“I’M BACK!”

Under most circumstances, Corey Lindon would have answered his sister’s call with some form of warm recognition. “Have a good run?” or something like that. More generally, he was usually just glad to see her return safely from her solo excursions. Not that they lived in a bad neighborhood or anything, far from it. But…well, he worried, sometimes. He worried now, too, but for entirely different reasons. For the same reason that there would be no answer, no welcome home, no warm greeting.

Because right now, he was 3 inches tall, and terrified out of his mind.

He didn’t know what had happened, at least on the science end of it. At the moment he didn’t fucking care. All that was immediately important was that when he had awoken from a sudden loss of consciousness that had hit him as he had worked on a project in his bedroom, he had found himself in this utterly ridiculous, impossible state. And up until his sister’s voice had carried from downstairs, he had remained frozen where he had awoken in sheer disbelief. But with that call came a sharp realization that had broken through the ice that had covered him: He needed to get some help, and with his parents out of town, Claire was his best and only hope. He just needed to actually get to her.

And that started with picking himself up off the carpet, and immediately bolting toward his open door and through the veritable gateway it now presented itself as. His rational mind, however much it was occupied with the complete irrationality of what had happened to him, had managed to reassert itself to some degree, enough to remind him at least partially of his sister’s habits. And right now, the most important habit in the world was that she always returned immediately to her room after finishing up a run. That was where he had to be, right where she was going. He had a little bit of lead time, something he realized he would need even as he managed to trot out of his room at a respectable time,  a positive to having had his collapse on this particular side of the room.

His heart almost sank as he passed into the upstairs hallway to see the trek before him – a journey that might normally take him only a few steps had now become one that could span the length of a football field, possibly two.  But he didn’t allow his pace to slack, and began pushing himself harder as he left his room behind. And yet, when barely a quarter of the way down the ever-stretching hallway, his muscles were already starting to burn and ache. It was a fact that made little sense to the athletic 18-year old, given his own daily jogs as well as his soccer training, to have his body revolt against what should be a simple exercise to him. But revolt it did, and Corey chose to believe that whatever had happened to him must have taken a toll on his muscles that hadn’t yet manifested until he had exerted himself.

He did not let the aches stop him though, and instead kept running, kept pushing, finishing up the first quarter of his journey. Half came next, and his body cried out all the more. Three fourths, and he was passing the stairwell, biased as it was toward his sibling’s room. Just in time, too, as the tell-tale creaking of foot upon step signaled the start of Claire’s ascent just as he had left it behind. When he reached the threshold of his sister’s room, he promptly keeled over, catching his breath in agonized gasps.

His chance at recovery was short-lived. Already, those creaks had grown quite loud, leaving little doubt that the arrival of their source was nigh. The rest, of course, was extinguished by the rumblings that had started, one after another in a steady, constant rhythm. At first he was thrown off by them, but as they continued and intensified, the reduced young man began to slowly realize what they truly were between pained gasps.

When she took her first step to the top of the stairway and into the hall, well…Claire outright spelled it out for him. The van-sized bare foot that calmly crashed down into the corridor sent another rumble throughout it, this one serving to disrupt Corey’s footing just a bit and causing the hapless shrinkee to put forth considerable effort as he stepped about clumsily in an attempt to regain it. That other foot, just as bare, joined its twin, and Corey watched in mild fascination as the two behemoths pivoted, pointing in the direction of their owner’s destination.

And their owner was fucking big.

Corey attempted to choke out a call for help, though his lungs weren’t particular keen on cooperating with his desire for discovery.  A bad enough position to be in by itself, but as his eyes traced up the being before him, he could feel that ice returning to impede him once more. Claire’s bare legs, strong and fit, covered in well-earned perspiration from her run, rose into the sky for an eternity before disappearing into her black running shorts.

“CLAIRE!” he managed to gasp out as she took a tentative step toward him, her foot causing another minor quake that the exhausted brother had to recover his footing from. And as the strained word had left his lips, as his eyes continued to trace up the athletic young woman before him, Corey Lindon was hit by a horrifying realization as he noted a white wire originating from each of his younger sister’s ears as her tired face looked straight ahead and past him. Wires that eventually merged together before plugging into the phone that sat strapped to his sister’s toned bicep, no doubt supplying her with all manner of beats to run her hardest to.

