It had been about an hour since you ordered your pizza- your local Dominos was usually super fast, so this was a bit unusual. You wouldn’t normally be so upset but you were pretty hungry today - your stomach made a small rumble as you checked your phone again - the app read “Out For Delivery”, the same thing it had said for more than 30 minutes! Maybe they got in an accident, or something?

Just when you were about to give up hope, you heard the doorbell ring - with a sigh of relief,you hurry over to the door, throwing it open. Standing on the doorstep with an annoyed expression on her face is a redheaded girl holding a pizza sideways - lazily pinned underneath her arm. In her other hand is her phone - she’s not even looking at you, just lazily scrolling through texts! Her name tag was a bit stained with pizza grease, crooked on her shirt - but it looked like it said “Nadia”.

You clear your throat. “I was starting to get worried you had maybe gotten in an accident or something!” You say, trying to make her realize just how late your pizza had been.

“Nope.” She said, not even looking away from her phone. What a brat! She couldn’t have been older than 16 or so - this had to be her first job, and this was her best first impression?

You reach out and snatch the pizza, the box feeling cold to the touch. You set it down just behind you, and as you turn back to give this bratty delivery girl a piece of your mind -  you see that her hand is still outstretched, fingers curling back and forth. She was asking for a tip! She hadn’t even looked away from her phone!

Grumbling, you fumble around in your pockets - and find a couple spare coins, probably about 35 cents - in your mind, it was just the right amount to send the message that she had done a terrible job with the delivery. With a frustrated huff, you toss the coins into her open hand, waiting to see her expression.

She glances over, looking at the insulting tip. “Uhhh, cheap much?” She snarks, chewing some gum as she jingles the coins in her palm. You’re taken aback, and go to close the door in her face, swinging it with a huff, red-faced. But, before it can close all the way, a beat-up Converse All-Star jams itself between the door and the wall. Surprised, you take a step back.

“Oops.” She said sarcastically, and walked right inside as if she owned the place, still tapping on her phone.

“What the hell-” You don't even get to finish your sentence before the teen’s phone camera flashes brightly, blinding you as you feel the world spin. There was a chaotic swirl of color, light, and sound as the walls of your home raced away from you at breakneck speeds, everything around you swirling in a kaleidoscope of motion until you blacked out - only for a second.

SLAM - Nadia kicked the door shut with the back of her sneaker, stretching a little as she put her phone back in her pocket. You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to whatever the hell had just happened to you - only to find yourself beneath a giant tent-like canopy of fabric. It seemed strangely… familiar, somehow. You feel a heavy thud on either side of you in the dim light as a shadow creeps over you, the scent of worn rubber and canvas with unmistakable notes of a high-school girl’s locker room drifting alongside them. Something massive moves - and soon you are blinded by a wave of light that makes you stagger and blink.

That strange tent of fabric was nothing more than your shirt - and Nadia had kicked it lazily off the pile, leaving you staring up at an annoyed looking redheaded girl that was easily the size of an apartment block to you now. Her freckled face peered down, looking for you.

“What… what the hell did you do to me?” You ask, shocked and afraid.

“WhAt DiD YoU Do tO mE?” Nadia mocks back with a stupid expression on her face.  “Uh, what’s it look like to you?” She says, reaching over and grabbing the pizza box, flipping open the lid.

“Ew, this is all cold. Where’s your microwave?” She says, walking right past you with thundering steps that nearly knocked you flat on your back. “Nevermind, found it. It looks cheap, like you.” She says, blowing a bubble with her gum and letting it pop, nearly shattering your tiny eardrums as she tosses your pizza into the microwave.

You struggled to process the sheer strangeness of what had happened to you - this brat of a delivery girl had made you small be a topping on the pizza you ordered, stomped into your house in her filthy shoes, and was starting to eat the pizza you ordered? This must be some weird dream. The microwave beeps, derailing your train of thought as Nadia opens it, as well as grabbing a 2 liter soda from your fridge. Her sneakers squeak against the kitchen tile, and you spin around, clambering over the discarded folds of your normally-sized clothes - it was quite the trek to clear the mountains of fabric that they had become.

Soon, her shadow looms over you once more, carrying a two liter bottle of Pepsi on her hip like a baby, and a plate from your kitchen piled with pizza.

“Excuse me? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Undo whatever you did right now!” You say, finding your voice rather squeaky and sharp, making your demands sound much less authoritative than you would have liked them to. Nadia simply rolls her eyes and blows another bubble, letting it POP closer to your ears -  you clap both hands over your head, the ringing deafening you for a good 20 seconds.

Nonchalantly, she plucks you up with pizza-grease-slick fingers, walking into the living room while you try to keep from throwing up from the constant motion and swirling surroundings, wind rushing through your hair.

