The Televerses

There was a moth on the screen. Sylvia put up with it for a while,
simply because she was too tired to get up. Only when it got to the
stage that she was no longer watching the picture, but looking at the
moth instead, did she rise in frustration to swat it. She picked up a
magazine and hit the screen lightly. Expecting to have to wipe the
screen of the splattered moth but seeing nothing on the glass, she
looked at the magazine - but there was nothing there either.

Mystified, she glanced back at the TV screen and though she wasn’t
really looking at the picture, Sylvia thought she saw a fluttering
shape and Richard Gere ducking in panic. She snapped to attention and
stared at what looked like a moth as big as Richard Gere’s head
landing on a wall in the movie, but before she could see clearly the
scene changed and Richard Gere’s attention was back on Julia Roberts.
Sylvia blinked.

I must be going insane. Sylvia thought. Or overworked. A giant moth
would not have been out of place in The Mothman Prophecies (which is
very good, by the way), but certainly did not fit in My Best Friend’s
Wedding. Sylvia tried to dismiss this strange image of the insect on
the wall, but once again the presence of the moth –this time in her
mind– prevented her from taking in the events of the movie. She rose
again and moved closer to study the screen, as if it could provide
some clue to her hallucination.

The television seemed quite normal. It looked like any other TV that
Sylvia had encountered; admittedly its remote had some buttons whose
functions were unknown to her, but she didn’t watch TV enough to
bother finding out. In fact, her last few rental apartments hadn’t
even had sets, but Sylvia and her flatmate Kellie had welcomed the
luxury when they discovered that it came with the apartment.

As if on cue, Kellie was heard opening the front door and entering.
She greeted Sylvia, whose attention was diverted from the enigmatic
television set to her flatmate, with whom she would now proceed to
gossip. Even though Sylvia found Kellie a bit light-headed and even
ditsy, she was good to talk to and they got along OK. Kellie was an
arts-and-media student – they were never reputed to be the sharpest
of people, but she was nice and their conversation was always
lighthearted – music and girlie things like boyfriends.

Sylvia went to bed with her mind on things other than televisions,
and while she slept and her brain sorted out the day’s memories, the
incident with the moth was thrown into the memory junk pile.

A few days later though, she would remember the mysterious moth.

* * *

It was Sunday afternoon, and after a week in the new apartment,
Sylvia had decided she didn’t like their initial arrangement of the
decor (actually, an article on Feng-Shui in ‘Cosmo’ had inspired her
to create some positive energy in the living room). She had removed
several items on the sideboard and moved a sofa, and she was in the
middle of moving the TV, when she noticed something odd.

As she stood above the old television, dragging it bit by bit over
the carpet, her eye caught something weird. The screen seemed to
wobble as she pushed the TV. Maybe it was loose, she thought. Sylvia
got on her knees in front of the set and put her hands on the top
corners of the blank screen, in an effort to push it back into place.

When she touched it though, her fingers pushed straight into the
screen – it was made of jelly! She shrieked with the surprise, and
this attracted Kellie to the living room.

“What is it?” she asked. Sylvia showed her what had happened, and
when they touched other parts of the screen, they realised that the
whole screen was made of this weird jelly. They discussed it and
decided that even though this was highly strange and very irregular,
they wouldn’t worry about it because it was an old set, maybe all
screens were built like that back then. Besides, it worked, and ‘if
it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, especially when you’re on a budget.

And so the even more enigmatic TV set stayed where it was, the girls
too afraid to move it considering the screen’s lack of solidity. The
room’s Feng-Shui remained unimproved.

* * *

The happenings concerning the TV set came to a boiling point a month
later. Sylvia was on her way out and searching for her keys, when she
came into the living room. She was bending over near the television
looking for them when Kellie, watching TV while cooking noodles in
the kitchen, whinged when she obscured the screen.

“Have you seen my keys?” Sylvia asked in frustration, ignoring
Kellie’s request to move.

“They’re right here,” Kellie said and picked the keys up from where
she was cooking on the bench. Sylvia groaned in annoyance while
Kellie tossed them to her, in an uncoordinated effort typical of
girls who don’t play sport. The keys sailed past Sylvia’s legs and
Kellie cringed as she saw them heading straight for the TV set.

Sylvia whirled to see the keys strike the screen, then they appeared
to pass right through it. Slowed only fractionally by the jelly
screen, they careened right into the picture. Kellie had been
watching ‘Day’s of Our Lives’ and the keys slammed into the wall
between the two characters. As the people would have been only ten
inches high on the screen, to them the keys were giant and heavy, and
they crashed through the wall, demolishing it and skidding out into a
garden outside where they snapped two saplings in half and
disappeared through a large hedge, which swayed with the impact. The
two characters were aghast and while the woman fainted, the man
peered through the gaping hole in the smashed wall out into the
garden in disbelief.

‘Disbelief’ would barely half-describe the state of Sylvia and
Kellie. Sylvia whirled around to Kellie, to ensure that someone else
actually saw what she saw, but Kellie’s eyes were still on the
screen, glazed by the impossibility of what just happened. When
Sylvia turned back to the screen, the scene changed to another one
where there were two different people in a different place, and
everything was back to normal. Soon after a commercial break came on.

The two girls did not speak for two minutes, their eyes glued to the
screen which now displayed perfectly normal daytime television.

“That did happen, didn’t it?” Sylvia said to Kellie, who didn’t
respond. When she shook herself out of the stupefied daze, she
resolved to call a repairman.

* * *

For the major part of the hours in which they waited for a TV
serviceman to arrive, the girls sat mostly in silence. Only after two
of these hours did Sylvia’s mind stray enough from the unbelievable
event to realise that she had actually lost her keys and she would
need to get them back.

At 6pm the repairman arrived, in good spirits to start with, but even
more lively when he saw that his clients were two beautiful young
women. Despite their obvious lack of cheer, he listened attentively
to their story and showed a friendly smile even with the insanity of
their claims.

“You’re not insane at all,” he said, “in fact, I bet I know exactly
what type of tele this is...” and he requested to be shown the
offending device.

“I knew it!” he said as he entered the living room, “It’s a
‘Segisant’! Haven’t seen one in years... an ‘e10’ model I believe.
Japs made it in the early 80’s... great people the Japanese, but a
bit crazy ...but great people” and he proceeded to relate the story
of every Japanese person he’d ever met.

When his conversation returned to the TV set, he explained that the
company who made it was called Segisant and that their product never
sold well.

“It’s a different type of technology,” he told the girls who were
overcome with all the new information, “instead of CRT –that’s
Cathode Ray Tube– or Plasma or Rear Projection, this TV uses what
they called a ‘Televerse’ technology. ‘Course the Japs didn’t call it
that but I don’t know the Japanese word. Here’s how I understand it.”

He asked the girls (who didn’t know what CRT, plasma, or rear
projection was) if they knew about parallel universes. They didn’t,
but they nodded anyway.

“Well, they didn’t bother giving the technical explanation back in
trade school, but they said that it was like...” and he racked his
brain for the appropriate quote from the television repairman’s
bible, “‘Even if something has a one-in-a-million chance of
happening, in an infinite universe, it has to happen’ ...and that’s
because infinity is heaps bigger than a million,” he stated in a very
matter-of-fact way.

“So that means,” he continued, “that somewhere in this universe, or
in a parallel one, there is a world just like this one but with
slightly different things happening in it. In fact, somewhere out
there, there are an infinite number of worlds just like this one, and
if something slightly different happens on each one, then all
possible events will eventually occur.”

He saw that the girls’ eyes had glazed over with the complicity of
his statements, which to him seemed simple truisms. He requested a
cup of coffee so that he could more slowly elaborate his points.

* * *

As the repairman talked, Sylvia slowly got the picture of how the TV
worked. The concept of infinite parallel universes, in which every
possible event occurred at least once, was mind-blowing, but she
accepted it for the moment. When he finished, she tried to sort it
out.

“So,” she said slowly to the repairman, but almost to herself as her
brain worked, “if something happens on TV... like someone dropping a
pen, the TV will actually show a world out there... where ...someone
is dropping a pen ...?”

“Right, bingo!” He replied.

“But it’s not happening though; someone is filming and acting it here
on Earth,” Kellie interjected.

“But with your TV,” the repairman replied, “instead of showing
actors, it automatically finds a world where that exact thing with
those exact people is actually happening, and tunes in to that. I
think they wanted people to buy it because the things on the screen
would be real and not actors. I told you those Japs were crazy.

“Oh yeah, also,” he added, “because the TV is kind of like a glass
cabinet with your scene behind it, you’ll never get reception
problems and the screen will always be clear as day, even on Channel
31.”

He could see that his explanation was not convincing, and he
continued.

“If you have a scene with two characters having an argument, then you
could find a world where there are two people with those exact
personalities having an argument, and because they have the same
personalities, then they will say the exact same things as the actors
will. So all the TV does is find a universe that has the exact event
that the actors are portraying and shows it on the screen as the
event unfolds naturally. Then, after however long the scene would
have lasted with the actors, it flicks to the next scene and a
different world.”

“OK, I’ll buy that,” said Sylvia, not understanding finer points but
happy with the general concept, “but why is our screen made of jelly
and why did my keys fall into it. And where are my keys?”

“Well... I’m sorry but your keys are gone. They’re sitting in a world
somewhere, and the people who were on the picture at the time are
wondering where the hell these keys came from. And as for your
screen, that’s how it works, it’s all in the screen. Your screen is
like a viewer that allows you to see the other universe but doesn’t
allow them to see us – ‘coz if they could then they would see these
people staring at them and they wouldn’t do what they would normally
be doing. It’s just that the guys at Segisant couldn’t make it solid
without ruining it.”

“So are the people on TV actually real?” asked Kellie, two steps
behind in the conversation.

“Yes they are, real as you and me. But they’re not in the TV. Just
imagine that your screen is a hole sitting in the air like a portal
...just like ‘Stargate’. You seen that?”

“So why did my keys smash through a wall?”

“Because here, your screen is only two feet across, but there,
depending on the distance from the people, it might be two feet
across if it’s close-up or it might be two miles across if its far
away, like from a plane or something.”

The girls were even more confused now than when they had first seen
the anomaly of the giant keys hitting the wall, and they ushered the
helpful but overeager repairman out so they could forget about it;
Sylvia’s keys were lost and there was nothing they could do.

* * *

The girls went to their rooms and stewed over the weird happenings,
but when they came out at the same time, both having been struck by
hunger, they discussed it further before turning the TV on and
watching carefully. Despite their confusion, they were indeed
intrigued, and very cautiously they poked at the screen.

It was strange – at a light touch it bent in and deformed just like
jelly but with a sharp poke it split and allowed the object, a
pencil, to pass into it. Upon withdrawal, the screen’s wound closed
quickly.

The turned it on and tried this again. Sometimes the people would
notice the pencils appearing out of nowhere; right out of mid-air, as
Sylvia understood it. Their expressions would change and sometimes
they would point it out, but in the very next shot they would be back
to normal.

Eventually Sylvia’s curiosity got the better of her, and she phoned
the repairman. He sounded annoyed at the late call, but was happy
when he realised it was her and that she said she only needed to ask
a single question.

“Well, why don’t you find the answer to that yourself? Try it – put
your hand in and grab something. They can’t see the screen –or
portal– when it’s closed, but if you poke a hole in it then it’s
like... things can move both ways then.” And as an afterthought, he
added “But remember, they’re real people on real worlds, and if
you’re watching the news or something that’s not fiction, then the
screen might actually be viewing a scene on Earth ...our Earth.”

* * *

After a night of mulling over his words, Sylvia told Kellie the next
morning, and she did not have Sylvia’s fear and hesitation. Turning
on the TV, Kellie shut her eyes and thrust her finger into the screen
as if testing cold water in a pool. She withdrew it with a yelp (but
not of pain) and she looked straight to Sylvia, who said nothing.

An advertisement for office furniture came on, and with the stubborn
bravado of a child she thrust her hand in and took hold of a desk
chair, pulling her hand out in panic as if the TV were full of fire.
The panic soon receded as she and Sylvia stared at a six-inch high
office chair in Kellie’s hand.

Sylvia reeled but Kellie was full of adrenaline and her face lit up.

“I can’t take this,” Sylvia said, and headed for the door.

* * *

Outside, Sylvia’s head was swimming, and its method of coping was
that of denial; she went about the business of replacing her keys
with peaceful serenity.

A visit to the keymaker where she copied Kellie’s house keys, and a
trip to an auto electrician to sort out new car keys calmed her down,
and she didn’t even mention the strange and scary television that sat
ominously back at the apartment to her friend whom she met for
coffee.

It would be there when she got home though.

* * *

In a light-hearted mood Sylvia slid the new key into the lock but the
extraordinary happenings inside rushed back to her as soon as she
pushed the door open, and she walked into the apartment with low
centre of gravity.

Sylvia knew Kellie was on the phone as she could hear a one-way
conversation, while she put her coat and keys down and put the kettle
on. Kellie realised she was home and snapped to attention.

“Sylvia! Hey, I want you to meet someone ...this is Tom.”

Before Sylvia recognised the illogicality that Kellie had been have a
one-way conversation to someone in the room, she turned around,
instantly interested to see the man who Kellie seemed so keen to
introduce.

Kellie was standing, but Sylvia saw no-one standing next to her, and
she looked straight to Kellie with an open mouth that was about to
question her, when her eyes fell on Kellie’s outstretched hand, which
was wrapped around the waist of a human figure.

In the first moments of a surprise, the brain scans through all the
insane possible explanations of an event. Sylvia’s mind came to the
immediate conclusion that Kellie was talking to a Barbie doll, but
this was disproved when the figure’s arms swayed into motion, waving
at Sylvia.

This was too much, and she dropped to the floor.

* * *

Sylvia dreamed of a weird TV that things were jumping out of and
attacking her, and then she fell into it and there was a rope and
buildings and a big face in the sky...

* * *

She awoke to a strong smell and a headache. Opening her eyes, she saw
Kellie’s face peering in concern at her, she had something in her
hand and as she blinked she saw it was a bottle. Kellie saw her
peering at it.

“This was the closest thing to brandy we had.” It was Midoori.

Lucidity crept insidiously back to Sylvia’s head and she sat bolt
upright.

“Don’t be afraid,” comforted Kellie, “you’re just shocked, that’s
all. I’ll show you... just relax... see? It’s Tom Cruise.” Her hand
went to the sofa behind her and Sylvia’s heart froze as she slowly
brought it around and in it was a tiny man about eight inches high.
Sure enough, Sylvia saw a tiny head of black hair and recognised Tom
Cruise instantly.

Her mouth was agape until she got the courage to speak, “You... took
him out of the ...TV?”

“Sure, I put on Jerry Maguire. It works on videos too.”

“And he’s real?”

“Totally, see?” and Kellie held him closer to Sylvia, who reeled with
caution. “It’s OK, he won’t bite, will you Tom?”

Sylvia jumped as a tiny voice squeaked out of this man that Kellie
held in her hand.

“I’m not Tom. I have no idea who Tom is! My name’s Jerry!”

“Don’t you understand?” Sylvia lashed at Kellie. “That’s not Tom
Cruise, it’s a real Jerry Maguire from another universe. He’s a real
person!”

Kellie tried to calm her and convince her it was OK; after all she
told her, he was back in the movie in the very next scene – in fact
when she rewound it to the scene that she took him out of, he was
back again. She took Sylvia’s hand and slowly pressed the placid man
into her palm.

Aghast, Sylvia looked at the person in her hand. Slowly, she came to
terms with the reality. Her fingers wrapped around the waist of the
tiny Tom Cruise. She could feel his chest heave and his arms lay idle
over the top of her thumb and forefinger. He was light – he couldn’t
have been more than half a pound, she thought, as she lifted him in
the air and brought him to her face.

Her mind reeled as she turned him around in front of her eyes. He
turned his head so he looked at her constantly and watched as she
said ‘oh my God’ and other absent exclamations over and over again.
Calmed and her thoughts in order, she lowered Tom to her waist and
turned her attention to Kellie.

“What made you think of doing this?” she asked.

“I guess I just wanted to,” Kellie replied.

“But how did you know it would work?”

“On video? Well it worked on normal TV.”

“What?” Sylvia exclaimed. “I meant how did you know it would work at
all! Don’t tell me you tried this on someone else as well!”

“Of course!” Kellie looked at her as if she was from Mars. “After I
got that chair from the office ad there was a Nike ad and I got the
bald tennis guy.” With that, Kellie pulled the front of her T-shirt
open and reached into her top. She withdrew a figure much smaller
than Tom Cruise – he was barely more than an inch high.

“Kellie!” Sylvia’s jaw dropped, as did Tom, who fell into her lap.
She straightened herself out and retrieved the man. Kellie’s hand was
cupped and the tiny man, who was barely recognisable as Andre Agassi
stumbled around trying to keep his footing. “Why did you do this? And
why did you put him down your top?”

“I just wanted to I guess... I couldn’t not try it. And he fits
there!” the last comment referring to his being in her cleavage.

“Don’t tell me you got any more people –guys– out of that stupid TV
and put them down your top!” Sylvia exclaimed, but before Kellie was
about to respond her hand guiltily moved down to her crotch, and
Sylvia stopped her with an outburst. “I don’t even want to know!”

She jumped out of her chair and thrust Tom Cruise at Kellie. “You
have to put them back!”

“But I tried that too. They won’t fit, just like your keys.”

“So put them back in the same scene you took them from!” but Sylvia
didn’t even need to hear a response; Kellie’s look told her she had
tried that too. “Oh my God. What happened then?”

“Well, there were two Leonardo DiCaprio’s –coz I did that on
‘Titanic’– and they looked at each other for a while and they were
real scared then the scene changed and it went back to normal.”

“Do you know that there will be two Leonardo’s wandering round in
that universe forever now?” but Kellie looked blankly at her,
oblivious and not concerned at all. “I wish I could think –or not
think– like you! I really do! I’m going for a nap. My head kills, and
it’s your fault!”

Kellie didn’t have time to respond as Sylvia stormed off to her room.

* * *

Naturally she didn’t sleep a wink, and she only stayed in her room so
that she wouldn’t see Kellie and the stupid perversions that demonic
TV was creating.

As she thought about it, some thoughts rose out of the waters and
jumped up like flying fish, soaring into her mind. She thought how
she could use this TV and these thoughts excited her, but they were
instantly quelled by the reminder of the impact on someone else’s
reality that this surreal and evil television was making.

Driven to frustration by the thoughts swimming around her mind and
her conflicting conscience, she got up to fetch some Panadol for the
headache that brewed, instigated by her fainting earlier. When she
reached the bathroom she heard Kellie’s laughter and her curiosity
got the better of her.

