The whole world seemed to shake around the shrunken man as a bright blue light blinded him, forcing him to writhe and cringe on the floor of his fish tank as an alien shadow descended from the sky above. Thrashing and shouting in his barely conscious state, Ned didn't know what was happening as his body was engulfed in a thick wet vice that carried him up into the sky. The darkened world of Brittany's room swung wildly back and forth as he roared threw the air, suddenly realizing he was in the grasp of a drunken giant.

Ned listened as his teenaged owner, the closest thing he had to a protector in the immense Sachs house, grunted in confusion, her huge bed squealing as she lifted her head off of the pillow.

The dimly lit world came to an arresting halt, everything spinning around him as Lana quietly shushed her half-dreaming sister, “Shh, go back to bed, I'm just borrowing your little fucker.”

“Ok,” Brittany mumbled through a yawn, smacking her lips sleepily, “Don't kill him or whatever.”

Lana giggled high above him, and as she swayed out into the hallway, he watched as she covered her mouth with a beer can, obviously trying to stifle her voice as she thumped past her parents bedroom and into her own. With no warning, Ned was smashed against a light switch as Lana's hand fumbled against it, her grip becoming so loose as she smacked at the switch that the tiny man found himself latching on to her thick middle finger. As dim light spread out from her shaded lamps, Lana paused to stare down at him clinging desperately to her finger, before she wiggled it and laughed once more.

Stumbling over to her desk, she set the beer down with a soft thud before practically flinging him at the wood. “Get... off,” she grunted as her huge bedroom swirled around him, his stomach threatening to revolt as she tried to throw him off. Finally, with a frustrated grunt she lowered her hand close to the desk and pried his shaking limbs off of her.

As he fell the last few inches and crashed onto his already aching back, Lana shrugged out of her thick jacket and then pried her heavy Doc Martens off, each one hitting the carpeted floor with an echoing boom. Sucking in a deep breath, he watched as the gigantic young woman collapsed into an old beat up office chair, her eyes lingering on him as she grabbed the can of cheap beer and cracked it open. She took a long sip and Ned found himself creeping away from the huge girl before the heavy aluminum can slammed down behind him, causing him to jump up with a frightened yelp.

Flecks of beer foam rained down around him, and Lana's laugh turned into a belch that rolled over the terrified shrunken man. Ned coughed as the foul stench seemed to rob his lungs of fresh air, and Lana's billboard sized face lowered down to his level. She appraised him with blood shot eyes, and as her hot breath wafted over him again and again, he caught the pungent smell of weed coming off of her.

“Did you know Chicago bars only stay open till two?” She slurred, her tongue stud clacking loudly against her teeth. “That's such fucking bullshit,” the young twenty-something complained, before leaning back and taking another gulp of her beer.

Ned looked around the desk, trying to find some place to hide from the drunken young woman, but instead found the wooden plane wide open, with only her laptop and a hair brush littering the landscape. As the shadow of her hand passed over him, Ned cowered with his arms over his head, only to feel it crash down against the laptop a second later. Following the pale arm back to Lana's face, he saw her smoke-ringed eyes narrowing on the computer screen as she hopped around websites the small man only dimly recognized.

“Mags was right,” she muttered between sips of beer, her eyes flickering past pictures of people hanging off each other in seedy looking bars, “I should have left Thursday morning and gone back Friday afternoon.”

Another belch punctuated the statement as the can was slammed back down next to him, her hand knocking him over as she stood up. He craned his neck back as she pulled off her flimsy blouse in one fluid motion, before pulling off a sweat soaked sports bra right after it. Ned's mouth fell open as his eyes traced the complex patterns tattooed on her milky skin, curling across her arms, shoulders, and the right side of her chest before a single thorn like image curled around her pierced belly button.

She scratched her sagging, beer laden, stomach before she shimmied out of a heavy skirt and leggings. As her clothes fell away, they revealed a pair of plain dark blue panties and another winding tattoo running around her left thigh, with a thorny tendril shooting beneath her underwear. Ned couldn't look away as she shuffled toward where her suitcase had vomited its contents across the floor, wondering if the giant young woman had simply forgotten him as she pulled on a pair of long running shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

That hope started to diminish as she turned back toward her desk and lumbered toward it with an open hand. Stumbling backwards away from the huge grasping digits, Ned breathed a sigh of relief as they wrapped around the can and tipped it all the way back. A disappointed look crossed her face as she wiggled the empty container back and forth before crumpling it between her powerful fingers, the can putting up far more resistance than Ned ever could.