He had fucked up. Badly. And the knowledge of that almost sent the tired victim of this debilitating status to his knees. He had fucked up, he thought again, even as his sister took another world-shaking step that brought her impossible form even closer – just a step away, in fact. He had overcomplicated this whole thing from the start. He should have waited at the top of the stairs, not bee-lined for Claire’s room. That would have placed him in prime position, where Claire would have had to look at him by the very nature of climbing the steps. She wouldn’t have had to look down, he wouldn’t have needed to call for her – he simply would have been there, at eye level, at some point. Guaranteed attention.

And he had fucked it up in his panic, his rational mind sending him to his current location under significant duress. Sending him right into the path of his now towering little sister, who had no cause to expect that that her older brother was now a mere bug at her feet, no reason to look down. And here he was, with no means of gaining her attention.

No energy to escape, as her right foot surged toward him.

Time for the unfortunate young man seemed to slow down as his sister’s formerly little toes, now boulders of flesh topped off with a scarlet coating, smacked him straight in the face, sending him sprawling onto his back amidst the carpet and imprinting him with just a bit of the sweat and odor developed during their owner’s run. There was pain, too – this was easily the hardest he had ever been stricken by something in his life, and later he might wonder how the blow didn’t break his neck.  Of more importance, though, as he lay on his back, was that this simple step by his overwhelming sibling was not complete yet. The foot was still moving, creating a sky of bronzed skin over the hurting boy who could do nothing but watch in stark horror it eventually seemed to settle above him.

And it still had to come down, something it now seemed immensely interested in doing.

Corey screamed with a terror he had never known before in his life as the canopy above him fell, the world still seemingly suspended in molasses. A scream that would be heard by no one, that was barely heard even by himself as his sister’s sole descended upon him. That short experience at the end of her toes now seemed to be nothing more than the lightest of previews as Claire’s clammy skin pressed down onto him, cutting his scream short. He was subject to a disgusting mouthful of exercised flesh that furthered his silence, the overpowering residue of his sister’s hard work invading his senses, soaking his clothes, and making him just want to throw up out of both disgust and humiliation. He wasn’t quite certain how he didn’t.  It was a hellish experience, underneath her muggy foot, being completely and utterly subjugated by it as he failed to offer even the most token defense.

                It was an experience that suddenly got worse – exponentially so. For the pressure had arrived, born of Claire beginning to settle her now considerable weight down upon him. And God, it hurt. Trumping even the blow from earlier, the exertion of mass upon his body wracked him with pain not unlike what he might expect to face within a trash compactor as it began its horrible, passive job of flattening his helpless body. The pain escalated by the millisecond, and he now found it near impossible to breathe as he was smothered underneath pungent flesh.

                He was going to die, Corey realized, as tears began to well, as the aching in his bones reached a crescendo. He was going to die, messily and ignobly. Ground into nothing by his little sister, whom he loved so much, whom he would do anything for, whom he had looked out for since their childhood. Who was, honestly speaking, probably one of his best friends, if not the best. He was going to be reduced to a pile of thoughtless meat underneath her, and God only knew if he’d be identifiable after the fact.

                The pain continued. His bones began to give. Corey Lindon prepared, as best he could, for the end.

And then it arrived. But not in the form that he had expected, not in the darkness he had pictured, that he had hoped would give way to light. The light did arrive, actually, but it was no different than the dull lighting of the hallway as he had last seen it, before he had been consumed by the underside of his sister’s foot. But more importantly was that the pressure was suddenly gone, removed from him with a quickness that still hadn’t quite registered even as he watched the bronze sky pull away. Still hurting, still aching, still frozen with terror, he watched with unmatched thankfulness as it settled into place well before him.

He looked upward again, then, up those powerful legs. Beyond those black shorts, that navy blue tank top. And far above, like a moon, his sister’s face was looking downward. At him. Her brown eyes wide with confusion, her mouth just ever-so-slightly agape. And she looked down at him like that, for a period of time that seemed to go on forever. As she attempted to process what must seem like an impossible sight.

