An alarm blared just long enough to wake me from my sleep, but I pressed my eyelids back together. With nothing to distract me and no pressing obligations the nine minutes of peace and quiet between alarms was the clearest my mind got throughout the day. Normally my mind would drift, and I would be able to look at things from a perspective I could not manage when it needed to be solved. Today, however, I could not shake a nightmare so bizarre it made me want to start a dream journal. Why in a thousand years would I dream about shrinking by the redhead in my classical art class I had been crushing on?
I breathed in deep to savor the morning air and nearly coughed. Rather than the neutral processed air that usually filled my dorm, the strong scent of bare skin filled my nostrils. My eyes shot open, and I realized that this was not my dorm at all. Nothing about this room was familiar, down to the light blue sheets that stretched hundreds of feet above and below me, with a sharp drop to the white carpet below. The ground around me slanted sharply downward. Something massive must have been right behind me, warping the very earth.
A low moan roared from above me, causing me to cringe as vibrations permeated my body. I looked up and gasped at the terrifyingly large body of the girl I had been crushing on. My back was against her kneecap, and the golden skin of her thigh slanted sharply away from me. She slept face-down, leaving me with what looked like an oblong white marble building with a bit of her flat tummy peeking out the bottom until her splayed-out arms. Her long red hair fell in a messy mop down her back while her sun-kissed face pressed into the pillow.
When she had asked me to stop by in the evening I leapt at the opportunity. She and her friends were planning a chill night in, she said, just a bit of drinking and then some hanging out. It did not take a master codebreaker to decipher what that meant, and I had imagined “hanging out” with her almost nightly since the semester began. I didn’t even mind that my go-to wingman bailed on me at the last minute because he heard some crazy stories about Gamma girls and urged me not to go either. No right-thinking person would take the statement that no man had ever returned from their parties alive literally: they obviously meant no one returned the same.
The night started pleasant enough. She introduced me to two of her sorority sisters, some of her closest friends she said, all of which seemed rather impressed she had gotten me to come over – I would have figured it the other way around. They weren’t all just out of my league: we weren’t even playing the same sport. I didn’t think she had even noticed me before until she addressed me by name and told me to visit.
Something was unusual about these women, but I could not put my finger on it. They seemed like fairly typical rich college girls: pretty, fashionable, a little catty to each other. It took a few minutes to register, but it finally clicked when Jackie, a slender woman with hot pink hair, stared down at me with hungry teal eyes and asked if she could pick me up: all of them towered over me, and not by just a little. The shortest was still over a head taller than me. My friend was going to kick himself when I told him about this tomorrow.
As she had promised the night started with a big of beer pong, which I figured was window dressing for asking me over so it wouldn’t seem as though she just wanted to bang. We divided into teams, me with my date and Jackie partnering with a blond behemoth named Helen. They boasted about how they were going to absolutely crush me, and said I should just beg for them to spare me now. I retorted that they shouldn’t speak too soon, I had been known to run the table in the past and might just surprise them.
After stepping up to the table, I got the distinct feeling I was about to eat my words. It must have been specially made for them. Standing next to it gave me flashbacks to my first few meals without a booster seat. The damn thing came up to my chin, and I couldn’t even see over the cups. I looked up at my date with an uncertain expression, and she simply raised her eyebrows back. Nothing could be done.
Jackie and Helen took turns cracking jokes about my height. This was nothing new for me, I had been hearing them since about third grade, but I had to give them credit for being creative. Some of them were almost insulting.
“Do you want to stand on the table so you can actually see, little guy?”
“You know, this would be way more interesting if we tossed him into the cups.”
“We don’t mind if you use both hands, I know those pong balls can be pretty heavy for someone as small as you.”
“Come on, let him finish his drink first. You don’t want to grab it by accident and swallow him with the beer, do you?”
“For just a few bucks a month I’ll let you rent this cup after I finish it, you’ll find that it’s pretty spacious.”
“Hey, watch your step! Your partner’s still over there I think. Have you heard a crunch, Helen?”
“No, but I’m not even sure we would from someone as tiny as him.”
