The teacher of one's dreams. (Nudity woman)

[NeiroShrunker]

Regina Rein — tall, slender, with a sculpted figure and icy composure in her eyes — taught chemistry at our faculty and drove every single guy wild. Each student secretly dreamed of staying after class to help clean the lab, just to watch her move in her snow-white coat, sorting test tubes and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a slight tilt of her head. When she chose me as her assistant for weekend experiments, many were openly envious, convinced I was incredibly lucky.

But Regina didn't choose me out of sympathy. She was as cold and rational as science itself: I was the top student, and she saw in me the makings of a great chemist. I genuinely enjoyed working with her, but like the others, I sometimes allowed myself forbidden fantasies after class — fantasies in which she was no longer my instructor, but someone far more intimate.

The morning started in utter chaos. I overslept on my day off, jumped up as if scalded, threw on the first clothes I could find, and, still half-asleep, texted Regina: I'd overslept, I was already running, I'd be late. But no matter how I rushed, I was already over an hour behind. That morning, Regina was testing a new drug designed to selectively shrink cancer cells. She flicked the ventilation switch — but it only clicked dryly in response. The fan was silent.

Meanwhile, the lab was slowly filling with acrid fumes from her reactions. Regina knew the air was becoming dangerous, but the results she was getting were sensational — better than any previous trial. She hesitated for only a moment, and that was enough. Suddenly, the world swam before her eyes, her head grew heavy as lead, and her coat felt impossibly large, as if it belonged to someone else. Her legs gave way. She collapsed onto the table, knocking over flasks, and in that same instant, the spilled reagents mixed, reacted violently, and released a thick cloud of pink smoke into the air. Regina crashed to the floor and lost consciousness.

I kept checking my phone, but the notification that Regina had read my message never came. Anxiety tightened around my chest with every passing minute. The bus, as if on purpose, crawled along like a turtle. When it finally stopped at the institute, I shot out, nearly knocking over a passerby, and sprinted toward the lab. I flew past security almost at a run and was in the hallway within a minute. The lab door was locked. I pushed against it — no sound. And then I noticed a thin wisp of smoke seeping from under the bottom edge of the door. My heart plummeted. With trembling fingers, I fumbled for the spare keys and unlocked the door.

Inside, everything was shrouded in a pinkish haze — thick, viscous, almost tangible. I held my breath and, like a swimmer, dove into that fog, navigating by memory. I made my way to Regina's workstation — but she wasn't there. Panic rolled over me in murky waves. I looked under the tables, pushing away the darkest thoughts. And then, under her desk, I saw a messy heap of clothes: the lab coat lay crumpled in a ball, shoes toppled on their sides, the skirt twisted into a ring, and on top, as if everything had simply slipped off her body, lay her bra and panties. My mind went blank. I couldn't even begin to guess why her things were scattered on the floor like that. Something compelled me to rummage through the pile, and my heart skipped a beat.

I leaned lower and, holding my breath, lifted the lab coat.

And in that moment, I nearly inhaled the dangerous fumes — but recoiled just in time.

Beneath the coat lay a doll. Small, palm-sized. But my heart pounded so violently it drowned out every thought. I looked closer — and reality cracked at the seams. Maybe I had breathed in the toxic vapors after all, and now hallucinations were messing with my mind? I rubbed my eyes, but the vision didn't disappear. Lying before me was a naked girl no bigger than fifteen centimeters. It was Regina. My instructor. Helpless, unconscious, tiny, and impossibly fragile.

Carefully, like a treasure, I cradled her in my palm. She was warm. Breathing. Alive.

I dashed to the windows, threw them wide open, letting in fresh air. Questions swirled in my head like a vortex: what now? Who to call? You can't explain this to doctors, let alone the police. I made a decision: first, get home. Bring her around, and then we'd figure it out together. I wrapped her in soft cloth, placed her in my backpack, and carried it as gently as if it held a crystal vase.

At home, I didn't dare open the backpack right away. What if it was all a delusion, a trick of my fevered mind? But no — Regina was still lying there, serene as a sleeping fairy. Only when my pulse had calmed down a little did I take her in my hands and hold her up to the light. In the morning sunbeams filtering through the curtains, she looked unearthly — beautiful, a miniature replica of that cold beauty I knew.


to be continued

[TheBigG]

Time for another type of chemistry

[NeiroShrunker]

I’ve slightly rewritten the first part and am now presenting the second.