Some movement, then, a hand slowly reaching for and retrieving the ear buds that lay nestled within their host. That stare, one he now recognized as unblinking, still did not end. Claire was, in fact, staring at his still-prone body with such intensity that for a moment the shaken young man wondered if she had not simply decided to crush him in this manner, instead. But then those lips started to move, and three booming words emerged from within them to join him in his little world of carpet, sweat, odor, and pain.

“What. The. Fuck?”

Claire Lindon, in her 17 years of life, had never been as completely and utterly lost as she was right now. What had started with a simple walk up to her room to get ready for a shower had become immensely and immeasurably more complicated when she had felt something under her bare foot. Something that had felt unnatural and just plain weird. So she had jerked her foot away the moment it had registered, expecting to find…well, she wasn’t sure what she had expected to find underneath it.

It certainly hadn’t been what, at the moment, appeared to be her big brother. Just not “big” anymore. “Little” seemed more appropriate now, going off appearances, but…that couldn’t be him down there, right? Her brother was six feet tall, not a few inches. He couldn’t be this little thing so far down on the carpet, even if it did happen to be wearing what looked like the same clothes Corey had been wearing when she had left. People didn’t get smaller, and no matter what else, they definitely didn’t get this small.

Claire was tempted to just ignore it. Just ignore it, and continue on her way. Maybe she was dehydrated? She didn’t think so. And she didn’t do drugs or anything, so that obviously couldn’t be the case. Something had to be going on, though, with her. It had to be. And for a moment she felt that if she just walked away, she’d return later only to find, like, a scrunchie or something. But something, from somewhere deep within, called to her. Begged her to reconsider, as if she would be making the biggest mistake of her life if she simply continued onward. So she stood, and she studied, and…and…

“What. The. Fuck?”

Claire dropped to her haunches immediately, and the surprised, terrified reaction on that little but now much more familiar face tugged immediately at her heart. This…it was alive. It was real. And it looked just like her big-

“Claire.”

That sealed it. That little whisper of a voice, so soft but so familiar to her ears, even as it was filled with something she had never, ever heard in it before. And it told her something – something that saw her right hand extend from its position of rest atop her knee.

It told her that this was her brother. And he needed help.

His little body braced as her fingers reached for him, and she could hear a sharp whine emanate from his throat. Claire didn’t allow herself to wince. Instead, she collected his little form into her palm, her fingers delivering the best little hug they could as she brought him upward.

He’s so cold, she thought, rising to her feet. She could feel Corey trembling and shaking in her hand.

“Corey?” she questioned of the little person in her palm. It was him, she knew that, but the sheer ridiculousness of the situation continued to eat at her, forcing her to demand further verification. “That’s…that’s you, right”

“Y-Yes!” he piped up. “It i-is! It’s m-me!”

Claire could still do little more than stare as things began to sink in. This was surreal. She was standing here, with a little person sprawled in her hand. But it wasn’t just any person, it was her big brother. Her best friend.  Somehow reduced to this miniscule size…and he was in her hand.

A surge of electricity seemed to pulse through her body at that, and suddenly it was like she had experienced an awakening. Her eyes studied his small form more intently, took in his pained, scared little face. Those wet eyes. His damp white shirt. Her hearing seemed to be sharper, and for the first time she took true note of his sharp, strained breaths.

And then she remembered where she had first noticed him. Where he had been.

“Oh, God, Corey,” she murmured, with a lot less pain that she might have imagined. “Are…are you okay? I didn’t mean to…if I’d known…God, what happened?”

“I-I’ll be fine,” Corey answered, a bit too quickly. Still clearly in pain from the experience, he was instinctively trying to put up some semblance of a front. For her. It actually brought a small smile to her face.  “And…and I don’t know. I just got knocked out and then I woke up and I was like this and…and…oh God, Claire, I need help!”

“I know,” Claire soothed, her mind beginning to race for any possibilities at helping her littler brother. Their parents were out of the country….probably heading back, actually, but also unreachable. Their dad was a doctor, a great one, but what could he do on a plane half the world away? For something that couldn’t possibly have ever, ever happened before?

And it was that last thought that sent a creeping chill down the teenager’s spine. As the situation continued to become clearer. As the reality of her brother’s new stature began to slowly assert itself upon her.

