Jenny in the Lab

Author: Indra

Keywords: .

Summary: While on a corporate spying mission, Jenny is caught in a new gas that shrinks nylon fibre.

The foyer of the PolyDesign Building was impressive. Jenny could tell the moment she arrived that the place was either making beaucoup bucks or that it was so likely to that investors were pumping in money with the reckless abandon of a suburbanite emptying the town water tower on his lawn to get it just a tot greener than his neighbors'. There was marble inlay on the floor and large windows overlooked a fountain in the center of the reception area. Steps lead up from the fountain to the receptionist's desk.. The place smacked of class.

Jenny approached a very capable looking Asian woman of indeterminate age sitting at the reception desk. How old was she - 25? 30? She could have passed for 23, but the way she deftly shuttled her attention back and forth between the invisible persons speaking through the phone headset resting on her pretty head and the stream of people who were moving in and out of her domain suggested a measure of experience rarely seen in college kids at their first jobs. The man in front of her flashed an I.D. badge at the receptionist, passed in, and the receptionist turned a warm smile on Jenny.

"Good afternoon. May I help you?" Jenny swallowed and put a smile on her face that she hoped did not look as nervous as it felt. If she was going to pull this off, she would have to be one cool customer.

"Yes, I am here to see Dr. Richardson?"

"Did you have an appointment?" The receptionist waved another I.D. tagged woman past her and began flipping through a large, highlighted date book.

"Yes, my name is Jenny and I am with C&R Industries?" She heard her voice lilting up as if to ask permission to be there. Damn it - 007 she was not. She brought a measure of authority into her voice. "He's expecting me." But he's not expecting this, she thought to herself.

The receptionist looked closely at her for the first time, regarding her for a moment.

"Please have a seat. I'll let Dr. Richardson know you are here." Jenny seated herself on a large leather sectional.

"Ow!" Black leather heated by a ray of afternoon sunshine burned the inside of her knee through the poor insulation of her dark nylons. She shifted out of the hot spot, pulled her skirt hem down over her knee where it had ridden up a bit, and reached absently for a magazine. She could see the receptionist continuing to regard her as she spoke to someone on her phone set, watching her curiously as though she had seen something odd or barely remembered that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Jenny consciously took a long breath and made her muscles relax. She hadn't been there 5 minutes yet and she had already succeeded in being conspicuous. Why in the hell had Brad picked her to play the role of corporate spy?

She knew. Precisely because of her discomfiture in this situation. If Brad had sent over some slick, smooth, shifty player to this building that was as full of proprietary information as Fort Knox was of gold, the whole place would have instantly shifted into Defcon 4. But Jenny was the last person anyone would expect of corporate espionage. She was the girl next door, soft and sweet, shy even. At least Jenny knew that was Brad's take on her and that was why he had asked her to do this even though this sort of thing appeared no where in her marketing assistant job description. She had agreed to do it in the end. It would, after all, be a priceless opportunity for advancement in the company. Her boss was the kind of man who rewarded success. But it still rankled, knowing that Brad picked her not because he thought her powerful and capable but simply inconspicuous.

Which was undoubtedly why she had gone out last night and blown $1200 on the immaculate business suit she picked up at Saks. That sort of power clothing was not required for her everyday toil of writing drab business plans or product impact surveys, and truth be told she did not have a real business outfit in her wardrobe. But once she had decided to do this, she couldn't help but indulge the fantasies that bloomed in her mind like wild sunflowers of herself as a killer corporate Mata Hari. Well, maybe not quite Mata Hari.

Her style was not so wanton as that. The suit she opted for was conservative, the skirt covering her legs to below the knee. She would let her shapely calves, of which she was justifiably proud, hint at what they rose sleekly up to. Her suit was not provocative in the Melrose Place office fashion manner, but she was aware enough to know that the way it draped her form flattered her, that it took to full advantage the soft curves that hid in the darkness underneath. But only hinted. A hint was enough, and all anybody but her husband was entitled to.

