Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Ten.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

By the time Wilson fell asleep, his clothes were coming loose. House hadn't bothered him for another measurement, but he was probably about 10 inches high.

Wilson was sleeping fitfully on the large pillow that was serving as his bed. He hadn't woken, but he was clearly having some hellacious nightmares. House didn't rouse him from them--he wouldn't remember them in the morning if he slept through it.

House cast a lingering look on his friend. Something about letting him sleep on the couch didn't seem right. It was safe enough--probably. Wilson wasn't likely to roll off and plunge to the hardwood floor no matter how bad his nightmares got.

A thought occurred to the older man. Suppose Wilson actually achieved the 1/4 inch height? If he was still on the couch House would have a hell of a time finding him in the morning. Methodically searching for Wilson with a magnifying glass was not how he wanted to spend the next day. Not to mention it would probably leave Wilson mentally scarred.

'I'll have to move him.' House sighed quietly. The quickest way would be to move the whole pillow, but it would jar Wilson when he walked. He'd just have to pick him up. House carefully slid his hands under Wilson and got up, keeping him horizontal as he walked. He tried to quell his limp as much as possible as he headed into the bedroom. Wilson didn't wake up, but his nightmare finally seemed to subside.

The question now was where could he put Wilson? House scanned the room quickly, but due to his gender, no childhood dollhouses or anything else usable magically appeared. He settled on laying Wilson down in a clean sweater on his dresser. Wilson made a small noise, but didn't wake up.

As an afterthought, House threw a handkerchief over him before settling into bed.

-

Why was it that when you were being chased in nightmares, you couldn't run properly? Either the ground turned to glue, or the scenery refused to move in treadmill-esq. fashion. Or in Wilson's case, his legs simply didn't work right. He was barely even speed walking.

He knew it was a nightmare, but that didn't stop him from moving forwards. He didn't even know what he was running from at this point, only that it was utterly immense. The ground was shaking under his feet. It was a dirt path. He was surrounded by mutated-looking trees of strange colors.

A sprawling root leapt up from the path and wrapped around him. He went sprawling into the dirt. Trapped, he found his gaze turning back to whatever was after him.

He didn't immediately recognize the creature that burst out of the darkness. No fangs, now claws--it looked more like a gelatinous blob with smaller blobs within it. It advanced slowly towards him, making little sucking sounds as it travels over the landscape.

Just as the creature reached his legs, Wilson realized it was a amoeba, probably no more than a few micrometers in size.

-

This dream was already gone when Wilson awoke, thankfully. He had other problems to worry about.

Specifically, where was he?

Rising around him were piles of dull brown, rough fabric. Above, something white-ish--it didn't look like anything he could recognize. Wilson was basically walled in by it. It was like being in a well. He tried to scale one of the 'walls', but the material bent from his weight. His Ken-doll clothes seemed to have vanished.

His heart began to thud in panic. Was he still on the couch? Had he sunk into the fibers somehow? Or (Wilson shuddered at this) had he become so small that he had slipped through the material's weave?

Wilson hid his face in his hands. How was it possible to get so small that you didn't even know where you were?

'House will figure it out.' He thought tiredly. Not that that meant House would actually find him. If he was that small he'd probably be found and devouered by a carpet-mite long before House could begin searching for him.

"House?" He called experimentally. It wouldn't do any good, he realized--the cloth would absorb the sound.

It was morning, since light was filtering through the whiteness above him. It must have been some sort of cloth as well.

'I've got to do something.' Wilson got up. He tugged on one of the cloth walls, wondering if he could bring it down. The fabric moved easily enough.

A loud thump startled him. He let go of the cloth. The walls around him didn't move, but he could feel minute vibrations under his feet. Whatever was making that noise, it was getting closer.

"Wilson?"

The cloth absorbed some of the volume, but Wilson still clamped both hands firmly over his ears. House's voice was booming and distorted. Wilson could only attribute this to the size of his eardrums--everything was going to sound funny.

"HOUSE!" He gave the loudest yell he could.

The irregular thumps came to a stop. The whiteness above him was suddenly pulled away to reveal...more whiteness. Wilson frowned in confusion until House's face popped in to view. It was like looking at an Imax screen.

"Well, that explains why you sound like you've been breathing helium." House looked amused.

"It's not funny!" Wilson shouted. "Where am I?"

"You're in my sweater. You must have sunk into it a little before you got this small." A massive hand obscured his view of House before closing around him. Wilson felt his stomach drop as House picked him up. When the wall of flesh receded he found himself sitting in House's ginormic hand. They were in his bedroom.

"How did I get here?"

"I didn't want to leave you on the couch." House explained. He held the tape measurer in his other hand. "The good news is, you're at least an inch tall."

"For now."

"No. It's nine in the morning. You would have been this size earlier that that."

"Then it's stopped." Wilson would have dropped from the shock of relief if he'd been standing. "This is as small as I'll get."

"Yep. Now get up so I can measure you."

Wilson leapt to his feet. House suddenly turned his head uncomfortably. He grabbed a large handkerchief off the table (easily the size of a comforter) and tossed it over Wilson.

"Far too much nakedness."

Wilson took a moment to push the cloth aside. It was rumpled in front of him, saving House from another look. "Mature."

"What?"

"I said Mature!"

"It's hard to make out what you're saying, even when you yell." House shrugged. He unrolled the tape. The two inch mark wavered just above his eye line.

"Two inches? That's it?" Wilson stared in amazement.

"It means we can change you back. What are you complaining about?"

"The fact that I'm this size is still worth complaining about!" Wilson shouted again.

"Calm down Thumbelina. You'll be on your way to normal size soon." House rolled his eyes. He grabbed his cane with his free hand and limped down the hall.

"They don't make doll clothes this size, do they?" Wilson asked.

"You'll have to make due with the stuff I bought for Ken's little brother 'Tommy'. He's about 4 inches high, so I think a tee-shirt should cover you."

"I guess that's not so bad."

Wilson felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably as House set him on the kitchen counter. It wasn't just the enormity of his surroundings. The humming of the refrigerator was migraine-inducingly loud. A nearby bowl of withered looking bananas was giving off an overpowering sent.

Wilson found himself wishing that House hadn't set him down. It had been weird, but he'd felt safer.

House thumped the clothing pack down in front of him, making Wilson's legs tremble from the waves of shock.

"First we cure the nudity, then we'll work on everything else." House rumbled.

-

To be continued...