Trick Arrow 3

Tentatively, Kate approached the table leg. It was metal and smooth and round, and normally she’d have said it was slender but now it was slightly wider than her body. And it was all that connected her position on the floor, with the hope of an arrow that would turn her back to normal size.

No one had to know.

A random bark came from downstairs, Lucky reacting to something in his dreams, and quickly spurred Kate into action. She hurried to the table leg, and poked it with one hand; gasping, she snatched her hand back. Metal could get cold sometimes.

She made a face. Still, not seeing any option, she awkwardly pressed her body to the cold metal, biting her lip and trying to get a decent grip on the tree-trunk sized table leg.

Climbing was slow going. She squeezed her bare thighs around the table leg, and did the same with her arms, relying on friction and a prayer to keep herself in place. She wriggled, and shifted, and slowly began to ascend.

“Just like climbing a tree,” she murmured. “You can do that. Yeah. Just like climbing a tree.”

She’d trained for a lot of events - she more than had the fitness level to manage such a climb. Though, as Kate couldn’t help but remind herself, climbing a tree had never involved her pussy dragging against a smooth table leg for minutes on end.

Just don’t get distracted. She could do this.

Kate kept up her slow climb. After a few minutes, she tilted her head back a little, looking with wide eyes at how much further there was to go. Then she made the mistake of looking down.

Kate swallowed, and leaned in, curling her head up and closing her eyes and redoubling her grip.

She wasn’t scared of heights. It was just that she normally didn’t expect heights on that level to be in her own apartment.

“Look on the bright side,” Kate murmured to herself. She **** a smile. “It means you’re over halfway. You can do this.”

Trying her hardest to stay optimistic, Kate kept climbing. She adjusted her hips, trying to avoid more awkward friction, and then squeaked as she almost slid down a little - carefully, she squeezed her legs tightly again, and tried to ignore any awkwardness as she resumed going up.

A squeak escaped her lips when she bumped her head on the underside of the table. Kate looked up, then grimaced - okay, she hadn’t thought this bit through.

The table leg didn’t helpfully curve around to stop on top of the table. It curved to join with the underside of the tabletop, and then stopped half an inch from the edge of the table. She was completely under the table.

“No. No giving up,” she murmured to herself.

Kate shimmied back, reaching around the cylindrical metal with her arms as the table leg curved from vertical to horizontal - there was still enough of a curve for her to keep her grip, even if the rest of her bare body was left dangling over the drop.

Carefully, she brought herself forwards, getting as close to the end of the cylinder as she could.

Okay, archery was just physics, so she knew how proportions worked - if she swung, she’d go a little further than she would if she was full sized, inverse square law and all that. If she got a feel for it…

Kate started to rock, swinging her legs back and forth, and very much not paying attention to what the build-up of momentum did to her boobs. She swung back and forth, gaining speed, eyes fixed on the edge of the table.

And with a scream that was half fear and half excitement, Kate let go, and threw herself forwards. She arced up and under the edge of the table top, and whirled around in a panic in midair; she grabbed at the edge of the table frantically, hands and arms flailing…

…and she found a minor dent and held on hard, slumping down against the wood. Breathless, Kate scrambled a little, pulling herself onto the top of the table.

For a moment, she lay there, catching her breath.

“Okay, never doing that again,” she muttered.

Then, before she could stand up, she heard a window open. Kate frowned, struggling to get back to her feet, ignoring the faint sense of vertigo as she looked off the tabletop and out over her apartment.

“Kate Biiishop?” said the distinctive voice of a certain assassin.

Kate’s eyes went wide. She looked down at herself, not sure if she was more embarrassed about the fact she was naked, or the fact she was tiny (that was a lie, it was the naked, it was definitely the naked), and then frantically looked back across the table.

She heard Yelena’s footsteps, alarmingly loud. Perhaps inevitably she was coming up the stairs.

Kate squeaked. She couldn’t be seen like this!