." He waited as the audience laughed again. "This thing is sturdy, the only openings are hole they use to fill it with oil, and the top, which he cut off just for our act tonight, so that we could see inside it and make sure there's no tricks."

He paused for a moment to build up suspense. "For her final feat tonight, Madam Wanda will be locked in the lobster cage. To make it more interesting, we will be confiscating her clothing as we lock her in." Several whistles rang out in reply. "We will then place her clothing in the second container. This means that if she fails, you will see quite a show tonight." The male members of the audience cheered loudly, obviously hoping for a failure. "It is for this trick alone that we don't allow children in the audience for her performance. If she succeeds, she will be able to retrieve her clothing from the oil drum and will retain her dignity for another night." Pausing one last time, he raised his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, Madam Wanda!"

When her name was called, Wanda stepped out from the curtain and walked to the crate. "So, guys, you ready for this?" She asked. Unsurprisingly, a loud cheer answered. "Ok, who's going to help me with this one?"

In response, nearly every man in the audience stood and shouted. "First in the front row who reaches the base of the left staircase will get the honors." Called the stage manager. Several men started shoving their way towards the stairs, but two broke free and made it simultaneously.

"Ok, boys." Called Wanda. "Both of you come up here." She climbed up onto the table and kicked off her shoes, then pulled off her stockings, one after the other, exposing her bare legs. Next, she stepped into the crate. Finally she unfastened her straps and leaned down into the crate so the audience couldn't see her. The two men came up the stairs and hurried over to the crate. After a moment, the audience saw her hand reach up and hand the nearest man her unitard. Indistinct bits of flesh were visible through the slats in the crate.

"Is she wearing anything at this point, gentlemen?" The stage manager asked. Both men shook their heads with wide grins, but neither looked away from the box. "Very well, close it up and lock it." The second man lowered the lid, and the first tucked her unitard under his arm and picked up a padlock from the table. Once he had locked it in place, the stage manager continued. "Is she locked in good and tight?"

"Yes sir!" Called one of the men.

"Then drape the cloth you see there over the crate." He instructed. The two men once again did as he asked, covering the wooden container just enough that the slots weren't visible anymore. Inside, Wanda quickly reached for her necklace and began to shrink. After five spurts she was small enough to slip between the slots in the wood and make her way onto the table under the cloth. She pulled up a small plug in the table and slipped into the hole under it, pulling it back behind her. Sliding down the inside of the table leg, she landed on a giant pillow under the stage and sprinted towards the other side as fast as she could.

The stage manager continued. "Now, gentlemen, take the garment she has given you and place it in the drum on the other side." This time, the man holding her unitard walked alone over to the drum. He was intercepted by the stage manager halfway, though, who whispered something to him and handed him a small yellow handkerchief in exchange for the unitard. The man then went to the oil drum and dropped the handkerchief inside instead and putting the lid back over it. Once again the audience burst out laughing, but the stage manager shushed them with a finger to his lips. "Give these two gentlemen a round of applause for helping out."

After the audience had applauded them, the spotlights swung wildly around the stage and the two volunteers made their way back down. Finally the spotlights stopped on the two containers. The stage manager walked to the first one, ripping the cloth off of it, revealing the empty crate. He lifted it up and turned it around, showing it was both empty and intact. "No naked Wanda in there. Looks like she may have succeeded!" He then walked over to the drum. When he opened the lid and peered inside, a feminine hand reached up and slapped him. The audience again rolled with laughter.

Holding a much larger version of the yellow handkerchief over herself with the other hand, Madam Wanda stood up. The stage manager held out his arms beside her, and she used her free hand to hoist herself into a sitting position on the side of the drum. Reaching behind the yellow cloth, he lifted her up by the waist with a grunt, then sat her down in front of him. Comically, he stared at her backside and raised his eyebrows in excitement, getting another laugh from the audience.