“After I make this shot you can climb inside my purse instead of under the table, it’ll be safer.”
Even my own partner got in on it. “I can see over the table, so I’ll spot for you.”
“You need help finishing my sip down there, shorty?”
“Grab on, I’m going for a trick shot!”
“Do you mind if I hold him inside a cup and let him drop it so that he gets at least one?”
I would be lying if I said they didn’t get inside my head. By the end of the first game it actually felt like I was as small as they were insinuating. Oddly enough, after the second game it seemed as though I was looking up at the table, but that must have been my own self-consciousness getting to me.
My partner was good, but I was useless. Even hitting the cups was an accomplishment. Jackie graciously “decided” not to stuff me in her purse, saying that simply crushing me was satisfaction enough, and watching me struggle to pick up the ball was one of the funniest things she had ever seen. Apparently trash talk did not stop then the game ended.
When they decided they had beaten us enough they headed upstairs, winking before they turned and ran up the staircase three at a time. When their feet stopped pounding on the steps and we heard their doors close, my date turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. She ran it down my arm and a chill ran up my spine from her fingertip lightly caressing my skin until her hand engulfed mine with its long, strangely delicate fingers. Playfully she pulled me over to the couch and I did my best to hide my excitement when I sat down beside her.
We both feigned interest in small talk, but her body language was practically screaming at me through a megaphone. She practically sat sideways to face me, with her long, shapely legs extended lazily off the couch, and leaned playfully against a hand resting on top of the couch. The smile never left her face even though I made progressively worse jokes to test her reaction, and her free hand kept finding reasons to brush against my shoulder. Even though she looked down rather sharply at me she was like putty in my hands.
Eventually there was an awkward pause where we simply stared into each other’s eyes, and I decided that was the time to make my move. Confidently I reached over and placed a hand on her bare thigh, then then slid it until it pushed her skirt all the way up. Her smile practically begged me to go further, so I pushed myself up so that I straddled her and slid a hand behind her waist. She gently placed her hands on my shoulders and I savored the moment, glad to be eye to chin for once instead of eye to shoulder.
“What’re you waiting for?” she asked seductively, and I needed no further encouragement. I leaned in and brushed my lips against hers then pulled back, giving her a small taste, and her smile positively beamed back at me. Wanting to build the heat I tried to lean in and kiss her neck, but was stopped cold by her hands pressing back against me. Confused I tried again, only for her to push back even more forcefully. Maybe I was coming on too strongly, so I looked to her for guidance and found that she was staring down at me even more broadly than before.
A moment passed, and I was looking up at her chin. At first I thought it was a trick of the light, or the beers from earlier affecting me more than I expected, but after a few more seconds I was looking up at her collar bone. I tried to scoot off so I could gather my bearings, but a hand quickly wrapped around the small of my back, holding me close to her. “Don’t you want to be close to me?” she asked as her breasts partially eclipsed her face. My jaw dropped, and I silently looked up at her, watching her slowly grow. “You don’t want to be down there, anyway.” Her voice had gotten decidedly huskier, and I could no longer see beyond her breasts. “We have a strict kill on sight rule for bugs in this house.”
I wanted to protest. “I’m not a bug, I’m a person!” I tried to reply, but all that came out was a small gurgle when the breath caught in my throat. She continued growing and soon dominated my view, and with the hand behind me it felt like I was leaning against a wall. Unbelievably she kept getting bigger, and even standing on her horizontal thigh I did not reach the waistband of her skirt.
Finally, her size stabilized – rather, mine did, since I had obviously been dramatically shrunk. She leaned forward just enough to see me, and I saw the mirth dancing in her blue eyes. It was like she had never been so overjoyed. “To think, you were excited about getting a hand up my skirt,” she joked, her voice a low, thundering boom now. “Now you can just walk into it!”
This might have been what she thought of as flirting, but I didn’t see the appeal. I tried backing away from her, but with a single finger she held me firmly in place. Desperately I looked up at her, but if anything her smile grew. She was not going to let me get out of this one.
Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, I started walking up her thigh, but after a step her hand closed in, trapping me in her fist. “Sorry, I don’t let bugs get to third base,” she rumbled, and the world turned sideways. I fought to remain conscious against the g-forces, but it was a losing battle. After a hard acceleration in the opposite direction I passed out for the rest of the night.
The all-encompassing moan finally died out, and I hoped the giantess would drift back to sleep. Her knee slid into my back, driving me along with it toward the precipice. I tried to move out of the way, but the round, smooth skin was unavoidable. With a scream I went over the edge and plummeted to the floor.
To my surprise I landed in a soft, wrinkled sea of dark blue fabric. This heat wave may have saved my life: in an effort to stay cool through the night she had pushed her blanket off the side, forming a soft cushion for me to land on. I thanked what little luck I had left and started looking for an escape, hoping I could wait this shrinking spell out.
The battering ram of a leg continued over the side and I realized I was not out of the woods yet. It continued sliding over the mattress until there was nothing keeping it from falling and her foot dropped. The bare sole of her foot raced toward me, and I rolled to the side just before the soft, wrinkled flesh slammed into me. It crashed into the blanket, fortunately muffling the sound and only making a dull thud, though I still felt my vertebrae tingle.
Moments later her other foot impacted with another suppressed boom, and the bed creaked under her immense weight while she sat up. For a while she sat still as though considering her options, and I stared up her monolithic calf waiting for her to make a decision. A faint whiff of foot odor wafted toward me and I covered my nose but made no other move. If I stayed still, I told myself, she might not see me. If there were a miracle, she might get her feet out of my face and go back to bed.
The mattress groaned while she stood; I knew my luck couldn’t be that good. She stood there for a bit, yawning loudly and stretching her arms. Silent and still I looked up at her towering over me, trying to estimate how small I was. Her round, protruding ankle bone was so far above my head I would have to climb up her foot just to reach it, and I had absolutely no plans to do that. Without any hard numbers or comparisons, I simply came to the obvious conclusion: I was incredibly small, to the point of insignificance.
Her head rolled to the side while she tried to work out some knots, then began to turn downward. Hurriedly I grabbed a loose part of the blanket and yanked it over me like a tarp, sliding as much of myself into the fold as I could. I could scarcely breathe while waiting, expecting her to flip the cloth away at any moment, or simply stomp her bare foot onto the disturbed fabric.
A tremor passed over me, partially suppressed by the insulation around me, then another, weaker the first. There was a series of them, accompanied by rhythmic pounding, until I finally heard squealing hinges and a door shut. I expected a trick: she was sharp, and the whole night before proved that she could be devious about luring somebody into a trap.
It was not until I heard the distant sound of rushing water that I allowed myself to breathe regularly. With one movement I threw off the small bit of fabric and found the room still and empty. I was alone, and felt the tiniest bit safe. Even better, she had gone to get ready for the day, meaning I had ample time to make my escape.
From atop the blanket I surveyed the room. It was obviously very well-kept, almost Spartan, with only furniture besides the bed a half-filled bookcase on one wall and a drafting desk against the other. The closed door was on the opposite side and would take some time to get to, and then I could either slide through the crack beneath or wait for her to open it. Her clothes from last night had been dropped on the floor on her way to bed, the only pieces of clutter I could spot. Walking around them would be obnoxious, I figured, but not too much of a delay.
I hopped off the blanket and started toward the door. Immediately I encountered my first roadblock: walking on carpet was like being in a swamp now. With every step I had to surmount the thick fibers, then make sure my feet didn’t get caught once I put them down. It was an incredibly taxing process, especially when I had expected to simply walk to the door, and significantly set me back.
The floor began to shake from someone walking by in the hallway. Any hope that they were just walking past was dashed when the doorknob turned, and I looked for something to hide under in a panic. I knew that even if it was just one of her friends dropping in I would be in extreme danger. They were clearly in on it, and I had no reason to doubt what she said about their kill on sight policy for “bugs.”