Wandering into the living room, she peered towards the TV, which
blinked away alone. She looked towards the kitchen but Kellie was not
there, but another giggle gave her away behind the kitchen bench.

Sylvia took slow steps, backed close to the wall as she walked around
the bench to find out what Kellie was doing. The sight that greeted
her was Kellie sitting on the tiled floor, leaning against the
cupboards of the bench, with her legs spread wide open. Sylvia’s gaze
went straight there, where she saw frantic movement.

There were a dozen –more than a dozen– figures scurrying around in
the open space between Kellie’s legs, and when Sylvia saw a tiny
little frame an inch high and two inches wide, equidistant between
Kellie’s feet, she realised that she had these tiny men playing a
game of soccer.

She was so involved in the game that Kellie didn’t even notice Sylvia
standing there, and she gave a small shriek of laughter when the
miniature ball was pinged through the goals that were hidden from
view under her skirt, and obviously hit her in the crotch. Sylvia
watched as a man disappeared under Kellie’s short skirt and returned
with the ball.

Only then did Kellie notice Sylvia and she looked up and smiled. It
was clear that the latter was disapproving, but Kellie’s merriness
persisted.

“You’re too up-tight Sylvia,” she said, “don’t worry so much. These
guys are having fun. What’s the problem?”

Sylvia didn’t respond. In fact she did see the fun in it; she just
couldn’t bring herself to approve. A few moments later the ball
rocketed past the opposite goals –Kellie’s feet end– and bounced far
into the kitchen.

“Could you get that Sylvia? I can’t get up and it’ll take one of them
ages to run that far...” Kellie looked up at her, and the tiny men
all stopped and looked up expectantly. Sylvia suddenly felt
embarrassed, being looked at by so many people and she was in a daggy
tracksuit. Her anger at Kellie returned and she looked away.

She heard a sigh and when she looked back one of the men was running
halfway across the kitchen, she could hear tiny little playful shouts
and jeers at the teammate and she felt sorry that she was being such
a stick-in-the-mud. Crossing the floor, she dropped to her knees and
picked up the tiny ball in her fingernails and it rolled into her
palm. The man was still a foot from the ball, but now he was two feet
from the game. Urging herself to relax and be nice, Sylvia reached
down and picked up the man between her fingers.

It was a strange feeling, holding a person between her thumb and
forefinger, but she had to admit, it was fun, and a smile spread
across her face as she shuffled on her knees over to Kellie. With her
knees on either side of the feet-end goals she dropped the ball back
into play, and after giving a last smile to the man, whom she saw had
a tiny ‘27’ on his shirt, she leant over and delicately placed him
back on the field. The men understood her change of mood and laughed
and clapped.

She watched the game for a few minutes before leaving Kellie with a
smile and an apology, which Kellie friendily dismissed. In her heart
she wished she could be as carefree as Kellie. She was heading for
her room in a slightly better mood when the television caught her eye
and for the first time her fear of it gave way to a bit of curiosity.

Kneeling in front of it, she flicked channels and waited for five
minutes before there was a scene with no people in it – an empty
room. With a rush of adrenaline Sylvia shot her hand into the screen.
It was an odd sensation; the ‘jelly’ split easily like pushing
through thick custard and when her hand was through it felt cold on
her wrist as if it were water lapping on her skin. She wasn’t looking
straight at the TV so she couldn’t see properly where her hand was
and she was grabbing around uselessly.

Kneeling down further to see better into the set, her grasp fell on a
desk lamp, just as she saw the door swing open and the woman who
entered jump in shock. Sylvia too jumped in fright and her hand shot
out, a rush of exhilaration running through her body as if she had
just streaked across a football pitch.

Instantly the gap in the screen sealed and Sylvia watched the woman
stare straight out at empty space then faint. Had the scene lasted
any longer Sylvia’s rush of excitement may have turned to guilt, but
the shot changed and the same woman now sat at her desk from a
different angle, and the lamp was there again. Sylvia looked at the
lamp in her hand. It was battered in her tense grasp, but it was a
two-inch high lamp nonetheless. She let out a laugh of relief.

This time when she went to bed Sylvia slept quite easily, as some of
her fears had subsided and her heart felt just a tiny bit lighter.

* * *

It took only a few seconds after Sylvia awoke the next morning for
the TV set to enter her mind, and her first reaction was again fear,
but she calmed herself. Thinking of Kellie and her carefree attitude,
she resolved to try to be the same – not just with the TV, but in
life in general. Her thoughts strayed from the television as she
daydreamed about what it would be like to be carefree, just as
everyone does when they realise there is something lacking in their
life.

Sylvia got out of bed, and her daydreaming had put her in a good
mood, so for the first time she wasn’t annoyed at Kellie’s sleeping
in, nor was she annoyed at the shoes left strayed in the hall or the
mess in the kitchen. She put the kettle on and leant on the bench as
it slowly boiled. Staring absently at the wall, she barely noticed
the movement on the bench below her until she felt a tap on her
finger and recoiled.

She got a shock when she looked down and saw the soccer team standing
around waving at her just at waist height. Feeling immediately
vulnerable, she covered her chest, which was clad only in a loose
T-shirt, but in only a fraction of a second it struck her that she
was being stupid – really, she thought, how well-dressed did she need
to be in front of a team of one-inch high soccer players?

Breaking into a smile, she knelt down so she was level with them.
Realising they were shouting to her, she reached over and switched
off the kettle, which settled immediately, and she heard tiny little
shouts of ‘breakfast!’. She looked up and saw that Kellie had a
baking tray laid out on the bench, covered in a tablecloth, and
tissues were strewn over it that had clearly been used as blankets.
In the centre was the lid of a coke bottle full of water. The fact
that Kellie was being responsible was another point in her favour,
and Sylvia warmed just a bit more to the lovable girl.

From the fridge she found a muffin and also replaced the water in the
coke lid with milk and put them both in front of the men, who were
appreciative and cheered, and her heart leapt. She laughed and leant
over them, watching them feast, but soon noticed that one of the men
was still waving and shouting and she turned to him. Seeing he had
her attention, he pointed downwards at something.

Turning in that direction, Sylvia looked on the floor but saw
nothing. She looked back at him but he shook his head and pointed
again, this time she peered closely at the bench where he pointed but
she was still mystified. When she looked at him she shrugged, but
this time he pointed to himself and pulled at his shorts, then
pointed back in the same direction. Sylvia clued on and looked at
herself.

She got a fright to see that, sure enough, there was one of the
players clinging to the top of her tracksuit pants – maybe the one
who had tapped her hand earlier. Her palm rushed to her front to
catch him if he fell, and with her other hand she reached down and
plucked him off between her fingers. The signaling man clapped and
the hungry others turned to watch. Some returned to eat but others
clapped too.

Sylvia brought him to her face and for the first time she spoke to
one of these tiny men, which possibly was a sign that she now
recognised them as people.

“How did you get there?” she asked in a patronising but playful
manner. The man held his head with a tiny smile and shouted something
inaudible then kissed his hands and held them out to her. Sylvia
couldn’t help but giggle, and feeling daring in her happy mood, she
brought her fingers to her mouth and gave the tiny man a gentle kiss
on his face. The onlookers cheered and laughed, and she blushed and
put him down with a smile. He was number 27.

* * *

While she drank her coffee at the table Kellie awoke and came in, and
Sylvia watched while she went straight to the TV. Kellie knelt
patiently in front of it and Sylvia couldn’t stand the suspense of
not being able to see what she was doing, so she moved over onto the
couch and watched from the side.

Flicking the channels, Kellie found a nature program and saw a shot
of some trees. She was practiced and her hand easily slipped through.
Sylvia stared attentively, but from the side Kellie’s arm was
distorted , though she heard a ripping and cracking and her hand came
back into sight clutching a giant pine tree, ripped up at the roots
and now a miniature version of itself.

They both laughed. Staring at the tree in her hand Kellie said
hesistantly and with an obvious bit of embarrassment, “It’s kind
of... fun. Being so kind of, well, powerful I guess.” Sylvia leaned
back on the couch.

Slowly, she replied to the statement, which both knew was revealing
and quite personal in a way, “Well, that’s OK I guess. We don’t
really get much of it anywhere else. Power, I mean.” She smiled at
Kellie and in that moment both girls felt connected for the first
time – even though they were OK flatmates, they had never been very
personal in their conversation.

It was a small breakthrough in their relationship, and Sylvia
confessed that she admired Kellie, her bravado and her carefree
attitude – the latter two were displayed in this episode with the TV.

“It’s nothing, Sylv,” she replied with shining eyes, “have a go, it’s
not hard at all.”

Sylvia replied that she already had last night.

“That was a desk lamp!” Kellie had obviously seen it sitting on the
coffee table. “C’mon, you can do it. You just said you wanted to be
brave.”

Comforted by Kellie’s enthusiasm, Sylvia took a spot in front of the
TV and Kellie sat and watched eagerly for something for her to take.
Soon a car advertisement came on and a four-wheel-drive sat parked on
top of a mountain while the camera swiveled around it from afar.
“Take that!” Kellie urged, and Sylvia pushed her arm in and clasped
it hurriedly. The shot changed only a fraction after she withdrew her
arm.

She laughed with excitement and Kellie clapped. The vehicle was only
an inch and a half long and Sylvia’s thumb and forefinger dwarved it.
She hopped back on the sofa and plopped her trophy in her lap.
“That’s a great start!” Kellie said enthusiastically as she resumed
her place in front of the set.

Sylvia was genuinely happy about her catch – there was no way she was
comfortable with taking a person quite yet; she was perfectly content
to stick with inanimate objects for the moment. She watched Kelly at
work and thus didn’t see the tiny man that had been driving the car
tumble out of the door and into her lap, and she would never know,
because in a moment she leaned forward to look closer at the TV, and
the miniature man fell between her legs and the car rolled on its
side, its door closing shut. Oblivious to the little person, Sylvia’s
legs absently clamped shut while she watched Kellie excitedly and the
man’s world went dark and very hot.

Perhaps if Sylvia had known about the person in the car, her spirits
would have been dampened as her conscience whirled into action, but
she didn’t, and her attention was focussed instead on the lively
Kellie and the television.

They chatted as Kellie waited patiently for interesting objects to
pick up and pranks to play on people in the other worlds, which for
the better part were smaller than the girls, but sometimes were
bigger if there were extreme close-ups, like an ad for pimple-cream
that showed a girl’s face on the entire screen, and who jumped in
fright when Kellie slapped her giant nose.

Ads were the best because there was the biggest variety. There wasn’t
much fun to be had on the nature channel; though Sylvia laughed when
Kellie reached in and smeared the top of a snowy mountain with her
finger, making it hundreds of feet shorter. They both knelt in front
of the screen now and giggled together. Video clips were good too and
there were often sexy guys dancing in them.

When Kellie saw a three-inch tall Justin Timberlake she had to reach
in and grab him, with this time only a slight negative reaction from
Sylvia, who told herself not to be so up-tight. Kellie squealed in
delight and with no hesitation she pushed him straight between her
breasts, to a groan from Sylvia. Kellie’s attention soon returned to
the television, but Sylvia’s gaze remained on the pop singer wedged
in her breasts, and she was still a bit dismayed despite her repeated
efforts to relax her worries.

Her anxiety heightened as she watched; when Kellie leaned forward or
clasped her hands, her arms pushed together and her breasts in the
white low-cut T-shirt squeezed a bit and Justin Timberlake was
pressed in between them, and once or twice let out a gasp. When she
leaned back though, they separated with her movement and Sylvia saw
the man fall bit by bit further between them.

Eventually Sylvia could see only the singer’s head protruding from
between Kellie’s breasts, and she had to say something to her as she
was completely inattentive and oblivious to the man in her cleavage.
“Kel, I think you’re hurting him,” and even as she spoke Kellie
leaned back to face Sylvia, her breasts wobbled and he disappeared
completely.

“Oh, he’s OK, ...aren’t you?” she said as she delved into her breasts
with her fingers and pulled the man out by his shoulders. He appeared
dazed. “You’re such a sweetie, aren’t you little man? ...Do you want
to hold him then Sylv?”

Sylvia objected but Kellie dropped him in her lap, and when Sylvia’s
hand was wrapped around him protectively she felt better, and her
attention returned to Kellie’s pranks. She accidentally squeezed him
a couple of times when she laughed, but she realised that she was
comforted by holding on to this little man and she held him closer to
her.

She laughed and laughed as Kellie relieved surprised hockey players
of their sticks and tapped their behinds with their own tiny sticks,
and hurtled giant skittles into scenes of morning sitcoms to watch
the characters startled reactions. They realised that the best things
were anything with long shots, as opposed to really quick short shots
like on videoclips, that changed too quickly before you had the
chance to do anything. A soap came on and in that there were be long
dramatic scenes, in which Kellie had time to lift the skirt of an
actress and watch the other characters run around in either panic or
laughter.

They discovered too that if a scene changed while their hand was
inside, it had no adverse affects; the people in the following shot
would just see it appear instantly and be shocked even quicker.

The playful girl planted her hand across athletic tracks and watched
the faster runners career straight into her palm and the slower ones
at the back stop in horror. She shot her hand in to catch a tiny
football in her palm and watch the bewildered players search the
field for the missing object.

They giggled until they were tired and Sylvia got up. “I’m going to
have a shower and get changed Kel,” she said, her chest painful with
laughing.

Only when she reached her room did Sylvia realise that she still held
Justin Timberlake in her hand. She stopped to return him to Kellie
but instantly realised the idiocy of that idea, and continued,
closing the door behind her. She put the singer gently on her dresser
and watched as he collapsed into a sitting position against a bottle
of perfume.

She paused and hesitantly said “I’m sorry about this... you must be
really confused,” she realised immediately how obvious and stupid her
comment was. “I mean, I’m sorry my friend pulled you out of your
video and put you...” Her hand went to her breast.

The tiny man spoke but only when she lowered her head to him did she
hear him ask where he was. She tried to explain as best she could,
but he was bewildered by her response. Out of answers, she left for
the shower.

* * *

Sylvia had almost forgotten about the pop singer on her dresser when
she returned from the shower clad in only two towels; one of which
was spent on her hair, so only the other covered her chest and waist.
She saw him and felt a rush of embarrassment, but this was again
quelled by the reminder that he was just a three-inch high man.

She told herself she had nothing to hide, but still remained very shy
and almost asked him to turn away. She didn’t though, and dropped her
towel to the ground, replacing it hurriedly with underwear and a bra.
Just as hurriedly she reached for a pair of jeans but her thoughts of
Kellie and her carefree life snuck into her mind and she paused.

As if to overcome her fears she walked over to her dresser and stood
in her underwear in front of Justin Timberlake, who was beneath her
waist height and would have looked up at her huge body from just
below her crotch. She slowly reached for him and clasped his body in
her hand, righting him in her palm as she lifted his light figure
into the air to her face.

She was about to speak kindly to him when he stood in her palm and
shouted at her. She paused and he continued to abuse her with
swearing and cursing. “Hey,” she said, “I’m trying to be nice ...this
wasn’t my fault,” but his verbal abuse continued.

Her mouth opened to apologise more but he shouted a particular phrase
of abuse that instantly reminded her of an ex-boyfriend, and she
thought of all her ex-boyfriends who had abused her in a similar way,
and she realised that she didn’t have to take this from a man
standing in her palm. With a rush of adrenaline she did what Kellie
had done, what she had always wanted to do with all the other
boyfriends who had frustrated her, and planted the shouting man
between her breasts.

She looked down at him but as she was not nearly as voluptuous as
Kellie he simply stumbled uselessly between her breasts, supported
only by the centre of the bra under his feet. She reached in with one
hand and pulled open one cup of the brassiere and with the other hand
she shoved him right under it then released the fabric, smothering
him into her flesh where he could not move at all. Rubbing her hand
over the lump she looked in the mirror to find that he was a barely
noticeable protrusion.

Satisfied and excited by her bold move she pulled on a tight T-shirt
and a bright skirt instead of the dull jeans, and went out to the
living room. She felt exhilarated that she was talking normally to
Kellie, who was oblivious to her hidden secret, and didn’t even ask
after his whereabouts. The feeling was thrilling and she knew she had
to go out in public with the unkind man squeezed in pseudo-punishment
into her bra.

Excusing herself, she left to do some menial tasks that didn’t
actually need doing, like grocery shopping.

* * *

The trip to the grocery store was the most thrilling grocery shopping
ever. The products she was absently picking up never seemed so
inconsequential, and she had never paid so much attention to the
strangers she now stared at, while thinking of Justin Timberlake. It
was exciting and Sylvia knew that it was in a sexual way. She knew
because she had never so frequently rubbed her breast in a shopping
trip as she did now.

* * *

Despite the experience, she returned Justin Timberlake to the TV set
when she got home because she didn’t want to care for him. She didn’t
care where she put him; the people were only vaguely his height and
in fact she was pleased that they were slightly taller; in her mind
the pop singer already represented every bastard boyfriend she had
ever had.

She made herself lunch and assumed that Kellie was in her bedroom, as
the shower wasn’t running and she wasn’t in front of the TV. After
finishing she went to the bathroom and got the fright of her life
when she swung the door open to see Kellie in the bath.

“Oh Christ!” she exclaimed and retreated, shutting the door behind
her. Getting her breath back, with a laugh she said, “sorry Kel, oh
my God, I didn’t know you were in there!”

Kellie responded with a laugh, but only then did the irregularity of
the scene hit her – Kellie had never had a bath here before... why
now?

“Can I just get my makeup bag?” she asked, not intending to get her
bag at all.

With Kellie’s friendly affirmative response she slid the door open
and saw immediately what was going on. “What are you doing?” she
exclaimed. Kellie was lying in the bathtub, water with a thin layer
of small bubbles lapping her breasts and one knee raised high out of
the water. Kellie had known that Sylvia would have been disapproving.

“It’s OK, they wanted to, I asked!” Kellie wasn’t alone; the soccer
team was there; half a dozen lined up on the edge of the bath looking
up at the giant Sylvia, and the rest were dotted around Kellie’s body
in the water – floating under her raised leg and around her chest;
one was attempting to climb her slippery breast and he slid off and
back into the water as Sylvia watched. Some were almost obscured by
the thin bubbles.

Sylvia was stuck for a reply for a moment, her inhibitions clashing
with her desire not to care, and in this uncomfortable moment Kellie
lowered her leg and raised the other in slight embarrassment, and the
men under her knee swirled in the moving water and popped back up to
the surface as others were caught by the rising leg and either
slipped off or stuck to it.