I gazed at Regina, spellbound, and a strange numbness washed over me — I studied every millimeter of her tiny body, savoring curves I had only ever been able to imagine before. In everyday life, when I saw her at full height, my eyes would latch onto individual details: the flawless features of her face, her impossibly slender legs, the rounded hips so tightly hugged by her skirt, or that fleeting moment when she leaned over my desk to check my notebook, and I — like every other guy in the room — could steal a glimpse of her cleavage from the corner of my eye. But now everything was different. I saw her whole, all at once — and for the first time — naked.
Yes, why hide it: I was touching a naked woman for the first time in my life. At eighteen, I hadn't yet had any serious relationships, preferring to study and build my future rather than waste time on girls. And now I was holding a naked girl in my palm. I could see her breasts, her buttocks, her bare back. I could touch her. I could carefully part her legs with my finger and see everything without exception. But I stopped myself in time. She was unconscious. I had no right to take advantage of the moment. Besides, she was my teacher.
Desire washed over me in a hot wave, my hand trembled, and from that tremor Regina stirred. I was afraid I might frighten her with my touch, so with the utmost care I moved her onto the soft notebook lying on the table. My heart was pounding somewhere in my throat as I froze in anticipation — afraid to breathe, afraid to look away, afraid that she would open her eyes and see in me not a savior, but someone who had just allowed himself far too much.
A couple of minutes later, she propped herself up, sat upright, cleared her throat, and began rubbing her eyes. I carefully leaned over her. She slowly turned her head from side to side, then tilted her face upward — and our eyes met. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell slightly open, but she didn't make a sound — she just stared at me, trying to process what she was seeing. Then she looked down, noticed she was completely naked, instantly oriented herself, grabbed one of the crumpled napkins on the table, but slipped on the smooth surface of the notebook sheet, fell softly onto it, and, already lying down, covering her most intimate parts, continued to gaze at me in silence.

The awkward pause stretched for several seconds. Then she spoke — restrainedly, but with that familiar commanding edge:

— Where am I? Where are my clothes? And why are you so big?

— I-I-I… — my voice treacherously trembled and faltered with excitement.

— Regina, just don't panic, — I forced out.

— I'm listening to you, — she replied sternly, and in her tone I heard the steel I knew so well from her lectures.

I had expected anything: screaming, panic, attempts to run away. But for her to maintain icy composure in this situation — that I hadn't anticipated.

— Regina, it's not that I'm big — it's that you're small. There was an accident. When I found you, you were already in this state.

— And you undressed me? You dirty pervert? — she furrowed her brows angrily, but somehow that very image — her angry little face clutching the napkin — made my arousal flare up anew.

— No, no, what are you saying! It seems the fumes only affect living organisms. Your clothes were left lying on the lab floor. I found you unconscious and decided to bring you home — I thought you'd be safer here. I rent the apartment alone, no one will disturb us.

She gripped the edges of the napkin tightly, pressing it against her bare body, and stared into space for a few seconds, processing the information.

— I remember something… The lab's ventilation was broken. I must have inhaled the fumes and passed out.

— Yes. That's exactly where I found you — under a pile of clothes.

— Does anyone else know about what happened? — she drilled me with her gaze again.

— No, no one. I returned the keys to the concierge and told him you'd left for the weekend.

— Well, you're resourceful! — a faint note of approval sounded in her voice, but she kept her eyes fixed on me. — But where's my phone?

I suddenly went cold.

— And what about my clothes? Did you take them?

I smiled guiltily and realized I'd completely forgotten about that.

She rolled her eyes.

— Great. What will the cleaning lady think? That some lab assistant left the lab stark naked, driven mad by the heat? And when they check who was scheduled to work, they'll figure out it was me. Can you imagine: I run away from work and leave my underwear on the floor? Or when they remember you came by, there could be much worse questions.

I guiltily hung my head and tried to mumble something in my defense, but she cut me off:

— Fine, I understand. You encountered something incredible and couldn't know everything in advance or plan ahead. Especially when you suddenly had a beautiful naked girl in your hands, — she winked one eye.