With a creak the door swung open and I dove forward, just making it under her discarded skirt. The air here smelled strongly of her, much more than her sheets, and now that I wasn’t expecting the fresh air of my room it wasn’t too unpleasant. She had a naturally alluring musk without even a hint of perfume, which permeated my sinuses when I took a deep breath to steady myself from all the pounding. If I hadn’t been in mortal danger, I might even have enjoyed it.
No matter how enjoyable it was, I knew I could not stay here for long. With a room that was otherwise so meticulously kept she was bound to move this skirt soon, and then I would be exposed. I poked my head out and looked around for the next place to hide. Her shirt was in a heap only a few seconds of sprinting away, but that carried the same risks as the skirt. Not much further along was a pair of low-top Converse, one turned on its side, almost inviting me in. Though alluring, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she chose this pair today.
I could not see the titaness despite her being almost impossible to miss, but the squeal of scraping wood told me she was still by the door. Wanting to keep tabs on her I turned my head in that direction, but found my view blocked by one of the skirt’s ruffles. Now that she was in the room moving would be too risky. Even under the skirt she might see my little lump tunneling beneath the fabric, then the jig would be up. I would have to wait it out a bit longer.
Some light thuds, followed by rustling clothes. She was getting dressed, and all that stood between me and seeing her naked was a small ridge of fabric. I wanted so badly to see it, even just a glimpse, and compare it to what I had so often imagined. What I had expected to see last night. My desire to remain uncrushed won out though, and I remained hidden under her skirt.
The floor rattled, and an immaculately clean white toe sock pulled tight around an enormous foot slammed down in front of me. I looked up and caught a glimpse of her tanned, towering legs all the way to her white panties, with the rest of her blocked by a flowing black skirt. Her muscles tensed and then she was gone, the floor rumbling beneath another one of her footfalls.
My gaze followed the titaness to her bed, where she planted her feet on the blanket and flattened the small ripple where I had been hiding. Good thing I moved. She stood there for a moment, brushing her fingers along the fitted sheet, then took a step toward the night stand. There was a clatter while she shoved some things to the side, then she whispered to herself, “Shit.”
“Hey, Jackie?” she bellowed, and I reflexively retreated underneath her skirt. A loud groan answered her, at least confirming the pink-haired woman was awake. “Have you seen my shrink?”
Another loud groan. Apparently, Jackie didn’t like being woken up like this. “Which one?” she asked. It seemed doubtful she had multiple therapists, and I concluded there must be other shrunken people in the house. So much for this wearing off.
“The one from yesterday,” she clarified. “I wanted to have some fun before my art history study group. but I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Haven’t seen it.” Irritation bled into Jackie’s voice, and I doubted this was the first time this had happened.
“Wanna help me look?”
“Not really. Can’t this wait until after your study group? It’s not going anywhere.” I would be glad to prove her wrong.
My captor sighed deeply. “Fine,” she yelled back at length, kicking the empty blanket with her socked foot. I just might make it out of this yet.
She stepped back off the blanket and bet down, her long, slender fingers digging into the padded cloth. A loud billowing rustle followed when she hefted it off the ground, dumping tiny bits of detritus onto the floor. The racket continued while she shook it out, and I realized this was my chance.
I crawled out from beneath her skirt and looked around for somewhere to hide that would escape her bird’s eye view of me. My heart sank: there were no good options. Now I understood why she kept her room so clean. Unless I got in the shoe she would be able to see me anywhere I hid. Maybe she would be merciful if I gave myself up. I walked toward her enormous foot and prepared to tap on her heel.
Just before I touched her skin, I spotted my best option: the bookcase! The lowest shelf was only a foot off the ground, and there was a slight overhang I could press myself into. I dashed toward the wooden tower, using her heel for cover as long as I could, and jumped over the carpet fibers like they were hurdles.
When I arrived at the base of the bookcase she was still thoroughly shaking out the blanket, meaning I still had some time. I jumped off the floor and grabbed onto the base, climbing onto the bottom by kicking my feet against the solid wood. My heart raced when I planted my feet on the board, and I scurried off to the side to hide behind the column.
