Life, it has been said, is epitomised by gaining knowledge and awareness of the world around us and its intricacies. Such is gathered by absorbing information via one's senses; in essence, one's life is merely a collection of sensory experiences. As such, we begin to merely accept our senses as fact; what we see, hear, smell, taste, feel; is essentially knowledge. This is then backed up by the sensory experiences of others, until it seems to become a fact of life. Through this, our sentient minds eventually imagine scenarios and experiences that, supposedly, are impossible and illogical, as in collective human memory no human has ever experienced it. Such fantasies become immortalised in legend, in books and in the media, as- as the word implies- fantastical, impossible. What our sentient but tragically flawed minds fail to remember is that just because we have in collective memory never experienced something happen does not by any means mean it can't happen.
Hence, when it does happen, it makes it all the more extraordinary.
He wasn't sure why it had happened to him. He wasn't sure how, or why. He was aware of the phenomenon, but only in the form of movies, and literature sites he'd mistakenly stumbled onto online. All he knew was that just prior to that watershed moment, he had been just another average teenager, going about his dull school life.
Now, he was just another teenager, but confined to an immeasurably small height.
By the size of the gargantuan furniture and objects around him in the blessedly empty corridor he was now dwarfed by, he roughly estimated that he was around half an inch (he'd always had a surprising and convenient talent for quick mental mathematics). For what it was worth, he hadn't stopped to ponder the seemingly immediate question of why he had diminished to such a size or the more philosophical queries of why, or how. His focus was trained better on the other user of the empty corridor at that time, who happened to be staring directly at him with her spotlight-esque eyes and towering over him like a skyscraper.
---
She hadn't expected to see much on her way out of the school, criminally late out after an essay happened to take an extra hour to write. The same bland corridor, with the same dull furniture, empty yet again after another similar day of general educative cacophony. What she really hadn't expected to see was another person at the other end of the corridor seemingly disappear into thin air as she entered. Surely, the art of teleportation was logically impossible, she told herself sagely, confined to the weird and crazy world of human dreams and fantasies, like time travel and size changing. Still, her curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly walked over to the spot where she had last seen the mystery matter manipulator.
Considering the extraordinary act that had just occurred, it seems slightly (if only very slightly) less amazing that the two miracles that happened next actually did happen. One was that she happened to stop where she did, and thus save the person she thought had teleported from a split second gruesome death under her pink Converse. The second was that, despite being the size of an ant, she was somehow able to spot the tiny figure staring in awe and terror up at her from the faded linoleum floor. Dropping to her knees (and causing a mighty earthquake for her little subject of investigation, buckling his legs and making him collapse on his rear, she gasped in amazement at the sight she saw.
---
Somehow, even after collapsing from the tremor the titan he was still facing had caused, he was able to retain his cool as they stared each other down, his miniscule eyes looking into her majestic ones. He felt as if he was looking at the face of God; if God was a pretty teenage girl, whose deep sapphire eyes seemed to read everything about him in one glance. Beneath her petite nose, her lips, lightly coated with a mild and faded red lipstick, still hung slightly agape, the black hole between them revealing nothing of the mouth within. As she slowly leaned closer, he still attempted to keep himself calm, even as silky tendrils and then waves of auburn hair dangled around him. Eventually, he seemed totally encompassed by this stranger, this titan who had so suddenly appeared after the ineffable and unbelievable experience. That word 'unbelievable' stuck in his head, as he realised that at that point the only people in the world who knew about this were him and this new mystery redhead; not counting the possibility of whoever-or whatever- if anything at all- caused his predicament in the first place. It was a chilling thought to realise that he was entirely under this girl's power, a girl he didn't know, not just bigger than him but several thousand times larger than him, who could snuff out his life in an instant.
Thus, his relative relief was palpable when the giant gape transformed into a clearly compassionate smile.
---
She was in shock, certainly. After all, it wasn't every day one came across a perfect miniature size human being- a homunculus, one might say- especially one that had seemed to shrink from normal size. Her questions were myriad, and her curiosity peaked; but first and foremost, her caring nature immediately took precedent.