She sits down on the couch, swinging her feet clad in those dirty sneakers up on the top of your nice coffee table and grabbing the remote, chucking you between her towering sneakers. 

“Ew, you don’t even have Hulu Plus? Though you would have bought it with all the money you saved being such a garbage tipper or something.” Her voice booms down on your pained ears as she leans forward and takes a slice of pizza off the plate.

“Hello?? Reverse this RIGHT NOW - I’m not KIDDING -” You are cut off as the redhead rolls her eyes, reaching into her mouth and yanking out the wad of chewed gum, making a “Blah-blah” motion with her hand. She stuck out her tongue at you and smushed the wad of hot, wet, slimy pink bubblegum down onto your tiny body, the sticky mess globbing all around you, getting into your hair and eyes, soaking you with the teen girl’s bubblegum flavored spit.

She smears you underneath the coffee table and starts to scroll through Hulu, while you struggle like a bug in the stringy goo, plastered like a bug under a desk, looking up at the towering sneakers from underneath the glass top of your coffee table.

She scarfs down your pizza at record speed - chugging straight from the two liter bottle of Pepsi and ignoring your protests, every now and then letting out a resounding -BwwwUUrRRRUP- that shook you down to your bones! Eventually, she slaps the small belly she had gotten from inhaling your XL pepperoni pizza, and seems to give a shit about you again, scraping you off roughly with a napkin. She lets you drop into her pizza-greased hand, the gum still stuck in your hair and making it hard to speak after she had jammed so much of the spittle-soaked mass into your mouth to keep you from “interrupting the shows”.

“M’kay, it’s commercial time - because you’re too broke to pay for the good stuff, obviously. Commercials are boring, so instead I’m just going to eat you.” She says as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and flicks you roughly onto the slice of pizza. You barely had time to even process her words before you hit the crunchy landscape of a well-done pepperoni, sliding back in the grease. You had the wind knocked clear out of you, coughing and trying to catch your breath - as the redheaded girl scoops up the slice in one hand, eyes flicking down to you to make sure you were still on it- bringing it up to her maw.

It opens with a wet squlch that was amplified to a disgusting degree by your size - you heard everything around you in grotesque amounts of detail, the bubbling of the cheese, the hot, humid breath that rolled over you like a fog as Nadia opened here mouth wide - you saw the strands of saliva stretching from her bottom lip and the top, hanging there before snapping into a spray of spittle, the huge muscle of her tongue lolling out before you, the dark, squishy cavern of her throat beyond displaying a deep black pit of no return. She pauses a moment, and then lets out a cacophonous belch directly into your tiny face. 

- BUUAAAAHHHRPP -

It was enough to blow your hair back, nearly sending you sliding off your perch atop the pepperoni, the scent of Pepsi and digestive enzymes stinging your eyes and nose in the hot, humid wind that blew bits of half-chewed food into your face and nearly popped your eardrums. You were given a 4k-resolution preview of the insides of her bubbling gut, a place you desperately did not want to experience first hand, a cold sweat beading on the back of your neck. She was dead serious about this!

You watch her move forward, taking a bite out of the slice - her braces glimmering in the light, bits of pizza crammed in the spaces between her teeth, stuck in the metal of her braces - you feel a chill at the idea of being nothing more than gunk stuck in this absolutely massive teenage girl’s braces. But that wasn’t it - she was normal sized - it was you that was bite-sized.

She tears off a bite of pizza, gooey cheese stretching between the girl’s lips, reaching up  like a stairway to heaven - or more aptly, hell. You shiver as she chews it loudly right in front of you, seeing the pepperoni slowly being reduced to nothing but soggy, red-hued mush as she wetly smacks her lips together, chewing with her mouth wide open - you can’t help but think she was playing it up just to make you squirm more.

You are stunned speechless by the thought of being nothing more than a pizza topping for some entitled girl - and your eyes go wide as she messily chews the pizza into a slimy mass in the center of her mouth, and swallows it down with an ominously loud GLRK - … glp. You could see the thick mass of it bulge in her throat as her esophagus muscles forced it down - in a few bites, that would be you.

You had to do something!

“Wait! Please, stop! I’m sorry I didn’t tip - I can give you a better tip, if you just change me back!” You plead up at the freckled face of the lazy girl. She looks down at you as if she had forgotten all about you.

“Oh, it’s you. Uh, I don’t think it even has a reverse function. But yeah, if you don’t wanna be food, you can probably make it up to me some other way.” She says, offhandedly. 

“W-what is it? I’ll do anything!” You say, shaking, covered in pizza grease- she rolls her eyes. “God, you’re really whiny, dude.” She says, plucking you up with her forefinger and thumb. You notice she had plucked your smartphone up from the pile of your discarded clothes, holding it in her other hand as she tossed the plate back on the table. “Whatever. If you don’t wanna wind up here -” She slaps her slightly stuffed belly with one hand, and it sloshes from all the soda she had been chugging. “Then give me your bank login.” She lets you drop from her fingers onto the pudgy surface of her belly, poking out just a bit from the bottom of her shirt as she leans back on the couch, watching you struggle to stand on the yielding surface.

