Feeling Small (The Loud House Fanfic) (Lisa)

The science fair buzzed like a hive wrapped in poster boards and baking soda volcanoes. Kids hovered beside their projects with the fragile confidence of people who had just discovered glue guns and ambition. Tri-fold displays stood like tiny kingdoms. Somewhere, something fizzed. Somewhere else, something smelled faintly illegal.

At the far end of the room, beneath a hand-lettered sign that read “LISA LOUD: REVOLUTIONIZING SPATIAL DIMENSIONALITY”, stood Lisa Loud herself, arms folded behind her back, eyes gleaming with the quiet thunder of intellect.

Her project did not fizz.

It hummed.

A sleek, metallic device rested on her table, shaped like a cross between a hairdryer and a question the universe hadn’t agreed to answer yet. Blue light pulsed from its core, soft but insistent, like a heartbeat made of circuitry.

Lincoln leaned in, squinting. “So… what does it do?”

Lisa adjusted her glasses. “In layman’s terms, it reduces the molecular spacing of an object, effectively shrinking it without altering its structural integrity.”

Lincoln blinked. “So… it makes stuff tiny.”

Lisa sighed. “Yes, Lincoln. It makes stuff tiny.”

“Cool.”

A small crowd had gathered. Curiosity has a gravity all its own, and Lisa’s booth had become a planet.

“And for my demonstration,” Lisa continued, “I require a volunteer.”

There was a pause. The kind where everyone suddenly finds the ceiling fascinating.

Then a hand went up.

“Uh… I’ll do it.”

The voice belonged to a boy with messy brown hair and a nervous smile. He stepped forward, adjusting his hoodie like it might protect him from scientific destiny.

“I’m Chester,” he said.

Lisa nodded once, as if filing him into a mental cabinet labeled Suitable Test Subjects.

“Excellent. Stand here.”

Chester obeyed, stepping onto a small marked platform in front of the device. The room leaned in, breath held like a shared secret.

Lincoln shifted. “Lisa… are you sure this is safe?”

Lisa didn’t look at him. “Define ‘safe.’”

“That’s not comforting.”

Lisa raised the device.

“Commencing demonstration in three… two… one.”

The hum intensified.

The blue light sharpened, focusing into a narrow beam that wrapped around Chester like a ribbon of electricity. For a split second, everything seemed to stretch—light bending, sound warping, reality itself holding its breath—

ZAP.

The light vanished.

So did Chester.

The platform stood empty.

The room went dead quiet.

Then—

“AAAAAH!”

A tiny voice, high-pitched and panicked, squeaked from somewhere near Lisa’s shoes.

Everyone looked down.

There he was.

Chester. About three inches tall. Standing on the edge of the platform, waving his arms like a man lost at sea.

“Oh my gosh!” Leni shrieked. “He’s like… fun-sized!”

“That is not fun!” Chester yelled, his voice squeaking like a rubber duck under pressure.

Lincoln’s jaw dropped. “Lisa, you actually did it.”

“Of course I did,” Lisa said, calm as ever. “The theoretical framework was sound.”

“Okay, but can you, uh… undo it?”

Lisa paused.

Just a fraction too long.

“…In theory,” she said.

Lincoln stared at her. “Lisa.”

Before she could respond, the crowd parted.

“Lisa!”

Rita and Lynn Sr. hurried over, their faces carved from concern.

“We heard shouting—what happened?” Rita asked, scanning the scene.

Lincoln pointed downward.

“Uh… don’t freak out.”

Lynn Sr. followed his finger.

He blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…Why is there a tiny child on the floor?”

“I’m not a tiny child, I’m Chester!” Chester squeaked, stamping his microscopic foot.

Rita covered her mouth. “Oh my goodness.”

Lynn Sr. crouched down, eyes wide. “Is he… is he okay?”

“I am experiencing an existential crisis!” Chester shouted.

Rita turned to Lisa, urgency rising like a tide. “Lisa, you need to fix this. Right now.”

Lisa straightened. “I am aware of the situation, Mother.”

“Then fix it,” Lynn Sr. said, voice gentle but firm. “Please.”

Lisa looked at the device.

Then at Chester.

Then back at the device.

For the first time that day, her confidence flickered.

“The recalibration process,” she began slowly, “is… not yet fully optimized.”

Lincoln groaned. “Translation?”

“I don’t know exactly how to reverse it yet.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

Chester sat down on the platform, legs dangling over the edge, looking very, very small in a world that suddenly felt enormous.

“I don’t wanna be tiny forever,” he said, voice trembling.

Something shifted in Lisa then.

Not her intellect. That remained sharp as ever.

Something else.

Responsibility.

She knelt down, bringing herself closer to Chester’s level. The glow of the device reflected in her glasses, but her voice, when she spoke, was softer than anyone expected.

“You will not remain in this state permanently,” she said. “I assure you.”

Chester looked up at her. “You promise?”

Lisa hesitated.

Then nodded.

“I promise.”

She stood, turning back to the device with renewed focus.

“Lincoln,” she said, “I require assistance.”

Lincoln blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes. Your capacity for improvisation, while often misguided, may prove useful.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.”

Together, they began adjusting the device. Lisa muttered calculations under her breath, numbers weaving together like threads in a tapestry only she could see. Lincoln handed her tools, wires, anything she asked for, trying not to think about the tiny boy watching them with hopeful eyes.

The room stayed quiet.

Even Luan didn’t crack a joke.

After what felt like an eternity compressed into minutes, Lisa stepped back.

“It should work now.”

“Should?” Lincoln echoed.

Lisa ignored him.

“Chester, return to the center of the platform.”

Chester took a deep breath, then walked to the middle, each step careful, deliberate.

“Okay,” he said. “Do it.”

Lisa raised the device again.

The hum returned.

Softer this time. Controlled.

“Three… two… one.”

The beam of light wrapped around Chester once more, but now it felt different. Less chaotic. More… guided.

The room held its breath.

ZAP.

The light vanished.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then—

FWOMP.

Chester reappeared, full-sized, wobbling slightly as reality snapped back into place around him.

He looked at his hands.

His feet.

The room.

“I’m… I’m big again,” he said, voice no longer a squeak but a shout.

The room erupted.

Cheers, applause, a wave of relief crashing through the space like a storm breaking.

Rita exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Thank goodness.”

Lynn Sr. grinned. “Nice work, Lis.”

Chester laughed, a little shaky but real. “That was… terrifying. And kinda cool. Mostly terrifying.”

Lisa adjusted her glasses, composure returning like a curtain falling back into place.

“The experiment yielded valuable data,” she said. “Though further refinements are clearly necessary.”

Lincoln nudged her. “You also, you know… fixed it.”

Lisa glanced at Chester, then away.

“Yes. That as well.”

Chester smiled at her. “Thanks, Lisa.”

She didn’t smile back.

But her voice softened, just a fraction.

“You’re welcome.”

The science fair noise returned, bubbling back to life, projects resuming their quiet battles for attention.

But for a moment, something lingered in the air.

A reminder that even the sharpest minds can miscalculate.

And that sometimes, the smallest mistake can teach the biggest lesson.

Lisa looked at her device, the blue light now calm, steady.

“Next iteration,” she murmured, “will be flawless.”

Lincoln grinned. “Yeah… maybe let’s test it on, like, a sandwich first.”

Lisa considered this.

“…Acceptable.”