Nevertheless, putting the suit on that morning made her feel sexy. It was a good feeling. That feeling of soft, hidden power. She had gotten a bit carried away that morning as she dressed, completing her ensemble with a pair of small gold earrings, heels, and a tiny, almost unnoticeable gold anklet. She had felt herself growing unexpectedly moist as she clipped the flimsy band of gold around her ankle, feeling the soft silky caress of the lingerie set she had decided was a must with such an outfit. It didn't matter that nobody would know about the pretty things she had on underneath. Nobody else was supposed to know. She would know, and there was something deliciously thrilling about that.

But now those delicious, private feelings had vanished. Now that she was here, the corporate power girl fantasy evaporated like an ant in the mouth of a furnace, and she was just nervous Jenny wondering why the hell she had volunteered for this.

"Jenny?" She was startled out of her reverie by a tall, middle-aged man smiling at her. "Jenny? I'm Pete Richardson. It's nice to finally put a face together with the phone voice."

"Oh, um, Dr. Richardson! Hi! Its nice to finally meet you as well." She got up and shook the hand he offered her in greeting. He was not what she had expected. All she had known of him was that he was considered a brilliant chemist and that their few phone conversations were characterized by his quickly losing her in enthusiastic technical discourse that he seemed to assume she would understand. The image in her mind's eye had been of a mole-man, pale from being locked away in a laboratory basement his entire life, shabbily dressed and unkempt and socially inept. She had expected to meet an egg-head. What she found was a clean shaven man in his late forties, maybe just a shade too lean (what she would have called a "runner's body"), wearing neatly pressed khaki's, a blue cotton shirt, and a glow of unmistakable good humor shining from his eyes.

She felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she realized she was staring at him. She shook her head, tried to regain her composure.

"I apologize, Dr. Richardson. You just took me by surprise. I was. . . I just didn't expect. . .oh, forget it." She tried to match his disarming smile with one of her own.

Richardson laughed out loud. "'Nuff said and don't worry about it. Once a nerd always a nerd I guess."

"No," Jenny protested, "no, that's not what I meant at all. Not at all!" Richardson interrupted her, his mind seeming to have already jumped ahead to the next order of business. "Come on. If you'll follow me we'll head over to my office and we can talk about the confidentiality agreement we need to clear up before we move ahead any further. They stopped by the receptionist's desk again, and Jenny signed herself in and clipped a visitors pass on the lapel of her jacket. Richardson's tacit approval of Jenny seemed to have allayed the receptionist's suspicions, and she had shifted back into her rapid efficient processing of all the people moving back and forth through the gates she guarded.

Jenny and Richardson passed into the building and started winding through the maze of halls leading to the Fundamental Polymer Research Wing, where Richardson was officed. And where Jenny needed to attempt her mission. They arrived at Richardson's office. It was just where it was supposed to be, right next door to a large laboratory with an immense window that showed everything inside and a door with a sign that Jenny found somehow menacing but which read simply, "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."

"Please, have a seat." Richardson waved her to a chair in the clutter of his office while he plunked himself down in a large leather easy chair situated behind an immense wood desk strewn with papers, books, manila folders, bottles of chemicals, a Far Side calendar, and photos of what Jenny assumed to be his wife and kids. "Forgive the mess," he said. "I don't know how I got this way. It doesn't run in the family, I can assure you. So, no reason to not add one more piece of paper to the pile. Lets see what you've got."

Jenny felt a pang of guilt. The confidentiality agreement she had for him was a farce, a piece of trumped up paperwork to buy her an in to the building and a little time. And now that it came to the point and she had to work even this small deception on him, she felt her conscience revolt. She felt herself liking this gently brilliant man with the smiling eyes. And what she was planning on doing was at the end of the day nothing other than stealing from him. Jenny leaned over in her chair, glanced out the office door at the large glass window looking in to the lab while she opened a brief case and searched for a document with her fingers.

