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The Adventures of Mini-Bertie

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It was the rummiest thing that had ever happened to me, in a pretty rummy lifetime. I blame Tuppy entirely. After the spectacular failure of Plumbo-Jumbo he had somehow acquired more capital to get in with some chaps who called themselves Future Shipping Inc. or something like that. Anyway, one of them had invented some dreadfully useful little thingummy with Tuppy had quietly borrowed to show the Drones. I have no idea what it was supposed to do, because Tuppy accidentally pressed a little green button on the side and made a dubious noise that I did not at all like, and then I was falling. Or at least, that’s the closest to it. Shrinking is very, very disagreeable, and you may well believe I was gobsmacked to find myself not much bigger than a mouse.

Not so gobsmacked as my fellow Drones, of course, who nearly stepped on me ten times over in their frantic search for me. I waved my arms and roared, “DOWN HERE, YOU FATHEADS!” to no avail, and was eventually forced to crawl under the wainscotting and wait it out.

The world looks very strange with everything hundreds of times the size it ought to be, and I was well aware of how bally dangerous it must be for me. But still, if I could just make it back to the flat I was reasonably sure that Jeeves would keep his head and look after me until I could return to normal. I was currently not at home to the idea that normalcy might never return, and crept out again. I could dimly hear Tuppy at the bar, wailing about maybe being a murderer and having to answer to my Aunt Agatha. I have to admit, my heart went out to the fellow despite his being the architect of my misery, but said h. was also very much concerned with continuing to beat, upon however reduced a scale, and with reducing the anxiety within its Jeevesian counterpart.

Since I promised the F.S.I. chaps that I’d keep the whole thing under wraps, I can put it down here that Jeeves and I had been on rather chummy terms since our last trip to New York. Why that should be a secret becomes obvious when I reiterate how very chummy they were. Chummy as in sharing bed and board, so I knew he’d be worried about me when I failed to turn up.

Luckily, there was a chap taking a cab to Piccadilly, so I grabbed onto his trouser cuff and swung aboard. I have to say, the floor of a cab is even nastier than might be expected when one is right down on it, and I was glad to hop out. Getting to back to dear old Berkley Mansions was an adventure in and of itself, with more trouser-cuff grabbings and nearly getting eaten by a cat and then nearly adopted when I mewed in a last ditch effort to appeal to its better nature. Really, she was a nice cat, with lovely soft fur, but I had to get home and at last wriggled free and ran away, my jacket still in her jaws.

At least getting into the building was easy enough. No one really looks up or down, so I could scurry in unnoticed. It was a job getting across the lobby, though. I knew the bone-deep aversion mice have for crossing open ground, and stuck to the wall like glue. I caught the lift at last, but had to make the exhausting bally climb up one flight of stairs. I nearly cried at the closed door of the flat, feeling like Alice trying to get into the garden, but I found that the door was set high enough and the carpet was plush enough that I could just crawl under. I did, and breathed a sigh of relief to be home, even if it was huge. I could hear Jeeves in the kitchen, and smiled in relief. If he was still preparing lunch, he probably hadn’t had time to get too worried. I wandered over, glad in a way I had never been before that Jeeves is so scrupulous about the cleaning.

It was beyond strange to see him like a mountain range in the distance. If mountain ranges hummed softly and shimmered about cooking, anyway. Well, perhaps not cooking, I think heat has to be involved, and it was a hot enough day that the whole spread was cold. At any rate, I just stared for a while, because Jeeves is gorgeous enough at regular size, let alone on this vastly magnified scale. I wondered if there were any fairy stories about beautiful giants instead of ugly ones, and pondered how best to get his attention.

In the end I just scurried out onto the floor, catching his eye as surely as a mouse. I was theoretically courting murder, but Jeeves isn’t the sort to throw things first and ask questions later, and when I just stood there he blinked, blanched, stared, and then knelt down, looming over me.

“Bertram?” He spoke softly, and I sighed, not having realized just how bally loud everything had been. And then squeaked, eye to eye as it were with certain magnified Jeevesian features. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy with his own bewilderment (not that I blame him), and I craned my neck to look up at him.

