I suppose I should start with an introduction.
My name is Scott Chelgren.
I'm a twenty-two year old junior at the University of Minnesota.
Now, I know what you're thinking--I'm a slacker. Well, you're right.
I've been in college for four years, and with any luck, I'll be in
college for another four. I believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that
college is far better than the real world. Even on a bad day.
Which, I should note, I was having last Tuesday.
Now, I don't mean to bitch--after all, I am still a college
student by choice--but sometimes, when you're in the middle of the run to
finals and you have three papers and two tests and a lab exam all in a
three day period, you can get sort of, well, grumpy. And I was
definitely grumpy last Tuesday.
It was a beautiful spring day. One of the nice things about the
U is the fact that we get out in June, and are able to enjoy at least one
week of spring before we go home for the summer, and work ourselves to
death. But I digress.
The beauty of the spring day only heightened my misery. I had a
test in Psych that I had to study for, and I hadn't even started my Poli
Sci paper that was due, oh, Wednesday. So I sat on a bench outside of
Wilson Library, trying to decide what to do, and trying to spend as much
time deciding as possible.
As I was trying to decide, I flipped through a book I had bought
the other day, one on "Magick." I found the book humorous, and I was
having great fun with the spells listed therein.
I came across a spell called, simply, "Change." Its description
was short and sweet--"Creates a change in the life of the incanter."
Wow, pretty impressive. And pretty hard to disprove. Still, as I stared
at the spell, I found myself mumbling the words under my breath. I
chuckled as I finished--a change would do me good, I thought.
* * *
A few hours later I found myself sitting in Coffman Union,
forcing myself to read _Telling_Lies_ by Paul Ekman. It was a good
enough book, and an interesting study, but I wouldn't have been reading
it, had I not had to for Psych.
As I was reading, I noticed a pretty girl at the information
desk. I say girl not because I mean to put her down, but because I mean
to be precise. She was obviously a PSEO student--a high school student
who takes college classes free of charge. She was probably a Junior,
with her brown hair done up in a pony tail, and a short little skirt that
showed off her legs nicely. Pretty.
Suddenly, the world seemed to drop into second gear. I swear,
things slowed down dramatically. I felt like I usually do after I've
been up 36 hours straight--only more so. The comfortable chair I sat in
seemed to lift up, and smooth out. It was a wonderful, relaxing, perfect
feeling. Then, as abruptly as it hit me, it was gone.
It took me three beats to come back to reality, then another
three to recognize that "reality" was not an exact term.
First of all, I was lying down. That's not a bad position to be
in, except for the fact that moments before I had been sitting down, and
they hadn't installed cots in Coffman anyhow. (That would have required
spending some money on students.)
Second, I was lying on some sort of odd, large, rubbery plain,
which curved off and upward to dizzying heights, in an oddly familiar way.
Third, and probably most important, that pretty PSEO student was
heading right for me, but seemed not to notice me at all. Of course,
that made some sense. After all, she was about four hundred feet tall.
One. Two. Three. Oh my God.
She walked with incredible grace, I thought. Of course, that a
being of her size was able to walk with grace was, in and of itself,
incredible. She stopped directly in front of the plain, just a few yards
from the edge. I had a knee-level view. She had lovely knees. I looked
up at her. Had she seen me? No. She was fumbling with her backpack,
undoubtedly looking for notes, or a book, or something. I watched her
turn, and then, watched in horror, as she began to sit down.
As I watched her actions, things were clicking into place. I
realized that she wasn't a giant. I had shrunk somehow, and I was still
on the soft, swayback chair I had been sitting in before. This was good
in one respect--I hadn't gone anywhere, I was still right on campus. But
it was bad in another, more immediate respect. The seatback flowed
seamlessly into the seat itself. I had nowhere to run.
Nevertheless, I ran backwards, out of sheer instinct. I reached
the back of the seat as her seat landed in front of me, shaking the chair
with the force of an earthquake. She scooted back, her derierre closing
quickly, until I found myself pinned between the chair and the bottom of
a giant 17-year-old. Not entirely an unpleasant situation, mind you, but
certainly, a cause for alarm.
At first, I tried calling for help. It seemed not an unreasonable
thing to do. After all, the girl was settling in to the chair, and
while she was not heavier than any other girl her age, she was a bit
bigger than I.
"Hey," I said, not really knowing what to say. "Hey, I'm down
he--ooof!" The girl slid back a little bit further, knocking the wind
out of me. "Hmm...maybe she doesn't like short guys," I thought to
myself, trying to figure out a way out of my predicament. The thought
did cross my mind that, if I had to go, this was probably the way to do
it, but I resolved not to give up too quickly.
Moving to the left or right was impossible. Believe me, I tried
it, it wasn't going to happen. Going forward was right out. Out of
desparation, I tried to wiggle my way up--and to my suprise, succeeded.
