Sleepless nights compound. Life had gone from alert hours ticking by to a monotonous flatline of activity. The only respite: the brief moments where he slipped into a waking coma, wandering through an endless labyrinth deep within his mind, his feet freezing against the bone-cold cement. Though with that respite came silence. The overwhelming sound of silence, echoing around the spiralling concrete hallways, growing the further you looked, bouncing, fading into the minute cracks along the ground. Blaring louder than a symphony orchestra and thick like a heavy blanket over his head. And somehow, within its placidity and the closing walls around, it built more chaotic and worrisome by the second until… Nothing.

The cooling temperature sets back in, the evening breeze rolls across a tiny courtyard, hidden away behind an old grey box of a boarding house. He leaned into the bench, hands clasped together in his lap, the blackouts had become more frequent. Compared to Carnale, this time of day lit up the sky in a radiant display of orange and gold as the sun’s rays shone their last shine behind the faraway mountains. Less glamorously, the ground was littered with cigarette butts and empty chewing gum wrappers, he didn’t need to check under the bench for he knew exactly what he would find. Behind his view of the golden countryside, the chattering of teenagers emanated from the many open windows covering the grey building’s wall, their voices floated through the chilling wind.

Whenever he tried to recount the last seven months, he was met with that seemingly never-ending concrete maze, trudging through foreign rooms devoid of personality and often waking someplace unfamiliar. He went numb in those moments, unable to comprehend his surroundings or form a competent thought, allowing himself to be tugged along in the never-resting current. And now he was wound up in Silverleaf of all places – an expansive rural landscape with little else to offer. Brief flashes of documents, serious conversations and vague images of temporary dorm rooms were sparse amongst his memory, he relegated them into the overflowing compartments where he assumed all his thoughts would rest, only to be uncovered when he deemed the time right. All he had left was the backpack resting between his legs, his lifelong belongings loosely fit into a small black canvas bag. He took a long breath, there was no need to dwell on it. This was where he was and he had to deal with that, maybe it would be better than the last home he’d been in. At least that’s what he told himself.

An increase in murmurs caught his attention, a girl stormed out of a side door and jabbed her finger at a disembodied voice inside.

“You’re an ugly cunt James. Fuck off,” she spat.

Her shoulder length bleached hair jostled in the breeze as she slammed the door shut and cursed again. She buried her head in the inner pockets of her baggy brown leather jacket and rifled for a cigarette. She was short and decked head to toe in grunge. Winged eyeliner and silver piercings clung to her nose and ears for it seemed the only impression she wanted to give was an intense one. He took note of the red laces snaking their way through her black combat boots, it was an interesting touch.

“Hey.” He gave an awkward wave, not usually one to strike conversation.

Her head snapped towards him, the pissed off look plastered across her face faded once she properly took in the frail, sullen looking boy with his shaved head and mismatched clothes. Judging from the deep set black around his eyes, he hadn’t had a wink of sleep. “You’re Jonah right?” She sighed, her shoulders followed suit. The front desk lady – Andrea – had told her to expect him. Usually, the seniors rotated with introducing new kids to the house, it’s not like it mattered, new kids were always shipped out of here within the month. Only the worst of the worst (the shitè de la shitè as she liked to call it) got to call Silverleaf home.   

“Yeah. Lady at the front told me to meet you here,” he said.

“Righto. I’m Paige.” She plopped down next to him and folded one leg over the other, her focus directed toward the end of the cigarette hanging from her mouth. Two metallic clicks protected by the wind later and she was taking a long drag while looking him up and down. His face was rough, but strangely pretty – in an unconventional way, she couldn’t tell if it was his crooked lips or the gleaming golden green iris sunken beneath the bags around his eyes. No – on second thought, it was definitely the eyes. Though his physical traits certainly betrayed his fashion, like a supermodel with a blind stylist. “You dress like shit,” she said.

Jonah instinctively glanced down at himself. His daily assortment of outfits were a mix match of random finds from the local Vinnies. The insult didn’t particularly bother him, he never quite understood the reasoning behind having a sense of style. An indifferent “thanks” was all he managed.

For a moment they sat there, listening to crows caw into the sunset. Individually, they tracked groups of birds flying between trees amongst the rolling hills. The moment dragged until Jonah recalled what the front desk lady had told him. “I think you’re supposed to uh, show me around or something.”

