I have found that there is often a light at the end of the
tunnel, and that light is usually a train.  I needed to find Sarah, and I
had found her.  Unfortunately, she had also found me, and I trembled in
fear.  After all, she stood over four hundred feet tall, and could do
with me what she wanted.

 At the moment, she merely stared, incredulously, at me.  She
blinked her beautiful brown eyes more than once, trying to reconcile the
obvious impossibility of my existance.  Finally, she reacted.

 "WHO--WHAT ARE YOU?" she asked.  Her voice boomed, although I'm
sure she was speaking softly.

 "My name is Scott.  I've been shrunk," I replied,
matter-of-factly.  She appeared to catch about every third word I had
said, but her eyes grew wider as she realized I was speaking.

 She looked up, and seeing nobody, said simply, "HANG ON."
Deftly, she plucked me from the ground between her thumb and index
finger.  It was like a rocket taking off.  The next thing I knew, I was
hundreds of feet in the air, in the palm of Sarah's hand.

 She smiled, slightly.  "YOU'RE SO SMALL!  IT'S INCREDIBLE!"

 Just then, the door to the bathroom opened.  Sarah reacted
quicky, balling her hand into a fist, but being careful not to crush me.
I felt us move quickly, though where to I wasn't sure.  When finally I
saw daylight again, it was by an enormous locker.

 "I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND, I JUST DON'T WANT ANYONE TO FIND YOU,"
said Sarah seriously.  With that, she tucked me into the pocket of her
shorts.  I sat in that pocket for some time, not noticing the swaying, or
anything uncomfortable.  I was light as air.  Sarah had found me, and she
was trying to protect me.  At least, it seemed that way.  I felt her
thigh dust up against the pocket, and sighed.  I hoped this was a good
thing.  I really wanted it to be.

* * *

 I stayed in her pocket for about an hour at a time; Sarah would
take me out surreptitiously between classes, to chek my contition.  It
was for brief moments, just a visual check.  I would smile and wave, and
each time, she let out a sigh of relief.  Finally, I heard a car door
open, and was lifted once again from her pocket to her face.  She slid
into the driver's seat, and held me in her palm.  "I'M SORRY," she said,
seriously.  "I HOPE I DIDN'T SCARE YOU.  I WANT TO HELP YOU, SCOTT."
With that, she tousled my hair ever-so-gently with her left pinky.  "STAY
IN HERE FOR NOW, WE'LL TALK WHEN WE GET BACK TO MY HOUSE."  She carefully
set me in her cupholder.  It wasn't perfect, but compared to my previous
modes of transportation, it was incredibly safe.

 We arrived at her house, and she carried me directly to her
room.  Setting me on her desk, she leaned her head down right next to
me.  "NOW TELL ME, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?" she asked.

 So I told her--leaving out certain extraneous material, like
getting lost in her bed, or finding a few other giantesses at her
school.  When I finished, she seemed near tears.  "MY GOD...YOU REALLY
THINK I'M BEAUTIFUL?"
 
 Okay, I let that slip.  Well, sue me, she was beautiful--is
beautiful--will always be beautiful.  If I was going to lie about what
happened to me in the locker room, or how I got to the bathroom, I sure
wasn't going to lie about Sarah.  Sitting on her desk, watching her
perfect, titanic face react to my story with interest...I knew I loved
her.

 "You are beautiful!" I cried.  "If only you could see yourself
from my viewpoint!"  She blushed.  "FLATTERER.  YOU KNOW I'D HELP YOU
ANYHOW."

 "I know," I said.  "That's why you're beautiful."  No sooner had
I spoken those words than I was knocked flat on my back.  She was kissing
me, with incredible force, though it was only a peck.  "THANK YOU." she
said, quietly.  She seemed about to say something more, but thought
better of it.  "I'LL GO GET SOME FOOD, YOU MUST BE HUNGRY."