By grasping and clawing and kicking, I managed to get to the waistband of
her skirt, and some small measure of breathing room.
I was out of danger, at least for the moment, and could start to
deal with the situation. I decided that, as long as my life wasn't in
imminent danger, I should avoid drawing attention to myself. After all,
the last thing I needed was for this girl to see me, freak out, and stomp
me to death. What I needed to do was get myself to safety, and try to
plot a course of action from there. It was a good short-term plan, if I
do say so myself.
With the extra room, I was able to slowly inch my way around her
waist, until I had reached her right leg. Here, I was able to get a
good, long look at the giantess.
I stared up her body, drinking in its sheer scope. She wore one
of those light summer blouses, and a short, pleated skirt. My gaze
wandered up her stomach, to her immense breasts (well, immense from my
perspective. They were probably only B cups.) Her face was partially
obscured by her breasts, and partially obscured by the book she read
(Plato's _Republic_, I noticed.), but those features that I could make
out were tremendously beautiful. Slowly, I turned, and looked out over
her vast legs. The dress ended eighteen feet before her knees, which
were crossed, right over left. Cautiously, I crept to the edge of her
skirt. I could see, far below me, her feet, which were bound in a nice
pair of sandals. When I had seen her before, she had been pretty. Now,
she was a goddess, far and away the most perfect being I had laid eyes on.
My reverie was abruptly broken. I heard a loud bang, like a gun
shot. I wheeled, and noticed her tucking her book in her backpack.
Suddenly, the floor dropped out from in under me, as the girl uncrossed
her legs. Then, the floor abruptly became a wall, as the girl stood up.
I slid to the hem of her dress, and reached, blindly. Providence was on
my side, as I caught hold of a tiny length of loose string, not more than
two feet's worth. I watched in fascinated horror as the legs I had been
admiring moments ago began to walk away at seemingly hundreds of miles an
hour. With each step, I came within inches of being struck by her
powerful right leg. I quickly came to a realization--wherever she was
going, I was going, too.
We continued along in this fashion for some time--her, walking
normally; me, clinging for dear life to what was, in reality, a half inch
length of lose string. I hoped that someone might spy me. After all, I
was hanging from the edge of her skirt, and I had no doubt that more than
one male on campus had checked her legs out. Still, nobody stopped her,
and we continued on until we reached her car.
Let me say now, I have no clue what type of car it was. I think
it was red. As the girl stopped, and fumbled in her purse for her keys,
I pulled myself up to the hem of her skirt itself. Quickly, she slid
into the driver's seat, and I leapt for freedom. Fortunately, her car
had a bench seat. I realized, later, that I could have been leaping to
As it was, however, I inched slowly away from the girl, towards
her purse and backpack, which she had dropped on the passenger side. I
decided again that my best bet was to stay hidden, and try to figure out
what had happened to me. I decided that, if I could stay with this girl
for a day or two, I could return to campus when she went to her next
class, and with luck, get in touch with a friend, someone who I could
trust. Of course, it would be a rough two days, but I decided I could
handle it. I'd been shrunk for about forty-five minutes, what did I know?
As we pulled out on to the open road, I decided to get some
information about my unwitting host. Fortunately, her purse lay sideways
on the seat, its zipper slightly open. I was easily able to slide in,
and have a look around. It was crammed full of stuff--kleenex, makeup,
gum, and the item I was looking for, a wallet. With some difficulty, I
slid myself inside the wallet, until I was looking at the girls' driver's
It may seem odd, but it was at that moment that it really hit
me. The window for her picture was as big as I was. Letters on the I.D.
were over a foot high. It was incredibly real, more even than the girl
With a bit of effort, I finally learned the girl's name: Sarah
Jeanne Kensington, of Apple Valley. I discovered that I had guessed
wrong. She wasn't seventeen. She was sixteen. But she was turning
seventeen the next day. "And I haven't even gotten her a present yet," I
mused, extracating myself from the wallet. I had almost reached the
zipper, when, with a violent jerk, the purse was launched into the air.
"Stupid!" I cursed, as I tumbled to the bottom of the handbag,
along with everything else. I was fortunate that I fell into a wad of
Kleenex, or else I may have been killed by an eighteen foot tall lipstick
container. As it was, I was shaken, but not hurt. I was getting
slightly seasick, however, as the purse slowly swayed in rhythm with
Sarah's steps. I tried to figure out where I was, but muffled sounds
were all I got. Then, abruptly, the zipper was pulled open, and I saw
Sarah's hand, dropping a huge set of keys at me. Had she been slightly
more to the left, I would have been impaled.
I was beginning to suspect that surviving for two days might not
be so easy after all.
* * *
Not long thereafter, Sarah put the purse down, and left it there
for a few hours.
