Finishing off one last, long pull, I clicked my vape until it was off and slid it back into my pocket. It was common knowledge that it wasn’t as bad as cigarettes, both in smell and the effects it would have on the house’s interior, but it was still customary to step outside before using it. Many other men on campus would give their right arm to be let into a Gamma Tau Sigma party, and I wasn’t going to squander the opportunity by getting kicked out for vaping.
The sorority house’s door was designed with someone a bit larger than me in mind, so I had to guide my hand to the doorknob and lean into it with my shoulder to force it open. My slight inebriation didn’t help, and I stumbled forward when it flew inward. I took a moment to recover before closing it, glad that the foyer was dark and away from the main action. No one had seen me nearly eat shit upon entry and I would avoid being called a stumbling doofus for the next week.
I held my red plastic cup, filled with an equal mixture of vodka and orange juice, up to my chest like I had recently refilled it, and went to rejoin the party. In terms of music and lighting it was like every other party I had been to, but I had never seen a group like this. It was a sausage party for sure, with a ratio of at least three-to-one by people, but close to even by mass. All the women were enormous, the shortest still over a head taller than the tallest man present, and exceptionally gorgeous. Hitting on a woman while craning my neck to look her in the eyes felt odd, but they seemed used to it, even comfortable.
On the far side of the couch I spotted the woman who had invited me and hoped my brief absence hadn’t set me back too much in what I imagined to be an audition with her. She was difficult to miss; in addition to her considerable height, she had long, bubblegum pink hair and a satin dress of the same color that didn’t quite reach her knees. White stockings made her slender legs easy to spot, and matte black ballet flats added a splash of darkness to the ensemble. Two men stood in front of her, and she was doing her best to split attention between them.
I slipped between the couch and a blond who looked like she could snap me like a dry twig whose chest was level with my eyes and headed toward the bright pink. When I was just past the blond, however, I got an extreme sense of vertigo and had to pause to clutch my head. Everything seemed to rapidly get much larger all at once, like I had been suddenly reduced in size. The lightheadedness cleared and I felt like I had a bug’s eye view of the room, as though I were an inch tall.
The pink-haired woman stood out in the distance, her monolithic height making her impossible to miss now. In front of each of her shoes was a small dark shape that barely broke its profile, neither of which came halfway to the cap of her toe. They were puny compared to her, almost nothing, and she smiled down at them like they were brand new toys fresh out of the package. My heart sank and I realized I was no bigger than they were, barely distinguishable from the carpet.
My attention was drawn by a tremendous thud from behind, and the accompanying tremors made me stagger to stay upright as I spun around. A colossal white hi-top Converse stood there, its canvas walls taller than an apartment complex and pressing down hard enough that it sank into the carpet. The black ALL-STAR logo was in front of me, each letter as tall as I was. The titaness’s calf popped while she raised her heel, revealing more of the brown rubber sole until it was completely vertical. She began grinding her shoe back and forth, and I realized one of the men she had been talking to was now crushed beneath it.
I turned back to the tower draped in pink and saw that there was now only one tiny man in front of her. The other was beneath her shoe, its heel resting on the ground while the sole stretched over him. She waggled it back and forth and moved it up and down like she was stepping on a pedal, then held it as high up as it could go. With a gleeful squeal she swung it down, flattening the person she had been toying with. Her foot lifted back up before slamming back to the floor, mashing her victim’s body further.
The remaining man started running in panic, and I did the same. Luckily for me, her attention was focused on him, and he was in the middle of a broad, featureless plain. I sprinted for the couch, hurdling over knee-high carpet fibers on the way. Constant tremors wracked my legs whenever they touched the ground, and I knew similar scenes were happening all over the party. Amid a chorus of thuds and laughing I slipped under the couch and did not stop until I was well away from the edge.
Once out of immediate danger, I began analyzing the situation. This couldn’t be real: people don’t shrink, and certainly no one is as small as I seemed to be. However, it had all the markings of a bad trip, and it’d hardly be the first time someone spiked the drinks at a party. It kind of made, sense, too. In this environment they seemed like giantesses, towering over all their guests as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The drugs had latched onto that and exaggerated them until they looked like skyscrapers to me. No doubt when I came down I’d discover that I had made an ass of myself by crawling under their table, but no worse for the wear. Certainly, I would not wake up bug-sized in a house full of giantesses.
The best way to deal with it, I decided, was to close my eyes and ride it out in my sleep. It wasn’t easy to relax with the constant crashing of my auditory hallucinations and perception of the ground shaking. There was even slight musty smell under the “couch” to go along with them. An enormous black ballet flat landing on a screaming, cowering man in the open was simply a metaphor for how completely she dominated him. Whatever drugs they were started to wear off after about an hour, though, and I finally got some sleep.