“Fuck that.” Paige scoffed, as if the very notion offended her. “What is there to know? Shit in the toilet, piss in the sink, it’s real simple stuff mate.” Her gaze locked onto the distance, a billowing cloud of smoke dispersed into the air, the cancer stick responsible hung lazily between her chipped black fingernails. “Trust me, there’s not much to this place, you’ll figure it out.”

“Brilliant.” He lowered his head into his hands, eyes wide open as he reflected on the circumstance, another titbit of lucid negativity, it seemed like he was better off getting lost within his own head at times. His life had been dissected with a surgical level of care, not that there was much of a life to begin with. There were no remnants of Jonah Hart in Carnale, his old home in the city. No family. No friends. And now, he was sat in an equally remote part of the state with nothing to look at but acres upon acres of farmland and a boarding school packed with troubled kids like the one beside him, he’d been through it all before and now he was doing it again. Would the cycle ever end? Or was his fate tied to this perpetual limbo?

“You’re in final year, right?” She nudged him from his thoughts. “What horrible shit did you do to end up here?”

“My mum died.”

“Shit.” She slumped into the bench, the usual. She took another drag, allowing the smell of burnt tobacco to taint the fresh air, though she was known for not knowing when to shut up, she never knew what to say at a time like this.

“It’s fine.” They sat for a moment, an antagonisingly long moment for Jonah. “She was a cunt.” That didn’t even begin to cover it. He stared into the last shining precipice of the sun behind the landscape, his knuckles clenched. He had never disclosed the true nature of his relationship with his mother to anyone, so he was unsure why it had partially slipped now, as small as that slip was, perhaps it was because he’d never had a genuine chance to. The closest he had come was early last year, when he stood outside his school’s counsellor office – he had to take advantage of the resources available and as he grew older he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep these things to himself. Much to his dismay, it became another waste of time, the duration of their conversation consisted of Jonah’s death stare and the clearly uneducated counsellor babbling on about a man’s duty and pushing him to try and act more like a regular 17-year-old should, it was part of the reason he’d hated that school and its all-boys jerk off. He halted. The longer he dwelled on it, the more grotesque and unnatural the labyrinth would become, drowning out all else until he was cornered in those concrete halls, its misshapen claws wrapped around his eyes. A glance at Paige brought him back, her very presence enough to remind him of where he was. He was a real person having a conversation with another real person.

The sprawling golden fields slowly turned to their grey selves as the colour faded from the sky, the sun far beyond the horizon now, introducing a slight bite to the gathering breeze. Paige’s lips were pursed and her eyes narrow, a slow nod following Jonah’s words. The last crinkling whisper from her exhausted cigarette diffused into the night, she tossed the butt with the rest of them and ground it beneath her boot.

“Want a dart?” Paige asked, presenting Jonah with a half empty pack of Marlboros, seven cigarettes bounced about in the small cardboard box.

“Nah. I don’t smoke,” he said.

She shrugged and lit another one, it always helped cheer her up at least. The caws that echoed across the field had been replaced by the constant buzzing of grasshoppers and crickets. Together, Paige and Jonah soaked their eyes in the moonlight, the occasional crinkle of burning paper was their only topic of conversation.

“They tell you which room you’re in?” Paige was the first to break the silence and softly grunted to her feet.

“Seven, I think.”

“Bullshit. Really?” Her eyes widened.

Had she noticed it too? “Yeah. Why?” Jonah prodded.

“Nah, it’s not-.”

“Dinner ready in ten!” A young brunette girl shouted from the door Paige had slammed shut earlier. Easily spooked, Paige waved her off and flicked another browned filter into the cemetery below.

“Wait, but why?”

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was just my friend’s room.” Paige shrunk into her collar, shuddering under the biting temperature. She paced inside, ushering Jonah to follow, leaving no time for him to compute her messy topic change, hoping he relegated it to a sleep-induced delusion if anything. They entered an incandescent lit hallway, one boy with puffy red eyes shuffled past them – an odd herby smell in his wake, he was following the wafting scent of Japanese curry towards the dining hall, where the chatter of the boarding house now centralised.