She had always considered herself and been known by others as a loving and compassionate person, always there for her friends and loved ones. In fact, she somewhat prided herself on it, as it seemed that in the world she lived in there were so many nasty people around, from the bullies and low-lifes that made up the dregs of society to some of the highest-ranking officials charged with running the country. She always tried her hardest to stand up for the weak and protect the innocent or abused, even when life might not have been as black and white as she'd perhaps hoped it was in some situation. There was no question about it, though; this tiny human, alone in the middle of a corridor regularly used by, comparatively, giants, could easily be described as weak or even powerless, and unless she could ascertain who he was and his life (after all, when witnessing an event as phenomenal as she had, how could she rule out anything about this strange new person?) she would try her hardest to care for and protect him, as was her nature. She could see, even though his face was so minute, that he was scared; soothing him would most likely be the best course of action, until she could perhaps get to know him a little better.
A scared and confused shrunken teenager, and an equally confused but gentle giantess not only willing but wanting to help him. It seemed like the perfect fit to deal with such an extraordinary, unfathomable and unfortunate event.
If life were so simple, all stories would be so perfect.
Her whispering tone was calming to the poor, shrunken teen, who though able to not panic felt as if he were on the verge of a breakdown. She was speaking with the voice of an angel, letting calming words of assurance flow from her lips and wrap themselves around him, like a comforting blanket. She promised him that she meant him no harm, that she wanted to help and protect him, if he so wished to accept her help. She wished to know more about him, so that together they could ascertain the situation and move on from there.
He seemed calmer; at least, calm enough to open his tiny lips and elicit a reply. His voice was, as befit him, tiny, but in what could be considered the third miracle of the day audible to the gentle redhead. In a timid voice, he told her his name and who he was, and then went on to explain his predicament- or at least, got as far as saying he didn't know why he was in said predicament before his emotions finally got the better of him and he burst out crying. Immediately he felt a great presence on his back, and realised as he sobbed that her giant finger was trying to console him by rubbing his back, surprisingly gently for one so much larger than he. Again the soothing tone came back, consoling him and telling him it'd be okay, that she would protect him now, that he had nothing to fear from her and that, hopefully, they'd be able to put it right. Though he was sad about the new predicament he was facing, a part of him was accepting that this stranger really did mean him no harm, and that he had a new friend to support him in getting out of it. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad after all. Deciding this optimistic hopefulness in trusting this new seeming friend was better than being left to fend for himself, he made efforts to stop sobbing long enough to utter a garbled 'thank you' to the giantess caressing his back.
For her part, she felt as if her heart was melting already. This little guy seemed to have been so unfortunate and must have felt so powerless in his new state that she wanted to cry for him herself, and despite only knowing him for less than five minutes she felt herself becoming attached to him already. She was going to protect him, keep him safe, take care of him, until they could put this right; she would be committed to it. It would be a journey, she decided, but it made her feel so good to think she could help her new little friend get back to normal.
Wiping his eyes, he looked back up at her and gave her a tentative smile. She gave him a gentle grin back, displaying her perfect if slightly off-colour teeth. On her suggestion, he tentatively walked over to the cradle of her palms, which she had lain on the floor for his convenience, and pulled himself up into them. Though he was apprehensive at first; being carried around by such a large being seemed dangerous at his size, especially where movement was concerned; but as he flopped into the warm, soft embrace of her palm he seemed to relax almost immediately. Her hands were warm, courtesy of the blood rushing through her arteries and supplying her with the energy she needed, and the skin, though at his size bumpy from the small ridges of skin, was soft and almost plushy. The fragrant scent of hand lotion permeated his nostrils, making him feel all the more comforted and at ease as he pulled his way into the middle of the cradle she had constructed for him, sitting cross-legged and looking back up at her with a smile. She seemed radiant to him, smiling back at him like a benevolent goddess, and his fear was whittled down to the very smallest corner of his conscious. It seemed almost impossible to him that this girl, who seemed so genuine and caring in so many ways, had any sort of malintent in her mind, and that she wouldn't even hurt a fly, much less his new tiny self. He let himself lay back in her hand as he felt her rise up to standing, thinking happily to himself that things were going to work out alright.