I felt embarrassed, and a nervous chuckle escaped my throat. I was amazed by her composure. She lay naked in an unfamiliar place, shrunk to nearly doll-size, yet she was joking and speaking sternly, without losing a single ounce of that professorial tone she used in lectures.

— You probably felt me up and examined every inch while I was out cold? — she raised an eyebrow. — By the way, what's your name? I forgot.

And then it hit me: she had never called me by name. Not even during work — just "student," "boy," or "colleague" when I said something that showed my knowledge of chemistry.

— Scott. Scott Petersen. And I didn't feel you up, — I protested.

— Right, Petersen! — she snapped her fingers. — Okay, don't be embarrassed. I understand you, — she began looking around, assessing the surroundings. — Since I'm temporarily out of full human life, you're obliged to help me.

She looked me straight in the eyes. I nodded.

— First: you need to get into the lab, into the lost and found room, and find my phone. I need to warn my family that I've gone on vacation, — she made air quotes with both hands, causing the napkin to slip and expose her breasts with their small, sharp nipples. Like a gentleman, I quickly covered my eyes with my palm. She smirked and adjusted the napkin again. — Then you need to bring all my notes and some of my reagents from the lab here, to your place. I can't go to my apartment anymore — the neighbors might call the police.

She looked around, rose to her feet, and, covering her chest and lower abdomen with the napkin, began pacing across my desk, completely unconcerned that her back and buttocks were exposed.

— Here we need to set up a laboratory, — she continued, walking between my books and pens. — And try to replicate the experiments with osmopentane that I invented. If there's such a side effect, there must be a reverse one.

She walked thoughtfully, hugging herself over the napkin, and suddenly, in one moment, glanced at the mirror standing on the table and noticed that I was staring at her butt.

— Are you even listening to me?! — she snapped sternly and tried to cover her buttocks with her open palm. — Stop drooling! We need to act now. Provide me with living conditions suited to my new size. Especially a place to sleep.

She looked very stern, marching across the table and counting on her fingers:

— A place to sleep, a toilet, a wash would be nice, and of course, food.

In my head, I was already thinking about what boxes and containers I could adapt to make my little instructor comfortable.

— And when I have places adapted to my size for eating, hygiene, and sleeping, — she paused and gave me a sly look, — when I fall asleep, you can do your "dirty business" looking at my naked body. But only with your eyes — no hands, no groping! And only when I'm fast asleep. Otherwise, my fragile nervous system won't survive the sight.

She smiled and laughed. I blushed to the roots of my hair.

— Oh, come on, don't be shy, — she waved her hand. — I'm a scientist, and I fully understand what hormones are raging in the bodies of eighteen-year-old guys, especially those who live alone, and especially when they see an attractive naked girl in front of them.

She winked again. I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off again, trying to wrap the napkin around herself so that it covered everything at once.

— And I need some clothes. Because if I stay like this, you won't be able to help me — all your thoughts will be elsewhere.

She futilely tried to secure the napkin around her waist so that it covered all areas equally well, but she couldn't manage it. Then she gave me a reproachful look, sniffed the air, and grimaced:

— What the hell? What's this sticky stuff?! I'm covered in it!

In that instant, she realized what it was, and her gaze shifted to the several crumpled napkins lying nearby in the same sticky goo, then she stared at me sternly.

I smiled and blushed deeply again.

[kintsugi]

We're invested

[NeiroShrunker]