As her bare feet slapped down against the floor and she walked out of the room, Ned collapsed against the desk and released the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. Taking in slow deep breaths, the tiny man realized it was more than likely the drunk girl simply had forgotten him. Basking in the glow of her computer, he suddenly realized that she had also forgotten to lock it. Looking back toward the door, he scrambled across the desk to the laptop with his hands outstretched.

Slamming his fists down across the touchpad, Ned let out a cry of triumph as he watched the cursor move on the movie theater sized screen. Feeling the powerful uneven footfalls of Lana's approach, Ned ran then stumbled away from the huge device, not wanting to draw attention to it or his tiny being. The moment she was asleep, Ned told himself, he would finally be able to contact his family or the press or anyone who might be able to help him.

Lana came into view while finishing off a tall glass of water and kicking her door shut. Another belch thundered across her cavernous room as she stumbled deeper into it, and she was about to bypass her desk entirely when she tripped on her own boots. The whole world shuddered as the giantess caught herself while cursing beneath her breath, sending Ned sprawling to the surface of her desk. She remained frozen, and for the first time since she held him before her face, Ned was reminded that she was a twenty-one or twenty-two year old girl home for the holidays, terrified of waking up her parents with her drunken antics.

When silence reigned across the house, Lana let out a sigh of relief and then looked down at her boots. “Oh yeah,” she whispered to herself before looking back to the desk, “Where are you, you little shit?”

Ned whimpered and tried to move behind the shadow of the laptop, but Lana easily spotted him against the dark wood. Her sweaty hand was wrapped around him an instant later, nearly crushing him as she lowered him to the floor below. He shouted as she dropped him against the hard leather toe of her boot, and he rolled down to the rough carpet below.

The Doc Martens rose before him like a wine red monolith that reeked of cheap beer and sweat, with too many stains and scuffs to count covering their surface. Instead of going up though, Ned found his eyes drifting down to the thick soles, so big and heavy that they could easily crush his tiny frame without Lana ever even feeling his pathetic attempts to get out from underneath.

“Get licking, loser,” Lana said as she collapsed down into the building-sized chair above him, her callused foot rising above him as she flexed her wrinkly sole. “I'm sure it'll be bad enough that I'm wearing 'combat boots' to Thanksgiving dinner, so they better be fucking clean.”

Looking back toward the giant girl, Ned found himself staring up at her wriggling toes, her foot so close to him that it completely eclipsed the rest of her from view. The huge appendage lifted up and then her heel slammed down into the carpet, sending him sprawling against the massive boots. “The longer you wait, the longer it's going to take,” she grunted, her hand slapping down against her laptop above, “And I can't be too hungover tomorrow morning, so like, I need to get to sleep soon.”

Trembling, Ned pushed himself off of the boot and then realizing that he would be given nothing else to clean them with, dragged his tongue across the tough leather. The taste of Lana's sweat, and whatever else had splattered against her boots at the rollicking concert, filled his mouth, overwhelming nearly all of his other senses as he licked the big boots again and again. The more he licked, the worse the taste became, with the leather seeping in as the pungent scent of her feet continued to clog his sinuses.

As he moved from scuff to scuff, he would look up to see Lana's half-lidded eyes scrolling through some website before they flickered down toward him, appraising his work. Every time she looked at him, she rolled her eyes and her frown became deeper, making Ned tremble more and more in fear of what the drunk woman might do to punish him.

After he had moved on to the next boot, Lana closed her laptop with a soft click, and turned her full attention to his struggle. His mouth had started to go dry, and while she looked drowsier, a slow smile had spread across her face. The floor below Ned trembled as she crossed her ankles, and her bare toes started to play with the open mouth of the now clean boot. He paused, marveling at how easily the gigantic young woman manipulated an object he could never hope to move.

“I bet,” she suddenly mused, her voice haughty but bored as she tied the long hair that hung off one side of her face into a lazy bun, “That you think I didn't recognize you.”

