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.Mad Scientist 5: NCIS	By : keithcompany Category: M through R > NCIS Views: 5788 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Ziva floated down to the ground, instantly noticing the pattern in the linoleum was much too large.
Her gaze swept the lab, noting the angle up to the tops of tables and desks, the apparent height of her friend, Abby, and how big the wastecan was, now. She had to be less than a foot tall.
"Crap," she said, as Abby stepped up beside her and knelt down. "Not again...."
Even in the big bag of lunacy that was Abby's mind at that point, such a statement got her attention. She lowered herself further on hands and knees to look the 9-inch Mossad agent in the face.
"Again?" she asked.
"It's that dream, you know?" Ziva asked with a sweeping gesture to point out the whole world. "Well, Abby wouldn't know, but you do. I'm in a normal situation, then it all goes to hell.
"After I shrink, this will turn into the tennis court in back of my father's house, then you'll turn into a giant version of my father, and he'll start, you'll start lobbing giant tennis balls at me. And all I have is a tiny tennis racket to try to hit them back."
"Wow," Abby murmured, in an increasingly rare moment of clarity. "You're even more messed up than I am."
"Yeah, well, I haven't had this particular dream since I shot Ari." Ziva started pacing on the tiles. "I thought I'd outgrown your attempts to teach me... whatever it was you thought you were teaching me. Making me feel like a condemned prisoner on a firing line, yelling about my swing, my returns, my dedication."
She swung back around to face Abby. "Well? Are you going to start? Let's see, I'm too trusting, too friendly with the Americans, I have no sense of decorum around Tony, I look to Gibbs to replace you."
Whoa, Abby thought to herself. No one gets a surrogate father in the Gibbster except me. She pointed over the itty Israeli's shoulder. "Is that the tennis racket?"
"Where?" When Ziva's back was turned, Abby snatched her up in a tight grip. Aware of David's deadly skills in combat, she made sure to immobilize her where she couldn't bite.
As the giant tech carried her through the lab, Ziva sighed and blew a curl of hair out of her face. "And I fell for it. Yep. I deserve everything happening, because I was a bad spy." She was a little uncomfortable when Abby shifted her grip, leaving her looking face down over a significant drop to the ground, but soon she was on a solid workbench.
"What now, Abby-father?" she asked, rotating her arms. As she watched, the big dream figure pulled out a roll of duct tape. "Ah. Of course. Interrogation. I deserve no less for what I did to my brother."
"I'm going to have to tape you down, Ziva," Abby started to explain. To her surprise, the woman lay down immediately, arms and legs spread.
"Just get it over with," she replied tightly. Abby shrugged and taped the little ankles and wrists down. She even rolled up a short length of the tape to put it under the cooperative victim's head as a pillow.
That was a mistake. Ziva suddenly started looking at the situation skeptically. "My father never took pains for my comfort. Is this because you're still Abby?"
"I like you, Ziva. But I need your help." Abby started to explain what help she needed, but couldn't quite remember. All she knew was that she was making people smaller and making sure they could have sex.
Ah. Sex. Back on track. She picked up a small pair of scissors and removed David's clothes. For her part, Ziva seemed unsurprised. At least as far as the skirt and blouse. When Abby pulled out the elastic of her thong and snipped the hips, Ziva seemed even more suspicious.
"Wait, Father's torture dreams never got sexual. What are you doing? Where's the tennis-ball-shooting-machine gun? Why are we still at NCIS?" As Abby lubricated a tiny, rubber-tipped probe, Ziva recalled the feeling when she was looking down. She wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but after a training accident, she was uncomfortable over drops.
But she never felt that way in dreams. "Crap," she repeated. "This is real." Finally she started trying to release herself. But it was too late. The adhesive held her firmly in place.
She raised her voice, about the only thing she could get up off the table. "ABBY! Let me go!"
"Oh, you'll go, Ziva. But first you have to come, okay?" Ziva looked up at the plaintive face, trying to figure out what the hell she meant. The Goth reached down with one hand and stroked Ziva's hair.
"You're so cute, Ziva. Do men every think there's too much of you? That you're too much woman for them?"
"I never date a man unless he can handle me, Abby. Although right now, just about any man can handle me, I guess. Will you put me back, please? And stop stroking my hair?"
"That's right," Abby said softly. "Any man could manhandle you now." She moved her fingers down to Ziva's chest, lightly squeezing and stroking the breasts.
"Abby! Stop this."
"You don't like it?" Abby asked her. "I guess you're always in control, even when you're having sex?"
"Yes!" Ziva shouted, writhing a bit under the giant's attention to her. "Always. I don't like this."
Abby thoughtfully stroked the probe along the tiny exposed pussy. She smiled at the gasp it drew from her captive. "I think that you don't like thinking of yourself as submissive. Even if you really are." She stroked again and smiled wider at the groan that followed.
"Abby! Let me up! Put me back, now."
"What's the hurry, short stuff?" Ziva showed gritted teeth in a growl at the insult. The larger woman responded by showing as many teeth in a large smile. "You're afraid that you'll find out you like being topped, aren't you?" Another careful stroke, another groan, yet another demaned.
Abby licked her finger and reached it towards the wet little pussy. About half an inch away, she stopped, not quite touching it. Ziva gasped anyway.
"Oh, what is it? Do you....want me to touch you?"
"NO!" Ziva shouted, but she strained to lift herself up to the waiting, glistening finger. There were small tears in her eyes from her body's betrayal of her self-image.
Her teasing torturer finally relented and started to rub the smaller woman. She moved her attention from pussy to breast and back again, stroking, squeezing and finally licking and sucking.
The powerful lips pressed against her inner thighs, the tongue worried at her from her ass cheeks to her pubic mound, and fingerprint whorls rubbed across her nipples like an endless procession of fingers.
When she came, she'd have almost sworn that the suction from the giant mouth had turned her inside out. It was as an explosive device had gone off inside of her.
Ziva relaxed her legs that were squeezed against Abby's cheeks. Only then did she even notice that she'd managed to remove them from the tape.
Lowering them to the desk, she tried to make sure her voice was even. "Well, now I get it. I came. Now I get to go, right?"
"Well, sorta," Abby said with a wince. "You had to come to go, but you can't go yet." She peeled up the tape from the table, but left it on the tiny hands. She was still leery of the little death machine in her hands as she carried her over to the cabinet.
Abby lowered the latest experiment to the floor of her temporary storage and replaced the lid. In the darkness, Ziva started swearing as she tried to work her hands free of the adhesive. The worst part was trying to get leverage without getting more body parts stuck.
In the middle of a good rant, a voice intruded. "Ziva! Welcome to the itty bitty titty club!"
"TONY!" a different voice complained. Lee?
"Well, they are," Tony explained.
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.Mad Scientist 5: NCIS