“Oh, jeez Kel, ...OK, I’m sorry, but I’m really trying not to be
up-tight,” Sylvia’s internal struggle was resolved, but she paused
“but, well... where’s twenty-seven?”

Kellie smiled with glee as she understood Sylvia straight away. She
turned to the men in the water around her and asked for 27, but she
didn’t have to as he was already splashing like crazy after hearing
Sylvia speak his ‘name’. So Kellie’s hand came up from beneath him
and he swam in a dwindling pool in Kellie’s palm, from which water
dripped down her arm as she raised it up to Sylvia. In doing so she
sat up higher and her nipples rose from the surface, and the men on
the bath’s edge cheered.

“Oh, shut up!” she giggled and when Sylvia had plucked 27 from her
hand Kellie flicked the back of each man so they hurtled into the
water in and around her.

* * *

Sylvia continued to hear Kellie’s laughter as she returned to the
living room, the small man in her hand. They spent the afternoon
together – as ‘together’ as any girl and a miniature soccer player
can be; she lay and watched TV and played with him. He ran back and
forth on her belly and clung to her finger when she held it above
him, she toyed with him by tapping him from behind then he pretended
not to know where it came from.

She was enjoying herself so much that she didn’t even mind when he
climbed her T-shirt up between her breasts, then sprinting before she
could stop him he reached the seam and doubled back and under it into
her top. In fact she laughed, and made no effort to stop him while he
crawled under the fabric towards her breasts. She felt the tickle of
his hands and knees on her skin move down her cleavage until he
reached the obstacle of her bra, at which point he changed direction
and attempted crawling into the cup.

Her hand came up and she rubbed over the lump of his body and she
knew she enjoyed it. She laughed and made herself a coffee while 27
was squeezed into her breast. It was obvious he was getting nowhere
in the tight garment and by the time she lay down on the couch again
he was back in the centre and  she couldn’t feel him for a moment
until she realised he had straddled the bra and was now below it,
crawling down her stomach. Watching the tiny lump move under the
fabric down her belly, she pulled the lower seam of the tight T-shirt
up a tiny bit so part of her waist was exposed, and soon enough she
saw him appear from under it.

He continued downwards and ran over her abdomen and into the dip in
her crotch, which slightly excited Sylvia, but she stopped him from
dropping over the edge of her skirt and between her legs; she wasn’t
that comfortable and carefree yet.

The soccer player was full of energy and he ran all the way back up
her middle again and onto her neck. She tried to bend her eyes down
to see what he was doing, but when she felt him jumping against her
chin she knew he wanted another kiss. She picked him up between her
fingers and with a rush that reminded her of her first kiss back in
high school, she brought him to her lips, but decided against it and
placed him on the back of her fingers so he could kiss her instead.

He stumbled over her shaky hand and fell forward onto her lower lip.
Holding himself up, he planted his head right in between her lips and
she felt a tremble of excitement, despite the fact that this man was
a mere inch high. Her lips inadvertently parted by a fraction as she
kissed 27, and his head slipped more into them. Sylvia was enjoying
the kiss so much that she stopped only when she realised that he was
no longer standing on her fingers and that his body was supported in
her lips, his head actually in her mouth.

She hurriedly withdrew him by the waist and looked at him in front of
her eyes almost apologetically, but was relieved to see that the look
on his happy face showed he needed no apology at all. She pressed him
to her lips again before replacing him on her belly, her hands coming
to rest on either side of him.

Staring blankly into space and dwelling on her strange feelings, it
was several minutes before she looked back at him and saw he was
leaning up against her thumb and drifting off to sleep, obviously
worn out. Sylvia suddenly realised her own tiredness, and as
delicately as she could, she slipped her hand under him and rose to
go to her bedroom. He snapped to attention despite her gentle
efforts, but when he saw her press a finger to her lips he knew she
had only sleep planned he relaxed again, and by the time she laid him
on a tissue on her bedside table he had dozed off again.

Sylvia slipped out of her skirt, discarded her T-shirt and lay down
in her underwear, expecting only to lie in comfort and perhaps doze
at best, but soon she drifted fast asleep.

* * *

When she awoke, 27 was the first thing that came to Sylvia’s mind and
she looked across to him on the bedside table, knowing she hadn’t
meant to sleep. Her head snapped up when she failed to see his tiny
body in the tissue paper, and when she still couldn’t see him she sat
bolt upright and swiveled her legs over the bed.

Sylvia immediately regretted this hasty action because she realised
that if he had have been around her on the bed, she would have
smeared him to a pulp with her legs, and she jumped straight off the
bed and whirled around to check it for stains, with a heavy heart.
Finding none she breathed again, but finding no intact soccer player
she remained tense.

No sooner had she stood up than she regretted this action too,
because if he were on the floor she would have crushed him under her
foot, but a search of the carpet eased her fears. She was still in
panic and scanned the bed and bedside table. Even though she had been
lying on top of the sheets, she delicately pulled them all off and
shook them gently, but to no avail.

She was on the verge of real panic when she looked at herself, and
her heart fell back into place with joy at finding the man. He was
tucked into the top of her panties and had been using her as a bed
and the underwear as his blanket. Her anger at him for causing her
the anguish of thinking she had smeared him into a stain was
completely drowned by her feeling of a kind of shy flattery when she
saw him there, trying to get closer to her. She felt wanted and she
liked it.

Bringing him to her face, her eyes showed this and he broke into a
smile and waved happily. She smiled back, but out of the corner of
her eye Sylvia say her clock flicker to 4:00 and with a rush of
realisation she remembered she was meeting a friend.

Exclaiming, she popped 27 onto her dresser and told him she had to
go. She whirled around to her clothes on the floor but stopped and
slowly turned back to the dresser. Asking almost shyly, she said, “
...do you want to... come with me?” He jumped on the spot in an
unsubtle response. She checked herself and said, “I can’t... show you
to anyone,” but in response he merely pointed.

In the same way that she had looked on the floor when his teammate
had pointed him out on her tracksuit pants, she looked on the floor
of her bedroom before realising that this man too was pointing to her
pants – this time her underwear.

She understood and was about to say “No, I can’t,” but her inhibition
was dragged away, screaming, by her new feelings, and slowly,
hesitantly, she picked 27 up in her right hand and pulled open the
panties with her left.

Stopped by an invisible barrier, her right hand shot to her face and
she looked at him, making sure that she didn’t completely
misunderstand him, but he looked at her expectantly and she lowered
her hand again.

Like someone overcoming their fear and jumping off a diving board,
she felt a rush of exhilaration when she released the man above her
underwear, and it almost seemed as if he ‘plopped’ into her panties
when his tiny body slid down the fabric and wedged into her skin.

She held open her underwear, staring down at him for what seemed like
an age until satisfied he was OK, then snapped the elastic back into
place. She stood there, thrilled, her mind swimming with good
feelings and still barely believing what had happened over the past
two days, before she came back to attention and went to get ready.

Sylvia was about to grab some jeans when she thought better of it,
27’s wellbeing in the front of her mind, and instead picked up the
skirt she had been wearing. As she pulled it up she ran her finger
over his body so as not to squash him with the skirt’s tight seam and
felt a reassuring wiggle.

Leaving the house in a hurry she headed for the coffee shop to meet
her friend.

* * *

This trip out into public was not quite as thrilling as her first
with Justin Timberlake, because Sylvia felt as if she wanted to show
the man concealed on her to people and not hide him. The excitement
returned when she saw her friend though and when she sat down and
crossed her legs, a spine-tingling rush of exhilaration went through
her.

Her friend picked up on this immediately and she began to probe
Sylvia for what it was – she knew straight away it was a guy, and
Sylvia told her the truth, but only half of it, and it was even more
exhilarating to tell her that she’d met a man while he was actually
there, squeezed into her underwear and her friend would never know.

When her friend asked what his name was, Sylvia recoiled and almost
said ‘27’ before realising she didn’t know it. Her friend mistook the
reaction for her being mischievous by not telling her, and laughed it
off, to Sylvia’s relief.

Her mind was elsewhere throughout the entire conversation, and
several times she found her hand inadvertently over her crotch, her
fingers caressing the tiny body which was barely detectable through
two layers of clothing.

When Sylvia hugged her friend goodbye she became conscious of how 27
was being pressed in between the crotches of the two women and a
shudder of almost sexual excitement went through her, but her
eternally gossiping friend missed the subtle reaction and they parted
happily.
* * *

Sylvia and Kellie had dinner together, which was unusual, but then
again they had guests. The soccer team, which totaled eighteen
players, ran around the table eating from both girls’ plates, some of
them playing soccer with a pea – an oversized and overweight ball,
but the girls found it hilarious nonetheless. Sylvia asked where Tom
Cruise and Andre Agassi were, but Kellie replied with a smile that
they were in her room. Besides, they didn’t ‘play nice’ like the
soccer team did.

27 sat only at Sylvia’s plate and the rest of the team teased him
severely for it. The playful men took him by the limbs and tossed him
into her gravy. Sylvia wasn’t watching but Kellie laughed and she
looked down at her plate, breaking into a smile. He was a sight,
angry at first thrashing around in the brown slop, but when he saw
the humour on Sylvia’s face he played on it and started showing off.

Struggling out of the thick sauce, he dropped onto the table and
chased after his friends, leaving a trail of brown spots on the
tablecloth, but the girls shrieked with laughter, and encouraged even
more, he set his targets on Sylvia and raced to the edge of the
table, flinging himself at her chest before tumbling onto the girls
belly and into her lap. On any other occasion the neat and often
fussy girl would have snapped at someone staining her clothes but she
plucked him, covered in gravy, from her skirt and without thought put
him to her mouth and sucked the sauce from him.

The men saw this and immediately it was a slightly sobering thought
watching their friend momentarily disappear into the giant girl’s
mouth because they suddenly realised their vulnerability to these
women and their dependence on their kindness to them. Kellie shrieked
with laughter though and being the kind, playful and gentle girl she
was, there was not a hint of cruelty in her voice and the men’s
sudden fears subsided and they resumed their hilarity, their
momentary hesitation going unnoticed by both the girls.

* * *

Kellie went to her classes on Monday, but Sylvia called in sick –
there was no way she was going to work with all the happenings of the
weekend on her mind, and besides, she wanted some time with the TV by
herself – she had still not yet taken her own person from it. Even
though she felt comfortable with 27, she still felt anxious and even
fearful of other people.

With the soccer players distracted playing games on the tiled kitchen
floor and out of sight behind the bench, Sylvia knelt down in front
of the TV set and turned it on. Flicking channels, she felt nervous
and looked for something inanimate to take before starting on real
people. Finding another nature documentary she slipped her hand in,
feeling the now familiar sensation of the watery-custard screen, and
took an entire pine tree in her grasp. Even though it was rooted
firmly in the ground, it was only a slight effort for her to rip it
out, its branches crushed in her grip and its giant roots stretching
and snapping.

She realised immediately what Kellie had felt when she had done the
same thing the day before; it was an enormous sense of potency, of
power, and she realised it was the same feeling she had felt when she
had shoved the rude Justin Timberlake into her bra. As she
contemplated this, there came on some shots of waterbirds in a lake,
and from one angle there was a bridge made of steel girders behind
them, and Sylvia felt the need immediately to have a match for her
pine tree.

Slipping her hand in, she wrapped her fingers around the structure,
which would have been as wide as a baseball bat, and with a tug she
tore at it. The TV volume was low but she heard steel whining and
creaking, then a cracking as concrete crumbled and with another
slight effort it was free and the bridge came sliding out of the TV
screen, bringing with it an even greater sense of power.

It was heavier than anything she had yet taken, and was perhaps nine
inches long. She brought it closer to her face and angled it up to
look closer, but saw instead what she would have realised if she had
taken even a moment to think. There were vehicles on the bridge, and
in a fraction of a second a truck and at least half a dozen small
cars slid down the surface, through the shadow of her fingers on
either side and out the bottom.

Even though, being miniature, they dropped instantly and in almost
zero time, it seemed like slow motion as Sylvia watched the truck
tumble through the air and strike the inside of her breast. Out of
the corner of her eye she vaguely saw cars falling straight past her
chest, some hitting the front of her breast and bouncing over the
edge of her loose low-cut T-shirt, and a couple bouncing past the
truck and straight between her cleavage.

She wore no bra, and in this instant her free hand shot to her chest
but it was too late to stop the large truck, perhaps two inches long
and half an inch wide, from striking her opposite breast then sliding
down her shirt. The two cars had already dropped lightly down and she
could feel their tiny sharp corners as they stuck between her stomach
and the T-shirt.

The truck was heavier though and it slid downwards through the
fabric, parting it at the bottom and coming to rest on the top seam
of Sylvia’s loose, daggy, tracksuit pants.

Sylvia stopped, breathless and shocked. She felt immediately guilty
at not having thought before taking the bridge (but in the back of
her mind she was thankful that she had accidentally taken real people
– that way she wouldn’t have to steel herself up to it later).

Gathering her wits, she carefully looked over herself before making
any movements. The cars seemed to be no more than half an inch long,
and would be crushed at the slightest pressure from her. They were
dotted over her and she noted where they were before moving.

Three were nestled near the truck on the top seam of her tracksuit,
but it was very loose and they edged slightly under it. The two
trapped in her T-shirt were still there, one was on the ground, its
fall broken by the carpet but whose tiny occupants Sylvia didn’t
notice were crawling out, and the last was lying precariously in her
crotch, prevented from falling between her legs only by a fold of the
tracksuit material. This one she retrieved first, gently picking it
up between her fingers and slowly outstretching her arm to the coffee
table where she placed it delicately.

Her attention returned to the vehicles wedged in the seam. The truck
was easiest to retrieve, it was large and she picked it up by the
trailer; its cabin hanging loose with a door swinging freely. Before
placing it on the coffee table Sylvia looked closer and realised its
driver was missing and her heart too missed a beat, but her
concentration took over and she went to work on the cars.

Sliding her finger under the seam on either side of the first car
which was distanced from the other two, it slid under the fabric but
was caught easily between her fingers. When she attempted the same on
the next though, her fingers pushed the loose elastic up and both
cars slid under it and into her tracksuit bottom, and she didn’t even
get the one she was trying to grab.

Her heart missed another beat, and yet another when she pulled the
entire seam up and didn’t see the cars. Her hand slid under the
fabric and she ran her finger slowly and carefully over the front of
her panties and around her legs. The truck driver had slipped her
mind, and she didn’t even feel it when she smeared him against the
inside of her thigh.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a tiny object stuck on
her pantyline, one of its sides pushed against the seam of her
underwear and the other against the skin of the top of her leg. She
gently picked the car up by its ends and it joined the other vehicles
on the coffee table.

After not finding the other on or around her panties, moving slowly,
she rolled back on her feet and pulled her tracksuit pants down
further before resting again on her knees. Sylvia peered down at her
crotch and saw nothing. Craning her neck even further, she saw a tiny
speck of light in the darkness of the tracksuit right underneath her
crotch. It was the car’s interior lights, and it meant the occupants
were trying to get out.

“Stupid!” she said out loud, blaming the tiny people. She pulled the
tracksuit pants down even further and picked up the car, then scanned
the fabric, seeing two of the occupants trying to disentangle
themselves from the soft fibres. Like a surgeon, Sylvia pushed her
upturned fingernail under the first until he fell into the curved
scoop, and was lifted to safety on the coffee table.

The second was scooped up easily enough, but Sylvia’s nerves got the
better of her and she trembled as she lifted him. The miniature body,
five millimetres high at best, tumbled onto the front of her panties
and clung desperately as he slid down. Luckily he caught hold of a
fibre and stuck, halfway down her underwear. Sylvia saw him and this
time he was delivered safely.

Without yet attempting to pull her tracksuit pants back up, Sylvia
cupped her hand under her T-shirt and caught the two cars as she
pulled the fabric away from her with the other hand. Quickly she put
the car on the floor up on the coffee table and breathed a sigh of
relief, slumping back into a sitting position. She would never know
that the last vehicle’s occupants had left the safety of their car
and now were red stains on the bottom of Sylvia’s underwear.

* * *

After emptying a jewelry box and replacing its contents with the
unlucky bridge travelers, leaving their now empty cars on the coffee
table, Sylvia sat down for a coffee to relieve the stress. She had
trodden carefully over the boys’ game while she had made it in the
kitchen, and she realised that she enjoyed taking care of the tiny
men.

As she contemplated this she knew she wanted to take more things from
the TV, and now that she had taken people, she knew she wanted more.
It was kind of motherly, she thought, but without the crying or
nappy-changing. Or was it that she needed the sense of power?

Her thoughts unresolved, Sylvia decided to take a shower. She had a
better idea and knelt down over the soccer team.

“Do you want to take a bath with me?” she asked daringly, with
Kellie’s spirit.

The soccer team paused and looked at each other, some turning their
heads and others looking at the ground. Sylvia felt hurt and a lump
came straight to her throat – they were happy to bathe with Kellie,
but not with her. She had grown to think that these tiny men liked
her, but now...

Through a small welling in her eyes she saw a tiny movement and she
wiped away the moisture, doubly embarrassed by the rejection and now
a tear. She saw that the movement was a couple of men pointing, and
she followed their gaze, to one of the men who was waving one arm.
She suddenly realised why the didn’t want to join her in the bath and
she spluttered a happy and relieved laugh, the lump in her throat
washing away.

The man waving was of course 27, and she instantly knew that the
others would not want to be with his girl. She felt even better,
because now she knew he liked her and even his mates knew it.

The entire team cheered when she plucked him from the ground, both
out of happiness that she was not hurt and out of manly encouragement
for their mate.

* * *

Sylvia changed her mind and consulted 27 if it was OK to have a
shower instead since there was only him and not the whole team.
Encouraged by an affirmative response, she placed him on the bathroom
bench before undressing, which she at first did with hesitation, but
then relaxed.

Initially she held him at face height just outside of the stream;
only a couple of times did she thrust him into the water – she was
overly cautious and the water was only warm and at low pressure.
Placing him on the small shelf, she turned up the heat and pressure
and washed her hair, keeping regular watch on the man, who was
playing around a bar of soap, to him the size of a family sedan or
more.

Sylvia took the soap from him and rubbed herself all over with it
before returning it and seeing him do the same with his soapy hands,
and she laughed. When he held his soapy arms up to her, she moved
closer to the shelf, then nudged her breast up to it. Pushing her
nipple above him, he reached up in the light droplets of water that
bounced off her, and rubbed her breast in a tiny playful attempt to
wash her.