She dropped the blanket with a dull thud, then the floorboards creaked beneath her tremendous weight shifting. Taking a risk, I peeked my head out from behind cover to see what she was up to. The giantess was on her hands and knees, shoulders-deep under her bed, looking for something which wasn’t there. My eyes focused on her perfectly round ass stuck into the air, wiggling back and forth with each of her movements and outlined by the black skirt pulled taut around it. A bug’s eye view wasn’t so bad after all.
Her head withdrew from beneath the enormous bed frame, giving me plenty of notice to duck back in. I left myself just exposed enough to keep eyes on my gigantic seeker, figuring my tiny cranium would be nothing more than a knot in the wood. For a while she simply stood there, looking back and forth at the floor and occasionally adjusting the elbow-length sleeves of her orange and white-striped shirt. After another sigh she stood, apparently resigned to not find me until later. Inwardly I beamed with pride: I had defeated her.
The ground quaked when she set a foot down beside the skirt, and I remembered that I was not out of hot water yet. In a single stride she had covered more ground that I had in ten minutes. She bent down and swiped up the discarded skirt, then lurched forward and grabbed her shirt as well. The frustrated titaness violently shook the clothes until nothing could remain hidden in them, then tossed them onto the bed. I was stuck among the books until she left, which would hopefully be soon.
She took a short step toward the bookcase and placed her hands on her sides while she inspected it. I stared up at her, unable to pry my eyes from the colossal woman. There was something undeniably alluring about her, the embodiment of feminine power, that I could not resist. A voice in the back of my head whispered that she didn’t want to hurt me, she just wanted to have some fun like she said. Involuntarily one of my feet slid off the edge toward her. This was all a game, and she would be in a much better mood if she won.
I caught myself just in time, pulling myself back into the bookcase right before she leaned forward. Now I could see her eyes scanning the spines of her books, looking for the right one. Or me. I doubted she would pass me over just because she spotted me by accident.
Her scan of the next row complete she squatted, her butt nearly bumping into the ground. I stood awestruck by her, mesmerized by her beautiful face framed perfectly by her knees. While her entrancing blue eyes worked their way toward me that voice came back, urging me to give myself up. The idea sounded even better this time: how long could I survive on my own at this size? I needed someone strong and powerful to look after me, and no one could keep me safe better than an actual titaness.
A loud ding from her nightstand interrupted the thoughts and brought me back to reality. She had called me “it” and referred to me as a bug, there was no way she would protect me! Her eyes drew closer and I receded into a crack between the monolithic textbook beside me and the shelf. There was just enough light to make out the cover, and I craned my neck back to read the title like a marquee. It was the same textbook I had for art history. Shit.
Long fingers curled around the spine of the book, pressed white from the grip. It began to slide out, and I began to regret my choice of hiding spot. No doubt she would be delighted to find me right before she left, giving her just enough time to squeeze the life out of me.
Another ding rang out from her nightstand, and the book paused. My captor lowered her face to the ground and sighed, close enough that I felt her hot breath. She grunted and stood, leaving the book in his place while she went to see what was going on. A loud crash resonated from the floor while she scarcely managed to control her tantrum.
A loud scrape, then she yelled out, “No, I haven’t found it yet!”
“Ha!” Jackie replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you when you get back!”
“Lot of good that does me now,” she grumbled. She let out another dejected sigh, then I heard a door open near me. Nobody entered, and from enormous hands rustling with densely-packed items and screeching hangers I realized I had entirely missed the closet.
If she was looking for clothes, I figured I had a few minutes at least. If I wasn’t gone by the time she got back and grabbed this book I was certain to be discovered, then I would be completely at her mercy. Hurriedly I scanned the floor, looking for anywhere to hide for just a few minutes. Aside from the Converse there was nothing, not even a sheet of paper, that would hide me from her.
My eyes ran over the shoes, looking at them from the side for the first time. The wide opening beckoned to me like the mouth of a cave, and I realized that the dark blue “Converse” written on the insole was completely intact, as though it had only been worn a few times at most. I looked over the laces and white toe and something clicked: these shoes were almost comically long, and not just to my tiny self. Admittedly she was an exceptionally tall woman, but not even her massive feet could fill these clown shoes.
