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Justine warmed herself by the stove for a while before becoming curious once more about the unexpected visitor. Dr Pretorius had had a strange sort of case with him. At first she’d taken it for a medical bag but now that she thought about it, it had looked more like a birdcage under a cloth. Yes, and hadn’t she heard a little squeak of some kind when he set it down?
Knowing full well that it was none of her business, but also knowing that there were unlikely to be any consequences if she were caught (no matter what Ralph wanted to believe), she tiptoed back to the study door and crouched down to peer through the keyhole. Dr Pretorius was just unveiling the case and she was right; it was a cage! But what it contained was certainly no bird.
‘What on earth –?’ Frankenstein gasped, staring down at what Justine first took to be a doll.
Pretorius beamed with pride as he unlocked the door of the cage and coaxed the little creature out. ‘I call her Cleo.’
Justine clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry of shock. What emerged from the cage was either a living doll or an extraordinarily tiny woman. Only a few inches high, she wore a filmy white dress that revealed more than it concealed. Her feet were bare and her long red hair cascaded down her back. She crept hesitantly towards Pretorius’s hand before climbing into it. He lifted her up and held her out for Frankenstein to see.
Her master shook his head in bewilderment and Pretorius gave a good-natured little laugh as he stroked the woman’s flowing red hair with a fingertip.
‘She’s a homunculus,’ he explained, ‘or homuncula, if you prefer. She is, after all, most assuredly female.’
‘But where did you … How did you …?’
Pretorius moved closer to the fire, presumably to warm the tiny creature. In doing so he provided Justine with an even better view of the proceedings. She could see that Cleo was quite lovely. Her minute hands and feet were exquisitely formed, as were the delicate features of her face. Around her neck she wore a gleaming gold band, very like a collar one would put on a pet. Justine was certain she could make out the glittering of a tiny gold chain attached to it.
‘Isn’t she splendid?’
Frankenstein simply nodded. He seemed quite unable to speak.
‘You see,’ Pretorius said with a touch of pride, ‘while you were skulking about in graveyards in the dead of night looking for specimens, I went to the very source of life itself. This little pet of mine was created wholly by me, grown in my laboratory as one might grow and tend a rare flower. Of course, in this case the flower has been given a rather special diet of aphrodisiacs. It is a formula I’ve been perfecting for years.’
Cleo wrapped her arms around Pretorius’s thumb as Frankenstein bent down for a closer look. She drew back as he reached out a finger to poke her.
‘There’s no need to be afraid,’ Pretorius told her. ‘Despite her fragile appearance she is surprisingly robust. And ever so … talented.’
Frankenstein blinked at him for a moment and then he broke into a hearty laugh. ‘You old devil! Are you telling me you’re corrupting this poor creature?’
Pretorius snorted. ‘My dear chap, she is no innocent maiden. She is as nature – and science – made her. Wholly in thrall to her baser urges and refreshingly uncontaminated by the strictures of this prudish society in which we live.’
Justine blinked in confusion, not understanding a word of what they were saying. If they meant that the fairy-like woman was some kind of animal, she didn’t understand why Frankenstein found it so amusing. And what was that about graveyards?
‘Is she perfectly formed?’ Frankenstein asked.
‘See for yourself. Have you a magnifying glass?’
‘I have.’ He went to fetch it from the desk while Pretorius set Cleo down on the low table, between their brandy glasses. She could easily have fitted inside one. He whispered something to her that Justine couldn’t hear. But suddenly Cleo was undressing. She slithered out of the sheer garment and stood naked in the flickering light from the fire.
Frankenstein returned with a large magnifying glass and proceeded to look her over in detail, prodding her and turning her this way and that, while Pretorius looked on, smiling. Cleo seemed quite unconcerned by this intimate attention but it made Justine blush to the roots of her hair. The tiny woman did as she was directed, bending over, spreading her legs, displaying herself in a variety of positions. It almost looked as though she was enjoying herself, adding little flourishes to her movements. At Pretorius’s instruction she caressed her breasts, pressing them together to accentuate their fullness as she smiled up at both men.
‘You see she has no reservations about her sexuality,’ Pretorius said. ‘She is as free as you or I.’
Frankenstein quirked an eyebrow at his friend and grinned. ‘Free?’
‘Well, of course not “free” in the sense that she may go anywhere she likes. She is my creation and she therefore belongs to me. Don’t you, my pet?’
Cleo stood on tiptoe and stretched her hands up to her master. She bounced happily on her heels by way of response, like a puppy.
‘But she is happy. And she keeps me happy. Her arms and legs are just the right length to fit round – well, I’m sure you can picture the scene. Naturally, I cannot have her in the normal way, but I’m working on a device that will allow me to alter her size at will.’
Frankenstein laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You were always the more decadent of the two of us.’
‘Yes,’ Pretorius said. He took a sip of brandy and his eyes glinted in the firelight. ‘And just imagine what we might achieve together, Victor! Your first experiment was not, after all, a complete success.’
‘You are too kind, old friend. A wretched failure would be more accurate.’
‘Whatever became of the creature?’
‘I never found his body. My old laboratory was completely incinerated, along with all the equipment. It has taken me years to replace everything but I’m nearly ready to begin again.’
‘And this time,’ Pretorius said, as though making a grand announcement, ‘you shall have my help. Together we will achieve goals undreamt of by the little minds of men who dare to call themselves scientists.’ As he spoke he swept Cleo up into his hand and slipped her into his coat pocket. Her head peeked out and she gazed contentedly up at Pretorius.
Justine pressed her thighs together, suddenly struck by the fantasy of being small enough to fit inside a man’s pocket. She thought of the fun she could have with ordinary objects. For some reason the image of a butterfly collection came to her and she pictured herself spread and displayed behind glass, one of many tiny specimens to be admired.
What would Ralph think if she were suddenly only six inches high? He could bathe her in a teacup and dry her with his handkerchief. And she could wrap her tiny naked arms around his cock and not be ashamed to let him peer at her charms through a magnifying glass. Her face burned as she imagined all the possibilities.
Pretorius raised his brandy glass to make a toast and Justine decided it was a good time to slip away.