“Jeeves! Lord, it has been a day.”

“…I can only imagine. Are you all right, aside from this indisposition?”

“Right as rain, old thing, but rather dirty.”

“That I think I can assist you with.” He put one hand on the floor, palm up, and after a moment I understood that I was to step into it, and did. How to describe being in the palm of a human hand? Jeeves’s hands were intimately familiar to me at that point, of course, but it was strange just to have so much of them relative to me. It was like lying full length on him, only even more so. He stood slowly, so I didn’t feel giddy, and I hugged his thumb tightly in grateful affection.

“I was so afraid I wouldn’t get back in time and that you’d be worried.”

“Only you would think of something like that under these circumstances, Bertram.” He set me down beside the sink and washed his hands, which I couldn’t really take offense at. It was fascinating to watch, the soap and water foaming like an entire bally sea. He dried off, fetched down a soup bowl, and excused himself, coming back with a chip of soap and a face cloth. “This should serve, I think.” He filled it with warm water while I undressed, and made a little staircase of books so I could get into it. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart and slid into the bowl, taking the soap when he handed it to me. As always, the water was perfect. I scrubbed off and told him all about the incident at the Drones, pleading Tuppy’s ignorance when Jeeves frowned like a thundercloud.

“You know how he’s always bungling things, Jeeves, and he thinks I’m dead or worse, and is dreadfully cut up about it.” I paused. “Come to think of it, we ought to ‘phone them all and let them know I’m alive. No thanks to them, the poor dolts.” I shook my head as Jeeves carefully washed my tiny clothes in the sink, hanging them to dry as best he could. “Pathetic, I tell you.”

“Indeed.” He draped the facecloth over the books, and I dried off by rolling on it, Jeeves folding it over me to help. The only clothes that would fit were still wet, so I wound up rather Classically draped in one of my own handkerchiefs, but it was better than nothing. After all that we could finally get to the bally lunch. Jeeves served himself, and I sat beside his plate like a very small pet. If I was some tiny creature, he was a doting master, tenderly feeding me tiny tidbits of things, since the utensils were well beyond me. It was a bit like having a factory dedicated to feeding me, the vast, shining silver hacking portions off of unimaginable masses of food, turning them over to me. There was consomme, too, and he held a dessert spoonful of it for me to sip from. Really, a crumb of everything and I was full, leaving Jeeves to rather self-consciously finish. It really would have been ghastly if his table manners had been anything but perfect, and he thanked me when I complimented it, making a few further inquiries into Tuppy’s business interests. I answered as best I could, and accepted a literal drop of brandy (it was hopeless to make a real b. and s. at my size, then stood beside the telephone as Jeeves called round to let everyone know t hat I was alive though not quite well, and then demanded Tuppy come and speak to us with a kind of awful cold fury.

Tuppy was at least prompt and apologetic, but not particularly helpful. He didn’t know the bally thing could shrink things, didn’t even know what it was properly called, and could at last only give us an address and wish us luck. Jeeves thanked him politely and fairly threw him out. I couldn’t help but be a little nervous, since Jeeves was so bally enormous while being angry, and he saw it and made himself calm down, scooping me up and taking me to the bedroom, curling up and settling me over his heart. I could feel it slowing, and sighed, sprawled there face first, feeling safe and remarkably tired.

"Bertram?" he murmured, the whole landscape rumbling with it.

"What if I'm stuck like this?" I hadn't been entertaining the thought previously, but now that I had the time, it was tap-dancing all over the old melon.

"Then I shall help you to readjust, and keep you and protect you as I have been doing." He rubbed my back soothingly with one fingertip, and I sighed, rolling over to hug the digit to my chest.

"Jeeves, I really do adore you, you know that?"

"I do, Bertram."

I sighed. "Lovely as it is to lie about like this, what do you say to going round to the address Tuppy gave us?"

"It seems our best option at present."

"And you're bally well not leaving me behind."

"No, beloved. But how shall you travel?"