Wanda walked to the front of the stage and waved. "Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the show, and remember to come back tomorrow. I'll be here!" She then bowed, and as she did, let another smoke bomb go off, hiding as she held her necklace again and shrank the handkerchief back down to normal size. She faked a cough as the smoke cleared, and then acted surprised and embarrassed as it revealed her standing naked with just a handkerchief pressed up against herself. She waited a moment as if in shock, giving the audience their show, then covered herself and dropped another large smoke pellet. In the cloud of smoke, she used her necklace once more, dropping through another hole she had found in the floor when she devised her act.

The audience cheered and shouted to the empty stage when a call for "Encore" began.

The stage manager laughed, "Give the lady a minute to get dressed, and we'll bring her back out for her encore."

The audience boo'd at him and chanted "Encore" again.

"If you insist!" He replied, waving his hand and snapping it at the spot where she had disappeared. Another pillar of smoke rose, giving her cover to climb back up and re-enlarge. When it cleared, she looked around as if she was confused, still naked and covering herself. The audience cheered again. To close the act, he brought the cloth that had been draped over the lobster crate and put it over her shoulders, bringing the "show" to a close, amid more boo's.

***

Two hours later, Wanda was sitting in her dressing room with a bottle of scotch, making a small dent in it. The cloth had been replaced by a two-piece swimsuit, but she still wore the necklace. Her stage manager stuck his head in, "We've got both of the containers for tomorrow's show. Time to test them out."

Exhausted and a little tipsy from her drink, she sighed, then slid out of her chair and followed him. She had waited around for this, even dressing lightly so they could test for that part of the trick as well. It was a farce she had to keep up, since she couldn't admit to the man that she was using real magic, and that she could just use her necklace to shrink out of any box, even if she had to go down to the microscopic to do so.

She first inspected the second container, her destination. This time it was an oversized suitcase that was just large enough for her to fit in. She checked the zippers and decided it would be easy enough to slip in through the gap where it didn't quite close if she shrank down to a quarter inch or so. She looked up at her manager silently and nodded that it would do.

Next, she walked over to the table holding the first container up. This one was more elaborate. It was a large wooden box with a two inch diameter hole in the bottom. She knew immediately that it would work, but looked up at him and asked, "What the hell is it?"

"One of our regular patrons made it especially for you. He says it makes a perfect airtight seal on every square inch of it so he doesn't think you'll get out. To make sure you don't suffocate, he cut the hole. I insisted it be on the bottom so it doesn't look like a trick when the top is opened."

"Good enough, it'll work." She said, satisfied with his explanation. Usually the donors were there for her trial run, but it didn't sink in that no one else was there tonight. She stepped up onto the step stool and then onto the table. Hunkering down in the box, she unfastened her swimsuit top and slid it off, dropping it outside where it fell to the ground. Next she did the same with the bottom, leaving herself again naked and ready to perform the stunt.

"Ready?" He asked, picking up the fallen clothes.

"Yep, close it up." She replied.

He reached over her and lowered the lid, letting it latch as he did so. "Ok, light cue!" He yelled. As the light pulled away from the box, he quickly slid a glass underneath the opening and held a magnet up by the space in between. A moment later there was a small "tink" against the magnet and a clunk inside the glass. He pocketed the magnet and slid a small board in between the top of the glass and the bottom of the box. "End light cue." He said after a few minutes. He then opened the box, revealing that it was empty. "First step complete. Madam Wanda made it out of the box."

He then crossed to the other container and unzipped it. "Second step not complete. She did not make it into the suitcase. We'll just use the safe from last week, Marty. I'm not going to keep you for a retry."

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it!" The man operating the spotlights called back. "Tell Wanda goodbye for me, my wife's waiting for me as it is."

"Sure thing!" He replied. After a few minutes, he heard the outer door close as Marty left. Smiling to himself, he returned to the box and slid the glass out from under it. Just as he had guessed, there in the glass sat a very upset, very naked magician, her magic necklace no longer around her neck. "A real shame." He said to her. "I liked your show, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for a greater prize."