It seems logical at this point to assume that this is a story that is going to continue in such a respect. In fact, one would advise that the reader at this point leaves this tale, and goes on to assume that after a great many adventures the tiny boy and his giantess friend, perhaps even girlfriend, are able to reverse the effects of his shrinking and live happily ever after. Sadly, such endings happen most often in the pages of fairy tales and story books, which of course are, perhaps lamentably, fictional. The solemn truth is life, in all its intricacies and unfairness, tends not to work in such a way, and such happy stories tend to be tragically cut short. The reader, of course, may wish to continue to read this fledgling tale, but one advises they do so at their own risk of ruination of their own experience, and begs them to consider if maybe they would do better enjoying another such tale.
Their plan, these two new friends bound together by one's strange and ineffable position, was to, primarily, travel back to her house; by means of the legs of the colossal redhead, of course; and get him settled in to new sleeping arrangements and living, before starting to get to grips with his new tiny condition and get to know each other a little better; after all, she said, beaming down at him like a ray of sunshine, if they were going to be spending so much time together, they should know each other better than the near strangers they were now. Of course, it was of paramount importance that he be hidden while they were in public; he of course agreed that anyone else seeing a tiny person that wasn't 100 percent trusted could easily lead to complications, trouble, or worst of all harm to him.
The immediate question that arose from that, of course, was where she could keep him on the journey home that would also keep him hidden; he couldn't just ride around on her palm, as that would either look strange or become uncomfortable for him, and she couldn't abide that. Several options were banded around; her spacious handbag, which of course contained all of her books and folders as well as her personal items was ruled out as not only uncomfortable but also dangerous, as anything in said bag could easily crush or otherwise harm him. Thus, what was left was somewhere on her person; typically, of course, her choice of clothing for that day had not included pockets on any of her clothing. She considered tying him in a strand of her silky auburn locks and leaving him in the jungle of her scalp, but a rigorous head shaking from her tiny passenger quickly put an end to those ideas. There was always the option of placing him between the two cushions on her chest, of course... but were they really going to go that far? They'd only met barely five minutes ago- it seemed rather uncouth to suddenly be letting him near her breasts. If it was truly the only option, she mused, they might have to go for it... as forward as it seemed, if it was truly the best way to transport him about surreptitiously and safely, they should just do it, near-stranger as he was.
As it happened, they never had to finalise such a decision, as it could be said that at that moment the luck of the new friends ran out; and for one of them, at least, it would never come back. After lucky break after lucky break, life was about to come and cut their fairytale short-and it did so with gruesome efficiency, as it paraded its answer to the burgeoning adventure around the corner.
It is often said that in life, one must make a number of snap decisions. Such decisions have no prior thought put into them and are purely made in the spur of the moment. As such, many such decisions teeter on a knife edge between leading to success or failure, with the result becoming more and more clear as time passes after it. Thus, when the two guys and two girls came around the corner of that fateful corridor, facing the heroine and the tiny hero in her hands, the snap decision she made then was to decide the fate of the rest of their time together; and ultimately, her hero's fate.
>It was simply sod's law. As they were about to reach a decision about where to keep him safe, suddenly around the corner came lumbering two swarthy-looking boys, each with an honestly equally swarthy-looking girl on their arm. It had just so happened that the after-school detention they had all been in that day for whatever vile and detestable thing they had done that time had just finished early, largely thanks to the supervisor losing the will to live. Had said supervisor lasted another ten minutes, the story could have ended extremely differently, but as it happened, when the foursome rounded the corner and saw a solitary redhead cupping something in her hands, she knew she had to act quickly, having been so wrapped up in her conversation with her new friend that she missed their heavy footfalls coming closer. Her first priority, of course, was to keep him safe; especially against the four about to face her then, known for being the main bullies of the school. Without a safe place to put him quickly, in the spur of the moment she chose the only place she could think of where he would be completely hidden; inside her own mouth.