“My… login?” You stammer, blinking.

“Jeeeez, did you get dropped on your head as a baby or something?” She opens the app and slams the phone down in front of you ,setting it on her tummy like a huge billboard before shoving the screen in your tiny face, the bright glare making you squint. “Recognize this, cheese-for-brains?” She asks, as if even acknowledging your existence for this long was taking an incredible amount of effort on her part. She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I swear if you don’t know your password I’m going to bite your legs off or something -”

“No, no ! I know it!” You stammer as she picks at her braces with her other hand, flicking a wad of soggy cheese in your direction.

She holds out the screen for you impatiently, and you manage to bring up the keyboard, each of the letters on it about as big as your whole hand as you slap in the username, moving down to the password. Nadia lets out another grumbling burp right over your tiny form, and you can feel the heat as you shudder, imagining smelling nothing but that amplified tenfold for your last moments. “Slow much? Hurry uuuuup.” She says, as your shaking hands manage to type in the password. It dings, and she whips it around, looking at the total. 

She makes a laughing snort, covering her mouth with one hand. “Woooow, even I have more than that. 600 bucks? Woof, that’s not even close to enough to buy my Basic Unshrinking Package.’ She says, inspecting her nails. You feel a shiver run down your spine. “W-wait, I can- “

She rolls her eyes. “Omigawd, stop whining! If you wanna make up for being such a broke bitch, you can do something else. Plus the money, obvi. And also?? You have to stop talking to me while I watch TV, because your tiny voice is so friggin’ annoying.”

You zip your lip, trying not to piss her off any more.

“Ugh, even when you’re quiet you’re still kind of annoying, somehow?M’kay, well for starters you’re gonna rub my feet. And you better not make any whiny noises while you do it.”

She declares it matter-of-factly, then flicks you hard towards her sneakers, propped up on the table. You hit the wall of canvas by her laces, and fall what feels like 2 stories down to the glass. By the time you caught your breath, you saw that Nadia was lazily pushing the heel of her left sneaker off with the toe of her right sneaker - revealing a pair of socks that were probably once white.

Now, however, they were a sort of uniform brownish-grey in hue, sporting at least 2 or 3 holes along the sole - and as her sneaker thuds down onto the glass, you are hit with an unholy wave of teenage girl foot funk that nearly makes you double over. The monolith of her sneaker lays on its side, the opening wafting hot, acrid air right at you. She works off the second one while chewing noisily, and it thuds to the right of your tiny form, doubling the intensity of the scent. She rests her socked sole on the glass, and it visibly steams up the surface in the shape of her footprint. Her other foot rests on the side, showing you the bottom of her socked foot - a clear dark imprint of her footprint stained into the fibers in a darker hue than the rest of the sock, a few holes showing off the glistening sole beneath as she lets out another huge belch.

“Oh, yeah, my car’s A/C is totally shot.” She says, between bites of pizza. “You gonna get goin’ soon or what? Jeez.” She adds, words spoken through a glob of melting cheese, moving her toe to press you flat against the glass like a bug, the pressure almost popping your head like a grape. The scent of vinegar and cheese was overwhelming, making your eyes water as she flexes her toes on your coffee table.

“Or did you change your mind already? Wanna tour the inside of my guts instead?” She says with a laugh, kicking you around between her feet like a hacky-sack. “Better get moving if not, dumbass.”

You struggle to your feet, and manage to stand - reaching your hands up as high as you can, you can barely even reach the ball of her foot - you press your palms into the huge wall of dingy, discolored cotton - and to your shock and disgust, it’s damp - soaked, even. When you place a little pressure on the fibers, hot sweat oozes out onto your hands, between your fingers, dribbling down your arms - you fight the urge to lose your lunch right then and there. Nadia is barely paying attention, her eyes on the TV, but she finds the time to snap her fingers expectantly, nearly bursting your tiny fragile eardrums. “Barely even feelin’  it, dude.” She says, chowing down on another slice of pizza. Her other foot hooks around behind you and slams you face-first into the ball of her other foot, and you sink into the cotton wall as if it were a swamp! Gagging as the salty, frothy sweat gets into your mouth and nose, stinging your eyes as she grinds you into the surface of her sweaty sock without a care in the world, using you to massage her own feet. You scream out in protest, but are merely rewarded with a mouthful of dirty sock fluff that gags you further, the friction from the cotton giving you rugburn. As you shuddered at the brackish taste of the stained sock lint as it coated your tongue, you started to wish that you had cooked something instead - but now, there was no going back.

To be continued!