When I awoke, my head was pounding with such intensity that I could hear the blood pumping through my brain. It got louder and more intense with every pulse, and it seemed like the world was shaking along with it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that blocking out the small amount of light that reached me would help, but it had no effect. There was simply no escape this morning from the pain I had assured myself last night.
Eager to make it go away, I stood up from the floor I passed out on to go get something for the headache. Planting my hands to push myself up took more effort than expected since the carpet seemed like it was made of very fluffy cotton. When I was back on my feet, I took a moment to inhale deeply, hoping to clear my head. The air was musty, like no one had cleaned where I was for years, and I let out a great sneeze that turned into a coughing fit. I stumbled forward, and it felt like something grabbed weakly at my knees with each step.
The pounding had not abated; if anything it was more intense than ever, and had somehow managed to get out of sync with my pulse. I opened my eyes so I wouldn’t trip on my way down the long, wide hallway toward the source of light. Wherever I had ended up last night, the carpet here was unlike what I had seen anywhere else. It was thick, with fibers as big around as my fingers, and tall enough that I had to move between the tufts. This couldn’t have been convenient for the people who lived here, and with the rough black canvas ceiling made it feel much more thrown together than I remembered.
As I walked the pounding grew even more powerful, and I began to doubt it was coming from inside my own head. I had been hungover before so I knew what it felt like, and this was on an entirely different level. There hadn’t even been enough time to get proper wasted last night to put me in this state. The ground seemed like it was shaking though, much more than if I were merely stumbling from still being drunk. So what could be causing this?
My answer came moments later, with the hiss of air being shoved aside and a crash that sounded like a meteorite’s impact. The floor rumbled with a force to match, and I had to stop as my knees lost all motor function. All light coming from in front of me had been blocked, replaced by a white rubber wall cast in shadow. A wide black strip ran its length, from the slight bulge on my right to the curve on my left where it faded from view. Fine cracks ran vertically in the rubber, concentrated in one spot, and I sputtered for breath. There was no denying that this was a titanic Converse shoe, its owner casually walking by me.
Fortunately the massive person passed by without incident, and the crashing thuds became fainter with distance. There was a loud squeal and a final bang, reminiscent of a door slamming shut. Even without the tremendous footfalls my head was pounding, and my stomach growled. It dawned on me that I hadn’t eaten since before I left for the party the night before, and I was starving. My body was crying out for any form of sustenance, and I was in the worst state to rectify it.
What would – could – I do with my life now? Last night had not been a drug-induced hallucination, and I really was just short of an inch tall. Nothing like this had ever been documented before, and I was most likely stuck at this size. Even if the person responsible for me shrinking could reverse it I doubted that they would, otherwise they wouldn’t have done it in the first place. Either I would need to escape and try my luck on the outside or find a way to eke out a living inside.
After thinking it over for a few minutes, I realized that I was thinking much too long-term for my situation. Whether I stayed or left I would need fuel for my body. The house was silent, or at least there was nothing threatening to shake me apart, and there was no food underneath the couch. Tentatively I crept out from my hiding place, stepping over the stumps of carpet in my path. I’d be exposed, but with no one else out and about I should be able to find some scraps on the floor.
Slowly I trudged toward the doorway, some of the carpet still bearing the compressed mark from the enormous Converse that had just passed through. I had been inebriated last night, but I knew well enough that just across the hall was the kitchen. If it was like any other party I had been to, the day after there should be large amounts of food and drink left out, some of it even spilled on the floor. Scavenging may not be glamorous, but it was the only way I could survive this ordeal.
Reaching the threshold took a lot more time and energy than I had anticipated, and I was ready for a break when I got there. I stepped onto the wooden floor so it would be easier when I started again and leaned against the wooden frame, giving my legs a rest. Never had I imagined that being so small would be so exhausting. If I decided to make an escape, I might need to pack something for the road: even making it to the next house might take all day at this size.
Right when I was about to step out of cover, I heard a loud thud rumble down the stairs. They continued at a steady rhythm, growing louder with each one, and I began to feel the force of each footfall. I peeked out from my hiding spot and saw a tall, lithe Asian descending the staircase, wearing bright yellow trackpants, a plain white shirt, and black socks. She looked to barely be awake, with eyes still half-closed and long, black hair mussed on the side of her head. It was unlikely she’d be able to spot me if I were in the open, but I wasn’t willing to bet my life on it.
At the base of the stairs she turned into the first doorway, meaning she hadn’t seen my tiny head just poking out. The thump of her feet helped me keep track of her movements, though I did not have to rely on that for long. A few seconds later the glaring yellow of her trackpants appeared in the opposite doorway, suddenly much closer, with three vertical white stripes barely visible against the fabric. She shuffled toward the counter and opened one of the cabinets I would have struggled to reach last night and pulled some items out.