Instantly aroused, she shuddered and his tiny face laughed with
pleasure as her nipple clearly gave this away. She crouched slightly
and this time pushed her breast under the shelf, and without
hesitation, 27 leapt from the flat ground and attempted to straddle
her nipple. Luckily she saw this and righted him with her finger
before he could fall to the ground.

Perched on her nipple and clinging to her breast, the tiny man
attempted to continue rubbing her with soap while she held her other
hand above him to shield him from the water. It was only seconds
though, before a trickle of soapy water ran down her breast and swept
him off, and straight into her cupped hand, which filled with the
water. He laughed and shook his hair in the pool.

Seeing him soapy and still feeling aroused, Sylvia rubbed him in her
fingers over her breast then looked at him. His face showing no
displeasure, she continued, and he collected more soap as she wiped
below her breasts with the tiny man, bringing him out for air in
overly cautious intervals. She did this for several minutes over her
chest and down her abdomen, before he signaled to stop and she had to
check herself, reminding herself of his tiny delicateness.

Rinsing and kissing him, she turned off the water and placed him on
the bench near his clothes. When she wrapped herself in a towel she
placed him snugly in her squeezed cleavage and went to her room. She
selected underwear by herself and put it on, but held up her other
items of clothes for him to select from his vantage point on the
dresser. He chose a one-piece skirt that barely covered her breasts
and was very short; she would never have worn it outside a nightclub,
but she was happy to satisfy his wishes.

* * *

When she returned him to the game Sylvia heard tiny shrill noises,
which she realised were wolf whistles, and she blushed and scalded
the men playfully. She made herself lunch, looking down every time
she trod anywhere in the kitchen, not perturbed by the fact that the
tiny soccer players between her feet paid less attention to the game
than to the inside of her skirt above them, which they looked
straight up.

After placing her prepared lunch on the table she went to bring the
players to it, and realised she didn’t know how to carry all the men,
and wondered how Kellie did it. She asked them, and the ones that
responded pointed to their chests, and Sylvia smiled at this.

“Kellie, you little...” but Sylvia couldn’t think of a word for what
she thought of her; she admired her but was not surprised by her
overtness, and smiled at the idea of those men being tossed around by
Kellie’s huge bouncing breasts as she walked, “Well, I’m not going to
do that,” she said, and she cupped her hands together and placed them
on the ground, while the team ran and clambered into her palms. The
men were huddled together even in the wide space of her hands, and
she wondered how Kellie could even fit so many man in her cleavage.
“Does Kellie wear a bra when she does that?” she asked cautiously and
the general response was a shaking of heads, to which Sylvia smiled.
There was the explanation – only her tight T-shirt to keep them in.

During lunch the men played soccer on the table. Sylvia wondered how
they could not get bored with the same game, but she found her answer
when the ball struck her once too often. The were aiming for her
cleavage.

“Oh, so that’s your game is it?” and she returned the ball to them
from her lap.

Soon enough they hit home; after all, the space between her breasts
was probably bigger the size of their goals, just laid flat.

“OK, so who’s going to get it?” she asked without embarrassment,
because she and each of the men knew that after the incident of her
asking for the bath, there would be no uncomfortable
misunderstandings again, and a dozen hands shot up.

Dropping her fork, she lightly tossed the nearest man against her
skin and he tumbled into her cleavage. She felt him wiggling around
for a moment before the tiny ball rocketed out of her skirt and back
onto the table, to a cheer from the men. She reached into her bra and
pulled the man out by his legs before righting him in her fingers and
placing him back on the table.

After several more ‘goals’ the men scoured her plate, then in only a
few more minutes they were weary and sat down. Sylvia gathered them
up, but seeing that their makeshift baking-tray-bed had been cleaned
up she spread them onto her own bed on just a thin silk sheet, as
they’d get lost in her doona, which she pushed onto the floor.

She however, resumed a spot in front of the television.

* * *

Seeing the jewelry box on the coffee table, Sylvia felt just a bit
more daring, and she experimented a bit with the TV.

When there was a shot of a building, she poked her finger into a
window, which shattered uselessly, too thin to cut her. The room’s
occupant reeled in horror before the scene changed. Flicking channels
for more buildings, she saw an old-looking stone building, and she
ran her finger over the delicate carvings, which crumbled, and over
its roof, its statues and gargoyle-like sculptures snapping off and
falling to the ground in slow motion.

This struck her as odd; the cars on the bridge had tumbled out
quickly like tiny toy cars would, yet these stone blocks in the TV
fell slowly to the ground just like a huge statue would in real life.
She did some experiments, by firstly picking up a car from a freeway
and dropping it back on the ground inside the TV. It sailed down
slowly and crashed to the ground. Before the scene changed she pulled
another car from the same freeway and took it out of the TV. It
plopped instantly into her lap, and she made the connection that the
car was more than a tonne inside, but less than an ounce outside.

She didn’t understand the technical physics of why this happened, but
it made sense. Seeing the scene hadn’t changed, Sylvia returned the
car to its freeway. As she changed channels she came across a news
report and with a pang of anger saw four gunmen shouting and aiming
at civilians, and despite the fact that she knew it had already
happened, her instinct was to reach into the TV.

The first two came out in her hand but the other two fled and she had
to retrieve them one at a time. When they law sprawled, about four
inches high, on the ground in front of Sylvia, two of them had lost
their weapons and looked around in disbelief, ready to run, a third
was lying in shock with his gun beside him but the fourth stood and
aimed at Sylvia.

Panicking and in fear, he fired at her leg, and instantly she felt
sharp pain, and instinctively she swatted at the man and he was
thrown violently against the back of the sofa more than two metres
away. His gun spun far into the air, striking a pane of glass with a
tinking sound on the other side of the room. Sylvia jumped up and ran
to the bathroom in search of a Band-Aid.

Returning with a sting but more angry than hurt, she picked the tiny
gun from the stunned man and grabbed him around the waist. The one
who had fired was lying unconscious on the sofa, though she wouldn’t
have cared if he were dead, and she grabbed him too. She shoved them
in an ice-cream box and went to search for the other two, who had
fled.

Bending down with her face to the ground she easily spotted the
first, who hid under a couch, and she reached in and dragged him out,
kicking and shouting, but her tight grasp around his entire body
silenced him and she felt only wiggling against her palm. She walked
around the living room, scanning for the fourth man, her treading
making thunderous terrifying thuds in the ears of the fleeing man.
Soon she saw him running for the hall, and in two steps she was on
him and had flattened him under her palm, which she soon wrapped
around him.

Thrusting them into the box with their comrades, she angrily put the
box in a cupboard and shut the door, in an effort to forget about
them. She had a cup of coffee to relax, and despite the event she was
drawn back by the beckoning TV.

* * *

By the time Kellie returned in the early afternoon she had three
large cars; four-wheel-drives about five inches long, doing stunts
around the kitchen floor (just like in the ad she had taken them
from) to greet the student and prove that Sylvia was relaxing and
enjoying herself.

“Hey, you’ve had a good day!” exclaimed Kellie happily as she saw her
friend proudly watching the vehicles from a stool on the opposite
side of the counter. She was always enthusiastic and supportive.
Throwing her coat down, she walked onto the kitchen floor as one car
was doing a wide circle, and put her heeled foot right in front of
it. It squealed to a halt and Sylvia saw the reverse lights come on
as the driver attempted desperately to escape the giant girl.

His attempts were vain, because Kellie’s hand wrapped around it and
lifted it high in the air, shaking the man to and for, before her
giant, pretty, but terrifying face filled his windscreen.

“And the driver’s even cute, too!” said Kellie, but Sylvia’s was not
listening. Her mind wandered over what she had just seen and realised
the enormous power that the girls had over these things; a car,
normally large and imposing and at speed could smash a person to
smithereens, had to swerve to miss this girl’s foot, and despite it’s
engine and power, couldn’t even escape her grasp.

She watched Kellie turn it around in her hand, and it awed her just
to think that this metal beast and its strong male driver were
completely at the will of this girl, who was pretty, voluptuous,
flippant, ditsy, clumsy and absent, but nonetheless dwarved the car
into complete submission, its wheels spinning uselessly.

* * *

While they sat and had coffee together Sylvia told Kellie of the
happenings of the day (omitting her shower though), and Kellie toyed
with the empty bridge cars while she spoke.

“If these are empty...” Kellie looked questioningly at Sylvia but
didn’t wait for a response. Taking one to the tiles in the kitchen,
she placed it on the ground, and obviously trying to hide her subtle
excitement, Kellie pushed down on it with the toe of her shoe.

The car was flattened, and she looked to Sylvia with an eager look on
her face. Sylvia remained silent, trying to discover her own feelings
about Kellie’s action. As Kellie went for another car, Sylvia slipped
the truck and a car into her pocket, admitting to herself that she
was excited by Kellie crushing the cars, and wanted to do it herself.

After noting Sylvia’s lack of reaction, Kellie tried to excuse
herself, but her flatmate brushed it off and continued her summary of
the day, finishing with the gunmen, whom they discussed.

Kellie was ambivalent as to their fate, but Sylvia was still angry
and she had seen them firing at the civilians, and it was she who
came up with the idea.

Fastforwarding a taped episode of E.R., they found a scene with a
cleaner in the background and stole his mop. Rewinding it again, they
were interested to note that he had the exact same reaction each time
they stole it, until they had four identical mops. Even though the
men were only four inches high and the mops were five, the girls
stood in the bathroom door as they got to work, stripped of their
black suits and masks, and equipped not with an assault rifle, but
with a mop whose effective area was not even measurable compared to
the area of the bathroom.

Satisfied, the girls separated, for Kellie to have a shower and
Sylvia to check on the team. As the bathroom door closed Sylvia could
hear commands of “Eyes on the floor buster! If you don’t clean, I’m
going to... ...eat you!” Sylvia doubted Kellie’s sincerity but the
threat worked as she heard none afterwards.

Entering her room she saw the team jump to their feet, obviously
bored. “Where’s the ball?” Sylvia asked, and all eighteen
simultaneously pointed to the floor beside the bed, “Oh well...” she
said patronisingly and hopped onto the bed, kneeling up so the men
tumbled into the indentations made by her knees. “C’mon, out of the
way,” and with that they scurried up the slope and to the edges of
the sheet, and she flopped down on the bed, looking up at the
ceiling.

Within minutes she felt tickling on her sides and looked to see the
soccer players shimmying up the sides of her thin skirt that 27 had
chosen. She soon found out where he was when she felt a strand of
hair tug a bit, then tiny footsteps tickled her forehead. While the
rest of the team gathered and sat on her stomach, 27 edged his way
over Sylvia’s face and lay below her mouth, which was slightly ajar,
kissing her lower lip.

In complete comfort and near-bliss, Sylvia’s tongue crept up and
fondled her tiny soccer player’s head, and he responded by trying to
fondle it back, but their size difference prevailed and he tumbled
over and she laughed at him, causing him to fall completely down her
cheek. She picked him up and held him in her fingers, fondling his
tiny body while she daydreamed.

Soon Kellie could be heard exiting the shower and again scalding the
new workers at her feet, and Sylvia informed the players that it was
time to get up. Before they could get anywhere though, she decided
how to carry them and she sat up, the men tumbling and rolling into
her lap; one fell over the edge of her short skirt so with her free
hand she dropped 27 into her cleavage and felt in her crotch,
retrieving the embarrassed player and placing him in the recession in
the lap of her skirt. Edging off the bed she stood and held her skirt
high, the men cradled in the silk, and Kellie wolf-whistling in fun
at Sylvia’s bare knickers as she walked carefully into the living
room.

They sat afterwards and discussed getting a proper field for the
soccer players, who were enthusiastic, but decided that even if they
found a good sized one on the TV, it would be too big to pull out and
impossible to carry, and even then the grass would probably die.
Sylvia came up with the idea of using felt, just like on a pool
table, and it would even be green. As it was not yet even four
o’clock, Kellie went down the street to a fabric shop, while Sylvia
stole six-inch high potplants from outside TV restaurants to put
around the edge.

After some inaudible shouting and several minutes of a game of
charades, Sylvia realised the men were concerned that they only had
one soccer ball and if that was damaged or fell off a table there was
no way of getting it back, so she found a sports’ channel and in no
time on came a game of soccer. She plucked ball after ball from the
field, but only some were the right size, as it was a different
distance from the camera each time she reached in. Soon the players
had accepted five balls and rejected twenty-five, which Sylvia tossed
off the edge of the balcony.

Kellie returned while Sylvia was attempting to decipher a second
round of charades, and was getting frustrated. Kellie broke the end
out of a pencil and dropped it onto the table with a small sheet of
paper, and Sylvia looked up, annoyed at such a simple solution but
smiled at Kellie’s beaming face. A player took up the tiny piece of
lead and drew a quick and obvious house.

“You want a clubhouse!” Sylvia exclaimed happily, and the men jumped
in response. Sylvia looked at Kellie, who nodded and shrugged ‘I
guess so’. When she turned back, 27 had the piece of lead and had
drawn a love-heart on the paper, at which Sylvia melted. She took the
paper, folded it and put it in her top, then leant over and kissed
the man.

With no more ado, they flicked through channel after channel until
there was a full shot of a medium-sized building, which Kellie jumped
to grab. It was surrounded by grass, and her fingers slid through the
earth and underneath its walls. Tugging hard, it ripped away from the
pipes and concrete around it and Kellie lifted it through the screen
without difficulty. Putting it on the coffee table, they looked
carefully and saw it was a one-story hall without a basement. It was
perfect. Grass and earth clung to its foundations and Kellie groaned
at the sight of the dirt under her fingernails.

There were only a few people in it, but Kellie returned them without
concern, into the next shot that seemed an appropriate size. Sylvia
spent half an hour cleaning it while the pleased men explored it. It
was only fractionally disproportionate to them; the tallest player
had to duck in the doorways and others had to watch their heads.

Satisfied exploring their clubhouse, Sylvia and Kellie set to work
gluing the green felt to a large board, and by the evening they had a
‘full’ size soccer field, trees at each end, goals that Kellie had
kept somewhere after the first day, and a clubhouse with a business
card leading up to the doorway as it was an inch higher than the
table surface.

For the rest of the week it was good. The team lived happily and
played with the girls, while 27 and Sylvia got closer. She didn’t ask
what Kellie did with Tom, Andre, the drivers whose three cars lay
idle, or any other people she got. She would sometimes see movement
under Kellie’s shirt or hear a muffled voice, but she didn’t mind.
They fed and washed all the people, though the bridge people kept to
themselves, and the bathroom floor stayed clean.

* * *

Friday night was strange. Sylvia had grown used to hanging out with
the tiny men and not her usual bunch of full-sized friends. She was
absent and untalkative, and dwelled unhappily on her thoughts;
drinking not to have fun but because around these friends she now
felt sad. A cute guy tried to pick her up, but she declined, thinking
of the tiny soccer player at home, and she wished he was there.

She wished that he could be full sized, which made her wonder whether
he would still treat her the same if he were, and she drank more.
After more drink she decided he wouldn’t, and she drank more.
Eventually she had forgotten why she was drinking, and in her stupor
it didn’t matter anyway. To her friends though, they were happy that
she was back to normal.

In the end she had a night to remember, despite not remembering it at
all, though she didn’t kiss any of the guys she danced with, because
the alcohol affected her head and not her heart, which wanted only to
be with the tiny Player 27 back home.

She returned home via a taxi she would not remember, and routine was
the only attribute remaining that allowed her to ascend the stairs
and open the door (though that alone took five minutes, as
coordination is second only to your wallet to dwindle away when you
start drinking).

Stumbling through the dim hall, she found a door. It led to the
bathroom, she snapped on the light but by the time she was in there
she had forgotten why, and slumped down on the closed toilet seat.
Water, that was it, she ‘thought’, and reached over to the tap on the
basin next to the toilet, but her hand rested on it uselessly as her
head draped over the edge of the bench.

Looking down through blurred vision, she saw three of the gunmen,
startled out of their sleep, jump to attention and pick up their
mops; disciplined with fear after a week of threats from the giant
Kellie who showed no sympathy for the tiny men at her feet each time
she entered the bathroom.

The fourth though –the one that fired at Sylvia– looked up but
ignored the girl’s presence.

“Hey, get to work,” Sylvia muttered, her eyes almost closed, the
words coming out in a string of slurs, “or Kellie’ll eat you.”

Sylvia’s head slumped but she absorbed the harsh abuse coming from
the short-tempered man’s mouth, who now stood enraged, pointing and
shouting at the girl lying dazed above him.

“I’ll eat you then,” she declared with closed eyes. His verbal abuse
continued while his friends tried to calm him, but it was too late,
as the words seeped through Sylvia’s ears and hit home, despite
taking a long route.

“What?” she muttered, her red eyes opening to look at him. “What did
you say to me? You... you...” Sylvia’s hand dropped to the man,
stripped of his gun and clothes but apparently not his pride, and
despite her uncoordination he failed to avoid her fingers grasping
his legs.

Sylvia rolled back to a sitting position, and very formally, with no
emotion on her face, she executed his punishment, tilting her head
back and lifting the man by his legs over her open mouth. Struggling,
he waved and pushed against her lips, but it was more her
uncoordination that prolonged his sentence, as her hand waved back
and forth trying to find its target.

After being dragged over her cheeks several times, Sylvia found home
and the man was pushed into her mouth, his shouts echoing until she
closed her lips around his torso. Her tongue did the rest; squashing
and pulling him in until his legs disappeared. Sylvia gagged but
managed to swallow and the man slid down her throat.

An unknown sensation swept over Sylvia like a shot, and though she
didn’t understand the feeling and wouldn’t even remember it, she sat
up and glared down at the three remaining men, who looked on in
horror. Despite still being drowsy and dysfunctional, she jumped to
her feet, filled with energy and a sudden primal instinct.

Not controlling her own actions, but not preventing them either,
Sylvia’s teeth gritted together and her fists clenched. She stumbled
an awkward step and with the next she brought her high-heeled foot
down towards the men. They were tiny but not stupid, and they had
dived out of the way as soon as she had taken a step and her shoe
smacked loudly on the tiles.

Looking up at the giant stockinged legs of this enraged girl, her
teeth barred, the men were terrified and bolted in all directions,
though the door was closed and they had few exits.

Sylvia again stomped at a man, and again, but he dived out of the way
of each uncoordination crash of her foot. She looked down and raised
her leg above the man, dodging to and fro, and slammed down again
...a miss. The other two had found relative safety behind the toilet
and under a towel, and watched as their comrade sprinted from the
giant girl.

