Tammy knocked on Greg’s door first, as always. “Greg?” she croaked, her eyes half-closed and her mouth half-open. “Hey Greg, I wanna talka yuh.” Years of chain smoking had practically turned her voice male, but what did she care? She knocked louder. He’d told her to bother someone else plenty of times, but he’d never outright ignored her before. And she doubted he was out with the others for the Easter thing. He was a loner like her. Unlike her, by choice. “Hey Greg! Watzidea? Doncha wan’ say hi?” She knocked harder, then harder until the door flew open.

She felt sorry for a second. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been knocking. But curiosity quickly replaced her guilt. Tammy took a step inside his trailer, feeling the floor creak under her. “Greg?” she whispered, or thought she whispered. The light in the trailer was still on. She could feel herself getting even hotter. There was something about being in your crush’s place, no matter how old you were. “Greg?”

She stepped through the kitchen/living room, feeling self-conscious about her swamp ass, in case she really was walking in on him. She used to live in a trailer before she’d broken through it’s floor on account of her weight. Now she had her RV. She tried to tip toe for a second, but lost balance as she was passing the sink and leaned onto the counter, accidentally knocking his flip phone into the sink’s dirty dish water. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. She might be drunk, but she knew clear as day she couldn’t afford to replace his phone. She’d have to do some apologizing. Once she found him. She put The National Enquirer down and passed into his bedroom.

Thank god for his fan. She lifted her shirt up so she could air out, forgetting where she was. The air felt so nice on her. Then she remembered and became embarrassed and whirled around, scared Greg would come into the room and see. In the process, she lost her balance and would have fallen down onto the floor if she hadn’t expertly aimed for the bed. She plopped, with a grunt, onto his single-sized mattress, the whole trailer—it felt to her—shaking underneath her weight. She landed belly first and laid on his bed while she tried to make the world stop spinning.

It was while she had her eyes closed that she swore she heard Greg. But it was small. And distant. But near too. She slowly managed to lift her eyelids long enough to see that it was Greg. And though he wasn’t distant, he was small. And naked. He was trying to push her thumb, but he was practically no bigger than her chipped pink nail.

She licked her lips, trying to figure out if she was awake or not.

“Tammy!” Greg yelled. “It’s me.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t ignore me,” she said. “You’re too…” She started to drift off.

“Tammy!” Greg yelled again. “You gotta wake up!”

“Why?”

“Because!” he yelled, though she could barely hear him. “You gotta call the cops or something!”

“Can I do it tomorrow?” she whined, her eyes still closed. She realized she’d had a couple more than usual. So, twenty-something?

“No!”

She rolled her eyes, but at least they were open. “You’re so small,” she said. She poked him in his crotch. “You’re a little,” (She hiccuped.) “cutie. I could eat you up.” She looked at Greg longingly, feeling herself getting even hotter. Mostly underneath her waist.

He started backing away, until he’d climbed onto his pillow and was leaning against the wall. Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

“Hey Greg!” she yelled, despite being near to him. “How come you’re so friggin’ tiny?”

“I don’t know, Tammy,” he said. She started giggling, shaking the bed and knocking him off balance. “What’s so funny?” he asked, unsuccessfully trying to regain his balance.

“I’m just glad you din’t ask why I’m so big!” She burst out laughing, unaware her spit was going nearly everywhere, even on Greg. “You’re such a good guy, Greg.” She sucked her drool back up while she considered what to do. “Tell you what. You come with me, and we’ll go getcha some help.”

Greg tried to back away further as Tammy got on her hands and knees and crawled towards him. “I’m alright, Tammy,” he said, trying not to show his fear. “Why don’t you go on ahead and get the help and then come back? I’ll give you all the cigarettes you want.”

She kept crawling to him, her breasts practically spilling out of her pink, one-size-too-small (despite being the largest size) wife beater. In fact, her pack of cigarettes did spill out, the cigarettes scattering in front of her in the process. She mumbled something indistinguishable as she tried to collect them. She picked up a few with the scoop of her hand, accidentally breaking a couple in the process. Tobacco spilled out of them in front of her. It occurred to her maybe she oughtn’t try to pick up Greg. Not enough to change her mind.

She reached her thick, calloused hand out in front of her and pinched Greg between her pointer finger and thumb. He grunted with pain, but how else was she supposed to pick him up? “Here,” she said. “I gotcha.” She placed him in the now-empty pack of cigarettes and tore the lid off. Then she sat up and placed the pack back between her breasts.

She sat, admiring her handiwork. “That’s not so bad, is it?” she laughed down at him, aware that the angle he was looking at her from probably wasn’t doing her double chin any favors. She drooled a little and sucked it back up.

“Tammy,” he said, “I take back what I said. I think it’s best you just take a nap right now.”

She breathed in deeply, admiring the way her chest—with Greg in it—rose and fell with each breath. “You think?” she said. She gazed down at him, her eyes starting to close again.

“Aw shit,” she heard him say. “What the fuck, Tammy.” She opened her eyes and realized she’d drooled into the pack. She wiped her mouth unceremoniously. Then she pissed herself. She didn’t realize she had until the smell hit her. But once she noticed, the warm liquid marinating her shorts took her attention and put it into getting off the bed. She took a deep breath and regretted it, before standing up.

Tammy took a second to regain her balance before she started walking. Her right hand patted around her crotch area to assess the damage. Tomorrow was laundry day, so who really cared. She would’ve just gone back to her RV to sleep it off, if she hadn’t been tasked with the mission of helping Greg. She kept patting herself, though, and as she did, her hand slowly turned to rubbing. The love of her life was right between her tits, and she was in his trailer. She unbuttoned her trousers and snuck her left hand down.

Right next to Greg’s now-busted front door, Tammy, still walking while she massaged her clit, saw his mini fridge. She opened it with her spare hand and grabbed a beer, expertly opening it.

“I really don’t think you need another, Tammy,” Greg said, but his voice was muffled.

“And what the hell do you know?” she said. She began draining it of its contents. Who cared what Greg thought? He was stupid anyways, probably jerking off all on his own most nights when there was a single woman right next door to him. She rubbed her fingers around the inside of her labia, her natural lube (combined with sweat and piss) letting her glide them freely around. Her hair down there didn’t really bother her. It kinda felt nice on her wrist, actually. Her dead husband—God rest his soul—had always complained. She used to shave it for him, but he’d been gone for years.

She slipped her fingers inside herself and pulled them back out. Then back in, but not entirely back out. As she gained speed, she felt her whole body jiggling and shaking. “You’re so cute, Greg,” she cooed to him. “I like you when you’re so little.” She didn’t care that she was now steadily drooling on him. He looked up at her, confused via denial as to what was happening. Until she let out a moan.

“Aw, God, Tammy,” he said. “What the hell.” Another strand of her drool fell down onto him. It was coating the entire bottom of the container. The sweat from her now bouncing breasts was almost soaking through its walls.

Then, with a series of grunts, she wet herself again, though it wasn’t piss this time. She leaned on the mini-fridge for a moment and collected herself. Once she’d caught her breath, she grabbed another beer and stepped out of the trailer.