Ned froze, his eyes drifting back up to the huge girl's face as she sat up and looked down at him.

“And make sure Jeremy's in bed by ten o'clock on the dot,” she said, her voice pitched lower in imitation of him while her finger wagged in the air above, “And absolutely no friends over.”

His jaw fell open as he watched her stomach rumble with laughter, and for the first time since Brittany trapped him inside a shoebox, Ned felt like his whole world was tearing apart at the seams.

“Like, I was fucking twelve,” she said between fits of laughter, “Did you think I was going to suddenly throw a boy-girl party in your house while you and your wife were at the movies? Fuck, I think I was too afraid to even talk to a boy then.” Her feet rubbed together above him, her toes batting against the leather of her boots as she sighed, “I did have a boyfriend come by once though, like a couple years later. I'm surprised your little shit of a son didn't tell on me actually. But, I think I let him stay up late that night and watch, like, some dumb late night uncensored movie or something. Who the fuck can remember...”

Lana waved her hand dismissively in the air above him, while her eyes drifted back toward him, “Did I say you could stop fucking licking my boots, Mr. Coo-” She snickered before correcting herself, “Ned.”

The whole boot shook as she shoved it forward with a simple flick of her foot.

“I could end your tiny little life with these bad boys,” Lana's toes gripped the other boot and lifted it up so he could see the heavy tread, “If you don't get licking that could be the last sight you ever see, Ned.”

Terror shot through his chest as he lowered his head and lapped his drying tongue against a stubborn smudge, trying to ignore its sharp acidic flavor.

“Look at you go,” she let out an amused sigh, cocking her head as she watched him diligently lick the stain, “Don't worry though, Ned, I haven't told Brittany who you are and I probably won't because honestly, I don't think she cares who you were. She literally just thinks of you as her little slave, or maybe something a little nicer than that, like a dog she taught to fetch her slippers or whatever.” Another quiet laugh escaped Lana's lips and the sky above him was illuminated by the blue glow of her phone, “Also, she finally let me follow her on Instagram and oh wow, check out this one she posted earlier tonight.”

Ned kept his head down as the glowing piece of glass was turned down to face him. Instead of looking at it, he started gnawing at a few flecks of dried beer that had crusted against Lana's laces, desperate to avoid seeing the image.

“Look at it, Ned,” Lana ordered and her voice was deep and threatening enough that there was nothing Ned could do to resist.

Quivering against the boot, Ned looked up to see a picture of himself in stark black and white from the perspective of the giants that ruled his life. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized how tiny he looked as he jumped away from Brittany's immense foot, terror etched on his face. A dozen people, including Lana, had already liked the photo and his eyes then went to the caption.

'He's always so scared of my size eights!' the black text was followed by a brightly lit collection of hashtags that taunted Ned; #LivinLarge #Immune4Life and the terrifying #MyShrinkee were all burned into his brain as Lana lifted the phone back up into the sky.

Glancing over her phone as she swiped on to other pictures in her sister's album, Lana spat out the words, “Get back to work.”

Sniffing and trying to hold back tears, Ned ran his tongue over the last scuff mark that marred Lana's huge boots while her feet continued to darken the sky above him. He stepped back as he finished, gazing up at the giant girl for her approval, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he tried to process how she could do this to him while actually knowing who he was.

Looking down at the boots, Lana shrugged and then snatched him up off the ground without a word. His ears popped and his stomach lurched before she dropped him down into the empty glass sitting on her desk. Plugging her phone into a charger, she smirked down at him before she spoke, “I did tell my Dad who you are though.”

His eyes went wide as she giggled, his jaw opening and closing as he tried to plead with the uncaring giantess high above him. “Lana, please, you, you have to help me...”

But the giant girl was already walking away, and a second later the lights went out and the roar of her compressing bedsprings filled the room. When she had finally settled beneath her blankets, leaving him shivering at the bottom of the small glass, Lana responded to his plea, “You know, Ned, they say that the shrinking disease is genetic, and my mom won't shut up about how she wants to have her own little shrunken person. So my Dad was pretty happy to know there might be another one of you little things running around our neighborhood soon.”

Ned pounded his fists against the glass, screaming his head off at the giant bitch, but even with the glass amplifying his tiny voice, it was drowned out by her bed as she rolled over and fell asleep.