I was deeply shaken to the core. In this incredible state — less than fifteen centimeters tall, completely naked, in a stranger's house, in the hands of an almost unfamiliar guy — she maintained icy composure and unwavering confidence. She gave orders clearly, strictly, without a shadow of doubt that they would be carried out. It never even crossed her mind that this huge young man who had never had a girlfriend might suddenly change his mind about helping and decide to turn her into his toy or pet. Her voice carried such authority that I felt not like a savior, but rather like her subordinate — and, strangely enough, it didn't even annoy me.
But I was surprised at myself too. Looking at this chance — to find myself in a position of absolute dominance over a small, defenseless woman — I couldn't even imagine harming her or taking advantage of her helplessness. From the very beginning, some internal mechanism of protection and assistance had kicked in within me. I perceived her not as an object for pleasure, but as a person in trouble who needed support. Without any hope of reward. Simply because it was the right thing to do.
So immediately after that awkward scene with the soiled napkins, when we both sheepishly averted our eyes, Regina, having recovered from her embarrassment, ordered sternly:
— Get me a hot shower. And find something I can use instead of clothes.
I scurried into the bathroom, plugged the sink drain with the stopper, and turned on a thin stream of warm water. Then I poured a little shower gel into a small plastic cap and placed it on the edge of the sink so she could easily reach it. Returning to the room, I announced solemnly:
— The bath is ready. You can use it.
Regina was sitting on the edge of the table, covering herself with a fresh napkin, and rolled her eyes with an expression as if I'd just said the stupidest thing imaginable. And only at that moment did it dawn on me: to get to the bathroom, she needed to cover an entire route that, in her current state, turned into an obstacle course with dangerous chasms between tables, chairs, and thresholds.
— Oh, sorry, — I scratched the back of my head and awkwardly extended my palm toward the edge of the table. — All aboard, — I said with irony and a crooked smile.
Regina, without saying a word, deftly slid into my palm. And although she was covered from the front by the napkin, I could clearly feel the velvety skin of her buttocks against my palm. It was an incomparable sensation — when she shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and I felt her soft curves, clinging to my rough skin, part slightly, giving me an almost dizzying pleasure. A hot wave ran through my body, and for a moment I held my breath, trying not to reveal my arousal.
I carefully carried her to the improvised bath and set her on the edge of the ceramic sink. She immediately threw off the napkin, turned her back to me, and gracefully slid into the small puddle of warm water that had already collected from the open tap. Standing up to her full height, she covered her chest with one hand, waved to me with the other, and with a slight smile said:
— You're free to go.
I caught myself standing with my mouth open, shamelessly staring at her. I had to quickly cover my mouth with my hand, turn away, and force out:
— Okay, I'm going. Call me when you're done. I'll prepare us something to eat in the meantime.
— Scott! — she called out to me when I was already heading for the door.
I stopped, without turning around.
— Don't forget about the clothes.
— Okay. I'll think of something, — I replied, feeling everything inside me turn over at the realization that this tiny, authoritative woman had just completely trusted me, and I had no right to let her down.
Looking into the kitchen, I began frantically figuring out what to feed my tiny fairy so that the food wouldn't harm her miniature teeth and tiny stomach. I settled on creamy cheese soup — it could be cooked in half an hour, and all the ingredients were readily available. The second issue was more complicated: I needed to arrange tableware. I made a plate from a metal lid from a spice jar, but the spoon took some work. It was a real piece of engineering art: I cut a piece of plastic from a drinking straw, heated it over a gas burner, and, while the plastic hadn't hardened yet, quickly gave it a concave shape. The result was a miniature spoon — quite an acceptable size for Regina's height. Then I tore off a square of non-woven dry napkin and picked out a small elastic band that, according to my calculations, could secure the napkin around her waist.
And so the soup was ready, the table was set. The princess's dress awaited its owner.
I walked over to the bathroom and through the sound of running water heard a gentle voice — Regina was quietly humming some melody about tender love. Her voice, which had become slightly higher than when she was of normal height, sounded unusual, as if a fairy-tale fairy had taken up residence in my bathroom. Without crossing the threshold, I reached out and carefully placed her new outfit on the edge of the sink.
In the kitchen, I set up a small shot glass near a tea box — this was an improvised table and chair, which in turn stood on my kitchen table opposite my place. I poured soup for myself and my guest, placed my spoon nearby — which, I admit, I was proud of — and started scrolling through reels on my phone, waiting for Regina to finally finish her bath.