* * *

 The next few days are something of a blur.  Sarah was doing
everything she could and more to help me.  She fed me.  She clothed me
(as best she could--I was small even for doll clothes, but I was able to
make use out of the scraps of fabric she brought).  She even figured out
a way I could tend to personal matters, well, personally.  (You'll
forgive me if I don't go into detail--I don't have a Swiftian interest in
scatology).  As rough as my first day had been, the next were almost
boring--almost, save for Sarah.

 We decided early that there was no reason for me to return to
campus.  I had no idea what had shrunk me, and going back there wasn't
going to get me to safety.  Sarah asked me to stay with her, and I
happily accepted.

 It wasn't easy.  After all, she was hiding me from her parents,
and her two younger sisters (Karen, a cute 14-year-old with Sarah's dark
brown eyes; and Susi, a 6-year-old would probably inflict bodily harm on
me without thinking).  And that made for cramped quarters, if not
physically, than psychologically.  I slept in her Barbie dollhouse, which
was still twelve times too large for me (although it was much easier to
navigate a house designed for seventy foot tall people, as opposed to
four hundred foot tall people.)  That meant I had an unobstructed view of
Sarah whenever she was in the room--fine for me, but not so good for
her.  It came to a head one night.

 It was about two in the morning, and we had both gone to sleep
hours before.  I awoke, and heard a loud moaning coming from Sarah's
direction.  I looked out the window, and saw Sarah caressing herself.
Now, I've never gotten off on watching women masturbate.  Oh, it's fine
sport, and better than football any day, but it just never did the job
for me.  Of course, the women I'd seen do it weren't four hundred feet
tall.

 It was exquisite torture, watching her.  I wanted desperately to
tear my eyes away, to give her her privacy, but I couldn't bear to.
Then, disaster struck.  I was leaning against the plastic window, which
suddenly popped loose.  I fell forward, and just barely caught the edge
of the windowsill.  I found myself hanging from a window on the top floor
of Barbie's dream mansion.  Worse yet, the plastic pane had bounced off
the table below.  A small matter, to be sure, but it caught Sarah's
attention.

 That was not good.

 She was upon me in a second.  For the first time, I feared her.
Her eyes were filled with a blend of rage and embarrassment.  She held me
between her thumb and forefinger, and with a stage whisper loud enough to
ring my ears, said simply, "ENJOYING THE VIEW, LITTLE MAN?"

 I looked down in shame.  What was I doing?  I was peeping on a
seventeen year old who had done nothing more than relieve herself of some
tension in her own bedroom.  She deserved better.

 "I'm sorry," I said, trying, and failing, to say it loudly.  I
was near tears, and not in fear for my life or safety, but in anger and
frustration at what I had done.

 There was a long, deep pause.  Then, Sarah.  "I KNOW YOU ARE,
SCOTT.  IT'S OKAY.  I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT YOU, I SHOULDN'T HAVE
DONE THAT AROUND YOU."

 "No!" I cried.  "You did nothing wrong.  You deserve privacy.
You deserve to be able to live your life without worrying about me."

 "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?"

 "Maybe you should get rid of me.  I could go public.  Hell, I
could write a book, sell the rights.  With that money, I could hire a
caretaker...."

 "YOU DON'T WANT TO STAY WITH ME?"  Her eyes were filling with
tears.

 "Yes, I do!  More than anything, I want to stay here.  But not if
it will cause you pain.  Not if it will hurt you."

 Sarah sat down on her bed, and gathered her knees up.  She set me
on the right one, a little below eye level.  I could smell the scent of
her arousal.  It was powerful.  I struggled with my composure.

 "SCOTT, TAKING CARE OF YOU DOESN'T BOTHER ME.  NOT AT ALL.  AND
YOU DON'T CAUSE ME PAIN, SO STOP PLAYING THE MARTYR.  I LIKE YOU.  I WANT
YOU TO BE WITH ME."  She sighed, the air rushing by me, carrying the
sweet scent of her breath through me.  "YOU KNOW IF YOU EVER WENT PUBLIC,
THE DOCTORS WOULD GET YOU.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE TO LIVE ANYTHING LIKE A
NORMAL LIFE.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE TO HAVE FRIENDS.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE
TO LOVE."
 