“A…a hospital!” Corey gasped up at her, but Claire barely registered it as her eyes narrowed and her thoughts began to coalesce, as they began to sharpen and refine. A hospital…it sounded fine. On the surface. But that thought that had chilled her to the bone reasserted itself once more – that this was something that had to be a world first. “We can go to a hospital!”

That little voice was so desperate. So little. So…pathetic. Unnaturally so, and nothing at all like her brother. A symbol, she realized, of this horrible new stature he had apparently been cursed with. He was so weak right now, she noted, silently studying his hurt body once more. Anyone could do anything to him, for good or for ill. Whether they knew it or not, she thought, as a pit formed in her stomach. In that moment, and with morbid disgust, a simple, terrifying truth hit the young woman.

If she had been wearing shoes, or been just a second or two later in removing her stepping foot from his person…he’d be dead. Corey would be dead. Killed. Without being able to resist. Without being able to fight back. Without being able to do a single thing about it. He was at the utter mercy of anyone and everyone in his immediate vicinity. And if someone didn’t necessarily have his interests at heart…

The very thought of it was unacceptable; completely and totally. And it was this unacceptability that sparked something within Claire Lindon, that gave birth to a certain resolve and, in turn, a decision she had to make.

“Now,” she started, voice calm and serene as she addressed her sibling, “let’s hold on for just a moment.”

“What?” Corey questioned with a blunt confusion. “Hold on?”

“Well, I mean. We need to think about this.”

“What is…what is there to think about? I need-“

“Let’s think about this rationally,” Claire cut off, clearly shocking the little guy in doing so. Ironically, his reaction only served to further steel her building resolve on the decision this matter acquired.

“Rationally?” Corey repeated, a little bit of heat in his voice. “Claire, I’m…I’m this. The rational thing to do is to go to a damn hospital! I need to!”

“I disagree,” Claire stated simply, and began moving into her bedroom. The answer and the sudden motion combine to startle her sibling into a small, bug-eyed silence. “I think that’s the last thing we need to do, actually.”

Claire forced herself to maintain her serene composure as she watched Corey’s tiny face, already marked with nervous panic, contort into one of complete non-understanding and even hurt of the denial of aid she seemed to be giving him.

“I don’t,” he quavered, little blue eyes that seemed to beg looking up at her from the mattress of her hand, “I don’t understand. Claire, Claire please take me to a hospital. I need help.”

“I know you do,” Claire answered him gingerly, as she took a seat on her bed. “And we’ll get it. Later. From a safe place.”

“It’s a fucking hospital!” Corey gasped out in a terrible little mix of anger and terror and frustration. “By nature it is a safe place! Claire, you have to take me! You have to!”

“No, it’s not,” Claire informed him with forced monotone, her nightmare scenario already playing through in her head. One in which brother disappeared by a door, never to be seen again. Maybe to be killed and dissected. Maybe to be kept alive, but experimented on. Painfully. “And frankly no, I don’t.”

“W-w-what?” he trembled out, eyes looking more and more hurt. “Claire I…Claire just take me to the fucking hospital so I can get some help!”

“No.”

“God damnit, take me! Why won’t you fucking take me?”

“Because I don’t trust them. Because I don’t trust them with you,” she answered flatly and simply, ignoring the little swears that had been directed at her. In a way, they hurt, but...

“We’ll talk to Dad when he and Mom get back. See what he thinks,” she finished calmly, hoping this concession would calm the little guy.

“Bull fucking shit we will!” he yelled up, and Claire could tell his voice was already growing hoarse through shouting more than he probably had in years. “Call them right now! Fucking call them so they can tell you to stop being an idiot and fucking help me!”

Those words should hurt more than they did, Claire thought, but for the life of her she just couldn’t take them seriously at the moment. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about how Corey was responding it was just that, well…it struck her as a temper tantrum. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and she couldn’t blame him for that. Her poor brother must be terrified out of his mind, and that in itself was easy enough to see, to feel, as his little body continued to shake and shiver in her hand. Too terrified to think about how his proposed trip might end, to think about how truly helpless he was.

“No,” she denied him yet again, and she could almost see him break as another tirade was released at her.

“Dammit, Claire, stop being such a fucking bitch and help me! You have to! You fucking have to!”

Claire flinched at that. She flinched, and the fingers that had been lying so patiently to her brother’s sides began to curl, up and over him. His eyes widened further, he started to squirm.