The door slammed shut. While laughing at her shoes I had missed my chance. Two huge objects clattered to the ground, and while they settled I looked them over. Polished black leather, enormous tapered columns… high heels! I could not comprehend why she owned anything taller than flats, she was downright Amazonian as it was, but I was overjoyed. The Converse would be safe. Now I just had to get to them.
Her muscular legs strode over to the table, and she stopped to fiddle with something. This was my chance. I leapt from the bookcase and hit the ground running, practically flying over the carpet fibers. In practically no time I was within the shoe’s shadow, right when the racket from the desk stopped. A couple seconds later I was inside the shoe, just before her enormous foot set down beside it, her instep curling around the heel.
I breathed in deep to steady my breath and instantly regretted it. An overwhelming miasma of sweat and feet assaulted my nose, and I shoved my face into my elbow to keep from coughing too loud. Not only were these used recently, they were frequently around her feet during the hot summer months. Her feet were, apparently, much larger than I had considered.
Once more she squatted in front of the bookcase, and quickly plucked out the textbook she wanted. She lingered a moment, inspecting the slot where it had been. Such a small crevice would have been a perfect hiding spot, but opened up like this it was a death trap. Good thing I had moved.
My titanic captor returned to her towering height, and I retreated down into the shoe. I took shallow breaths, telling myself it would only be a moment while suppressing the urge to retch. Down here the imprints were much easier to see, with each toe outlined in dark gray. The smell grew stronger too, causing my eyes to water. If I ever got to a shower, I would have go through several times before this came off. All because I wanted to score with my dream girl.
Everything was quiet outside until her rumbling voice broke the silence. “Hmm, nah,” she muttered to herself. “It’s a bit of a walk to get there. I’ll just flutter my eyelashes down at him a bit and he’ll be in the palm of my hand in no time.” She chuckled with deep malevolence. “Literally.”
A lumpy white beast probed its way into the shoe, fumbling for the roof. Her foot. With a gentle flick she turned the shoe upright, tossing me onto my face against the insole. I coughed and hacked, trying to keep from puking when a blast of foot stench hit my nostrils.
Indifferent to my troubles her foot surged forward, gradually filling the trailer sized Converse. I scooted back as far as I could, trying to put any distance I could between myself and the gigantic foot sliding my way. My back hit the toe, trapping me. As though they sensed my distress the toes slightly wiggled, stretching the fabric that already struggled to contain them.
If anything these shoes were too small, I realized, when her toes engulfed me and pinned my body against the grayed insole. They twiddled and twitched, wrapping themselves around me as though they were trying to pick me up. The tips of her toes prodded me some more, as though trying to decide what they had discovered.
“Oho!” the giantess exclaimed once the probing stopped. “But why could there be a bug in my shoe?” Her toes curled around me in excitement, constricting the breath out of me. My head swam, then my bones rattled when she slammed her foot back down. “I think the little pest was trying to hide.”
The canvas around me groaned, and somehow the fit got even tighter. Her toes mashed me down, pressing against my ribs hard enough I could not breathe. Not that I even really wanted to: the thin layer of cotton did little to filter the smell from beneath her toes. My captor’s weight shifted, leaning on me even harder and pushing out the tiny reserves of air that had remained in my lungs.
My brain bounced in my skull when she lifted her shoe up and brought it down again, and I heard my ribs creak under the unstoppable force. She did it again, causing what little I could see to go blurry and snapping my lower ribs. I tried to cry out, but there was simply no air in my lungs, and her foot was cycling like a piston again. One more time, the wind-up harsher than before, and when she brought it back down my world exploded with pain before being replaced with nothing.
Fulda felt the tiny man in her shoe go flat, and a pool of moisture spreading between her toes confirmed it. Though she had wanted to play with him more, she would never turn down the opportunity to trap and crush a bug inside her shoe. She walked toward the door, smearing his remains against her insole. Besides, she would have another one tomorrow, and he might not be so inconsiderate.