 There was a grand pause; Sarah was right, I was playing the
martyr.  And as much as I said I should go, there was nowhere--shrunk or
grown--I would rather be.  "Sarah," I said, "...," I said.  Nothing came
out.  No words seemed big enough.

 "SCOTT, THERE'S SOMETHING I WANT TO ASK YOU.  WOULD YOU, UM...."

 She was blushing.  I could tell, even in the dark of the night,
by the heat that radiated from her face.  "What, Sarah?"

 "WOULD YOU LIKE TO, UM, DATE?  I MEAN...GO STEADY, SOMETHING LIKE
THAT?"  I could tell she was nervous.  She had no need to be.

 "Precious woman, I would like nothing more.  I...I love you.  And I
want to be your boyfriend, if you'll have me."

 And without warning, Sarah bent down and kissed me.  Not a quick
peck like before, either, but a long, lingering kiss which bathed me in
her breath and massaged me with her lips.  I tried my best to return it,
stroking her lips with my hands and legs.  When she was done, she backed
away--only slightly--and smiled.

 "SCOTT, I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WHERE I HAD
SOME CONTROL.  SO MANY GUYS, THEY USE THEIR SIZE AND STRENGTH TO
DOMINATE.  MY BEST FRIEND WAS RAPED LAST YEAR.  ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE
HAD TO CALL THE COPS ON HER 'BOYFRIEND.'  SO WHEN I FOUND YOU, I THOUGHT
OF YOU AS SOMEONE I COULD DOMINATE, SOMEONE WHO COULD NEVER BEAT ME UP.

 "BUT I'VE GOTTEN TO KNOW YOU, SCOTT, AND YOU WOULDN'T BEAT ME
UP--NOT IF YOU WERE SEVEN FEET TALL.  I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I WOULDN'T
HAVE ASKED YOU TO BE MY BOYFRIEND IF THAT WASN'T TRUE, AND I WOULDN'T
HAVE FORCED YOU HAD YOU SAID NO.  I LOVE YOU, AND IT'S BECAUSE OF WHO YOU
ARE.  NOT YOUR SIZE, OR ANYTHING ELSE, BUT YOU."

 Nothing she said could have made me feel better, nothing she
could have done could have warmed me more quickly to the core.  I started
to reply, but she simply put one finger to her lips.  "SHHH.  TIME FOR
SLEEP.  I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME, SCOTT.  I KNOW YOU FEEL LIKE I
DO."  She stretched out, and pulled the covers up.  Then, she set me down
next to her on the pillow, and looked over at me.  "GOOD NIGHT," she said.

 I got up, and ever-so-carefully kissed her on her cheek.  "Good
night, my love," I said, and went to sleep.
 

* * *

 Eliot said it best: "There will be time, there will be time."
What, you were expecting a wild, wet love scene?  Maybe someday.  But
neither of us are quite ready for that yet.

 It's been two months since I shrunk, and it has definitely been a
grand experience.  Sarah and I are dating, and I will say that it is fun
making out with her (a lot more work for me, though).  Still, I love her too
much to take advantage of her.  Oh, I still have my dreams, but those
will wait.

 For now, my life is simply fun.  No term papers, no finals, no
worrying what I'm going to do with my life.  My only concern is trying to
avoid being found by Sarah's parents, or her 14-year-old sister, or
worst  of all, her 6-year-old sister.  It should get interesting shorly--
I'm going along with Sarah on the family vacation, which this year takes
us all to L.A., for some sun and surf.

 Let me tell you, a four hundred foot tall girl in a string bikini
is a glorious sight to behold.

 So as I pack this evening, and watch the love of my life do the
same, don't ask me about regrets.  All I know is that, when I lie on her
shirt, and feel the beat of her heart and the rhytm of her breath, or
when I hide in her hair, right behind her ear, or when I watch her stride
majestically into a room, I know that this is the place I was destined to
arrive.  A good change for a 22-year-old loser, if I do say so myself.