Turning his back to her was a mistake, and her next stamp was close
enough to knock him onto his back, from which position he watched the
underneath of the toe of Sylvia’s high-heels come down on him in a
fraction of a second.

Sylvia stamped down on the man lying on his back, and she felt her
shoe hit something softer than the tiles. Pausing, she looked down to
see a red splatter on the floor around her toes as if someone had
spilled some wine then she had stepped in it. Her foot ground the
already unidentifiable mess, but suddenly the primal sensation that
had taken her swept away, and her drunken stupor resumed.

Looking down, she stated matter-of-factly that the men had to clean
up the mess, and stumbled out of the room.

With fear their primary motivation, the remaining two cleaners had
the floor spotless by morning, so not only would Sylvia never
remember the event, but neither of the girls would discover any
traces of it ever happening, and thus neither of them would know what
malice they were actually capable of, given the ‘right’ conditions.

Slumping onto her dresser stool, Sylvia fell clumsily out of her
skirt and ripped away her top, both taking several minutes, but
couldn’t undertake the task of removing her black bra. With eyes
almost closed she slipped her jewelry off and threw open the lid of
her jewelry box to return it with the rest.

“What the...” she mumbled completely incomprehensibly, as she saw the
box was empty, but in the dim light her blurred eyes caught hold of
some minute figures tumbling around in it as she held it to her face.
“Oh, it’s you,” she stated drunkenly, before tipping what her mind
was confused into thinking was 27 into her hand.

“I just want to...” she tried to say to him, but she didn’t finish
her sentence, instead falling onto the bed, clasping what she thought
was her man to her heart and rubbing him in her breast like she often
did, but in reality smearing the survivors of the bridge incident
onto her skin.

* * *

Sylvia awoke late, with no recollection of most of the previous
night, and a killer headache.

Wandering sorely out to the living room, she saw through red and
painful eyes Kellie sitting at the TV struggling with something, and
she flopped onto the sofa, groaning with her hangover.

After five minutes during which Kellie paid her no attention, she
asked slowly “What are you doing?”

“I’m... trying... to...”

She waited, but Kellie, completely focussed, didn’t finish the
sentence. “What? Trying to what?”

“Oh, sorry,” Kellie turned around to face her, “I’m trying to make a
hole in the screen so they can see us. I can make a small one but as
soon as I try to make it bigger it closes up,” and she demonstrated.
Pushing both hands through so the jelly wrapped around her fingers,
she slowly spread her fingers out and the hole between them got
bigger. Sylvia looked past her hands at the people who jumped in
fright at the giant fingers protruding into their world each time a
scene changed. Sure enough though, when it got barely the size of a
baseball, the mysterious fluid swarmed around Kellie’s separated
fingers and filled the hole in the middle. Kellie sat back,
frustrated.

“Why?” Sylvia enquired.

“Well I don’t know, it just does.”

“No, I meant why do you want to do it?”

“Oh, well... I guess I just want to,” that was her answer to
everything, but Sylvia no longer criticised the reasoning. In fact
this time she joined her.

“Why don’t you use a salad bowl?”

Kellie looked at her dully, then realised what she was saying, and
leapt to her feet. While Sylvia prepared herself some aspirin, Kellie
retrieved a clear salad bowl and placed it on its side against the
screen, then thrust it in until the jelly lapped around its edges.
Now the girls looked at the people recoil in horror through the
bottom of the bowl, and laughed with their success.

Sylvia imagined what they would see; a giant piece of glass hanging
in mid-air, held up by the arms of a giant girl, who laughed a giant
laugh far behind, almost in the distance. In long scenes they saw
some people even approach and touch the glass, while others ran from
the sight.

“We need something hollow now,” said Kellie, withdrawing the bowl and
allowing the tiny people to act out their lives in peace.

They racked their brains for something wide, and open at both ends.
While Sylvia lay on the sofa too tired to move, Kellie took the
bottom out of a small cardboard box, then covered it in glad-wrap
that they could take off once it was in the screen. On the first try
the glad-wrap burst with the pressure of the jelly, and on the second
with reinforced glad-wrap, the box itself crumpled inwards.

Then Kellie remembered about a kind of baking tray that she had (but
had never used) that made pies. It had a big hole in the bottom so
you could push the pie out from underneath.

Excitedly, they pressed a bit of cardboard to the bottom, pushed it
gently into the jelly screen just like the salad bowl, and Sylvia,
slightly revitalised with enthusiasm, reached around it and withdrew
the cardboard.

They yelped with glee. They had an open window into the little
universes. At this moment Sylvia recalled the word the repairman had
used, ‘Televerse’, and they laughed as they watched the people inside
stop and stare out at them. This time though, Sylvia imagined, the
sight would be even more amazing; they would see two giant girls, as
clear as day, staring through a window in the air at them.

The people’s reactions confirmed this, and the girls watched
intently, laughing hilariously at every scene. It was a soap, but
Kellie held the hollow round tray in place even when the ads came on,
and something unexpected happened. A commercial for an airline
appeared, and before either of them could realise what was happening,
the plane far away in the centre of the screen passed through the
hole in the baking tray.

Kellie only noticed it had come into the room when it swerved to miss
her face, and she shrieked and dropped the tray, jumping back.

“What is it?” Sylvia asked frantically, but the question was answered
when the silver and white plane passed between her and a dark sofa
which outlined its tiny silhouette. It was impossible to tell how big
it was because she didn’t know how fast it was moving, and soon it
flew passed the furniture and it was lost against the bright walls.

“Where is it?” they said simultaneously. They could hear its tiny
shrill whine but the direction was impossible to guess.

“Open the door!” shouted Sylvia, as if it were a stray bird
terrifying a house’s occupants. More likely, though, was that the
occupants of the jet were terrified and their captain panicking. The
airliner had flown into a nightmare; trapped in an enormous room with
two giant shrieking girls running around.

Soon, after their frantic searching, Kellie shouted “There it is!”
and pointed in the air near a wall. They both ran over to it, making
the situation a thousand times worse as the terrified pilot now had
to cower his plane from these giant obstacles. They waved at it and
tried to guide it to the open balcony door, and as they stood, their
faces either side of the airliner they finally gauged how small it
was. It was tiny; barely more than half an inch long.

It was no wonder they had lost it, and soon they almost lost it
again; Sylvia had her eyes on it as it slowly arced around the room
but Kellie had lost it and was a step ahead and scanning the air for
it. When its circle brought it towards the door, Sylvia thought it
was over but it continued to turn and she shouted “No!” and with no
thought she blew at it as if it were a toy sailing ship and her
breath could guide it.

In reality her breath was an enormous gust to the tiny plane, and it
instantly disappeared from her view and she searched aimlessly in the
air. Kellie moved away and started searching.

“Quiet!” she said, then turned down the TV, listening for its
engines. They both heard its tiny whistle inside the room, but
neither could pinpoint it. It’s volume dropped and all of a sudden
only Kellie could hear it. “It’s gone,” stated Sylvia, but Kellie
shut her up. She could still hear it, but its whine dwindled; in a
few moments the last tiny noise vanished and Kellie looked up.

“I could still hear it,” she said.

“Well I couldn’t,” replied Sylvia. They searched the ground, sofas,
bench and table before concluding it was gone.

They sat for a while and looked at each other before bursting into
laughter. Kellie got up to make coffee while they discussed how
stupid they were to panic like that. When she sat down and delivered
Sylvia her coffee, the latter looked at her and jumped, pointing at
her.

Kellie shrieked and stood up, thinking there was an enormous spider
on her shoulder, while Sylvia regained herself and talked her down.
“It’s there!” she exclaimed when Kellie has stopped thrashing about,
“In your hair!”

Sure enough, Kellie followed Sylvia’s gaze down her long curly hair
and saw the miniature aeroplane was caught in it and dangled
helplessly over her breast; no wonder only she had heard it, she
realised. It was so tiny that they didn’t know how to take it out
without damaging or completely crushing it.

Sylvia sat and watched as Kellie pulled her hair, strand by strand,
out and away from the plane until it was suspended by only three or
four. As delicately as she could, she took it between her thumb on
its underside and her forefinger on its roof and yanked away the last
hairs. It practically disappeared from view between her fingers, and
Sylvia gasped at how something so large could become so small.

Quickly they concluded to resume their original plan to let it fly
out the door (oblivious to the fact that there was nothing outside
for it to do), so Sylvia pulled the coffee table over to face the
sliding door, and Kellie gently placed the airliner at the opposite
end, pointing straight out to the balcony. They sat down to watch it
take off but waited an uneventful five minutes, during which the
engines didn’t even start.

“This takes ages at the airport,” said Kellie, bored. Sylvia agreed
and they left to take their showers.

An hour later Kellie returned, dressed, and remembered the plane.

“Hey, Sylv... it’s gone,” and she shut the door.

* * *

The girls would never know, but the plane had started its engines
again, and largely undamaged thanks to Kellie’s delicate caution, it
attempted a take-off, which was successful.

However, upon attempting to exit the giant room, outside which the
crew prayed there would be rescue, a slight breeze wafted in the
door, and the miniature aircraft struggled in vain. It no longer had
the power or momentum of its former self and the gentle wind ushered
it back into the calm still air of the girls’ vast living room.

After three attempts the jet banked away to find another avenue of
escape. Passing two closed doors, it entered a third only to discover
an empty room –a bedroom– with no exits. The pilot started a slow
bank to leave the way it came but groaned in despair as one of the
monstrous girls filled his windscreen as she entered clad in a towel,
and to add a nail to the coffin she shut the door behind her.

Kellie was oblivious to the jet and this time didn’t even hear it as
she shook her wet hair.

The crew saw only the vast expanse of the girl’s chest, hundreds of
times bigger than their craft, bearing upon them at unavoidable
speed. They struck her breast while the pilot was attempting to
dodge, and the airliner was sent into a spin.

The tiny plane spun slowly in downwards spiral onto Kellie’s bed
while she put on her underwear. Even if she had have turned around
before she sat down she wouldn’t have seen the minute aeroplane,
camouflaged by the pattern on her sheets.

Kellie put on her bra, oblivious to the fact that the half-inch long
airliner she had only half an hour earlier tried so hard to save, was
stuck to the fabric of her panties beneath her, and if the softness
of the bed linen had minimised the damage caused by the enormous
pressure of Kellie’s body, then this slight reprieve was lost when
Kellie pulled her jeans up tight and snug, turning the metal giant
into a grey smudge of scrap in her pants.

* * *

Sylvia was pleased the jet was gone, but when she actually thought
about it, she had no idea why they had shooed it out the window; it
just seemed right. But then again, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ and
her attention turned to Kellie, who sat opposite her in jeans and a
T-shirt that barely attempted to contain her breasts. At least she’s
wearing a bra, thought Sylvia.

Kellie leant on her elbows, slightly bored, and Sylvia watched as
horny members of the soccer team ran between her elbows at Kellie and
attempted to dive into her cleavage, as her breasts hung ominously
over the table’s edge. Two made it, the third stopped mid-run to try
again, and a fourth jumped but failed to make the grade, hitting the
T-shirt’s seam and falling over the table’s edge.

Sylvia gave a small nod to Kellie and indicated towards her lap, the
latter leant back and saw the fallen man. After picking him up she
held him above her chest and dropped him neatly into her cleavage,
surprised to see that two others were already there. Upon seeing the
one still on the table run she picked him up too and dropped him
straight in and crossed her arms. Her breasts squeezed together and
tiny muffled shouts emitted from her T-shirt. She was bored.

“What’s the matter Kel?”

“Dunno, I guess I’m just bored,” but this time Sylvia knew that this
wasn’t a real reason. There was something else.

There were several more minutes of silence, during which Sylvia
gently ran her finger over 27, who had been nestled in her panties
since her shower. Sylvia was waiting for Kellie to say something, and
she sensed the hesitation. Was it embarrassment that stopped her
saying this, she thought, or was it something bad?

Then she hit her with it.

“I want to go in there,” said Kellie. Sylvia looked at her and smiled.

“Why?” But she already knew the answer: I don’t know, I guess I just
want to.

“I dunno, I guess I just want to.”

Sylvia played apprehensive, but she had been thinking about it too.
After a pause, she became nervous that she was being too
apprehensive, and that she might deter Kellie. She was about to open
her mouth to point out that if their arms could go in, there was no
reason why the rest of them couldn’t, but Kellie beat her to it.

“I mean, if other people can come out, why can’t we go in?” It was
different wording, but meant the same thing.

When Sylvia saw the tense look on Kellie’s nervous face, she realised
there was no reason she should be holding back. “Sure Kel, let’s do
it!” and with that the pretty girl’s face broke into a smile.

“I’ve been thinking, we need–”

“A rope.” Sylvia finished for her. Kellie smiled and said she thought
she had some somewhere, but the speed with which she got it and it’s
sparkling clean appearance told Sylvia this was planned. She laughed
inwardly because she had bought rope as well.

Tying it to a leg of the sofa, Kellie laid it on the floor, dropping
the loose end in front of the TV, before she hesitated. It had struck
her that it might be dangerous, and she voiced these concerns to
Sylvia. Firstly, how did they know they could pass through the screen
unharmed to start with? Secondly, what would happen if the scene
changed? And thirdly, what sort of programme showed shots long enough
for them to explore without the scene changing?

Sylvia relieved Kellie’s fears by reminding her that the people they
took out came out unharmed, so why shouldn’t they be able to go in
unharmed? Besides, they could test by poking their heads in before
they crawled into the TV completely. As to her second question,
Sylvia concluded that if they were tied to the sofa, there was no way
they could disappear. Her logic and reasoning was bad, but it made
sense to Kellie.

With regard to the third question though, they racked their brains
but couldn’t think of a show or movie that had a long enough scene.
Sylvia looked at the TV guide for clues and read aloud each
programme.

When she read ‘Sports World’ out, she dismissed it as she had never
watched a sports programme and began to read the next entry.

“Stop,” said Kellie, “that’s it! When they show football games and
stuff there is only one camera on during the whole game. That’s how I
got the whole soccer team, it took ages but the screen just stayed on
the field for the whole time, even after I’d finished and all the
people in the crowd had run away.”

Sylvia realised she was right – she had never wondered how Kellie had
got the time to fish out a whole field of players (nor did she know
that Kellie had even scoured the bench as well, since there weren’t
eighteen players of one team on the field). The show wasn’t on for
another half hour, so they waited, and talked about what they would
do once they were inside.

“We’ll probably be huge!” Kellie exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

“We can’t both go in at once though,” reminded Sylvia.

“I know... can I go first?” but she didn’t need a reply, and
continued. “Imagine all the guys in there, looking up and seeing me
come out of nowhere! We’ll look soooo sexy!” As she said that she
stopped and looked at Sylvia, “What’ll we wear?”

Sylvia looked back at her and said what she knew both of them were
thinking, “something sexy,” and smiled. Instantly both girls jumped
up and ran to their rooms to change, but being typical women they
would be hard pressed to decide on an outift with only half an hour
before the show.

However, their enthusiasm gave them speed and in a record-breaking
twenty minutes they emerged almost simultaneously to get
verifications from the soccer team.

Kellie tapped on the clubhouse roof and wooed the men out; a command
they would never disobey – though not out of fear like the gunmen,
the halving of whose population neither she nor Sylvia had noticed
during their showers earlier, but out of their desire to be in the
giant voluptuous girl’s good books, which would undoubtedly result in
the pleasure of being immersed somewhere on her body some time in the
near future.

Upon exiting their tiny clubhouse they were greeted by the wondrous
sight of Kellie’s huge breasts hanging only ‘metres’ above their
heads as she bent over, ushering them out.

“Do you like what I’m wearing?” she asked with an expectant smile as
she stood a step back and flung her arms to the side, showing it off.

Although they would never disapprove, the men cheered her white
knee-length skirt, heeled sandals and pink striped shirt that had an
open collar and whose buttons seemed as if they strained to keep the
chest together.

She beamed and knelt down, pouting her lips at table height for all
the men to run over and kiss. They crowded around each other and some
even jumped on their friends’ backs to plant their heads between her
lips. She ‘kissed’ them back with a smack of her lips and bowled them
over into a pile of bodies, at which she laughed. 27 was among them,
knowing that Sylvia was comfortable with him joining his mates in
showing affection to Kellie.

Kellie moved aside for Sylvia to show off her number, which was a
very short dark brown skirt, similar dark brown high heels and a
cream-coloured tight T-shirt, with it’s neck making a ‘V’ into her
cleavage. The men cheered again, but she saw that 27 was less
animated and picked up on his jealousy.

“Oh you poor little thing!” she said patronisingly as she bent over
and picked him up. “Don’t worry, I’m not forgetting about you, I just
want to look good, that’s all,” and she pushed his tiny body to her
lips before smiling gently at him. He was comforted, but his face
remained grim until she dropped him between her breasts, at which he
lit up and seemed cheered.

* * *

The two girls sat down and waited excitedly for the sports programme
to come on; the first time in history that this would occur and
probably the last.

They tensed up in anticipation as the introduction played, with shots
of amazing plays, spectacular race-car crashes and fast guitar music
playing in the background as the titles came up promising super
action and high-speed. The intro came to a close and they held their
breath – having never watched a full sports show they expected a game
to come on immediately.

When the presenter appeared on the screen they slumped in
anti-climax, and shouted light-hearted abuse at him to hurry up.
Kellie reached in and poked him as he talked, causing  him to fall
from his chair to laughter from Sylvia. He stumbled about but Kellie
reached in and drew him out of the television – he was big, almost a
foot and her hand barely wrapped around his waist.

Holding his face in front of her mouth she shouted “Hurry up!” and
Sylvia watched his hair blow back in her breath and laughed. Kellie
shoved him back in the screen and he bolted off the set.

The shot of what would have been the presenter finishing his
introduction to the programme held on the empty set for another
agonising minute before it finished, and the girls breathed a sigh of
frustrated relief. Of course they didn’t know what was coming on
because Kellie had interrupted the presenter’s speech, and they soon
saw it was motor racing, in particular Formula 1.

“What?” Kellie exclaimed. “You said it was going to be football!”

“No, I said it was going to be ‘Sports World’. I never said football.”

“Ohhhh!” Kellie groaned, as each shot of the speeding cars lasted no
more than a fraction of a second. She shouted at the TV in
frustration, “This isn’t sports! It’s just cars!” and slumped back on
the sofa.

After a minute of annoyed silence watching the high-pitched cars
speed around, Sylvia concluded that at least they could experiment
and poke their heads in to make sure it was safe, especially if the
shot changed.

Kellie agreed and got a tiny bit of enthusiasm back, and her face
dropped its sulk. Dropping to her knees, she put her hands on either
side of the screen and leant forward.

