The Brob Girl Ch 31: The Price Of Desire, A New Invention!

I slouched back against the cool, sticky leather of the couch, staring down at the speck perched on my chest. Another Lilliputian client—smaller than the nail on my pinky, yet here he was, grinning up at me with that ridiculous awe they all wore. I couldn't help but let out a sigh.

I looked around, trying to ignore the tiny heartbeat practically fluttering against my skin. My sisters worked the room, all Brobs like me, each one bending or swaying, draping themselves across tables, entertaining the Gulliverians and Lilliputians alike. It was the same thing every night. Each one of us dressed down, letting clients from worlds both smaller and equal ogle and revel in their fantasies. I hated it. And yet, somehow, I stayed.

I'd learned a lot here at The Velvet Mirage, a weird, twisted merit to the job. We Brobs rarely had to be careful with each other, and handling tiny folk wasn't exactly second nature. Here, though, I'd learned to be mindful with Lillis and Gulliverians, to control my strength in ways I'd never thought of before. There was a certain... power to it, knowing I could hold someone's whole existence between my fingertips.

It was always the same reminder in my head, the mantra I clung to whenever I felt myself slipping too close to actually enjoying this place: It's all for the money.

***

(Michael)

Finally. It's done.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, staring down at the small wooden device resting in my lap. It's rough and a little wobbly-looking, but it's real. I made it. My own little helicopter pack.

Picking it up, I study the three tiny propellers that sit on top, along with the small straps I'd worked painstakingly to size just right. The thing looks strange—scraps of wood, torn fabric, bits and pieces I'd scavenged from the bed Monica gave me—but it looks like it might actually work.

"I hope it works," I mumble, turning it around in my hands, checking the fastenings and the tiny makeshift button I rigged as a power switch. This idea just came to me out of nowhere, thanks to whatever my right eye has turned into. Schematics started showing up, blueprints filling my vision, guiding me through each step. Even now, just holding it, my eye is still faintly buzzing, but in a good way. This was mine, start to finish.

I glance over at Abbie's room, the door left open just enough for me to hear her quiet, steady breathing. She's fast asleep, completely oblivious to my little project.

"I guess it's time to test this baby out," I whisper, unable to keep a grin from creeping onto my face. Carefully, I loop the straps over my shoulders, adjusting them to fit snugly. It's heavier than I expected, but not too bad.

I tightened the straps, fingers trembling with excitement as I double-checked my little helicopter pack. With one last deep breath, I pressed the tiny button on the side, and the three wooden propellers above me whirred to life. At first, the spinning was hesitant, wobbling left and right like it was unsure of itself, but then they steadied, picking up speed. I felt a sudden lift in my shoulders, and then—just like that—I was rising.

"It's working," I muttered, almost unable to believe it. Then, louder: "It's actually working!"

I felt the rush of air beneath me as I lifted off the table, hovering above the giant napkin that served as my bedspread. The table seemed to shrink beneath me as I climbed higher, my feet dangling. I let out a laugh, giddy with the thrill. This was freedom like I'd never felt before. Sure, it was a little terrifying—I was, after all, relying on a hastily-built contraption made from scraps to keep me airborne—but the excitement overpowered any fear I might've had.

As I floated higher, I began to get a sense of just how massive this place was from up here. The coffee table alone was like its own little country, stretching in all directions. Ahead of me, the couch loomed like a gray mountain range, its cushions towering above me, and off to the side was the TV—bigger than a movie screen, like some black monolith stretching up into the ceiling.

I banked to the right, testing the steering by shifting my weight slightly. The helicopter pack responded, turning smoothly as I veered around the giant couch. The air currents buffeted me, but the pack held strong, keeping me on course. I floated past the towering side of the couch, brushing close enough to see every stitch in the fabric, as thick as ropes to me. I reached out, my fingertips grazing the coarse material. It was strange, seeing something so ordinary up close like this, but right now, it felt like I was exploring some untouched wilderness.

As I continued to soar around the room, I saw the open door leading to Abbie's bedroom. A mischievous grin spread across my face. This was my chance. I'd never actually ventured in there before—after all, crossing the room on foot would've taken ages, even without the massive obstacles in my path. But now? I had a ticket to explore.

I turned toward the door, my tiny propellers humming above me as I picked up speed. The thrill of flying still hadn't worn off. I pushed the pack a little harder, feeling the wind rushing by as I glided toward the door. Despite my speed, the distance was immense, and it took what felt like several minutes just to approach the threshold. It made me realize how even simple, everyday movements were monumental undertakings at my size.

Finally, I crossed the threshold, passing through the open door and into Abbie's room. The air inside was somehow warmer, softer, with a faint floral scent that I hadn't noticed from afar. I hovered just inside the doorway, scanning the vast expanse that was Abbie's room. And there, sprawled across the bed like some mythical creature of legend, was Abbie herself.

The bed stretched out like an endless plain, and there she was, curled up under a blanket that looked like rolling hills of white fabric. Even lying down, she was a towering presence, her hair spilling out around her like rivers of dark silk, her chest rising and falling gently as she slept. I could hear the faint rhythm of her breathing, a soft sound that felt like a gentle breeze from where I hovered.

The room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on her nightstand, casting a soft glow over her form. I drifted closer, keeping my altitude, my eyes taking in every detail. There was something humbling, almost reverent, about seeing her like this. She was... gentle. Massive, yes, but gentle. The giantess who'd been nothing but kind to me, even if her very existence was a reminder of how fragile my world had become.

But now? Now was the perfect time to have a little fun.

"Time for some fun," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.