"That's quite an impressive looking lab, Dr. Richardson. Any chance I can get a tour when we're done?" Richardson leaned back in his chair, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh, I am sorry. You have no idea how much I wish I could show you around. Lots of fun stuff in there. But the nice people who pay me to goof around here would pay me no longer if I did that. There's too much proprietary stuff in there." He sighed. "How I hate confidentiality. Nothing slows down good basic research more. But I guess you know that drill as well as I do. And, please. "Dr. Richardson" isn't necessary. Pete will do nicely. Dr. Richardson always makes me feel like somebody's ear, nose, throat man."

Crap, she thought to herself. This wont be a total piece of cake. Richardson peered at her expectantly, waiting for her to produce the document she came to bring him. She opened her brief case, pulled out a stack of papers and tried to think of what she could do. She had her ace in the hole, but needed an opportunity to use it. She felt hot and could feel her palms growing slick. She passed the bundle over to the Richardson.

"Ummm, Pete-" she began, feeling lousier by the moment, calling him like a friend by his first name though she was ready to betray him. "If that lab is so top secret, why the huge window? Anybody can see anything in there." Richardson took the papers from Jenny and began to peer intently at them. He spoke while he read.

"Oh. Well, sure you can see everything, but on the other hand you cant really see anything can you? I mean anything useful. The window is simply a safety precaution so that if there is ever an accident it can be seen right away. Nobody can get hurt and collapse behind something and not be seen. But anything you can see from this distance is all labeled cryptically so it wouldn't be of any use to anyone." Richardson was silent for a moment as he studied the papers. Then he rose abruptly. "Will you excuse me for a few minutes, Jenny? I need to run these over to Law and talk over them a bit before we can finish this up. It shouldn't take me more than 10 or 15 minutes tops. Can I get you anything? Coffee, a coke?" Jenny's felt her heart begin to race as a new shot of adrenaline entered her bloodstream The chance she needed was going to materialize. She sat back and unbuttoned her jacket.

"Oh, thanks Pete. A coke would be great. I'll, um, just wait here for you OK?" Richardson was already on his way out the door.

"Sounds good. I wont be too long, I promise." Jenny sat and counted slowly to ten while her heart continued to pound. OK, he should be long gone by now. She got up. Her palms were still sweating like crazy and she felt uncomfortable. Without thinking, she unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it off, leaving it on the back of her chair. Much better, now to business. She peered cautiously down the hall. Nobody. She crept out into the hall and looked through the great window into the lab. What luck - absolutely empty! She glanced nervously back and forth down the hall and then she reached for the keypad on the imposing laboratory door. She began to punch in the 7 digit code Brad gave her. Where he got it, how he got it, she didn't want to know. As she reached the last digit, she held her breath, waiting for an alarm to sound, and pushed. She heard a metallic click as the bolt on the door slide open. She turned the doorknob, and it turned easily in her hand, opening into the huge laboratory.

She entered quickly, feeling dizzy with excitement and fear. Christ, what was she doing? She could go to jail for this! But it was too late now. She was committed. She began to quickly pace through the lab, eyes darting everywhere, searching for particular coded folder Brad had said would be in there. There! She saw it over in a corner on a bench by a fire-extinguisher. A manila folder labeled simply "PSX364," but which meant that it contained the key codes that were necessary for day to day work in the lab and for understanding what everything in the lab was. She touched it, opened it. And it hit her again. The wave of wrongness of it all, the feeling of being a criminal and a thief. She felt vaguely sickened. And in that moment, she realized she couldn't do it. It was a crappy way to rise in the company, the crappiest way of all. This was not the kind of woman she was, not the kind of woman she would become. Brad would have to find somebody else to do his dirty work. She was out of here.

She turned to make a hasty escape and squealed out loud. A young man, no, a boy - no more than 16 or 17, was watching her. Jenny gasped in a breath and held her hand to her breast. "Oh, God, you scared me! What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question," the boy responded. "You don't work here. Are you supposed to be here?" Jenny felt panic seize her, but she put it down. She was busted and would have to keep her wits about her now if she was to get out of this unscathed. She walked casually back through the lab, stopped at an instrument and peered at a computer screen.