After about ten more minutes, a thin voice came from the bathroom:
— Scott! Scott, I'm ready!
I hurried to the bathroom. Regina greeted me like a Greek goddess in a toga made of a napkin, belted with an elastic band that sat perfectly on her sculpted figure. She looked almost like an antique statuette — miniature, elegant, but at the same time alive and strict. I decided to make an awkward compliment and drawled:
— Oh, it suits you.
She frowned.
— You need to find a different shampoo for me. This one is no good. And I'll need body cream so my skin doesn't dry out completely and crack.
I pulled out a cream from the top drawer and, unable to resist, said I'd be happy to help if she needed it rubbed into her back. She just rolled her eyes with an expression as if I'd said the stupidest thing imaginable, but at the corners of her lips a barely noticeable smile flickered.
I carried her to the table — and this could already be called dinner, since twilight was gathering outside the window. Regina walked around her spot, sniffed the soup, tried sitting on the shot glass.
— Well, not bad at all, — she said appraisingly. — And the soup smells delicious. I'm starving.
She took the spoon, twirled it in her hands, testing it out, and I noticed it was a bit too big for her palm. I said awkwardly:
— I thought you were a little bigger, so that's why it turned out this way.
Regina smiled — for the first time all evening, softly and warmly.
— The fact that you made it at all really impresses me. You tried, and it looks quite decent. At least I won't have to eat with my hands.
We began eating dinner in silence. I ate carefully, understanding that any of my sighs or gurgles might cause discomfort to my guest. And she, without looking at me, was putting away spoonful after spoonful, as if she hadn't eaten in days. When her plate was empty, she began watching me eat — with the curiosity of a scientist studying a newly discovered extinct species of giant beast.
— Scott, — she began, and in her voice I heard the familiar businesslike steel. — Starting tomorrow, we have a lot of work ahead of us. We need to figure out how this happened. Which specific drugs in that mixture produced this effect. And calculate the reverse reaction to create an antidote. I'll need your hands and your head. You're the best in your class, and I'm lucky that I chose you as my assistant.
I nodded silently, feeling pride spreading inside me from her words.
— Help me, — she continued, looking me straight in the eyes, — and I'll help you. I'll put in a good word for you, and your career as a chemist will skyrocket.
I suddenly choked on my soup. How could she, an ordinary institute instructor, ensure a dizzying career for me? As if reading my thoughts, she immediately replied:
— Even though I'm just a teacher now, before that I moved in the circles of the country's best chemists. I worked for a large pharmaceutical company together with my ex-boyfriend. Then… — she paused for a moment, losing the thread, — well, later circumstances happened that led to both of us quitting, and then we broke up. But we became competitors. The drug I'm developing, and which you also had a hand in, could cause a revolution in medicine. My ex-boyfriend decided to sell our developments to a large corporation. But I want this drug to become the property of the majority, so that everyone can afford it in their hour of illness.
She paused and looked at me with unexpected seriousness.
— So you have to help me not only regain my normal height, but also complete my work. And I'll keep my promise, — she winked at me, and there was so much confidence in that gesture that I couldn't help but smile back.
Then she suddenly dropped her elbows onto the table, propped her chin on her palms, and looked at me playfully, almost coquettishly, from below.
— Scott? Can I ask you one immodest question?
I froze, stopping my chewing. Something in her tone made my heart skip a beat.
— Alright, go ahead, — I said warily, trying to remain calm.
Her elbows slid slightly apart on the slippery surface of the box, and she, looking at me through the damp strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes, stared at me with a strange, piercing, but at the same time curious gaze.
— Scott… — she drawled thoughtfully. — Why were those napkins dirty?
I choked on air and instantly turned crimson to the roots of my hair.
— No, no, I know what you did with them. Or what you wiped with them, — she spoke slowly, savoring every word. — What interests me is something else: why were they still wet? Did you do it while I was unconscious? Took advantage of the moment?
I was literally burning with shame, the air had run out in my lungs, and my heart was pounding somewhere in my throat.
— No! No, it never even crossed my mind! — I blurted out, gasping. — I mean… it did cross my mind… but I didn't do it! Not at all! I barely touched you, well, I looked a little — that's all! But to… oh God, no! How could you even think that?!
Regina squinted slyly again, and mischievous sparks danced in her eyes.