Turning the other way, they passed through the vacant hall, a window broke the beige wall, it showed the darkened recreational room, a shadowed couch housed two silhouettes passionately compressed together, their affairs uninterrupted by Jonah’s investigative gaze. “So, how long have you been here?” He questioned with a touch of wondrous curiosity. Though he was merely making conversation, he lingered on Paige’s earlier reaction, there were more questions to ask.

Paige pursed her lips, she’d rather put a bullet through her skull than reminisce on the brain-numbing time spent here, especially now. Especially with all that had happened over the last seven months, her hatred for the place was reaching new highs. “Seven fuckin’ years. I got a major case of Stockholm syndrome.” As she said it she stiffened.

There was a confused expression riddled over Jonah’s face as he too stiffened. There it was again. The number seven. His eyes glanced downwards, running his thumb over the bandage that hid seven stitches in his forefinger. His mind pointed towards the bag on his back, hidden inside was an envelope sent from a previously unknown address, Seven Farrell Avenue. He couldn’t shake it from his head, the number seven. There it was again, a bold bronze seven, staring at him in the face.

“Bro, are you good?” Paige’s waving hand obscured his vision, she had to stop him before he walked straight into the number on his room’s door.

He stopped and blinked twice, his surroundings set back in. Weathered door. Cramped hall. Confused Paige. Another blackout. “Sorry, I spaced out. I don’t sleep much.” He nervously laughed and gave her what he assumed was a reassuring smile, though her concern didn’t fade.

“Yeah okay.” She briefly flashed a return smile and turned the doorknob for him, bit fuckin’ weird but okay. “When you’ve dumped your shit, just head back down the hall.” Across from him she cracked open an identical door with the number seven on its face, the only two rooms in the whole building that shared a number due to construction errors (which only furthered Jonah’s curiosity and piqued Paige’s). After carelessly tossing her bag inside with a depleted sigh, her boots clacked loudly against the floor as she disappeared back around the corner.

Recovering from his momentary daze, Jonah creaked into the confined, but furnished dorm room. A single bed that looked like it would screech and groan with every sleepless toss and turn sat tucked away in the corner and the off-white blinds covering the singular window didn’t allow for much light to sneak in. He flipped the switch and after a few moments of dim flickering, the lights buzzed to life. There was a small desk crammed in the opposite corner to his bed where he placed his backpack. A clock sat above the desk, its hour hand pointing to the seven.

Again, another seven. He had to find Paige, she saw it too, he could tell. Why else would she have reacted in such an odd way to their earlier conversation? Though it may have just been in reaction to the odd coincidence of their shared room number, he had to make sure. Seven had become an inevitable over the last week. It meant something – it had to. He hurriedly switched the lights off and exited.

The weathered walls and creaking floorboards that constituted the hall connecting the dorm rooms expanded into a comparatively spacious room, teeming with teenagers spooning their way through hot curry and chatting whatever heinous banter came to mind. The rich scent of turmeric and cumin wafted from big silver pots that housed litres of curry and rice along one side of the room, the food was perhaps the only silver lining Silverleaf offered. Jonah spotted Paige in line ahead of a similarly-aged boy with a glorious mullet running over his scalp, their bickering gradually came into focus.

“Please Paige, I promise things’ll be different this time. I swear.” He said, reaching to grab her arm.

“Like I said before. Fuck. Off.” She knocked him away, spooning a lump of curry on her plate. She was getting real sick and tired of this routine. After a surprisingly relaxing afternoon with that new kid, Jonah, she’d managed to calm herself down, but now she could feel her anger bubbling back to the surface.

“Don’t you miss our trips to Byron?” He said it in a harsh whisper, making sure to duck into her ear so no one heard a squeak of his sensitivity as his hand snaked over her hips.

Paige span to face him, holding her fist back from splintering his front teeth. Fury seethed from the deadpan look she gave him. She swore she’d never met someone so fucking stupid in her life.

“You’re dumb as dogshit James. Get the fuck out of my way.”

James stood his ground for as long as he could withstand the oppressive glare Paige held. Concluding he’d get no further with her, he threw in the towel. “You’re fuckin’ impossible.” An emphatic sigh followed as he stepped aside.