"Oh, yes. I'm with Dr. Richardson. We are discussing some collaborative research and he just ran out for a moment." She began to move in the direction of the door. "Do you work for Dr. Richardson?" The boy watched Jenny attentively. There was something unsettling about him that put her off, something impish. He looked like a high school kid, dressed in jeans, a white tee-shirt and a white lab coat. His face had a few blemishes yet and still carried the awkwardness that all adolescents had to pass through, had not yet matured into the set of manhood. But his face had softened, and the accusation she first read there was reduced, if not completely gone.

"Yeah, I'm one of his lab assistants." She saw him straighten, caught the slight unconscious out thrust of his chest, an awkward attempt at bravado. "My name is Rick, and you are. . .?"

"Jenny," she replied and gave his hand a quick shake. She felt him hang on a fraction of a second longer than decorum permitted.

He grinned at her. "Jenny. Great to meet'cha! Yeah, so, um are you from around here?" Jenny caught the vibe. No question about it - he was actually flirting with her. And if she had any doubts on that score, they vanished when she saw his eyes trail away from her own, taking in her form over and over again. For the first time she noticed that in the bright fluorescent lighting of the lab that the faint lace of her camisole was visible beneath her white blouse. Heat rose in her face again, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her breasts. She took a step back.

"Oh, yes. I work right here in the city. You seem quite, ah, young to be working here. Is that unusual?" Make conversation, make conversation she thought to herself. And nonchalantly move toward the door. Rick beamed at her question. It obviously opened a door he wanted open.

"Yeah, I am young. I'm the youngest person here. I'm only 15 but I graduated from Cal Tech last spring and this fall I start graduate work. Theoretical polymer physics! You know, I already have six publications. That's very rare for any undergraduate. Do you know anybody who has written that many papers?" Jenny couldn't help the slow smile spreading on her face. My God, he's such a boy! But the clock was ticking and she knew she had to make a break for it.

"No, I don't think I do know anybody who has written that many papers, Rick. You must be very bright!" She could almost see Rick's head swelling with pride.

"First in my class!" he crowed. Jenny was almost to the door now.

"Well, I certainly have enjoyed meeting you, Rick. Hopefully we'll get to do some work together some time." Rick watched her move to leave and the bravado in his voice changed to stuttering agitation.

"Wait, Jenny. Um, wait, don't go, I was wondering. . . um, maybe we could get a cup of coffee together?" Jenny turned and stared at him. And then she started to giggle. And she couldn't stop. Whether because of the tension or the absurdity of the whole situation, of going to all this risk and trouble for nothing, it gushed out of her in the giggles. After a moment she paused and got the better of her mirth. But when she looked back at Rick, she saw she had made a mistake. If his face had fallen any lower it would have been in the basement.

"Oh! Rick! I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that, well its just that its been a very crazy day and I don't know sometimes I just get the giggles for no reason. Doesn't that ever happen to you?" Rick glared his hurt back at her, his face crimson with embarrassment, but didn't say anything. Jenny's heart went out to him. She hadn't wanted to hurt him.

"Look, seriously Rick. I'm flattered that you asked me, but you should know I'm married." She glanced down at her hand. Shit! She had left her ring off that morning, it being part of the fantasy of pretending for a few hours to be someone different. Rick's gaze was growing less friendly by the moment. Jenny stuttered to get around what must have looked like an obvious, and insulting to a kid as bright as that, lie. "I, um, must have forgotten to put. . .Um, look Rick, you are a really sweet kid, but." She saw Rick wince and then his face relaxed, relaxed back into the look of impishness she had seen at the very first.

"Don't worry about it," Rick said. "We'll just forget it ever happened. By the way, did you find that folder you looking through interesting?" Jenny felt panic begin to rise again and could hear the ridiculous sound of her own lie which was the only thing she could think to say. "Folder? What folder is that?" Rick grinned in a sly why that gave her goosebumps.