“Be careful,” said Sylvia, a bit tense.

Kellie’s forehead touched the jelly and she squealed with the
sensation.

“What’s it like?” Sylvia enquired, but Kellie was too absorbed, and
with a quick shove she slipped her entire head in and immediately
laughed.

Her laugh came through above the sound of the cars and Sylvia
realised it was coming through the TV’s speaker and not the screen.
Kellie squealed and giggled and Sylvia could just see through the
corner of the screen, which was blocked mostly be Kellie’s hair, and
watched cars spinning out as their drivers lost control when they saw
this girl’s giant head looming over them.

“This is so cool!” she shouted above the engines, “You have to try
this! ...Sylvia?”

“I’m here!”

“Sylvia? ...Sylv?” and after the second word Kellie snapped her head
out of the TV in panic. Seeing that her friend was actually there,
she said “What is it? Why didn’t you say anything? I thought I was
alone.”

“I did say something, but I could only hear you through the speaker,”
and they realised the obvious; the screen didn’t let sound into the
‘televerse’ just as it didn’t let light in.

Sylvia sat on the carpet with her legs stretched out as Kellie
resumed her laughing and giggling with her head in the television.
What a sight, Sylvia thought. She didn’t notice Kellie’s arm creeping
in, and it shot back out with a Formula 1 car the size of its
corresponding Matchbox version in her fingers, its engine screaming
and buzzing like a furious bee.

Kellie thrust it between Sylvia’s feet and exploded with laughter at
her prank as its spinning tyres caught the carpet and it shot
straight towards Sylvia. It careened under her thighs and Sylvia
screamed.

“Ahhh! It’s under my bum!” as the car jumped the seam of her skirt
and wedged between her panties and the ground. “Oh you bitch!” she
screamed in laughter as it drove itself against her backside, its
tyres spinning on the fabric of the inside of her skirt. She
instinctively jumped and lifted her cheeks off the floor, but of
course this resulted only in the car gaining grip as the pressure of
her body on the ground was removed, and it shot even further up her
skirt.

Sylvia dropped back to the ground and when it got stuck and its
engine stalled, it was halfway up her backside and sat, pinned
vertically between her skirt and panties. Kellie was helpless with
laughter. It was stuck so tightly that it didn’t fall when Sylvia
held herself off the ground with her arms, and she had to hop to a
kneeling position and spread her knees, teasing it out with her hand
before it slipped out, slid down the inside of her skirt and popped
onto the carpet.

She grabbed it in her hand and shook her head at Kellie with a
smiling ‘I’ll get you back’ look.

Kellie’s giggling persisted even as she stuck her head back in the
TV, and Sylvia looked at her ass poking in the air as the girl knelt,
and contemplated shoving the car down her pants but gave up the idea,
deciding she would bide her time and wait for a better opportunity.

Staring blankly at the screen, she unconsciously tapped the small car
on her teeth and almost nibbled on its front end, as if she were
biting her teeth. She was daydreaming, and was so absent that she
didn’t notice the driver (stunned enough by the incident but now
terrified by her huge mouth and thinking her nibbling would progress
up the car to include him) as he undid his safety equipment and
jumped in panic out of the side of the car. He hit her shirt on her
breast, bounced into her lap then righted himself and climbed the
inside of her leg, throwing himself over the other side to fall to
the ground. He was running frantically and had made it almost two
feet when Kellie pulled out of the TV, leaned back and sat down, her
backside squashing him instantly.

“Do you want a go?” she said, and Sylvia accepted, not nervous at all
after listening  for five minutes to Kellie’s elated outbursts.

* * *

Pushing her head through felt the same as pushing her hand through,
Sylvia discovered, until the cool custardy substance passed her nose
and she gagged, but the sensation was of a cool wash passing over her
face.

She opened her eyes and almost jumped at the extraordinary sight. It
was incomprehensible, and impossible to describe. There was a whole
world, much smaller than hers, completely surrounding her. She hung
in mid air, her head inches from the ground – or probably more like
metres in this universe. The cars screamed towards her until after
only a fraction of a second their drivers braked in panic, one
skidding into a wall beside Sylvia, which almost made her jump out.

In the next scene that followed almost immediately the cars were
racing normally again (until they saw her). She wondered how the TV
knew what positions they were in, but realised that as the race had
already been held, its televising was completely predetermined.

Sylvia lost herself almost completely in this world; it was an
amazing feeling, but very disorienting when the shot changed and she
looked at something new. In a short while there was a view from a
helicopter, and Sylvia’s head appeared high in the air, looking down;
her hair swung down around her face and she felt herself fall toward
the TV. She realised that since the camera was at a different angle,
so was their jelly screen in this televerse and now gravity acted to
pull her into the television.

The cars were much tinier from up there, and when she squeezed her
arm in and reached down to poke them she accidentally completely
crushed one with the tip of her finger. She winced but the shot
quickly changed and she was looking horizontally again, which was
almost a sickening feeling as gravity jolted her around.

As she moved her arm about, she realised how slow and cumbersome her
movements were, and only now became conscious of how much effort even
blinking seemed to take. Her mind went back to her experiment with
dropping the one car on the freeway and one into her lap and she
understood that in here, she was a giant –or giantess, she thought–
and that she would weigh an enormous amount and thus would move
really slowly. She verified this when she looked about, and instead
of her hair twirling to follow her motion, it slowly waved around and
in long swings it wobbled to a stop as if someone had tied great
shipping ropes to a moving crane.

The whole experience was sensational, and she began to giggle as
Kellie had. She watched spectators spilling out of the stands in
panic, only to instantly return to their seats as the shot changed,
and again attempt to escape in exactly the same way.

Soon though a commercial came on and she found herself watching a new
type of oil circulate in an engine, and she pulled her head out just
in time to miss a descending piston.

“Wow,” she said, staring wide-eyed and exhilarated at Kellie, “that
was good.”

* * *

After twenty minutes more of Formula 1 the presenter came on, back in
the studio. Sylvia noticed from where she was having a coffee and
called to Kellie, who came back into the room.

“After the break, we’ll take you on a bird’s eye view of yesterday’s
offshore power boat racing at Eastern Beach from the Channel Nine
helicopter, so stay tuned for high-power, high-speed action on open
water...” and the presenter droned on as shots from wharves showed
the large power boats, at least ten or twelve metres long, starting
deafening engines with giant puffs of diesel smoke.

“Oh God! More racing,” said Kellie, “the only time we actually want
to see football and they don’t show any!”

“Well hold on,” said Sylvia, “...he said they had a helicopter, and
if they’re racing at sea then there won’t be any cameras on land –
the helicopter’ll have the only one.”

“So?” said Kellie before realising that this meant the whole race
would be one long shot.

After waiting impatiently through the ads, it took only twenty
seconds of footage from the helicopter of the boats ready to start,
the beach nearby, and the course around a large bay that they were
going to take before Kellie jumped to the floor in excitement,
anticipating that they did indeed only have one camera.

However, she halted when the boats started with the camera looking
down straight at them in the water “How am I going to get in?” she
said almost panicking that she’d miss her opportunity, “It’s just
water down there!” She slumped in disappointment.

Sylvia was about to suggest something when Kellie straightened up and
turned around. Sylvia could almost see the light bulb appear above
her head as Kellie’s face brightened, her eye twinkled and she jumped
up and ran to her room.

Baffled, Sylvia called out, but in no time she caught up with
Kellie’s thinking and smiled as she realised what the excited girl
was doing. In a world record one minute flat, Kellie bounced out of
her room in a black bikini, laughing that fate had caused her to find
something even sexier than her first outfit.

She had stuck her head in when Sylvia tugged her shoulder, urging her
back out.

“The rope!” she exclaimed and Kellie realised in her excitement that
she had forgotten it, her face dropping in awe of what could have
happened had Sylvia not remembered. Wrapping and tying it around her
wrist, she slipped her head in, much more cautiously this time.

Kellie had not had Sylvia’s previous experience from a helicopter
view, and didn’t understand that she would fall towards the TV, so
when she slipped her arms in to join her head and shoulders, the rest
of her body followed without invitation.

Sylvia yelped and dived to help her friend, but was too late and
watched Kellie slip into the TV and tumble slowly, really slowly as
she was now a giant, much heavier, version of herself, away from the
screen until she landed on her back in the water with a splash that
would have dwarved a tidal wave. The lead boat, which the camera had
been following, disappeared instantly and the two following it were
upturned by the splash, but there were three far behind enough to be
safe and at high speed they soon careened to where Kellie’s head was
rising, and had to swerve the giant obstacle.

Sylvia watched as the tiny boats skimmed around Kellie’s neck and one
hit her shoulder. The girl didn’t notice, her face first showing
surprise, then as she blinked the water from her eyes and gasped a
few times she saw the humour in it and laughed a huge, slow motion
laugh with a beaming face.

She must be sitting on the bottom, Sylvia thought, since she could
see her legs stretched out as if she were in the bath. One of the
boats had stopped above the dark silhouette of her bikini bottom
which lay in the water almost menacingly beneath it like a big patch
of dark seaweed beneath swimmers. As she rose up on her elbows, a
boat was sucked by the swirling water behind her arm and hit her
bikini top.

Kellie looked down and saw it, and in no time her hand appeared in
the dark depths and rose beneath it like ‘Jaws’. The sleek ten-metre
craft fitted snugly into Kellie’s palm, its ends protruding only
fractionally as she wrapped her fingers around it.

Holding it high in the air, she mouthed some words, but Sylvia didn’t
hear her. Of course, she thought, there was no audio as all you would
be able to hear would be the helicopter. This made her conscious of
the commentary, which she hadn’t noticed during the car racing, but
she now became aware that the man was monotonously commentating the
race as if it were still going.

She was trying to figure this out in her head when she saw Kellie
rise to her feet, the camera almost above her but at enough of an
angle to see the remaining powerboats drifting helplessly into the
swirling at her ankles, rained on by the waterfalls coming off the
giant girl, who shook her hair and pushed it behind her shoulder.

Kellie stayed put but she slowly slipped out of screen and Sylvia
realised the camera was following what the path of the boats would
have been if the heavens hadn’t blessed them with the giant
bikini-clad girl.

Jumping to her knees she pushed her head through the screen in panic,
but of course Kellie still stood there in the tiny televerse. The
rope on her wrist dangled in the waves before it rose to the hole in
the sky, through which Sylvia’s head now protruded.

“Oh my God!” Kellie shrieked as she turned around to see Sylvia’s
head. “You frightened me so much! You look so awful, your head just
floating there!” Calming herself, Kellie took giant strides through
the water around Sylvia’s head and looked at her from the other side.

“What is it?” Sylvia asked, trying to crane her neck to look behind
her.

“You’re... not there!” Kellie exclaimed, shocked. “I can see you from
here,” and she walked back around to face her, “...but not here!” as
she stepped behind her friend’s floating head, to stand where, in
effect, she would be in her living room looking at Sylvia’s behind.

“And the helicopter!” she continued, “it...”

“What?” demanded Sylvia, confused and almost scared.

“Well it was right behind your neck –where your neck disappeared– but
now I think I’ve scared it and it’s flying away... if the camera was
on it, why isn’t your head going with it?”

Pausing, Sylvia’s mind whirled until she concluded; “because all this
has already happened and it already flew around following the boats
yesterday, and we’re only coming in and affecting it now.” To an
analytical mind it would be an unsatisfactory explanation, but it was
nonetheless vaguely correct and Kellie accepted it, absently reaching
up to head height and pinching the helicopter between her fingers to
look at it, as if it would provide more of an answer.

Sylvia’s head slowly moved away, following the helicopter’s original
path, and Kellie snapped out of her concentrated thought, her
determination to explore resuming. Just as her arm dropped to her
side, the helicopter in her fingers’ engine stalled and as she set
her course for land she flicked the craft away, and it tumbled and
fell to the water.

Craning her head, Sylvia could see Kellie striding through the water
towards the beach. There was a long pier in her way, and she knelt
down to peer into it before deciding it was uninteresting and
stepping over it, as the people on it ran in panic. In her second
step her  foot clipped it and the wood shattered, splintering
straight through the middle and throwing several people into the
water.

Kellie, mesmerised by her enormous presence in this tiny world,
looked around her, dazed, as people fled the beach at her feet.
Dropping to her knees, which sunk metres into the sand, she laughed
and picked up a man, who was perhaps half of a Kellie-sized inch.
Sylvia couldn’t see what she was doing, because the course of the
‘yesterday-helicopter’ changed to follow the ‘yesterday-boats’ as
they headed away from the beach.

Sylvia would never discover that Kellie, enchanted with her power,
was picking up the beach-goers and stuffing them wherever she could.
She dropped some people in her cleavage, then picked up more between
her fingers and with a rush, held open her bikini bottom before
dropping them in and releasing the elastic.

Smaller than 27 was to Sylvia, the people’s bodies didn’t even make a
lump in the fabric as Kellie ran her hand over her bikini bottom. She
swiveled around and sat down on the sand (on top of three or four
tanning people, oblivious while they slept), and leant back on her
arms as if she were sitting comfortably on a normal beach on any
normal beach day. Of course the beach was far too narrow and while
her hands fell onto a picnic area and carpark behind, her feet were
in the water and swimmers could be seen splashing about in panic
around them.

Sylvia’s face came slowly around so she again could see Kellie, and
she laughed and said “You look comfortable!”

“Oh my God Sylvia, this is... ...I’ve never felt like this before,”
and she stood, gazing around her with almost dazed eyes, “it’s so...
well, I dunno... you can do anything.”

Her gaze fell on the docks a mile or two past the beach, but this
distance took only a moment to cover with her giant steps. There was
a container ship, that any person would look in awe at due to its
immensity, but in little more than ankle deep water to Kellie, it
barely was taller than her knees. She raised her foot out of the
water and planted it on the solid dock, stepping up as torrents of
water cascaded onto the men fleeing their trucks and forklifts, some
of which were turned into compacted scrap metal when Kellie trod on
them.

When she inadvertently crushed those things underfoot Kellie felt a
rush of feeling that she had never known before they had been blessed
with the Segisant TV, and it excited her. She thrived on it. Flicking
her head around, she saw the rope she was attached to climb and
disappear into mid-air, which meant Sylvia was facing the other
direction, and she turned back and raised a foot over a dock
building.

As if she were creating a masterpiece, Kellie rested her foot on its
roof, before pushing down and feeling the steel bend and crumple
under her, and she couldn’t suppress a laugh of glee. At that moment
she heard Sylvia call out to her, and she thought she had been
busted, but when she turned Sylvia was only just coming into view,
and held a camera in her hand; just one arm protruding through the
invisible screen.

“Hey Kel,” she repeated “I’ve got an idea... say cheese!”

“Wait, wait! Let me pose first,” Kellie said eagerly as she scanned
around her for something to pose with. She stepped back into the
water and lowered herself to sit on a part of the dock that was
mostly bare, except for three workers who were too slow to escape and
were squashed under her bikini bottom, and a security booth that was
flattened by her thigh. A truck was next to her leg and she picked it
up, also raising one leg to put her foot on the giant cargo ship,
before she came up with a better idea, “No, wait, wait! Just a sec!”

Kellie straddled the enormous ship, which sunk lower into the water
with her weight. Balancing herself, she put a hand on her thigh and
held the truck with just her thumb and the tips of her fingers, and
tapped it on her cheek, making a spontaneous face as if she were
thinking deeply.

Sylvia laughed and took the photo.

Kellie jumped to her feet, urging Sylvia to wait so she could strike
another pose, this time at the beach. Striding out of the industrial
area, she stepped onto a large road that spanned just over the width
of her foot, heading back towards the beach.

Just as she neared the sand she spotted a bus and stooped down to
pick it up. Treading onto the sand, she assumed a sexy pose and held
up the crowded bus as if she were advertising a bar of chocolate,
smiling teasingly to the camera. Her free hand fondled the rope that
was tied around her other wrist.

Sylvia took the picture and her head disappeared as she slid back
into the living room to put away the camera, and in doing so the
commentator became audible as he listed what was to follow in the
programme. Her face shot back into the TV instantly.

“Kel! Hurry, the ads are coming on!”

Kellie strode in panic towards Sylvia. They didn’t yet know what
would happen if the scene changed while they were completely inside,
and she felt like a swimmer who has just heard someone shout
‘Shark!’. With her head still in the televerse Sylvia reeled the rope
in as if it would hurry Kellie up.

When she was almost within arms’ length of touching Sylvia’s
outstretched hand, the ads came on. It all happened in the blink of
an eye, but to Kellie the experience seemed to last a lifetime. The
world around her instantly disappeared, and it tried to pull her with
it. She fell backwards into the vanishing universe, but the rope
tightened and held her to the invisible side of the TV screen.

It was as if she was being sucked out of a jet; it pulled on her and
only the rope prevented her falling away. She was essentially hanging
by it around her wrist – in her panic she hadn’t even let go of the
bus and now the pressure of the rope clenched her fist and she
couldn’t release the tiny vehicle.

Oddly, the rope was taut between her wrist and the screen, but back
in the living room it lay coiled and loose on the ground, between the
screen and the sofa – the screen was a barrier, through which the
force of the universe being sucked away did not pass. Thus Kellie
remained still just outside arms’ length but dangled helplessly for
this terrifying moment.

In an instant the first ad came on and the next televerse appeared.
At this time Kellie was still dangling horizontally in the vacuum of
the disappearing universe, and when the new one arrived she was
effectively lying with her arms stretched out, one entangled in rope
and the other clutching at it, just above the ground that now
appeared, and she fell flat on her stomach onto the surface with a
wince of pain.

The commercial was for a similar sports programme that showed
motorcycle racing. Its first shot was –would have been– of a bunch of
sleek high-power road bikes racing down a straight. On top of that
straight now appeared a giant bikini-clad body, under it the leading
bikes were crushed. The speeding riders following smacked hard into
Kellie’s side to yelps of pain from the distressed girl – they were
at least two inches long, their riders three, and at their speed they
hit with a hard sting.

The riders at the back of the pack had an instant to react to the
extraordinary sight, and their natural reaction was to panic and fall
off their bikes, which inevitably results in both bike and rider
sliding separately along the ground for sometimes up to a hundred
metres. And so, four of five tumbling and sliding motorbikes hit
Kellie’s side or wedged under her, as did their riders. Two slid
between her bare stomach and the hard racetrack, while another
slammed into the side of her pressed-up breast, a fourth wedging
under her just above her thigh.

