“No!” Arnold said quickly, and then blushed, deeply.

Amanda looked at him. “Arnold? I don’t understand. Doesn’t every guy want to have the kind of body you do now?” she said puzzled. “Unless you’re ... I mean, you’re not gay, are you? I mean ... if you were that would be fine, of course! But ... you’re not, right? I see the way you, you know, look at girls.” She stared at him, completely confused. “And even if you were, wouldn’t you, I mean ... if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m not gay!” Arnold said emphatically. “It’s ... it’s private. I can’t explain.”

Amanda sat on her bed, slowly, so that she didn’t threaten or upset Arnold. “Look. I really didn’t don’t want to pry, if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s just ... you’d never understand. You’d laugh.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“You’d tell people.”

“I’d never tell anyone, not if you told me something in confidence.”

Arnold was hesitant, his awkwardness so out of place with his powerful body. “I, uh, like, powerful girls,” he said in a soft voice, looking away from Amanda, “girls who are strong, much stronger than me.” He glanced at her quickly so check her reaction and looked away again.

“I don’t understand,” Amanda said.

“I like girls with muscles. I, uh, fantasize about them flexing and stuff and ... being stronger than me.”

Amanda forced herself to smile. “Really? Um, well, why not?” while thinking that boys could be very funny. She laughed, but quickly stopped herself. “I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just ... ironic. You’re so strong now. There isn’t a girl in the world who is stronger than you are, or who could be.”

He nodded. “Exactly! That’s just the problem!”

“Well,” she said, having formed a plan but wanting to put it in the right way. “You know I didn’t mean you any harm. I didn’t know it was yours. I was just trying it out. I thought I was helping you. But really what I want is to use it on myself. I HATE being so small and weak. I stopped growing four years ago, when I was thirteen, and even though I’m ‘fit’ and ‘cute’, I hate being so useless at sports and helpless at anything that requires a little strength. So ... if you know how to use it, and it’s not a big problem, couldn’t you just it to make ME stronger? You could make yourself weaker too, if you wanted. Wouldn’t that solve the problem?” she suggested hopefully.

He shook his head. “No! That’s not what I want. I don’t want to make YOU strong. You’re not ... um ... my fantasy.” He blushed. “I’m ... sorry.”

“Oh!” Amanda said, offended. She didn’t know what to say.

Arnold picked up the gun. “And, uh, not that I don’t trust you ... but I really feel very, uh, funny about having told you this. I had, um, some ideas about what to do with the gun, now that it’s working, and I don’t really want someone knowing about it.”

Amanda shrugged. “So, uh, you mean, now that you’ve told me you have to kill me?” she quipped.

“Kill you? No.” Arnold adjusted the settings on the gun. “But I have to do something.” He aimed the gun at Amanda.

“But you told me!”

“I know. I really shouldn’t have.” He fired the gun, and Amanda started shrinking.

“Nooooooo!” she said, her voice rising to a high-pitched whine as she shrunk faster and faster until she had disappeared inside her clothes.

“I’m sorry Amanda. I’m really sorry,” Arnold said. He reached into her pants picked her up, naked, in his hand. She was only as large as his thumb. “I won’t hurt you, but this is my big chance. You’ll be safe, I promise. But you’ll just have to disappear for now.” He put her inside a box he had carried over in his backpack, put the safety catch on the gun and then put that away in his pack too. He folded her clothes and placed them all in her laundry bin, pausing only take the opportunity to check her bra size, which he had always been curious about, and went out the back door into his own house.

Once he had stored her safely in his room with some food and water he shrunk himself back to his old size and considered carefully his next steps.