I'm not going to bore you with a description of those hours.
Trust me, it was boring enough for me. After being in near constant
peril, this relative safety was maddeningly dull. Finally, out of sheer
despiration for something to do, I decided to climb out.
This wasn't easy. Fortunately, her hairbrush was leaning against
the side, giving me something I could climb on. I made it to about eight
feet from the top, and then pulled myself up using the fabric that lined
her purse. At last, I had made it to freedom, such as it was.
I was on a nightstand, which I assumed was Sarah's. I could tell
by the sixteen-foot tall clock that towered over me. Otherwise, the room
was dark. I looked to the bed, wondering if Sarah had gone to sleep yet,
but it was empty.
Quickly, I decided that I had made something of a mistake by
escaping the purse. Out on the nightstand, I could be easily spotted. I
needed to find a place to hide--but where? I realized instantly that I
should hide on the bed.
Fortunately, the distance from nightstand to bed was only a
couple of feet. I got a running start, and lept across the gap--and
almost halfway across the bed. "Wow," I said, realizing I'd jumped an
incredible distance. "Now I know how a grasshopper feels," I muttered,
looking for a place to hide. Fortunately, the bed was unmade (God bless
teenagers!) and I quickly scurryed to a spot under the sheets and
blanket. I laid down (after all, I was in bed), and quickly fell asleep
due to the exhaustion.
I had rested for what seemed like only moments, when suddenly, a
bright light started shining. I woke fitfully, and peered out from my
hiding place, only to see Sarah reaching under her pillow.
I stepped out just a bit, to get a better view. She was pulling
out her nightshirt, and getting ready for bed. With her back to me, I saw
her undo the buttons on her skirt, and watched it fall to the floor.
Next, I watched her pull her blouse off, and turn towards me as she
removed her bra.
She was like a statue of beauty. Rodin couldn't have sculpted
anything finer, and I couldn't imagine anything more perfect, than this
sixteen, almost seventeen year old girl, wearing only her panties,
standing in splendor. I was disappointed when she pulled the nightshirt
on, but I was caught by suprise when she suddenly grabbed the covers I
was hiding under, and swung her legs under them.
Within moments, I was in complete darkness, far beneath the
covers of her bed. I could feel her warmth, radiating in all
directions. I could feel each move she made as she tried to get
comfortable. But most amazing, I could smell her scent, a warm, inviting
fragrance, that I found made me want to have my way with her (ha!). As
the moments passed, I could hear her breating slow, and I dared approach
I found myself all the way down at the foot of the bed, and at
the feet of this creature. I had never been a foot fetishist, but
something about her feet drew me near. I touched her little toe, itself
a couple of feet long. I realized, as I did this, that it was the first
time I had touched her. I recoiled quickly, afraid that she'd notice
me. Fortunately, nothing happened. I began, slowly, to walk along the
length of her legs. She was lying on her side, facing me,
I realized immediately when I reached her midsection. Her scent
had become powerful, and nearly irresistable. I could feel the heat she
radiated, and I longed to move closer to it. Instead, I consoled myself
by touching her panties, and imagining, briefly, what it would be like to
be inside them.
I continued up for a ways, but it wasn't until I had almost
reached her breasts that I realized I had wandered inside her
nightshirt. I hadn't meant to, honest, but there I was, and I decided it
was going to be easier to go out the top than the bottom.
Her breasts stretched the nightshirt. I caressed her right one,
not worrying about whether she would wake up. Slowly, I eased myself
over to her nipple, and had just started to play with it, when she rolled
over on to her back. I was thrown into the valley between her breasts.
I almost panicked, and made a run for it, but I stopped with the
realization that, if Sarah had awoken, and found me, there was nothing I
could do about it, and besides, it didn't seem she was awake. I lay
there for a few minutes, feeling her chest rise and fall with each
breath. Then, slowly and carefully, I walked out of her collar.
I slid down her neck on the left side, and found myself sharing
Sarah's pillow. I could see her features illuminated by moonlight, and I
was stunned at how beautiful her face was, how clear her skin, even up
close, even at my size. Again, Sarah rolled over, this time on to her
left side, again, facing me.
"Well, Sarah, it's been a long, hard day," I said, drinking in
her warm breath. "I think I'm going to bed now. Good night, and happy
birthday." I was about to jump off the pillow, but abruptly ran instead
to her face. Her lips were in reach; standing on tiptoe, I gave her a
quick good-night kiss. Then, hurrying, I jumped from the pillow, and took
haven in the relatively safe corner of her bed. As I dropped off to
sleep, I had a lot to think about. I wasn't sure what had happened to
me, wasn't sure I could ever get back to my real size, but for the
moment, I didn't care. This change had done me good so far. I waited
anxiously for what tomorrow would bring.