Wincing with the stinging, Kellie awkwardly rocked onto her hands and
knees (still unwillingly clutching the bus), and she had risen to her
knees before the TV cruelly again changed the shot, but the new
ground was at a similar height to that of the previous shot, and this
time she kept some balance and the vanishing universe only managed to
push her back to her hands and knees, her legs splitting apart a
fraction in the fall.

The new shot was much closer to the action; two riders daringly
attempting to pass three others on the outside around a sharp bend.
Leaning so far over that their knees touched the asphalt speeding
below them, they would have no chance to alter their course when the
back of Kellie’s giant legs appeared in front of them.

On the inside, the first shot straight between Kellie’s knees, but as
she had fallen onto her hands, he clipped the bottom of her chest and
it threw him to the ground, sliding into a wall, while his bike flew
high in the air before crashing near him. These riders were almost a
foot tall to Kellie and their bikes more than eight inches long, so
not only did the impact hurt her breast but it gave Kellie a
frightening shock.

The first bike on the outside struck her foot and was tossed high in
the air, just as Kellie rose up, her hand instinctively bearing down
between her knees. The second bike in the inside lane slipped through
her knees under her fingers but her hand caught the third and while
his bike was flung out into the wall, he slapped right into Kellie’s
grasp.

Disoriented and in shock, Kellie had almost lost her nerve when she
felt a grip around both of her wrists and a jolt that dragged her to
her feet. When she came to her senses her arms and face were back in
the living room and Sylvia was struggling to drag her by the wrists
through the television. Her fingers finally released the bus and the
rider, and she clawed at the carpet, pulling herself back in.

Falling on the floor in a heap, both girls panted, catching their
breath before looking at each other solemnly. When the terrified
foot-tall rider got to his feet and bolted though, they couldn’t hold
it in and they laughed hysterically, as relieved people do.

“Oh my God,” panted Kellie, “look at these! And here!” She looked at
the red marks from the impacting motorcycles, and the red burn around
her wrist as she loosened the rope. “Oh my God that was close.”

“You–” laughed Sylvia, “...you should have seen your face when that
bike hit your boob and flew in the air! And the other two coming
through your legs!” It was clear that Sylvia had found the sight just
as exciting as hilarious. Picking up the tiny bus, the tiny
passengers thrown around inside, she laughed “And why didn’t you let
go of this?”

“Oh my God I didn’t even know I was holding it!”

“Those photos are going to be hilarious. Look what you did to this
thing!” and Sylvia showed Kellie the battered bus, which had been
squeezed in her grip, some of its windows broken and its wheels bent
inward. “Oh we have to keep this. Where is that bike guy?”

Walking to the kitchen Sylvia left the bus on the bench and saw the
motorbike rider racing around the edge looking for exits in the
cupboards. He still wore his helmet and Sylvia laughed. “Come here,
you–” and she stooped to grab him but he bolted past her fingers, and
being a foot tall he wasn’t slow.

“Help me catch him Kel!”

Soon both the girls were chasing the poor frightened rider around the
room. Kellie had him in a corner and was stooping, slowly approaching
with open arms, when he dived and ran between her legs. Sylvia dived
but missed and rolled around laughing. He saw an open door and
disappeared into Kellie’s room.

“Oh now we have him!” they exclaimed as they ran in after him. Sylvia
shut the door behind her and Kellie turned on the light. Her eye
caught a movement on the other side of the bed and she ran around
while Sylvia dove on top. Kellie was on hands and knees when she
shouted success, before losing her grip and he slid under the bed.

“He’s underneath!” and Sylvia jumped to the other side and stuck her
head under the bed. “There’s so much crap here I can’t see him!”

Obstructed by shoes, clothes and boxes the girls lost the fleeing
rider, and resorted to pulling each object out one-by-one. After five
minutes the floor under the bed was clear and they were dismayed to
find no rider. They searched through the junk, which they had placed
on top of the bed, but after no success they concluded he had got
away.

“How could he have...” Sylvia muttered, mystified. Then she noticed
Kellie’s cupboard was ajar and the girls looked at each other.

Tiptoeing over, Kellie knelt down in front of the door while Sylvia
waited with open hands. Inching the door open, she groped around with
her hands before Sylvia saw her wrestle with something that jumped
around wildly, then shrieked as the man shot out, straight in between
Kellie’s knees. He smacked into her crotch and her hands fell onto
him, pressing him to her before she wrapped her fingers around him.

“Shhhhh! It’s okay! It’s okay!” she repeated while the man kicked.
His waist was gripped by her right hand and her left hand was cupped
over the back of his head. She repeated her soothing as she lifted
him up and pressed his head into her bikini top as if he were an
infant. His golf ball-sized helmet disappeared between her breasts.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, swaying him side-to-side, soon pressing
him so hard he had to stop kicking. “See? It’s okay, we’re not going
to hurt you,” and she brought him to face her and flicked his visor
up with the thumb of the hand that that was cupped around his helmet.

“Ohhhh, poor baby,” she said looking at him patronisingly before
cradling him again and looking up at Sylvia with a laughing smile on
her face. Sylvia rose and left, giggling, hearing more soothing from
Kellie as she entered the kitchen.

* * *

Sylvia sighed with relief, her heart pounding with all the excitement
and her throat almost sore from laughing. ‘I need a coffee’ she
thought, and went to prepare one for her and Kellie.

Seeing the bus on the bench her quick eye saw that the passengers had
cleared out.

“Oh Kel! We’re going to have to keep an eye out for those bus people
now,” she called out, while she instinctively looked around her feet
and over her clothes as she had grown used to in the past week.

When she retrieved the coffee from its spot on the bench (they no
longer even bothered put it away), two tiny figures sprang up from
behind it and bolted. Sylvia saw them and quickly cupped her hand
over them. Dropping the coffee, she slowly lifted her palm and as the
people ran out the small gap she pinched them between her thumb and
forefinger – they were tiny; about half an inch high.

‘Kellie must have been huge,’ she thought as she peered at the tiny
figures in her fingers. She felt a pang of guilt that they had to
hide behind giant obstacles that, to her, were insignificant kitchen
items, but she reminded herself that she was conscientious and took
care of all the people that had emerged from the television. Of
course she was overlooking the gunmen, and just plain forgot the
bridge survivors whose smear had been washed off her left breast,
unnoticed, in the shower.

Glancing around, she found a bowl sitting nearby, in which she
dropped the people so she could attend to them later. She looked up
at Kellie who emerged from her room wrapped in a towel, obviously on
her way to the shower.

“Smells of salt,” said Kellie, pushing her damp hair to her nose,
“What’d you say before?”

“Oh, I said we’re going to have to keep an eye out for the bus people
now; it was on the bench but they’re gone. Where’s the bike guy?”
asked Sylvia casually.

“I put him to sleep.”

“You what?”

“Christ no! I mean he’s sleeping. What do you think I am?” Kellie
retorted light-heartedly. Sylvia spluttered and laughed, apologising,
while her friend disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

After her shower Kellie returned to the kitchen in a pair of loose
black panties and just a small singlet. Sylvia started; they had
never worn only underwear in front of each other before, and she
realised that this meant that Kellie was now comfortable with her.
They were friends, not just flatmates or acquaintances.

She smiled, thinking that their morning’s experiences really had
bonded them in a way, and she appreciated Kellie’s bold statement of
friendship. She laughed out loud, and Kellie, who was putting the
kettle on again for herself, knew exactly what she was thinking about
and laughed too.

She bent over and leaned on the bench as she waited for the kettle,
giggling with Sylvia about chasing the plane and the bike rider. A
person whose hiding place she had disturbed ran in front of her arms
in panic; not the safest escape route. Kellie noticed and casually
picked the passenger up between her fingers.

“On the bench... that bowl,” said Sylvia, nodding at the bowl in
which she had put the other two escapees, indicating for Kellie to
let him join them. Her hand had been right above the bowl to drop him
in, but upon hearing this, with a smirk and in complete defiance
Kellie tossed the man into her singlet and he vanished between her
breasts.

“Why do you do that?” asked Sylvia in a tone that said it was a
serious question, but without insulting Kellie. She expected to hear
‘I guess I just wanted to’ but their friendship had developed enough
by this stage that Kellie replied with more openness and honesty.

“I guess...” she began, and despite these words that also began the
response Sylvia had originally expected, her hesitation told Sylvia
that she was going to reveal something personal, “I guess I feel...
wanted?” Her voice rose in pitch on the last word as if it were a
question, as if she were asking her friend if it were OK to feel like
that. She continued, and now it poured out as she elaborated on her
thoughts “I feel... powerful too. I guess I want the guys to get
close to me.

“It’s sexual, but without having sexual tension. There’s always
sexual tension between me and guys because even if they aren’t
attracted to me I still think they are. I hate it. Don’t get me
wrong, I love having guys around and I want to feel sexy, but if guys
you think are friends are just trying to get into your pants...”
Sylvia remained silent for the moment, and listened.
 
“With the soccer team though, and all these little guys, I don’t feel
uncomfortable at all and neither do they, you can tell, and its just
fun. They get close to me and I feel good with them in my top, and
noone gets hurt.”

There was a moment of silence during which Sylvia was mulling over
Kellie’s admission, and during which Kellie was beginning to think
that Sylvia had rejected her openness; embarrassment was just
starting to creep into her when Sylvia finally responded.

“Well, noone gets hurt unless you start... bouncing,”

At that the girls burst into laughter; Kellie with relief and Sylvia
with gratitude at the gateway Kellie had just opened to a close
friendship.

Sylvia said she understood, but even though she was comfortable with
all of the guys being around and on her and sometimes in her top, she
really only felt the way Kellie did with 27. She too openly admitted
that it was an exhilarating feeling having a man –or men in Kellie’s
case– squeezed in between her breasts, and she also mentioned how she
almost felt motherly when she took care of the tiny people. Kellie
agreed.

They discussed their thoughts while preparing their well-deserved
lunch, during which time Sylvia mentioned that despite Kellie’s nasty
experience at the end of her trip into the TV, she still wished to go
in, to which Kellie happily consented, but reminded her they would
have to find some other programme with long shots, preferably
outdoors.

* * *

Sylvia sat and re-read the TV guide over lunch, but to no avail.
Scanning through the programmes, she found nothing that even hinted
at having appropriately-long shots. Just before she was about to
throw it down in frustration, her eye caught a tiny square in the
corner, outside of the other programme listings.

“What’s Channel 31?” She asked Kellie, reading the small inset that
had only a few listings without descriptions. She had never heard of
it before.

“It’s the community channel, for news in greek and stuff. It won’t
have anything good on; besides, the reception is shit. Noone gets a
good picture.”

Sylvia’s mind recalled something the repairman had mentioned a week
earlier... something about Channel 31 and its reception...

“No, the TV guy said we’d have perfect reception on all channels
since it shows the real thing and not the TV signal,” looking at her
watch, she noted that the guide said ‘Close’, which meant the station
didn’t have anything to broadcast. Probably couldn’t afford anything
to broadcast, she thought.

Channel 31 wasn’t even programmed into the TV, and she had to tune it
manually before she got an image. When she found it, the picture shot
up instantly, without any fuzz or snow, just as the repairman had
said.

“Oh my God,” she slowly said, cautiously but with building-up
excitement, “look Kel!”

On the screen was a street, seen from a couple of stories up, and
behind were buildings which they instantly recognised to be in their
own city, and in the bottom of the screen cars moved back and forth
and people crossed the road. Words moved slowly across the screen,
listing the day’s weather report.

Sylvia realised instantly what it was – when there was no show to
broadcast, the station simply connected a camera on the roof of their
own building looking at the city, and repeated the weather all day
long.

Both girls broke into a smile and looked at each other, realising
that this picture would never change until the station came out of
‘Close’.

Sylvia jumped to her feet to get rope, but in her haste she failed to
make another connection that would turn out to be very important;
Channel 31’s camera fed straight to their broadcasting tower, so
these images were live. That was easy enough to realise, but the
realisation she missed, was the implication this had on the universe
that the TV would automatically display behind the screen.

* * *

Without delay, Sylvia straightened her clothes (the brown skirt,
heels and cream shirt), securely tied the safety rope to her wrist
and crouched in front of the television. Kellie’s previous ungainly
entry into the TV world fresh in her mind, she planned her movements
– slipping a leg through she made contact with the ground before
rotating, pushing her behind in, her torso and head following (which
was cramped and difficult) until only her other leg remained, which
soon slipped through.

She felt dizzy when she looked up; dizzy with amazement. She stood
alone in a world that was completely dwarved by her. Looking down she
saw she was standing on the street and people scurried around her
feet. She had inadvertently crushed a car but was too overwhelmed to
pay it any heed.

Being on the fringe of the central part of the city, the buildings
were quite large, but not enough to even make it past her knees.
Stooping, she picked up a person and immediately made the connection
that he was almost exactly the same size as 27 and the soccer
players. This made her as tall as a forty-storey building.

Looking at the city, she calculated from the angles of the buildings
that she was around ninety degrees from the centre, away from their
apartment.

In fact, if Kellie, who was watching intently, had have got up and
gone to the balcony she could have looked over the roofs of the
buildings to the east and just to the left of the city she would have
seen a figure towering over its surroundings. A human figure, but a
ridiculously oversized one.

Of course it was Sylvia, and the realisation they should have made
was that, being a live picture, the easiest and closest universe the
TV would find to present the image, was naturally their own. And thus
Sylvia was stomping through a tiny city, in a universe in which she
thought her actions would have no consequence to their own, but,
unbeknownst to either girl, they did.

* * *

Sylvia felt a rush of potency and power she could never have even
imagined, not even with all the tiny people that surrounded her back
in her living room. It was like being on an observation deck on a
tall building; she could see for miles around her, and of course,
there were tiny ant-like people and cars around her feet.

Instinctively she headed straight for the city. Not noticing the tiny
threadlike powerlines that snapped on her ankles, she walked with
giant steps along the road – without the kind of attention she would
pay to the soccer players on her kitchen floor, and thus trod on
several cars.

When she reached a park which she soon recognised, she realised what
area she was in. She was amazed by the feeling of the giant trees in
the large inner city park, brushing limply against her calves. Her
were steps obscured by the foliage around her legs, and she trod on a
man walking along the path and he was crushed under her toe,
unnoticed.

Emerging from the trees below her, she stepped onto the road, on the
other side of which stood tall buildings; tall enough that she could
touch them without stooping, and when she walked towards the nearest
perpendicular street she ran her finger along the side of one. Glass
disintegrated and fell to the street, and the strong pillars between
the panes snapped like matchsticks.

Hearing a noise, she turned around and saw Kellie’s head appear in
the air on the roof of the building where Sylvia had first entered
(and from which Channel 31 broadcasted), and suddenly became
conscious of the rope, which was near the end of its length,
following behind her and leaving a trail of damage. ‘Oops!’ she said
and lifted it from the ground. Coiling it loosely over her wrist she
noted that she had only a few metres left (which corresponded to
several city blocks).

“I couldn’t see you,” explained Kellie, and Sylvia saw that Kellie
faced slightly away and she wouldn’t have been in view on the screen.
She replied ‘sorry’ and made her way back towards the direction
Kellie’s head pointed, and Kellie withdrew back into the living room,
satisfied now that her friend was back on the screen.

Sylvia was about to turn around to seek something to engage her, when
a noise whined at her from below. Looking at her feet, she saw a
police car about the length of a matchbox car, sirens blazing, and
two men jump out.

The words on the megaphone they soon produced didn’t come close to
reaching Sylvia’s ears, and she crouched to listen. Still hearing
only muffled speech, she got to her knees, her foot sending two cars
spinning away behind her. She laughed when she caught words like
‘yield’, ‘on their way’, ‘peaceful’ and ‘negotiate’ above the traffic
noise of the largely unaware city.

Her clear disregard for their commands caused the police to draw
their weapons and begin firing at Sylvia’s close face. Their bullets
struck her cheek, and feeling the slight sting she reeled, and in
shock, she swiped at the men. The first flew high in the air over the
park she had just crossed and vanished from view in the trees
hundreds of metres away. The second disappeared, hit by the car that
was caught by Sylvia’s palm, sent tumbling into the trees.

Jumping to her feet she saw another two squad cars pull up together,
but she gave them no time to act; crushing the first under her foot
without hesitation, and kicking the second lightly, sending it
spinning into a building.

Sylvia turned back towards the city, only to see tiny flashing lights
scattered in every direction – dozens of approaching police cars.
Already feeling guilty of having destroyed the last cars in her
anger, Sylvia decided it was time to leave, and whirled back to the
Channel 31 building, and from which the rope’s other end dangled.

Walking quickly but still enjoying her size (despite the small
incident), Sylvia paid even less heed to her steps and caused more
and more damage. Still she hadn’t realised that she was a giant in
her own present universe. If she had, she might have taken more care,
because when she approached the building, she exercised no caution
whatsoever, and in the step that would take her within arms’ reach of
her exit, a seemingly insignificant thread of wire snapped as her toe
nudged the power pole it was connected to, and the building’s windows
went dark as it lost power.

Kellie, watching Sylvia approach from the sofa in the living room,
froze as she suddenly stared at a blank TV screen, covered in static.
Her jaw dropped.

So did Sylvia’s giant jaw, when the rope she reached for suddenly
dropped from the roof of the building to the pavement below, severed.
Picking it up, stunned, Sylvia looked with blank eyes at it’s
smouldering end, a light smoke wafting off it as if it had been
severed by a lightsaber.

Sylvia suddenly felt light-headed. Panicking, she thrust her hand in
the spot where the rope had been, but only hit the building and
demolished rooms on the top floor, the tiny camera that had been
pointing at the city smashing in the rubble. She waved about hoping
to find the screen, but of course found nothing.

Her heart dropped and her head swam with the realisation that she was
stuck and Sylvia trembled with the thought of living out her life
alone in this tiny world.

Luckily for her, she was a calm and collected type of person, and
just as she was about to break down and bawl, her brain gave her a
quick shot of adrenaline and she regained some type of composure.

Of course she had absolutely no idea what to do, nor how it had
happened in the first place. Her mind sifted through all the insane
possibilities and systematically rejected those explanations that
didn’t make sense: Kellie had cut the rope – no, why would she do
that? Besides, the rope was burnt. Kellie burnt the rope, no – even
if she wanted to, why would she burn it and not cut it?

Through this subconscious process of elimination Sylvia gained no
more insight into what had happened, and she was twice as confused.
Collecting herself, she knew she had to think this through. Stressed,
she sat down on a nearby building but of course its roof crumpled
before she had even put her weight on it. ‘Christ, I’m not even
thinking at all’ she said to herself.