Thus was how the miniscule teenager came to find himself suddenly and without warning transferred from the warm, comforting embrace of his new friend's palms to the sweltering, slimy confines of her mouth. Having been looking the other way at her when the four thugs came round the corner, he had merely seen her panicked expression suddenly jolt up from staring down at him, before he was quickly thrust into the slimy gloom. As a result, he was disoriented and more than a little scared as he surveyed his new surroundings, sat on top of the massive platform of her slimy tongue. Her slightly yellowed teeth surrounded him, like what was supposed to be a protective shield but in his new resurgent fear felt more like the bars of a prison. Saliva dripped from the ceiling as her mouth noted the presence of something new within it, dripping down to an ever expanding pool of the goop, and all around him were the sounds of her body's inner workings, scaring him ever further. The atmosphere was hot and swelteringly humid, the air thick from being starved of oxygen as she inhaled and exhaled. But perhaps the most jarring thing was the smell. Perhaps not logically, he had assumed that for such a sweet girl everything about her would be perfect and sweet; such was not so with the stench that overpowered his nostrils in that new cavern, which reeked of the general odour of stale saliva mingled with the stench of fish (salmon, judging by the bits between some of her teeth) and onions, most likely remnants of the bagel she had devoured several hours prior to the predicament. Like 'unbelievable' before, the word 'devoured' again stuck in his fearful mind; he hoped still that his faith in this seemingly gentle girl was founded, and that this was either merely a sick practical joke to break the ice or she had a genuine reason for what she was doing.
>She had to, surely.
Outside, however, his new friend and unwilling captor was facing similar fear. The foursome, ever opportunistic, had now circled her, and demanded to know what she was doing in the corridor, and more importantly what one eagle-eyed member of the group had seen her put in her mouth. The situation only exacerbated when she refused to open her mouth, quite rightly, and thus the bullies took to teasing her instead. All the while, she was in increasing dilemma. She could feel the saliva building up in her maw, up to the point where it was beginning to pool around the increasingly damp tiny boy trapped within. She had to swallow, so badly, but she couldn't, for the sake of his life. Worry coursed through her, as she knew he must be petrified, and yet there was nothing she could do about it, unless she wanted to hand over the poor soul to the four vile thugs surrounding her. Mercifully, people like said foursome, like a cat playing with a dead bird, grow bored after not getting a reaction. They had other, more awful things to do to amuse themselves, and they were wasting time. As they let her be, she breathed a sigh of relief.
And gulped.
Immediately, panic coursed through her. Her eyes grew wide as she realised what she had just done. Cursing frantically, she tried to cough or gag him back up, going even as far as to try and stick her fingers down her throat, but to no avail; her gag reflex was seemingly, in a final cruel twist of fate, virtually non-existant. Tears welled in her eyes as she realised she had swallowed the boy she had sworn to protect and care for, who she continually promised she meant no harm to, and as she desperately kept trying to throw him back up the tears began to flow freely from her eyes.
Inside her throat, the miniscule teenager was suddenly shifted from his place atop her tongue, now waist deep in saliva, and thrust into the dark void he had been staring into with trepidation. Hitting the slimy walls of her throat, he was dragged down with the suffocating goop into her body, petrified beyond belief. Eventually, he felt his body be squeezed through the sphincter into the hellscape of her stomach, still digesting down her lunch. He was only able to scream into the acrid, stinking, phenomenally thick air for a minute before he went under the surface of the sea of stomach acids. Mercifully, his death was a quick one; as he descended below the surface, he kicked to reach air again, but in his disorientation he didn't know which way was up. Stomach acid burned his skin and the mush was thick and hard to fight against, until eventually his burning lungs gave up and he slipped into unconsciousness. As the gloom turned to pitch black, he could very faintly hear her crying, and took at least some solace in the fact that the girl whose stomach he was dying in had genuinely tried to help him, even if life had played not one, but two cruel tricks on him. This wasn't how it was supposed to end; it had all seemed so bright, when she held him in his hands, that seemingly idyllic future which would have culminated in his original size returning; but, he reflected, not all stories can be fairy tales.
Fairy tales are the stories we remember. They're the ones people tell to their children, who then pass them on also. We remember them because they have happy endings. But so few of these stories, which all start with such happy beginnings, end with the heroes winning the day. Thus, the next time a fairy tale is read, rejoice in the happiness that comes with it; but spare a thought for the thousands of tales that ended tragically cut short.