[LOD]

Nice story. I hope Wanda will escape.

[Nom Anor]

I agree; nice start.

I didn't write it with anything in mind past this point, so I'm open to suggestions. Since the first comment is a wish to see her escape, I'll start thinking towards that goal.

Ok, here's the second half. I tried to keep a sense of wonder while dropping hints with this part. If something isn't clear, let me know.

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Wanda, or rather Madam Wanda, had been a stage magician for all of three months. She had gotten her start at the Roliard Theatre two years earlier as an assistant for a raunchy magic act that every week rotated which of the beautiful young women on stage would have their clothes "magically" disappear. The experience had taught her a few simple tricks, and how to showcase herself for an audience just looking for a elaborate excuses to see her naked each night. She knew she didn't have the talent for a more reputable magic show, but until recently, she had no hope of even headlining.

Fortune finally smiled on her one day, though, or so it had seemed at the time. Her grandmother had passed away when she was very young, but she had inherited, among other things, her jewelry box. One night, while feeling depressed over another humiliating night on stage, she decided to cheer herself up by trying on various jewelry that had been inside. After emptying the jewelry box, though, she realized it was smaller inside than it should have been. A screwdriver and a little prying later, she was wearing the necklace. When she reached to take it off, one of the pearls on the necklace depressed like a button. All around her the room began to lurch upwards, and the dresser she had been standing in front of was now almost up to her shoulders. Panicked, she took it off and tossed it aside, despirately hoping she would change back. When nothing happened, she reached under her bed where it had landed and picked it up again. Nervously, she put it on and tried the pearl again. Once again the room shot up around her, but this time even the top of the bed was at the limit of her reach. She sat down on the floor next to the bed and thought it through. Realizing that her grandmother hadn't been small, she knew there had to be a solution. Sure enough, pressing one of the pearls on the opposite side caused the room to shrink before her eyes. When she stood up she was once again shoulder-high to the dresser, just as before. With another press of the second pearl, she was back to her normal height. A third press, however, had no effect. Apparently she could only grow as tall as she was supposed to be, no taller.

She spent the next several weeks experimenting in her free time and came up with an act of her own. A second stroke of luck followed soon after when the magician she worked for decided to go on tour, thumbing his nose at the Roliard Theatre. Refusing to join him, she talked the Roliard into seeing her act. After a few suggestions and the appointment of her stage manager and lighting crew, she was announced as their next headlining magician.

Wanda thought over her illustrious past two months with darker thoughts now, though. After keeping her secret to herself for all this time, she had gotten careless. Her stage manager had learned of her necklace and how she shrank to perform her act. Taking advantage of what he'd learned, he had waited until her nightly practice of an act that left her temporarily naked and tiny while she went between stage props, and unseen to anyone else, stole her necklace and captured her in a mere drinking glass. It spelled the end for her career as a magician, but even worse, it was the end of her life as a normal woman. From now on what would she be? His pet?

As he dismissed the last of the crew for the night, she cursed to herself, sitting in the glass waiting for her fate. He complimented her on her show, which only served to rub salt in the wound as he spoke of sacrificing it for a "prize."

"You can't keep me like this!" She protested.

"I can certainly try." He replied, chuckling. "And I don't think you're going to be the one to change my mind, you foolish little girl."

Wanda pleaded with him, "I'll do anything you want. Pay anything you want, just let me have the necklace long enough to change back."

"You don't even know what you had, do you?" He asked.

"It was my grandmother's. It's some sort of talisman, I think."

He laughed even harder, reverberating against the glass. "So, the little magician thinks she found real magic? The irony of it all is that there's only a handfull of people who even know about this device. My grandfather, and yes, your grandmother, were among those few."

"Device?" She asked, her confusion briefly overriding her fear.

