Liv's New Reality
Late at night, the humid hardwood forest outside the fort is quiet. Nothing moves. Nothing makes noise. All is scarily calm.
In a small clearing, a truck sits. Inside, the driver waits, and listens to the radio. He drinks some coffee, and smokes a cigar as he does. Out there, dawn is still far away.
In Iran, the radio reports, North American agents are approaching the man who, a long time ago, captured President Fitz Grant in Irani airspace back when he was a naval aviator on a sensitive mission. According to Central Intelligence, he's the leading suspect in the attack on the White House, from which the President was heroically saved by President Ophir of Afroasia, who is now in secret protective custody with the fellow national leader whose live she saved...
In the hospital, Mellie Grant sits still, as this report is overheard by her part of the hospital. She's still catatonic.
In the fort, all has slowed down. The guards march slower. Most are asleep. One of their shifts is about to end...
Near Fitz's bed, his house shoes are without their owner. They're soon to have an unexpected occupant.
Within the toe, a tiny portal opens. Liv falls through it...a thousandth her normal size, and clad in naught but revealing white lingerie.
She pants, and looks around. She gags, and nearly vomits at the remnants of Fitz's foot odor.
It makes sense, though, why she'd be a stranger to her favorite man's foot odor. She hasn't felt at-ease enough to pursue her affair with him ever since she first inadvertently distracted him while he was recruiting help to get him elected...
She doesn't recognize where she is. She has no idea for how long she was locked in that dimension, or if Fitz is even still the President, or if he's still married...
She thinks she sees a light up ahead. Gasping for air, she staggers towards it.
She's so small, she can stand while walking around in the bottom of Fitz's slipper. She's so small, the top of his shoe is very high up...like the ceiling of a cathedral...
A woolly cathedral...
She steps into the light. To her dismay, it's not very bright. She looks up. She thinks she sees a white cliff nearby, through the giant hole in the ceiling...but again, it's hard to tell...
Liv peers around, and heads towards one of the walls of this hole. True to her intuition, the hole ends where the wall begins. Again, she has no idea where she is. She also has no idea how much deep shit she'll be in if nature calls Fitz at any time before she finds a way out of here...
Liv sighs...and chokes, because his shoe still stinks. She grabs the woolly surface of the wall, and climbs to the top.
She can see the top looming as she climbs. The wool, despite its longer length, feels great against her midriff...and all of her exposed parts. Heck, it even feels good through her lingerie... Soon, but not soon enough for her hasty tiny self, she's at the top of the stinky pit she can't seem to find a quick way out of.
She crawls forward, to see how wide the wall is. She almost falls over it when she discovers how wide it isn't...even at her new petite height.
She screams when she falls over it. Luckily, she grabs it just in time. She dangles off the side of his shoe, looking down. She can't see the bottom...but she dreads it's too far.
She probes for something to hold onto on her way down. She doesn't find much; the outside of Fitz's slipper is leather. She thinks she's found something...but can't tell how reliable it is. A brave crusader, she takes her chances...
And, she falls. She screams and flails on her way down...
She lands halfway down, on something furry and long. And it's flexible. It makes parts of her lingerie, and skin, itch. It feels way too alive for her...
And it, moves. She screams when it takes off. Whatever she's on, it's fast. She'd like to have a word with the driver, about how to be courteous to passengers aboard passenger vehicles...
Her savior scurries into his quarters, and turns on the light. Around him, mirrors surround them.
And, Liv beholds her savior, as she does her situation. And for the most part, aside from a long gape, she takes it very well...
Her boobs and ass inflate, and she screams at the top of her lungs. She's the size of a mite, and riding atop an elephant shrew's nose as if she was a tiny black one...
Okay, fine; she doesn't take it well at all. But you know, she's fucking Olivia Pope; she can adapt to anything...
In his bed, Fitz wakes. He looks around. President Ophir is still in his bed. And she's snoring.
Fitz can't remember why he woke. He was dreaming of Liv...for a change. At least he didn't have another one of getting shot down over Iran. Although he dreads that'll become relevant again...too soon for him.
Fitz sighs, and shakes his head, trying to go back to sleep. "Jews," he whispers. "I'd expect a kosher diet to help them snore less...even if they are ex-amazons. O Liv, why can't you be my wife?"
He looks up at his ceiling. There's a poster above his bed...that Fitz can only see parts of in this limited light. By day, it's of a teenage Abraham Lincoln. He wears black briefs and a braided goatee, and wields a vampire-slaying sword...like a Lycan in Underworld, if they were de-powered... On the other side of the painting, a gargantuan mosquito stands, poised to defend itself. Legend has it that it was once a rightist heffalump, who had a bad encounter with a Dixie-wrought bloodsucking demon, and...
Right; Fitz needs to go back to sleep. And these visions will only give him nightmares, so... He closes his eyes, and tries to relax. He tries to rethink the seismic vibrations from his bed, coming from Ophir's snoring, as an attempt, by her, to give him a Jewish massage...