— So you didn't take the opportunity to masturbate while looking at a naked girl? Or am I not attractive to you as a woman? Although… — she paused, giving me an appraising look, — judging by the way you look at me, I wouldn't say that. And the napkin was still sticky when I grabbed it. So it happened quite recently.
I floundered, trying to weasel out, frantically searching for words to prove my innocence. After all, I was telling the truth! I hadn't done anything like that! But the words got stuck in my throat, and I realized that the more I tried to justify myself, the guiltier I looked.
— I… I… — I finally forced out. — Even though I was late, before going to the lab, I did it. At home. Because… being near you in the lab, I got very aroused, and it interfered with my work.
Regina suddenly fell silent. A tense silence hung in the air, and I felt the ground slipping from under my feet.
— Really? — she asked quietly.
— Yes. Not only did I do it, but I also imagined you in my fantasies, — I blurted out in one breath, and only when the words left my lips did I realize I'd said too much.
Regina smiled strangely — in that smile, surprise, curiosity, and something else I couldn't decipher were mixed.
— I don't know whether to be happy or not, — she said thoughtfully. — And what am I supposed to do with this information now?
She suddenly became very serious, and I panicked, pulling my hands away from my burning face, feeling the heat spreading down my neck.
— Regina, what's wrong with you? Did I say something wrong? Sorry for my tone! — I covered my face with my palms again. — You dragged me into this conversation yourself!
— Yes, I know, — her voice softened, became almost apologetic. — It's just that I don't understand what's happening to me yet. This drug not only changed my height but also affected my inner sensations. I'm not usually like this… — she hesitated. — I don't usually ask guys about their intimate affairs.
She said this already softly, trying to lighten the mood, and in her voice I heard sincere fatigue.
— You were honest with me, and I'll be honest with you too, — she continued. — This drug causes waves of arousal in me. Sometimes weak, sometimes very strong. And even now, when I was asking you those inappropriate questions, I felt arousal rising through my body in a wave — from the bottom up, burning every cell. And I can't do anything about it.
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
— I'll control myself. I'll observe my feelings. I'm a scientist, after all, — she smiled with the corners of her lips. — And I'll try not to embarrass you with my questions anymore.
I looked at her. On her tiny, beautiful face, a charming, almost childlike smile suddenly shone, and I couldn't help but laugh — the tension dissipated like thunder after a clear sky.
— Agreed, — I said and carefully extended my finger to her.
She grabbed it with both palms and shook it firmly — so seriously and businesslike that it looked incredibly touching.
— Scott, thank you for dinner. It was very tasty, — she said, and I felt a warm wave of pride swell inside me. Regina was the first girl who had ever thanked me for a home-cooked meal.
— And now, — she businesslike folded her arms across her chest, — I need a pencil and a notebook. Since I don't have my phone yet, I need to write down some formulas that are still spinning in my head so I don't forget them.
I carried her to my desk, cut off a piece of a pencil with a knife so she could hold it (with difficulty, but she managed), and set aside one of my notebooks for her. While she, immersed in her notes, was carefully writing tiny symbols, I set about arranging her sleeping place.
For a bed, I adapted an open plastic lunch container. Inside, I placed a small towel rolled up — that became the mattress. On top, I covered it with a clean handkerchief as a blanket. From several cotton pads, which I usually used for nosebleeds, I formed neat little pillows. It turned out to be a quite cozy nest for my tiny guest.
When I finished, I collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, running through tomorrow's plan in my head. I had to sneak into the university and retrieve Regina's things — her phone, clothes, notes. And do it so that no one would suspect anything. Regina finished her notes and, putting down the pencil, stretched.
— Scott! — she called out in a ringing voice. — I want to sleep!
I got up from the bed and carefully carried her to the prepared bed. She looked around the container, touched the improvised mattress, pressed the cotton pad pillow.
— Oh, very cozy. Quite comfortable, — she nodded approvingly and, climbing inside, settled in more comfortably. — You go to sleep too. Tomorrow I need my things, — she mock-threateningly shook her finger at me, and in that gesture there was so much familiar professorial strictness that I couldn't help but smile.
— Yes, okay. I'm just thinking through the plan to storm the university, — I tried to joke, but the joke fell flat and clumsy.
— Turn off the light, Scott. We both need to rest.
I clicked the switch, took off my pants and T-shirt, and crawled under the blanket. In the silence of the room, I heard a light rustling — Regina was taking off her napkin. The sound was so quiet and intimate that it took my breath away.
— Good night, Regina, — I whispered into the darkness.
— Good night, Scott, — came the reply, and in her voice I heard weary tenderness.