"It was developed during the last great war as an assassin's tool. Funding was cut the day Germany fell, and our grandparents' work was to be destroyed. The only way they were able to save the prototype was by your grandmother using it and my grandfather sneaking her out at far too small a size for anyone to see." He glared at the tiny woman behind the glass. "And that was when she double crossed him. Instead of waiting until they reached his hometown, she slipped out on him, kept the device and the research for herself, and he never saw her again."

"Even if that's true, what does it have to do with me? Why can't you let me go?"

He smiled, and started walking back towards the dressing room. "Poetic justice, perhaps, but mostly because I don't want to."

She sat in silence most of the way, trying to think of some way to convince him. When he did arrive, he tossed her swimsuit on her dressing table and picked up her street clothes. "What are you doing with those, you creep?" She demanded.

"Removing evidence. Without these here it will look like you went home tonight. No one will think to look for a three inch tall victim, but it's not uncommon at all for a performer such as yourself to disappear." He stuffed the clothing into a plastic bag and continued, "You really should thank me. Some looney in the audience would have eventually made a statistic out of you, the way you show off every night."

"I'd rather take my chances with them, if you don't mind." She quipped.

He set the glass down on the table and took a small mason jar out of one of the drawers. There were already holes poked in the lid as if it was intended to catch fireflies in, but she realized right away that its true intent was for her. When he removed the small board from the top of the glass, she tried to jump out, which only succeeded in making him laugh. He opened the jar and tipped the glass over it, spilling her roughly into the new container. "Welcome to your new home, little magician." Before she could respond, he put the lid over the jar and screwed it tightly shut. She stared up in horror as he picked up the jar and tucked it into his inner coat pocket.

With her tucked safely away, he took the magnet out of his pants pocket. Bunched up on the end was the tiny necklace she had been wearing. Carefully, he pried it off, then returned the magnet to his pocket. Given her misunderstanding, it was doubtful she had come across the research notes, meaning this prototype was all he had to go on to resume his grandfather's work. Taking out an ink pen and borrowing a pin from Wanda's table, he pressed on one of the center pearls and then on the enlargement pearl. Without affecting anything around it, the necklace doubled in size. He repeated the process four times, returning it to its full size. "Just to be absolutely certain." He said to himself, then pressed two of the remaining pearls and pulled at the backing, causing it to release. Inside, amongst wiring and an emitter was a small cylinder pressed between two leads. Like a primitive battery, it powered the device. With the tip of his ink pen he pried it loose, de-powering the device. He then replaced the backing on it and put the power cell in his other pocket.

***

An hour later he had arrived at his home. Being it's sole resident, he had let it become cluttered. His first stop was at his desk, opening a drawer and dropping the device's power cell into it, then locking it afterwards and hooking his keys on a nail overhead. It was the first component he intended to analyze when time permitted, since it seemed the most versatile. A compact power supply capable of sustaining shrinking technology for as long as it had, surely it could be used for other applications. He next took out the necklace, laying it carefully on his desk. Depowered, he intended to have some fun with it. Last, he removed the jar from inside his coat pocket. The sudden inflow of light got Wanda's attention, causing her to look up and survey her new surroundings. Even at her size, he could see the redness around her eyes and the tears on her cheeks. Feeling pity on her, he set the jar down on a stack of books so that the necklace wasn't easily spotted from her viewpoint. "Wait here for a moment, I will return." He had counted on her yelling and pleading, but this part he hadn't considered.

Wanda wiped the tears from her face and sniffled, but didn't respond. Hurriedly, he left, taking off his coat as he went. Wanda could hear the closet door open, and after some fumbling with a hanger, the door closing again. She hadn't given up hope yet, but after all that with no response, she realized she was so insignificant that he couldn't even hear her. Until the light returned, there had been nothing she could do but cry. Now, after being seen by him, she regretted it. He had already seen her naked, he had already seen her beg. She wished that she could at least have said he hadn't seen her break. While he was gone she tried to compose herself and show some facade of strength, but she knew in her heart that she wasn't fooling anyone.

