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“Hey.”

Shit. It was a text from my ex-girlfriend, Anna. We’d broken up a few months ago. There was a disastrous event where we were both shrunk down to 1/8th of an inch tall and shipped across the country to visit her little sister. We were accidentally shipped to her sister’s apartment (instead of being unshrunk at the United States Shrinking Postal Service there), and over the course of two days, we were nearly crushed several times. She was found a few hours into the ordeal and chose not to immediately have me unshrunk as well. And though it was a terrifying nightmare, it also opened in me a feeling I had never had before. Being a tiny man to a normal sized woman was fucking amazing. If they knew you were there, and if they weren’t a monster. Anna’s sister’s roommate Holly had played with me and carefully cared for me. But Anna was a bitch, as was her sister, Grace. I needed to move on from this, and hearing from her again was not the way to do it.

I ignored her text. The next day, however, she writes back.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. Call we talk please? I feel terrible, I want to make things right.”

Christ. “Okay,” I simply respond.

“Can I come over in an hour or so?”
Double Christ. “Sure, I’ll be here.”

There’s a knock on my front door shortly, and I find Anna standing there on the porch with a twelve pack of beer, a sullen, pensive look across her face.

“Hey, can I come in?”

I let her through the threshold into our old apartment where I still live. She glances around.

“Not much as changed, it seems.”

“Nope. A few more potted plants maybe. Otherwise, still the same old place you left.”

“Cool. Want a beer?”

Yes, I did. If I was going to have to talk to her, I would need a beer to calm myself. I guess she is looking for me to forgive her, and that’s fine. I’ve moved on with my life and am over it, no need to hold grudges. If she wants anything more: sorry, no chance.

We head to our (excuse me, my) kitchen and sit at the small table. Anna takes out two beers from the box and hands me one.

“So, yeah,” she begins. “I’m still horrified by what happened. I just want to make things right. Or, at least, make you not hate me.”

Her hand wraps around her beer can, her unpainted fingernails longer than usual. Fuck, shut up, stupid horny brain. I was once 1/8th of an inch tall standing on one of those nails. I imagine myself once again that size, staring up at those fingers clasped around the aluminium can, my giantess ex smiling down at me. Stop it, stop, stop.

I think she notices, so I quickly look back at her. “You don’t want me back, that’s fine. Can we at least be friends again? I miss you. You were, like, my best friend.”

I struggle to maintain eye contact and take a long chug from my beer. “I don’t hate you. We had a traumatic experience, something I struggle to move on from. But we’re not cool.”

Anna softly smiles and looks down at her beer can. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Aw fuck, there’s her play. She knows I liked being her little plaything. C’mon, man. Resist!

“How so?” Nope. I’m weak.

“Well, I talked to the USSPS, and they know much they fucked us over, and how we decided to not sue them. Anytime we need a shrinking or unshrinking? You know, whenever. No questions asked.”

Anna leans back and takes a big chug from her beer. Her left hand fingers rise and fall in an undulating motion, her long nails clacking on the table. What if I was tiny by those beautiful long nails? This isn’t fair.

 

 

 

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