"Oh, I must have been mistaken. Thought I saw you looking though a folder. Say, Jenny, I need to get back to an experiment, but I actually need another pair of hands for a minute. Could you give me a hand here for just a second before you go?" Jenny eyed the door nervously. If anybody else should see her in there. . .

"Rick, I really need to go."Rick responded while adjusting some formidable looking glassware.

"Please, Jenny. It'll only take a second." He looked her in the face. "C'mon, as one friend to another?" Jenny sighed.

"OK, what do you need me to do?"

"See that valve on that big tank there. Just throw the lever on that while I hook this other stuff up." Jenny walked over to a long green tank that stood just slightly shorter than she did. A valve with a meter rested on top, to which was attached a lever that was painted bright red. The tank had a cryptic label that meant nothing to her. It looked as inscrutable to her as the inside of a jet cockpit, and she had no idea what any other this stuff did, but there was something about that bright red lever that looked like it should not be pulled. "Jenny. Please. Do it quick or my experiment will be ruined."

She hesitated again, glanced nervously out the window. She put her hand on the lever and pulled. Nothing happened

"It's stuck," she said, her voice betraying her uneasiness.

"No, it's not, it just sticks a bit. Pull it hard, quick!" Jenny felt perspiration break out on her head. She grabbed the lever with both hands and pulled. It gave all of a sudden and Jenny screamed. There was a deafening roar of noise and she staggered back as a powerful blast of air blew out of the tank at her. She recoiled, screaming her surprise and fright, her hair, her skirt, her blouse rippling in the gust of wind blowing out of the tank. It stopped as soon as it started and the room was quiet again, but she was still trying to over come her fright.

"Rick! Jesus! Rick! What the hell happened!!?? What WAS that??" She looked frantically for Rick, and then she saw him, leaning nonchalantly against a bench, watching her as if nothing at all unusual had just happened. Fear rapidly transmogrified into anger.

"Rick! Goddamnit, what just happened? If this is your idea of a practical joke-" A piecing alarm sounded, ripping the brief quiet left after the tank finished emptying, and Jenny screamed again in mixed shock and anger and confusion. She had had enough and bolted for the door. She reached the knob and pulled, but it didn't give. The door was sealed tight against her. She pounded on it in furious frustration. "Goddamnit! Help! Rick, get us out of here!" Several people appeared at the window, looking anxiously in, their faces full of concern and confusion.

"Relax," she heard Rick's voice say. "We're OK, and we're not going anywhere, at least not for awhile." His voice was infuriatingly calm, and he was just standing there watching her with that look of amused impishness on his face. Jenny's emotions were all in a turmoil and she didn't know whether to scream or cry. She walked over to him, her voice shaking with rage.

"Listen, I have had all I'm going to take from you, you. . .you are going to let me out of here this instant or I am going to have your job!" Rick sat down casually on a stool and continued to watch her, no longer making even a token effort to conceal the path his eyes were taking as they roamed over her slender form, drinking her in.

"Why don't you go read some more in that folder. Maybe that will tell you how to get out."

Jenny stormed back to the window and started to pound on it. "Help! Help!" she cried. "We're locked in here! We need help!" The crowd milling outside the window was growing, but to her frustration no one seemed to be lifting a finger to help her. Suddenly she saw a face she recognized - Dr. Richardson. She saw him run down the hall to the window where he looked in, first glancing around anxiously, scanning for signs of injury, then scanning around equally anxiously looking for any other signs of destruction. Finally he walked over to an intercom and pushed a switch. His voice, with an electronic, tinny tone, came into the lab.

"Jenny, what are you doing in there? Are you OK?"

Jenny started to respond to the window until she saw Richardson shaking his head vigorously and pointing his finger. She turned and looked in the direction he was pointing and she saw a wall mounted intercom. She went toward it, feeling a small relief. At least she'd be able to get out of here now. She would worry about talking her way out of trouble later. She felt a slight discomfort as she walked across the room - her damn panty hose were creeping up her ass. She stared to reach up to her skirt to pull them back and suddenly remembered she was not alone. She whipped her head around and saw the nemesis kid, just sitting there like he had been, patient and smiling enigmatically like the Buddha, just watching her. She turned away from him, her anger flaring again. She pressed the intercom button.