Soon the sound of sirens was again heard, and she knew there was no
way she could think with the added distraction, and she looked away
from the city. On the horizon she could see paddocks, and without
hesitation she made for them, desperately needing a quiet place to
sit down and work out what to do.

* * *

In her dismayed state she no longer took any caution in her steps,
and pedestrians, cars, trees and power poles were crushed under
Sylvia’s feet. When she reached inner suburbs she no longer even
bothered to stick to roads if they veered off her course, and as she
walked through residential blocks, sometimes even houses were unlucky
enough to find themselves under her high-heels.

When she stepped into a park she looked down for the first time in
two suburbs, and saw a familiar sight – it was a unique statue, and
in only a moment she remembered how she knew it.

“Peter,” she said aloud. It was the statue she had come to know well
as it was in the park opposite an ex-boyfriends house, in particular
the abusive ex-boyfriend that Justin Timberlake had reminded her of.

Sylvia knew exactly what to do, and after glancing around her she saw
the house with its green fence and red roof, over which she lifted
her shoe. With a satisfying crunch, she pushed down and got even with
Peter, the wooden house splintering under her foot. Before she left
though, a tiny figure wiggled out from between the toe and the heel
of her shoe. Stooping over she recognised Peter as she picked him up
between her fingers.

Remembering the pleasure she had derived from stuffing Justin
Timberlake into her top, she pulled open her shirt and lifted an edge
of her bra’s cup. With the writhing man only inches from her, she
stopped, surprised.

“27!” The soccer player was already in her bra. “What are you...” but
before she spoke the words her mind flashed back, to when she and
Kellie were parading their outfits before the men, and 27 getting
jealous, and her comforting by putting him... yes, of course, by
putting him in her top. She groaned. He had been there the whole time
- through Kellie’s whole ordeal, through lunch, and now through this.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry,” she said to him, and he looked up at her
with a questioning smile as if to say ‘What for?’; oblivious to her
predicament, “I’m going to have to leave you there for a while,” and
before he could respond with another look she released her shirt back
over him.

Now she was distracted, and she no longer felt like making an effort
to ‘punish’ Peter. Looking for somewhere else to leave him, she
pulled open the front of her skirt, but changed her mind as she knew
27 enjoyed riding with her in there and she didn’t want to spoil that
by making the same experience into a punishment for her ex-boyfriend.
She instead reached around and pushed him roughly under the heavy
seam and into the back of her skirt.

In two seconds she had forgotten about him and had resumed her way.
In less than five minutes she was outside the city limits and trod
not on concrete but on earth. It was an open grazing type of area,
and there were paddocks around her with small houses on narrow roads.
The land was flat; plains that stretched away, interrupted only by
smooth and low hills, and steep valleys with small streams that tore
a winding rift into the flatness.

Sylvia stepped carefully into one of these, and as if to take shelter
she sat down in the depression and leaned back, resting her feet
against the slope on the other side of the valley. She was just below
the level of the surrounding land and the wind of the plains drifted
above her head.

She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled 27 from her top.

“What are we going to do?” She asked, not expecting a response, as
people do when they talk to pets for comfort. “I just... I don’t even
know what happened.”

As she mulled over it, some words of the TV repairman that she would
otherwise have forgotten (and of course had forgotten), rose from the
depths of her memory and came into her mind. From her phone call to
him she recalled: “But remember, they’re real people on real worlds,
and if you’re watching the news or something that’s not fiction, then
the screen might actually be viewing a scene on Earth ...our Earth.”
Suddenly it clicked.

* * *

Sylvia groaned with the realisation of what had happened, and went
over it step by step.

The moment of shock when the rope was severed was played in slow
motion in her mind, and as she remembered it, she became aware of
things that had seemed insignificant at the time. Her foot knocking a
power pole, the building’s lights going dark, the rope falling to the
ground. She had cut the building’s power and their camera had gone
off.

Now she realised why Kellie had been able to destroy the helicopter
that had carried the camera following those boats and still return
safely, but she hadn’t. The broadcast Kellie had entered was of
yesterday and thus couldn’t be affected by what she did now, but
Sylvia’s broadcast was live and the universe the TV had chosen was
their own – so when the station’s power had gone out and the camera
had stopped, the signal going to their living room had cut out, and
the TV would have gone blank.

The last thoughts she said aloud to 27, and continued.

“So... if that camera comes back on... ...Kellie can watch it and
she’ll see me again and pull me out!” Sylvia was about to jump to her
feet when another memory of the moment returned to her and she
groaned in dismay; she had accidentally smashed the camera when she
had tried to push her hand into where the rope had been.

She slumped back in dismay. It was late afternoon and getting darker,
and her despair rose to the surface and she let out a whine. 27, who
was cupped in her hand, saw this and jumped onto her shirt, lying
flat on his stomach with his arms outstretched as if he were trying
to hug her.

“Oh I’m so glad I’ve got you with me in here,” she said, her voice
nearly breaking as she was about to burst into tears.

Killing the moment, a whirring sound appeared suddenly from above the
plains behind her and a helicopter flew over Sylvia’s head. It
instantly saw her and spun around to face her.

“Can’t you just leave me alone!” she sobbed in frustration, the
intrusion of the machine adding the proverbial straw to the camel’s
back and causing her tears to flood. She caught its cabin between her
fingers and flung it, but not before seeing it was a news helicopter,
and her heart dropped even further when she now knew she was being
shown on TV, a giant crying girl.

This caused a new thought to suddenly appear and she made a few
connections in her head.

“If I’m on TV...”

Hurriedly, as if her idea would disappear, Sylvia reached down the
back of her skirt and her fingers found Peter’s figure in her
panties. She had been sitting on him and he was battered and
unconscious, but she hadn’t retrieved him because she needed to ask
him a question, or anything of the sort. Instead she held him up next
to 27. Verifying her thought, she tossed the man aside, not even
seeing in the afternoon shadow where he landed.

He was almost precisely the same size as 27. This fact enthused her,
and she jumped to her feet, her vigour renewed. Turning back towards
the city, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

Sylvia’s plan was simple; find her apartment, which she knew had to
be there since she was certain she was in her own universe, find
Kellie and convince her to turn on the TV. When she saw Sylvia as a
giant –giantess– on the news on another channel she would reach in,
Sylvia would see Kellie’s giant face floating in front of a
helicopter or something and she could escape.

The ingenious part (that she had needed Peter’s tiny body to confirm)
was that if she left 27 at the apartment, when she returned to the
living room he would be waiting for her, full-sized.

With this thought in her head she strode over the land energetically,
not noticing the increasing engine noises in the air behind her.

* * *

The afternoon was late and Sylvia could see red on the horizon when
the pursuing military helicopters flanked her on both sides, one
turning a wide circle to halt in front of her. She halted, and two
more appeared beside it, all three aiming at her. She was aware of
more tiny engines in the air behind her.

Instinctively she pushed 27 protectively down into her top. An
amplified voice emitted from the front craft, shouting inaudible
commands at her. Sylvia needed to get to her apartment, and
side-stepped the military helicopters and continued. When she was
beside them the nearest opened fire.

Flame spewed from a cannon on its nose and she yelped in pain.
Spinning to face it, a single blow from the top sent it hurtling to
the ground, where it exploded instantly. The blades had put a small
cut on her hand and she held it tightly as she started back for the
city with quickened and nervous strides.

Calculating where her apartment was, she made out in the dimming
light a high building that she recognised, and altered her direction
for it. By this time she was in outer suburbs, and each step brought
destruction to any car or house in her way. She had not evaded the
helicopters though, and they followed at a distance.

After only a couple of suburbs, Sylvia felt a breath of warm air
brush past her waist, and though she didn’t see the rocket, it’s
trail of white smoke, greying in the dusk, gave it away and in
moments an explosion appeared on the side of a building ten blocks
ahead of her.

She whirled in panic and the thin smoke broke into swirls by her
movement. A second rocket flew between her arm and her body as she
did so, but she didn’t have time to thank her luck. She took a step
towards the source of the rockets, but a white puff around one of the
helicopters said there was more coming, and her instincts took over,
throwing her to the ground.

Sylvia dropped onto an industrial building, flattening it. On her
stomach, she lay behind a low, flat warehouse that provided cover
from the helicopters. Clearly the attackers’ intent was not to
preserve the building, a small sacrifice in the scheme of things, as
three rockets turned it into a ball of flame, its walls flying. Large
aluminium sheets and steel girders struck Sylvia and scratched her
skin. Stunned and bathed in heat, Sylvia scrambled to her feet.

Obscured by the pillar of smoke, she took two steps and found herself
behind two of the unsuspecting attack helicopters. She grasped them
from underneath and with a single clench they were squeezed into
shreds of steel. She could hear more somewhere, but Sylvia took the
opportunity to progress.

Relocating the landmark building, she was on her way when the whine
of jets could be heard in the distance. Quickening her pace, she
reached the building and located her apartment block near it.
Crouching low on the street with her legs squashed between buildings
on either side, she shouted hurriedly.

“Kellie! Kellie! Come out, it’s me!” she was about to tap on the
windows of their first-floor apartment when she thought better of it.

In no time an aghast Kellie stood on the balcony, overwhelmed by the
sight of Sylvia towering above her. From her view near Sylvia’s knees
she could see her giant body rising up and over the buildings on
their street. Her face looked down at her, shouting unbearably loud
words at the stunned girl.

Kellie mouthed inaudible words, and Sylvia repeated panicked
instructions at her.

“Turn on the TV! Turn on the TV!” Kellie, overwhelmed by the apparent
loss of her friend and now shocked by her giant reappearance, took
what seemed a lifetime to take in Sylvia’s desperate commands, let
alone comprehend what she had planned.

With the sound of the jets getting louder, Sylvia drew 27 from her
breast and held him to her face, informing him she was going to put
him down into the apartment and soon he would be her size. Before she
could see his tiny head shake she thrust him down at the balcony. She
released him as gently as she could, but he was being difficult;
clinging to her finger and pushing away from the safety of the
balcony.

“What are you doing?” she said in frustration, “They’re after me!”

When she saw his clear opposition to the move, she brought him to her
face. “Don’t you understand? You can be full-sized again!” But this
time she saw his head shake and his immovable look of ‘No’.

Sylvia looked astonished, but it dawned on her that he loved the way
it was, and didn’t want change. Furthermore, memories of every
bastard boyfriend popped into her head and she looked at 27, and her
expression turned to a loving smile for this tiny man who showed her
so much affection, even when faced with the possibility of resuming a
normal life. Her heart leapt and she kissed him tightly.

The moment didn’t last long as the jets above snapped her to
attention. Stuffing 27 back into her bra she got to her feet, just as
a friendly voice appeared near her.

Spinning, she saw Kellie’s face floating in mid-air and realised her
plan was coming into effect. Kellie had turned on the TV and slipped
her head into what was obviously a news helicopter’s perspective of
the giant girl.

Only when she took a step towards her friend did she realise a
hurdle; Kellie’s face was much larger than hers and it occurred to
her that she would have appeared as a midget on the TV screen.

“Oh no Kellie! You’re the wrong size!”

The same thought had already occurred to Kellie and she shouted “I’m
going to have to wait and flick channels until I find you at the
right size!”

Waiting was the exact thing Sylvia didn’t want to do, and at that
moment Kellie’s face disappeared and from behind it appeared a dot in
the sky. The jet had already fired and it was only luck that Kellie
had vanished in time for Sylvia to see the missile and dive out of
the way. She struck the ground hard, crushing every vehicle under
her, before scrambling to her knees, and instinctively looking for
shelter she headed for the high-rises of the city.

When she had almost reached one, a missile whizzed past her neck and
struck the building only feet from her face. The explosion sent her
sprawling, and the back of her head struck a low building and her
expression went blank as she lost consciousness.

* * *

When Sylvia awoke she felt many sensations. Foremost was her
throbbing head. Next she became aware of the feeling of pressure all
over her body, but not even pressure like water, but a cutting, sharp
pressure, and when she tried to rise she realised its source.

Her mind went to children’s stories of Gulliver’s travels when she
found that she was strapped to the ground with tiny cables. They were
sharp and she felt a cut when she tried to move her arm.

She cried out in pain and opened her eyes. She was lying on her back,
her head tilted sideways and she could see it was now dark and there
were tiny soldiers circling her, military vehicles, bright spotlights
and aircraft buzzing somewhere above her. Wincing, she attempted to
break free but only felt cuts like paper burns.

Discouraged, she paused and studied the people in front of her face.
At the same time that she realised one was a news cameraman, Kellie
seemed to appear out of his camera, but she was much bigger than he
was. Clearly she had been watching Sylvia wake and took the
opportunity to see her.

Emerging from the invisible side of the screen, she stood and Sylvia
saw that Kellie was as tall as her face and that the men around her
were half-way up her knees in height. Kellie firmly held a rope that
originated in the tiny camera, whose operator remained motionless –
Sylvia remembered that Kellie would be invisible from where he stood,
effectively where the girl’s living room would be.

“Sylv!” As she opened her mouth, all the men around her spun around
to see the giant (but less giant) girl, except those directly behind
the cameraman, who looked around in puzzlement. They drew their
weapons but Kellie took a step to either side of her and kicked the
soldiers harshly, her foot sending them flying. “Sylv, stay there!
When I can see you from above on the tele I’ll rescue you!”

With that she retreated back into the camera as more soldiers
approached. The cameraman was oblivious to the event that had just
occurred.

Sylvia waited and listened for helicopters; that would signal that
there were TV cameras looking down at her and thus provide Kellie the
opportunity that she had promised Sylvia.

Back in the living room, Kellie watched patiently with the sound down
so as not to listen to the nattering of the reporters, and when a
shot appeared from a helicopter that showed Sylvia’s full body
strapped to the ground she took her chance. On the screen Sylvia
appeared about two feet long, so when Kellie reached in and snapped
the first cable with the scissors in her hand, Sylvia’s freed head
looked up to Kellie’s face, even bigger than she was, floating in the
air.

She watched with adrenaline as Kellie’s giant scissors severed the
cables pinning her down, and at one stage her finger, the width of
Sylvia’s leg, poked down on the soldiers standing firing at her, and
they disappeared into red dots on the tip of her finger. By this
stage Sylvia was not perturbed by the violence, and when the last
cable snapped she jumped to her feet and hugged Kellie’s hand.

“Now we have to find the right channel to get you back the right
size!” shouted Kellie before she slipped back and vanished in the
air, the helicopter on which the camera had been hovering in her
place.

Sylvia knew she had to keep moving while Kellie waited for the right
moment. She looked at herself – giant searchlight spots lit up her
body. In panic she felt her breast but 27 was there, safe and sound.

Seeing the soldiers around her feet, she realised one of her
high-heels was missing, and crushed several in revenge with the toe
of the remaining one. She saw the other heel lying in the middle of a
street, but with no desire to retrieve it she ducked away and behind
a building.

She tried to find cover there but soon realised that she would have
to be in view for Kellie to find her on TV at the right size, so she
stepped back into the open and waved at the hovering craft.

She was a sight – lit up by searchlights, standing feet apart,
towering over some insignificant buildings as she shouted at
helicopters floating around her face. Conscious that they were far
too close she swatted at one and her movement caused a gush of air
that sent it reeling back. The others fled in terror before turning
back around to view her.

“That was good!” shouted Kellie’s face, appearing quite large out of
the air, “but now you’re too small! Get closer!” and she slipped back
to the living room.

Sylvia took a step towards the helicopter she had appeared out of,
and instantly Kellie emerged.

“That’s it!”

She looked the perfect size and Sylvia ran to her and clasped her
hand. It was such a relieving feeling but she didn’t relax; the
helicopter, seeing the giant girl running for them, backed away and
Kellie went with it, yanking Sylvia.

She stumbled but her grasp was solid and she threw her other hand up
to Kellie, who grabbed it. Kellie’s face disappeared but her arms
remained, pulling Sylvia as hard as she could back into the living
room.

Sylvia tried to jump up; she stepped on a building, but even though
it crumbled to the ground with her weight it was enough to propel
Sylvia up to Kellie. When Sylvia’s head emerged into the living room
she shouted with relief, and releasing Kellie’s hands, she dragged
herself into the room. Kicking, her legs fell into the room and she
collapsed on the floor.

“I’m going to take a hammer to that TV and smash it to pieces...” she
stammered before her eyes closed and she passed out.

* * *

Sylvia woke in her bed, aching, but her pains were nothing compared
to the joy and relief she felt to be back in her room, normal sized.

Kellie passed her door and seeing she was awake, disappeared and
returned moments later with a tray of breakfast.

“Oh Kellie, you are the best friend I could ever want,” and she
hugged the loving girl, knowing that their path to friendship was
complete (and all it took was the destruction of a city).

Kellie held up a tiny figure, and Sylvia took 27 out of her hand.
“And you, I love you so much!”, with which she kissed the minute man.

They talked about it, Kellie informed her that it was on the news all
night, images of Sylvia trampling over the city repeated over and
over again. Her giant high-heel was all that remained back in the
city. She also mentioned that she had damaged several buildings and
that repairs were already occurring to power lines.

Their street was barely damaged and Kellie had already bought
supplies. They stayed at home the whole week, not even turning on the
TV.

* * *

After two weeks Sylvia went out in public, highly disguised. She had
no need though, because noone at all would believe that the endlessly
talked-about giantess was actually a human living in their city – the
media had concluded she had been an alien from a distant planet, who
had strayed off course and onto our much tinier world, leaving only
her giant ‘glass slipper’ which would one day slip gently onto
Cinderella’s foot.

Even her own friends didn’t make the connection. ‘Oh my god that
alien looked so much like you!’ they said while they gossiped
frantically about where they were and what they had been doing at the
time, and reassured, Sylvia removed her disguise of a shawl and
glasses.

Some people looked at her strangely in the shops she went to, but it
was merely a starting point for conversation when she saw their
expressions and admitted she looked similar to the giant intruder.

When she returned to the apartment, relieved, she found Kellie
sitting on the sofa, something obviously on her mind. Before she
could ask what it was, Kellie spoke.

“I know you said you were going to smash the TV with a hammer, but
before you do...” she said nervously, “...I found this old thing at
my parent’s place. I thought if we taped something and then played it
back on the VCR we can go back in but this time your accident would
never happen again.”

Sylvia looked and saw a video camera in Kellie’s hand. It was silver
and stylish and looked so new it sparkled. There was no way Kellie
had ‘found it’ at her parent’s house.

Kellie was obviously expecting her to sternly reject any proposition
to use the TV in any respect ever again, but instead Sylvia smiled.

She had bought a camera too.


THE END