Paige stormed past, even Jonah had to take a step back to avoid her war path. She paced down the hall and barged through the door they had used earlier. The constant chatter of the room drowned out the heated exchange as James moped past muttering a string of defeated curses, taking a seat at the nearest table. Jonah took his chance.

The courtyard was solely populated and dark cloud cover spanned the sky, the frostbitten wind caught the end of his nose in a stabbing cold. Paige – the only inhabitant – hunched over an untouched dinner, her figure dully illuminated by a lamp above the bench. Sensing Jonah’s approach, the hairs on her neck stood on end, didn’t this kid know what privacy was?

“Fuck do you want?” She mumbled like a child yet to receive their portion of cake.

“Sorry, I didn’t really know where else to sit.” Jonah unsurely took a seat next to her, leaving a substantial gap of space. That was only the partial truth.

Paige said nothing, teeth clenched behind closed lips, too fixated on the darkness before her to even light a cigarette. Blonde strands of hair danced across her vision with every gust of cold wind. Ever since the year started she had been in a self-inflicted spiral, her best friend – Bonnie – fucked off and graduated without a word spoken since, leaving her to wander the halls alone amongst an entirely foreign cohort. Simply because Paige didn’t have the smarts to pass Year 12. Ha, yeah. That’s what she was going with these days. No matter how desperately she tried to romanticise her life, it didn’t change the fact she had been trapped in a three by two metre dorm room for the better part of seven years, with no idea of what was expected out of her future, she pretended to take solace in the fact there were no expectations. But the encroaching unknown always struck her during the early hours of the morning while she lay in her shitty metal bed trying to prolong the beginning of a new day with a downward swirl of self-deprecating thoughts and tears.

“Maybe if we neck ourselves we’ll end up somewhere nicer than Silverleaf.” Her and Bonnie would always say. Then they’d discuss if they were going to heaven or hell, and then if god or satan was hotter.

“The thing is, god is definitely husky as fuck,” Paige would say.

“Cunt, how many times do I have to say it? Demon. Energy.” Bonnie clapped with her final words.

Fuckin’ demon energy, you were such a dickhead Bonnie. Whatever.

In the past, she sought distractions. Her father’s 2002 caramel Les Paul had been the first to occupy her time. The long-forgotten chords came back in a matter of weeks and coupled with her airy alto-soprano voice which when fused amongst her usual smoky tone, created a strikingly unique blend. But as she grew older, the reality checks grew more numerous, unique was the norm for artists and musicians alike. Talent existed in everyone, and unfortunately, she lived in Silverleaf where there was no music program and there was nowhere outside of Silverleaf to take her talent where she wouldn’t be surrounded by equally gifted musicians with more technical knowledge and funding behind them. There was no competing with money she found out. End of story, case closed, fuckin’ forget about it Paige.

And like the many before them, she turned to drugs and alcohol with the rest of her peers, because that was the norm if you found yourself in Silverleaf’s boarding house. She used to joke with Bonnie that their school – Silverleaf State High – was leading the world globally in bongs ripped in a maths classroom. And once they reached a certain age and their hormones properly started firing, it was no shock that sex became the new hot topic. And just like that, like a moth to a flame, after her very first taste in a dank disabled bathroom with an equally curious girl, sex became an insatiable urge for Paige, an addiction with an effortlessly prescribed cure. It was a burden that began to plague her mind during all hours of the day, often causing her thoughts to be consumed with nothing but cravings for lust as her eyes bore into whatever eye candy they could find (or in her words: she was horny as fuck). Despite the detrimental effects that were plainly obvious to her, she liked to frame it in a positive light, because going to sleep knowing what the next day would entail made life in Silverleaf bearable.

The sex was the only reason she was with James in the first place. Unfortunately no prowess in bed could salvage his cardboard box personality. The concept of having a surfer boyfriend seemed appealing to her at first, but the many early mornings driving to the beach before school in his shitty Holden Commodore with nothing but Triple J to soothe the ears grew to agitate her (who knew radio hosts could be so insufferable). Then she’d have to sit on the dunes and watch him surf for hours on end, pretending that she had paid attention when he finally came back to shore. What a fuckin’ bore that was. Outside of surfing, it felt like a marathon to converse with his remaining brain cells, not to mention his complete lack of emotional intelligence, their arguments usually ended with his confusion as to what was even wrong in the first place, and then to make it all even worse, he cheated on her with some faux artsy bitch from school. She’d come to realise, James was a man-child that only wanted her back because he was a fucking baby who liked sucking on her tit. But when she sat at this bench – her favourite place in the world, enjoying the sensation of wind buffeting against her, everything seemed to make a little more sense. So, she took a moment to properly appreciate how refreshing the week had been since they broke up.