"Dr. Richardson - Pete, I'm fine. We had some kind of accident I think. I don't know what happened. I think some gas escaped out of a tank." She noticed his eyes widen as she said this and she felt a flutter of fear in her stomach. "Pete, Dr. Richardson, are we going to be OK? Cant you get us out of here." She turned her back away from the window and from the pimple faced boy watching her, tried to adjust her pantyhose through her skirt, which were feeling increasingly uncomfortable and constricting for some reason. In the very back of her mind she wondered idly if she had put on support hose that morning. She didn't think so, and besides they had worn fine all day long, but there were more immediate concerns commanding the bulk of her attention at the moment.

She saw Richardson conferring with several people in the growing crowd outside the window. It looked as though everybody on the floor was gathering around to see what had happened and why the alarm sounded. Richardson went back to the intercom.

"Look, Jenny, I don't know why you are in there, and we are going to have to have a long talk about that when you come out. But don't panic. If all that happened was that a gas was released, there shouldn't be anything in that lab that can hurt you." She watched his face as he talked. It betrayed agitation and she didn't feel comforted.

"Then you can let us out, right?," she spoke into the wall microphone. Richardson looked uneasy, as though he were afraid of being the bearer of bad tidings.

"No," he replied, "not right away. That particular lab is rigged with an anti-contamination device. In the event of a leak the room is automatically sealed by computer until complete diagnostics can be run to verify that there is no danger of building contamination. Its all automated. But we should be able to get you out in, oh, 15 minutes?"

"Shit!" Jenny cursed. As a general rule she did not like using such language, but if this wasn't a day that called for it, then there never was one. "SHIT!" Jenny exclaimed again. She looked down and saw long runs in her dark panty hose. This was just adding insult to injury. She must have run them in the commotion when that little punk did - whatever it was he did. But, that didn't make sense. It had all happened in an instant, and she hadn't really been banged around at all. She looked down at her legs uneasily. She could see the long runs growing in small spurts, feel the nylon running farther up her legs under her skirt. She looked daggers over at the kid seated on the lab stool, watching her like a fan in a baseball stadium. "What the hell is going on here," she whispered at him. In reply, he just grinned

She glared her exasperation at him but he had apparently said all he had to say. There was nothing to do now but wait so she walked over to a stool and pulled it up, peering out the window at the growing crowd of people looking in at them like visitors to a zoo. She went to sit and stopped short. God, her skirt felt tight! Like she had just indulged in way too big of a lunch, as she bent to sit she could feel the waistband of her skirt crimping around her waist uncomfortably tightly. She squirmed and seated herself on the stool and then made a little gasp as she saw the hem of her skirt ride well up above her knee. She did not like to show this much leg, and she reflexively tugged down on the hem, but it wouldn't budge - it was as far down as it was going to go.

"What the. . " she said out loud. She knew this skirt was more modestly cut than this. She shook her head, was she losing her mind? Had that gas affected her perceptions? Maybe she was having some kind of weird mild hallucination. She got up quickly, to re-check her skirt, let the hem fall back down to its normal length. No, she was sure of it - it was shorter! The hem rested slightly above the knee, and it had been below the knee before!

She walked around nervously, glancing occasionally at Rick. He was where he had been, swiveling in his chair as she walked around the lab so she was never out of his sight, just watching and looking as those he were enjoying himself immensely. She walked disgustedly back to the intercom.

"Dr. Richardson? Something weird is going on here, I think." She eyed the crowd watching her, their faces no longer concerned as the danger seemed to have passed, but still full of curiosity. She paused. What was she going to say, was she going to announce over the intercom to a group of 20 strangers, "excuse me, I think my skirt has shrunk?" She hesitated, then continued. "Dr. Richardson, do you have any idea what that gas was?" Richardson had been talking animatedly with several of his colleagues but he returned to the intercom when he heard Jenny's voice.