Watching this monument of a woman do something as mundane as making a sandwich was awe-inspiring. Every movement of hers seemed like a broad, sweeping gesture, like spreading mustard over a slice of bread the size of a city block. Her movements were slow, almost ponderous, giving me a full view of each muscle twitch while she assembled her morning snack. She showed no sign of awareness I was watching her, which only made it more thrilling. Even if she knew, she would not have considered me anything more significant than a pest.
Pests get stepped on, I knew, so I stayed right where I was. When she brought the sandwich to her mouth the show entered a new phase, just as mesmerizing as the first. Her lips parted wide and the bread disappeared between them before her teeth scythed through it. Crumbs ran down her chin and bounced off the floor while she chewed, her pointed jaw making large, exaggerated movements. She swallowed, and I saw the lump move down her throat and into her chest.
While she ate she walked around the kitchen, kicking her feet high and swinging them back down as she wandered over the tile. Precious, life-giving crumbs of bread and shreds of meat left a trail behind her, some of them getting stuck to her sock. She was completely careless, just as absorbed in her meal as I was watching her eat it. I kept my gaze on her, both because of the subtle yet magnificent beauty unfolding in front of me and the knowledge that, at any second, she could suddenly decide to come in here.
Fortunately, she did not linger long, and after five large bites her food was gone. She walked back to the counter and put the food back in the cabinet, then pulled down a glass before closing it. A deluge of filtered water poured into it, rapidly filling the vessel. Water poured over the side, and she let out a quiet swear as she rushed her lips to the rim, sucking out some of the excess water before shutting the faucet off and turning around.
Lazily she walked back the way she had come, leaving drops of water in her wake. She left the kitchen through the other exit and started back up the stairs, sipping at the water while her feet thudded up the steps. I watched her go with great interest, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and come back. The water wouldn’t be on the floor for long before it evaporated, and I needed it just as much as she did.
Her bright yellow pants disappeared from view, and the coast was clear. I started crossing the hallway, moving swiftly but not running since I would need to save my energy. There was no telling where my next meal would come from or when, and I needed to save the calories. Just walking was so much more difficult now, even over these supposedly smooth wooden floors. The spaces between planks, which I never gave a second thought to before, were trenches now, and I had to hop over each one.
When I was halfway across a sustained rumble came from the stairs and rapidly crescendoed until it was like a stampede. Someone was racing down the stairs and I spun to see who it was. The pink-haired titaness reached the landing before I was even turned, and she was now barreling down the hallway toward me, her eyes locked on the phone wrapped grasped in the long fingers of a hand. She walked past the first doorway, showing no signs of slowing as she came closer.
I froze while considering what to do. With each stride of her long, slender legs in acid-washed skinny jeans her colossal black Vans clumsily smacked the floor, sending a constant wave of tremors beneath me. Her path would take her right over me, and if I got caught under one of those tremendous shoes I’d be pulverized in an instant. However, if I moved that may just draw her attention when she would have otherwise stepped over me, and then she was sure to obliterate me.
Time took the decision from my hands, and in just two more steps she was upon me. Her heel set down on the floor with a thump, and an instant later the rest of her shoe crashed beside me. The sudden burst of noise was horrific, the loudest slap I had ever heard, and the force of its impact shook me harder than I could have ever imagined. It felt like I had just spent an hour in a paint mixer, and I collapsed onto my back. At least that meant her other foot would soar safely over me.
My brief ray of hope was extinguished as soon as it emerged. Her heel thudded onto the floor, and the repeating waffle pattern of her brown sole extended well beyond where I lay. The shoe created a brief sensation that I was in a cave that had a rubber roof, blocking all but a crescent of light coming from the sides. It extended in every direction, the tread pattern merging together hypnotically the further it got from me, and seemed to bulge outward around me. I had ended up beneath the toe of her shoe and was set to bear the brunt of it coming down.
It was over in a split second, though with the imminence of death it seemed to take much longer. Her shoe raced down, squelching the small amount of light beneath it and making a strong breeze as it displaced air. There was not even time for me to scream in terror before it hit, compressing me between it and the floor. I felt a surge of perfect agony while my body flattened outward, each of my bones snapping in rapid succession. The only consolation was that the pain was over before I even truly felt it.
Jackie bounded down the stairs, scrolling through her Facebook feed as she walked. She wanted to get to the store early so there would be time to chat with some people before the tournament, and that meant having to multitask. When she stopped near the door to grab her keys she did not even hear the tiny crunch under her shoe over them jingling in her hand. Completely oblivious that she had just snuffed out a life she left the Gamma house, making sure to lock the door behind her.