It didn’t matter. He was gripped firmly in her hand now, and Claire already knew that there was nothing he could do to escape her grasp until she herself willed it.

“I already told you,” Claire started, a bit more coolly than she would have liked, but after that last little bit she had to perform her level best to avoid responding in kind. It wasn’t his fault, she told herself, it was…whatever had caused this. Her brother was scared and had every right to be. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He had never, ever spoken to her like that before, never cussed at her and called her degrading names. Never shown even the slightest inclination to do so, even. This was simply him on the verge of a completely and utter breakdown.

Which meant she had to be firm, indeed.

“No, I don’t. I don’t have to do a thing,” she continued, allowing that simple truth to wash over her imprisoned sibling. Letting things sink in. And as his futile struggles within her iron grip came to a halt, she watched that anger melt away into a pure, almost unadulterated terror that amplified his fearful trembling all the more. A bit too far, she decided, but recoverable. “I don’t have to…but I’m going to, Corey. I promise. I will help you. When Mom and Dad get back. We’ll get you all the help you need.”

Things were silent for a moment, and Claire prayed that what she saw forming on his little face was a more complete understanding of his current position, why a hospital was a dangerous place for him – especially since they were liable to be separated.

Any hopes for that faded away as his little lips curled back into a snarl, and he began his little tirades anew. Shouting up at her in his weak little voice with all manner of obscenities in complete refusal to think over her point of view.

Claire sighed. This wasn’t going to work for now, she decided, and her eyes scanned across her rather unkempt dresser until they locked on something that, it suddenly occurred to her, might prove a bit useful for her current needs in needing to cool her brother off a bit, until he could think and understand why they needed to wait.

“Enough,” she stated, firmly and overwhelmingly, in a voice that easily quieted the shrunken boy’s tantrum immediately as she stood. Taking a step toward her dresser, Claire’s free hand moved in to remove the top off one of her most prized possessions – the wooden jewelry box her brother had gotten her over a decade ago, hand-painted by him with an absolutely beautiful white swan across the broad side of it.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she explained, as if she were disciplining a child, “and I want you to sit and chill out in here while I do that, and think about this a little more.”

“Fuck you, help me!”

Claire simply shook her head. This was completely unbecoming of him, and truthfully she was starting to get a bit angry – not necessarily at Corey, but at whatever cruel being had made this situation happen to begin with, that had reduced her wonderful brother not only to this stature, but to this awful state of conduct.

“I told you,” Claire continued as she delicately placed the little guy deep within the confines of the 7 inch deep box, itself empty as she was in a process of rearranging her jewelry, “I will. I promise. It’s all I want to do for you. But I’m not going to be stupid about it, and risk you without thinking.”

More curses, and Claire could only sigh again. He didn’t seem to believe her, but he would, in time. Moving the box lid back into place, her brother’s tantrum was thankfully muted. Though she was certain she heard some little pounding within.

She wouldn’t leave him in there for long, she decided. That wouldn’t be good. He wasn’t a prisoner or anything, and she had meant what she had said – all she wanted to do was help. And for now, that meant making the tough choices that her brother was currently unable to make in his state of blind panic. Even if it made him mad at her right now, made him curse her, it was worth it to keep him safe.

That was what the teenager consoled herself with as she stepped into the bathroom, removing her cell phone strap from her bicep and summarily depositing it on the marble counter top. This was for his own good, for his safety. She had to do this, be like this, if he had any chance. She’d do anything to insure his health and safety, and any semblance of his life.

She just had to be strong, Claire told herself as her flattened palms pressed into the counter top, taking on some of the burden of her weight as she stared into the empty sink. She felt…weak, suddenly, and it annoyed her beyond words. She couldn’t be weak right now. Corey couldn’t afford for her to be. She had to be strong, the girl mentally repeated. At least…at least until their parents returned. She had to be strong and shoulder whatever burdens necessary until then, when their father could…do something. To help.

He’d be able to, wouldn’t he? Without…

Claire’s breath caught, suddenly, and her gaze lifted until it met itself in the mirror resting before her. A sobering, terrifying thought had presented itself. Something she hadn’t yet considered.

What if their parents wanted to just send him to a hospital, too?