Heavy footsteps approached, surprising her since he had walked much more softly when he left. It dawned on her after several steps that he must have taken off his boots. As he appeared from over the horizon of another stack of books, he was already looking her way. He sat down in the chair, not looking quite as pleased as he had when he first caught her. "Well." He said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. "I must admit, I didn't think this all the way through. I don't know if you can even eat at your size. Have you ever done so before?"

"No." She lied. "I'll have to return to normal size soon or I'll starve to death." She allowed herself to sniffle.

"Don't be so dramatic." He replied. "We'll try some normal sized food first, then if that doesn't work, I'll find a way to shrink the food down to your size."

"Then you're just going to keep me in this jar forever?" She asked weakly.

"No, of course not. While you are very cute sitting in there, the novelty would wear off quickly. And then there's the matter of your biological needs. I did think of a way for you to do that safely." He pointed to an open soda can. "I'll just cut off the bottom, line the edge with clay, then set it over the sink."

She shuddered at the thought of trying to sit that high up. Needing to think of a better argument, though, she forced herself to continue. "So I'm just a trophy except when I need to piss or eat." She said in disgust.

He reached for the jar and turned the lid. After a bit of strain, it popped loose and he removed it. "No. I can't let you leave or return to your normal size, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little freedom." He tipped the jar over carefully, causing her to slide to one side and then onto her hands and knees as the side became the bottom. "Come on out."

Tentatively, she crawled forward, finally putting her hand on the book under the jar. Standing up, she looked out over the desk. To her surprise, the necklace was out in the open, but somehow it was full size. He noticed her looking at it, but didn't say anything. "Freedom." She said angrily, then looked up at him. "I'm a damned pet."

"A pet," he replied, "who doesn't have to worry about showing up on time for work, who doesn't have to come up with a new twist to her act every few weeks, who doesn't have to spend hours of work just to culminate in a few seconds strutting in front of an audience that only cares about her bust size. You could live like a queen with just a little ingenuity on my part."

"Oh yes, I really feel like a queen!" She snipped back at him, growing bolder now that she was out of the bottle's confinement. She pantomimed flailing a gown around herself. "From my royal robes down to the royal aluminum throne!"

"Just think for a minute. All I've taken away from you is your ability to grow and interact safely with strangers, something you could have lost on your own if the necklace had simply broken or its power supply ran out." He reached past her, startling her enough that she jumped backwards to avoid his hand. Behind her he pulled out a tissue. Bringing it back, he held it out for her. "At your size, even something as simple as a tissue can be a large blanket or a flowing robe. Almost anything you want could be yours."

She took the tissue and wrapped it around herself, both thankful to finally not be exposed, yet upset with herself for accepting his trivial gift. "What I want is my necklace!" She demanded, looking more like a poor waif wrapped in a blanket than a queen.

He shrugged. "I will take it back when I need it later to examine it's components, but sure. Knock yourself out." He motioned towards where it lay on the desk.

She was taken aback that he had given up so easily. It was too easy, she knew, but she had to try. The tissue was much too large for her to try to climb with, so she abandoned it, using the ends of the books as a ladder to climb down. Once on the desk's surface, she made a dash for the necklace, afraid that any moment his hand would swoop down and take it away from her again. When she reached the necklace and nothing happened, she looked up at him suspiciously, but he just watched in silence, apparently unconcerned. She lifted up the now-heavy chain of the necklace and put it over her shoulders, then sat down behind it's centerpiece and leaned across it. With effort, she was able to depress the appropriate pearl. Nothing happened. Frightened, she pressed it again, then again. She tried the other pearls and still nothing. With tears already forming, she looked hopelessly up at him and sobbed. "What did you do to it?"

He was hurt to see her crying again, but he kept his voice calm as he answered. "I told you, I can't allow you to return to your former size. I've already disabled it."