Regina opened her eyes. The room was flooded with bright sunlight, and for a moment she thought that everything from yesterday was just a delirious dream, that she was back to her normal height, that it was all just a figment of her imagination. But she lowered her gaze and saw a blanket made of a handkerchief, pillows made of cotton pads, and reality crashed down on her with renewed force. This was not a dream. This was her new life.
She stood up, stretching gracefully like a cat, working out her stiff muscles. Every movement was accompanied by a pleasant lightness in her body. She climbed out of the container and was surprised to find that her bed was no longer where it had been yesterday, but right on the desk — in the most visible spot. Nearby lay a neat bowl of berries, a piece of cake, and a thimble filled to the brim with orange juice.
— Scott? — she called, looking around. — Scott!
Silence. No one answered.
She walked over to the bowl, took a large strawberry with both hands, and bit into it. Sweet juice squirted out, ran down her fingers, then down her chin and further — down her chest, in thin streams flowing toward her stomach. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste and this morning moment of peace. Walking a little further across the table, she noticed a bright sticky note on the computer monitor:
"Regina, I didn't wake you and went to get your things. Everything you need you'll find on the table. P.S. The water in the bowl is heated."
She turned around and saw a deep ceramic bowl for melting chocolate, standing over a dying flat candle. Steam rose from the water in a thin stream, and the scent of sandalwood spread through the air.
— Oh, Scott… I'm lucky to have you, — she whispered, and a warm smile played on her lips.
Improvised steps led up to the bowl — jars of different sizes, carefully arranged one above the other. Regina, stepping lightly with her bare feet, climbed to the edge and, kneeling down, carefully touched the water with the tip of her thumb. The water turned out to be perfect — warm, gentle, as if made for her. The surface trembled slightly from the soapy foam, which smelled so delicious that it made her head spin.
She sat down, lowering her legs into the water, and felt the warmth rise through her body. Then, taking a deep breath, she submerged completely. For a moment, the world disappeared — only the water and silence remained. When she surfaced, she leaned back and relaxed. All problems, all worries receded, dissolving in this moment of absolute peace.
Lightness washed over her completely. Warmth spread through every cell of her body, relaxing muscles, releasing tension. She let go of her hands and was surprised to realize that the water was holding her on the surface — a slight surface tension gently pushed her body upward, not letting her sink. She closed her eyes, and the soapy foam surrounded her on all sides, enveloping her in a cloud of aromas and weightlessness.
She decided to try — could she stay on the surface without using her hands? At first, she simply placed her palms on her chest, feeling the water gently rocking her. But without realizing it, her fingers began to move — slowly, almost mechanically massaging her breasts in circular motions.
A wave of arousal spread through her entire body, starting somewhere deep in her lower abdomen and rising higher and higher, burning every cell. She was in an almost trance-like state — her mind was drifting, and her body was living its own life. Her right hand slowly slid down to her stomach, and then lower — to her smoothly shaved pubic area.
Every touch caused an ecstatic sensation that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Regina had never experienced anything like this before. Her body was burning, her mind had literally dissolved into the universe, and she felt like a small deity immersed in divine ecstasy of self-love. Her fingers moved faster and faster, her breathing became ragged, and she was already on the edge when suddenly…
The slam of the front door shattered the silence, bringing her back to reality.
— Scott! Scott! Are you here? — a male voice came from somewhere in the hallway.
Regina's vision went dark. Her heart missed a beat, then began pounding at a frantic speed.
Damn! I need to get out! Hide! Why didn't he say someone might come?!
— Scott, I couldn't reach you on the phone, so I came early, — the voice was getting closer, now coming from the kitchen.
Regina frantically grabbed the edge of the bowl with her hands, trying to pull herself up. But her legs were slippery from the foam, and every time she tried to climb over the rim, she slid back, falling into the water with a loud splash. Panic was rising. Her heart was pounding so hard that it seemed its beating could be heard in every room.
They can't see me! They can't!
She gathered all her strength, dug her fingers into the ceramic edge, pushed off with her legs with all her might, and almost pulled herself up on her arms. At that moment, a tanned guy in a denim jacket and a baseball cap walked into the room, looking around curiously.
From fright, Regina's hands slipped. She flipped in the air and with a loud, deafening "splash!" crashed back into the water.
The guy sharply turned toward the sound. He walked over to the bowl, leaned over it, and his eyes widened to the limit.
— My God… who are you?!