"I'm still not sure, Jenny. It could be any of a variety of experimental gases. Have you noticed anything unusual?" Jesus, Jenny thought. This whole day has been unusual. She glanced around the room, looking for any other signs of strange things happening that she could report other than comments on her apparel. And something odd did catch her eye. There was a styrofoam coffee cup full of, not coffee, but water. And it was cracking all down the sides, water spilling out of it. She reached for the intercom button and noticed that the sleeves of her blouse pulled tight on her arms, the cuffs suddenly being a full 2 inches short. She gazed uneasily at her arms and pushed the intercom button.

"Dr. Richardson. Yes, one thing kind of odd - there is a styrofoam cup in here that looks like it is disintegrating. Any idea what that means?" She shifted uncomfortably. She was beginning to catch glances of heightened interest coming from her audience and she thought she saw a hand pointing out something in her direction. She glanced down and saw a line of light ivory lace from her slip peeking out past the hem of her skirt, which seemed to have crept further up her thigh Goddamnit! She pulled nervously at the hem, glancing uneasily at the faces watching her.

Richardson's voice sounded in the lab. "I see. I think I know what it is." His face betrayed a curious mixture of amusement and unease. "There is a gas we have been studying that . . . ah, "rolls up" polymers" Jenny stared her incomprehension at him and he tried again. "That styrofoam cup is a made of a polymer - very, very long chain molecules. What this gas does is cause these chains to wind up into a tiny ball, essentially causing the polymer to shrink." He paused and she saw his eyes widen involuntarily as he suddenly seemed to notice what Jenny had become aware of several minutes earlier. She was now wearing something approaching a mini-skirt, her long legs showing up to mid thigh, he slip sticking out boldly now beneath the hem. Jenny gasped in surprise and embarrassment. She saw large expanses of creamy white thigh visible through large tears in her dark hose. Jenny heard a slight tinkle, then another, and she saw the buttons from her sleeves on the floor beneath her.

"Yes!" she heard a voice call out. She turned to Rick, feeling her fury mounting again.

"Damn you!" she shouted. Do you mean this gas stuff is going to shrink my suit like I put it in the washing machine? Do you have any remote idea how much this suit cost me?? And now it's ruined!!" Hot tears of anger and frustration sprang into her eyes.

"Yeah," Rick murmured, seemingly in a happy trance watching her. "It'll shrink like you washed it - for openers. It's synthetic, isn't it?" More tinkles. Buttons were popping off the front of her blouse now, and the pretty lace of a silky ivory colored bra appeared at the top of her blouse. She gasped and hugged her arms around her breasts. She felt a sudden pang of fear. And she slowly turned her head and looked out the window, her situation finally becoming clear in her head. The faces behind the window had apparently also figured out what was going on. Some of them were trying to look away, but were sneaking surreptitious glances, lacking the strength of will to not watch the show that was starting. Others gave up any pretense of looking away and were watching and pointing with rapt attention.

Jenny suddenly felt an unmistakable and utterly unwelcome sensation. There was a sudden decrease in the pressure of her new mini skirt around her waist and she heard the sound of the zipper being savagely forced down by the pressure. "Shit!" she cried out as she whirled to cover the gaping skirt on her behind, revealing the pretty shimmering slip covering her tight behind. She whirled first in one direction, trying to conceal her show from the crowd and then the next moment trying to avoid the gaze of the little monster in the room with her. New sounds began reaching her ears. The soft tearing sounds of fabric giving way. Things were getting gout of hand fast. Long tears opened down the sides of her skirt at the stitching and in a moment it fell to her feet in a small puddle of black.

Jenny was mortified. She had never been so humiliated in her entire life. She reached down to grab the remains of her skirt, and as she bent she heard a less soft sound. With a loud RRrrrrrip the blouse that was now too many sizes small for her nice bosom tore all the way down the back. She looked up to see the crowd, and if she didn't know better (which she didn't) it was getting bigger by the minute, as though the news of her predicament was spreading through the building like wildfire. She pulled the tatters of her skirt up and tried rather absurdly to cover herself, now standing before a crowd of 25 people or so in a lacy half-slip and bra.