With a horrified gasp, the spark went out of her eyes. Her last thread of hope had be cruelly cut. Mouth agape, she stared blankly up at him as the tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her tiny chest. She didn't even move as he brought his enormous hand down and placed it around her shoulders in a misguided gesture of comforting.

***

The next morning he came to the desk again, carrying a small dish of finely crumbled scrambled egg. He set it down next to the tissue he had draped over her as a blanket the night before. Just as she had been when he left her, she stared out into space and didn't speak. "I brought breakfast." He said softly with a hint of hopefulness in his voice. Ignored, he reached down and tugged at the tissue blanket, pulling it away from her shoulder, but still getting no reaction. Finally, he pulled it off all the way and then picked her up by her midsection. For a brief moment fear shot through her and she struggled to get away from the giant hand, but the moment passed, and she simply curled up in a fetal position around his thumb. Frustrated, her sat her down on the dish next to the bits of egg.

He shook his head and sighed. "I can't force you to eat, but you really must. If there's anything else you'd rather eat, just name it." Getting no response, he turned away, picking up the necklace and slumping into the desk chair. Over the course of the night, he had begun to think about the emitter. It wasn't quite as useful as the power supply, he surmised, but it was the heart of the technology, and he knew absolutely nothing about it. At the very least he wanted to know what it did.

From a shelf under the desk he took out a spool of wire and wire clippers. He quickly measured out a foot of wire and cut it, then bent it in half and cut the bend, making two wires about the same length. After stripping the ends, he put the clippers and spool away. He left the desk after that, searching for something on the floor. After a brief search, he found a power cord and plugged it in, then sat the DC transformer on the other end of it up on his desk. "Best to try the lowest setting." He said to himself aloud, then turned the resistor dials. "Two hundred milliamp, two volt." Next he took a pair of torque wrenches out of another drawer in the desk, setting them next to the necklace. Using the same combination as the previous night, he removed it's back covering.

While wiring the two leads inside to the transformer, he tried speaking to his pet. "You know, Wanda, even after I recognized your necklace as the device my grandfather created, I never did figure out all your tricks." He stopped suddenly and yanked his hand back, having poked his finger with the wire. After childishly sucking the wound, he shook it off and resumed. "How did you managed to make the handkerchief shrink while you were on stage? It was too fast for you to have shrunk, dropped the handkerchief, regrown and then picked it up again." He glanced down at her, hoping for a reply, but she only sat on the dish, staring up dully at him. As best he could tell, she hadn't even touched the eggs. "I know, I know." He answered himself. "A magician never reveals her secrets. Even a little magician."

Returning to the work at hand, he slid a piece of paper under the overturned necklace. So as not to get confused by it's upside down position, he made note of each of the pearl buttons and their function. Turning on power to the transformer next, he then picked up the torque wrenches. With one he pressed in the center of the necklace, holding it in place. With the other, he pressed against the pearl he had labeled "reduce". A light green glow began to appear along the inner wall near the emitter. "Aha!" He cheered. "It is radiant energy. To be visible after striking a lithium target, though. It's getting blue shifted, so it has to be somewhere in the microwave range." He released the button, letting it stop.

Taking out a notepad, he stood up and started scrawling notes in it while walking toward the kitchen. "Simply astounding, grandpa." From in the kitchen came the sound of the cupboard opening. At the sound, Wanda's eyes blinked, the light returning to them. She grabbed a crumb of egg as big as her hand and took a bite.

In the kitchen the smell of coffee was strong. He had started a pot brewing before taking the egg to his little captive, and it had finished sometime since. Taking a cube of sugar out of a bag in his cupboard, he dropped it into the cup of coffee he had just poured. Picking up his notebook again, he took a sip and grimaced. "Bad as always." Jotting down a few more notes, he then made a list of materials he could try to help narrow down what frequency was being used. Technically, shrinking was impossible from a standpoint of biology and particle physics, but some of Nathan Rosen's theories did seem to imply another possibility. The trick was focusing enough energy on a single point in space. The energy output of the power cell had to be tremendous, though, if that were the case. "The leads would melt." He mused, defeating that theory.