That was a question that kept us occupied for a bit. A trouser cuff was not secure enough, and the swinging of Jeeves's step made me giddy. None of his pockets was particularly comfortable, and I couldn't very well ride inside his shirt. In the end, he remembered his smallest marketing basket, taken when all he needed was two of a particular fruit or something, and lined it comfortably with a folded pillowslip and put down a facecloth for me to hide under if the need arose. I didn't like not being able to see where we were going any better than I liked not being able to converse, but at least I rode in reasonable comfort. It was a peculiar sensation, being carried about that way. Like being in the basket of a hot air balloon, but completely different.

It took us a long time to reach our destination. I had dressed again, my tiny clothes quite dry, and I had my watch, which had shrunk with them and me, so I knew it took at least an hour. I could dimly hear all the roaring and rumbles of the street, and at last Jeeves ordering a cab. Another eternity and we were on the street again, and then headed up a flight of stairs. Jeeves knocked on a door at the top or at a landing, and I heard the rumble of human voices until he was at last admitted, and flipped back the lid of the basket. "Mr. Wooster?"

"Still here, Jeeves, still here." I climbed up the wall of the basket, and blinked, looking around at a vast collection of silvery things and flashing lights and buttons. "I say."

"We are at the London headquarters of Future Shipping Incorporated, sir."

"And we are terribly sorry about the whole thing," added a young woman wearing trousers and speaking in an accent I couldn't place. "We ought to be able to put you right, but possibly not until tomorrow." She went on to explain to a degree that my eyes glazed over and I just nodded. She was clearly one of those brainy beazels like Florence Craye, but without the sergeant major quality. I managed to gather the gist, though. They apparently had to re-calibrate the same machine Tuppy had sheepishly returned, and if it had been jostled too badly, that could be all night. It was a forgone conclusion, really. Anything in Tuppy's possession tends to get sat on, kicked about, or bartered for food, and when she switched it on it made a piteous little beebling noise and flashed red and purple.

"Oh, dear." She sighed, examining it carefully. "Yes, I think I'll have to ask you gentlemen to come back at noon tomorrow. If you'll leave me the numbers, I can call or wire you to let you know if it will be sooner or later."

Jeeves obligingly furnished the information, and we were off home again. I was glad to arrive, and stretched, climbing out of the basket. "I say, Jeeves."

"Indeed, Bertram." He gently scooped me up and pressed a delicate, enormous kiss to the top of my head.

Jeeves was very good to me for the rest of the day. I couldn't read comfortably, so he read to me, and I couldn't play the piano, so he played a few songs for me in the evening, very softly. All through the evening he continually scooped me up to cuddle me as one might a pet mouse, and while it was provoking not to be able to give him a proper kiss, it was warm and nice and rather made my tiny heart speed up.

"I say, Jeeves," I said at about eleven o'clock, "Where am I going to sleep?"

"I have been giving it some thought. On the one hand, I am irrationally worried that you will smother in the bedclothes..."

"Good Lord, Jeeves."

"But I have never seen such a thing happen to a mouse, and you currently have many of the same physical properties..." He pondered it another moment, then sighed. "Also, beloved, I wonder where I shall sleep."

"Well, with me, won't you?" It came out more plaintively than I intended, and he gave me a little hug with both hands, tucking me up under his chin for a moment.

"I cannot help but worry. If I were to roll over on you and crush you, I wouldn't be able to go on living."

I grimaced, and sort of embraced his throat since it was the closest bit. "Of course, Jeeves. Maybe a little box on the nightstand?"

"An inspired suggestion." He set me on the surface in question, and shimmered off, coming back with a cigar box, several handkerchiefs, and a few other odds and ends that he arranged into a lovely, comfortable bed. Really, it was palatial at my current size, and as I sprawled out (sans pajamas), I couldn't help but sigh.

"I say, Jeeves. This is simply topping, and big enough for six of me. I almost wish you had been hit with the same thing, so we could share. Only almost because if you were this size too, we'd be sunk."