She looked around desperately for some place to hide, to regain some bit of modesty. But there was nothing. She heard what was now a hated voice.

"Nice lingerie. You have good taste. I like lacy little underthings like that. Hmmmm, I wonder what they're made of. . . ."

A new fear entered her mind at this suggestion. Standing in front of all these people in her slinkiest lingerie was altogether bad enough, and she had one clasped over her bra and the other placed inefectually over her slip between her legs.

"It's. . .silk" she murmured, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.

"Hmmm. Maybe," the boy replied, "I don't know that much about ladies' underthings, but my guess is that a lot of them are made from synthetics. . . ." She glared at him. Little bastard was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. All cotton, all natural. This was as deliberate as deliberate could be. What was she wearing for lingerie? Damn it to hell, why had she had to insist on being so sexy this morning! Why couldn't this have been a run of the mill all- cotton undie day?? She ran back to the intercom.

"Richardson, you've GOT to get me out of here, NOW!" She looked down; the lacy hem of her slip was resting at mid thigh; it had been an inch lower not two minutes before. "Please!" she added, her voice taking on a tone of pleading. Richardson looked back at her, his face alternating between pity and frustration at not being able to stop this. But she noticed other involuntary flashes in his face that he couldn't conceal. The look that men have when they look at women. She saw the involuntary fire kindle in his eyes.

SNAP!

"Christ!" she screamed out. The metal clasp of her lacy, ivory bra snapped loudly, the straps falling down uselessly along her back. Jenny wheeled around, clasped the straps at her back, but as she did the cups began to slide forward, revealing the creamy mounds of her breasts and the perimeter of her pink aureole. She pulled her hands back in front and clasped them over her breasts, holding the cups in place over them. Soft popping sounds reached her ears - the sounds of the elastic in the waistband of her slip popping under the strain. She brought one hand down to try to stabilize the slip that was creeping higher up her thigh by the second. The popping was replaced by the thin cry of the synthetic blend tearing in a long strip down the side.

Before she could do anything, the slip slid down her legs with a whisper, forming a puddle of ivory fabric at her feet. Jenny screamed and instinctively moved her hands down to her crotch. Though not before she saw the crowd outside the window almost appear to cheer as they were greeted by the sight of a pair of black bikini nylon panties with red roses on them. The moment her hands reached to cover her most private area, the rags of the bra floated gently down to the floor, her breasts came out in their full glory for all to see, the nipples hardening involuntarily, pointing out at the crowd like accusing fingers.

"Please, please," she murmured desperately to the boy who was now gazing at her naked loveliness with undisguised wonder on his face, "please make this stop." The boy just continued to gaze at her.

"My God," he said at last, "you are beautiful." Jenny felt the hot tears beginning down her cheek. She could feel her panties begin to creep up her ass, could feel the inevitable effect of the gas working its last humiliation on her. Suddenly there was a click and a whooshing sound, and the door to the lab swung open.

She didn't think. She ran. She ran like a deer. The crowd was too enraptured by the sight to react quickly enough to stop her, and in the end they didn't want to stop her. She dashed into an elevator and pushed the button. The door closed and she descended down towards the parking garage. God, what was she going to do?? She was practically naked, and she felt her panties continue to constrict her. Please God, please, she heard her mind praying, let the gas stop now. Let this be enough.

The door of the elevator swished open. She stood face to face with a mechanic in greasy overalls, surprised beyond words at the sudden appearance of a gloriously naked goddess in front of him. There was a sudden ripping noise and Jenny felt the tiny slip of nylon that was all that was left of her panties slide down her legs, revealing the luscious bush between her legs. She screamed once and grabbed the greasy towel the mechanic held. Pulling it around herself, she fled like the wind.

The mechanic got into the elevator and pushed the up button. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the four leaf clover he had just found growing in the lawn of the building. Her gazed at it. And he smiled.