Perplexed, he returned with his coffee to the desk. As he feared, little Wanda was still staring off into space. He shook his head wearily and returned to tinkering with the buttons and observing the light spectrum, then taking notes.

Some time later, a gong began to strike. He looked up from his work at the grandfather clock against the wall making the noise. "Almost time for MY act." He said with a smile, then looked down at Wanda. "I have to get ready for work. Be sure not to go anywhere." He put his finger against her cheek in a mock gesture of affection. "Hang in there, dear. We'll get through this." Taking his hand away, he frowned at her lack of response. When the gong finished striking for the hour, though, he realized he couldn't deal with her then and left for his room.

Half an hour later he returned, dressed in one of the suits he wore on stage. He looked down at the desk as soon as he entered the room. At first he worried, not seeing Wanda on the plate anymore. Looking around the desk, though, he spotted the tissue he had given her earlier rolled up in a ball around something small, sitting where he had left the necklace. The two lead wires had been removed along with his tools, but the tissue's location reinforced his belief that the necklace was too heavy now for her to move very far. "Well, at least that shows initiative. I told you we'll get through this, my little magician. I may be late getting home tonight, there will be a lot of questions when you don't show. I'll leave the egg here in case you get hungry while I'm out."

He glanced at the nail above his desk, but then spotted his keys on the shelf beside it. Pocketing them, he hurried out.

***

On stage that night a safe was already in place on one side, and his specially made box on the other. When showtime arrived, he put on his best face and tried to appear worried. Marching out on stage in front of the large audience, he was applauded, everyone assuming he would announce the start of the show. Instead, he spoke without enthusiasm. "I am afraid I must apologize. Our star, Madam Wanda." He paused nervously. "She has not shown up. At this moment no one has been able to locate her. In light of that, the ticket office will be issuing..." Boo's from the audience cut him off.

Suddenly, and to his surprise, smoke started pouring out of his inner coat pocket, surrounding him in a sudden cloud. The cloud dissipated, revealing the coat slumped around a smaller, more shapely frame. In place of her stage manager, Wanda smiled out at her audience. "Oh dear!" She cried. "My aim is getting worse. I wonder where he wound up." Tugging at the sleeves, she added. "I'd love to see." At that, the audience broke out in laughter and cheers at her new twist on the show's opening.

Finding himself standing in the crotch of his own pants, the former stage manager realized he wouldn't be reporting to work again. After making her appearance and opening joke, another puff of smoke enveloped them. A giant hand reached down to where he hung and lifted him up what seemed to be several feet into a crevasse above.

***

After the show, Wanda made her usual exit. Fortunately, the volunteer tonight was a regular and knew to swap out the handkerchief, keeping her act consistent. He didn't seem to mind getting slapped either. Such a good sport.

As she entered the dressing room, she pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. She dropped into her chair and propped up her feet on her dressing table, spreading them apart. Reaching down, she stuck her finger inside as if to please herself, but instead pulled out the tiny form of her manager. He was coated in fluid and seemed exhausted, but he still had the energy for his curiosity. "How?" He demanded.

"A magician never reveals her secrets." She said with a smile, then held up a familiar piece of paper labeled with the functions of the necklace. "But thank you for the instruction manual."

[LOD]

Poetic justice.

[Nom Anor]

Agreed. Nice continuation.

Thanks, you two. I appreciate the feedback.

I was really proud of the little details along the way that I left to explain exactly how she made her escape. I hope that came through. It took me several hours to figure out all the mistakes he needed to make so that she could turn it around, without conflicting with his intellect and forethought.

At the end of both segments I figured the story had reached a nice conclusion, so while I don't have any ideas for a sequel, I'm always open to suggestions. If anyone wants to borrow the shrinking necklace or Madam Wanda for their own story or artwork, I'm more than willing to share them. Wanda needs the extra work anyway, the economy has hurt her ticket sales.