"I would think of something, Bertram," he said softly, turning off all the lights but the reading lamp, and settling into what had been our bed rather than mine for some time. I watched appreciatively, and eventually asked him to cart me over for a bit of minuscule snuggling. I managed to work the top few buttons of his pajamas open, and purred, sprawling out on his chest. It was strange and good, nothing but miles and miles of Jeeves in all directions. I sighed, and wriggled a little. Then kept wriggling because it was jolly nice. It was strange to see Jeeves flush with embarrassed lust, because it was like watching the bally landscape change color.

"Bertram..."

"Yes, darling?" I asked, slithering over to one nipple, licking and palming it experimentally, fascinated as the tan skin pebbled.

"Nothing, dearest," he murmured, obligingly sliding out of his pajamas. "Do as you like."

And so began The Mapping Of Jeeves. I scurried all over him, licking and biting, rediscovering his entire body. At my reduced size, I found that I could be ridiculously rough with no ill effect. It took a while to work my way down to his belly, and once there I turned toward his feet, blushing at least as badly as he was as I examined my goal. The bally thing was taller than I was, and I crawled toward it, full of awed curiosity.

I was, of course, quite familiar with Jeeves's prick by this point. I may even venture to say that I loved it as my own, and its habits and ways were well known to me. On its current titanic scale it was both alien and known, and my heart was pounding as I stood on Jeeves's pelvic bone, feeling the heat radiating from him. He whimpered, and I wrapped my arms around it, giving him a friendly squeeze before working out how to grip his foreskin and slide it properly. Jeeves made a strangled noise that was music to my ears, and everything was suddenly very wet. I hadn't really thought about how much of that preliminary stuff Jeeves makes, and laughed as it poured over my arms. He whined an apology, then muffled a cry in the pillow as I swung around and reached up to press that spot just under the head. It was a bit inconvenient and quite a reach, but the way Jeeves moaned was well worth it. It didn't really take many more of these gymnastics before he groaned into the pillow and drenched me from head to toe.

I was pretty well chuffed, of course, but also dreadfully sticky. "Jeeves?"

"Indeed, Bertram." He sat up, panting, and scooped me up in his hands, carrying me to the bathroom on wobbly legs. He stoppered the sink and ran some warm water into it, settling me into it and letting me splash around as he cleaned himself off with a flannel. I shivered, watching him. It had nothing to do with being cold, and I dove under the water, coming up much cleaner. Jeeves drained the sink and refilled it, smiling down at me before chipping off some soap and giving me a comprehensive, gentle scrub that made me melt like wax, moaning a little. He gave me a few soothing rubs before draining the sink again, rinsing me off, and then running more water to keep me warm as he cradled me in the palm of one hand. The first finger of the other settled nicely between my thighs, and I whimpered, bucking against it. I would have loved to have him inside me, but even the tip of his little finger would have been far too much, so I contented myself with arching up into his touch and found it quite easy to be quite a bit more than content.

My climax blinded me, shook me, and finally dropped me breathless back into my body. "God Lord, Jeeves."

"Indeed." He smiled and dried me off, carrying me back to bed. He cuddled me for a bit, but insisted on tucking me into the cigar box before he slept. I had actually dozed off on him, and just made a complaining noise as he transferred me and switched off the light.

The next morning it was back into the shopping basket after breakfast, and back to F.S.I. The same beazel greeted us, smiling. I noted that it wasn't trousers today, but a skirt too short even for tennis. "There you are! Jeeves, please set Mr. Wooster in the circle of blue lights, and we can get started."

I was a bit nervous about the whole thing, though the cool, round blue lights were very interesting, but it went off without a hitch. She shot me with the same thing Tuppy had used, only she knew how to use it and I shot up to my usual size. I was a bit dazed, but soon quite all right, and she waved off our thanks and led us out. I stretched delightedly in the sunshine and smiled at Jeeves, who smiled back, even if only I would've known it for what it was. All in all, the day was oojah-cum-spiff, with some full-sized affection, fresh clothes, and the news of Tuppy's absolutely appalling day at the races.