Huh. A week.

“Have you been seeing a lot of sevens in your life recently?” Jonah asked and watched her expectantly, shuffling closer as if their conversation was confidential, unaware that the gusting winter breeze could mask even a boisterous yell from a distance.

Paige had. A lot. In fact, now that it was said aloud, the absurdity of it all struck her. “Fuckin’ everywhere,” she said. Not always the number though, sometimes a period of time. Seven years since she moved to Silverleaf. Seven months since she had ruined everything. Seven days since she broke up with James.

“I started noticing it a week ago.”

“Same here. I thought I was going fuckin’ insane.”

Jonah remained unsatisfied with the lack of clarity Paige provided. But, deep down, he knew it to be futile, to expect her to have the answer for him, to give him a meaning beyond an abundance of sevens and blackouts, she was no holy messiah but a mere grungy, explicit teenager. And he who receded into silence with his hands clasped together in his lap (as he always did when unsure of what to think or say), was destined to fizzle into a memory held by none.

Admittedly, when she put some more thought into it, Paige found the situation strange. Mostly, she’d been ignoring the sevens that popped up in day-to-day life but now that she was faced with Jonah, it suddenly felt a bit too real. Two previously unacquainted individuals both dealing with such bizarre coincidence at the exact same time, in the exact same place. Was Jonah a government agent trying to communicate through code? Or was he some kind of conspiracy theorist convinced she was someone she wasn’t? Or was he given to her by fate, earned compensation for putting up with James for seven weeks? She certainly wasn’t complaining, she could use a pretty little gift from fate, especially one as goddamn smoking as he was.  

“What the fuck does it mean?” He said, utterly bewildered.

“Maybe we’re soulmates.”

“Huh?”

She turned to him with a suggestive look, her brow cocked and the corner of her lip tugged. “I’m takin’ the piss.” Though she did believe it to be a possibility. And judging by the flustered look on Jonah’s face and the lack of speech flapping from his lips, the idea had been planted in his head. Maybe she didn’t have to brush this new guy aside, maybe she could have a little fun with him. Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with someone lacking the context of her reputation in Silverleaf, someone she didn’t have to maintain appearances for. She held their eye contact, staring deep into his darkened pits, trying to decide on her next course of action. Those greenish hazel eyes and their magnificent flecks of gold were hypnotising, there was a mystery hidden behind them, but also an ignorant youth looking for guidance. Fuck. The heat between her legs involuntarily rose.

“You ever eaten pussy before Jonah?”

A sharp intake of breath. A map. A letter. An address. Jonah blinked twice, the morning light constricted his burning pupils as it peaked through the blinds. He awoke to the seventh day since his arrival, the tinny digital clock read 6:37AM.

Figures.

His shoulders slumped, knowing what he had in front of him, he’d at least garnered that much from the past week. And what an interesting week it had been. Each night he crawled into bed, he felt that sleepless version of himself awaken, eager to work into the night, while he descended into his concrete lair. He awoke at his now cluttered desk, a new piece of the puzzle staring back at him. At first it seemed like mindless action, but a pattern soon emerged. During his sleep he was concocting a plan.

The catalyst being the address, Seven Farrell Avenue. It was tagged at the top of a letter signed by his father, a brief message that simply read.

Dear Jonah,

I hope you’ve been well.

Come visit me at Seven Farrell Avenue.

Love Dad.

He was used to it by now, but it still hurt to read, the last time he had seen his father was when he was seven. And a few weeks after his mother had passed, a supervisor handed him this letter. He sighed, even his childhood couldn’t escape the number seven, it was firmly entrenched in his life.

Jonah didn’t remember much about his father. He was stout and loved beer as much as he loved the Parramatta Eels. At least, that’s what he gathered from photos of the man. No, what Jonah remembered most about his father wasn’t linked to any particularly memorable events. It was much simpler than that. It was a gentle arm around both shoulders on a warm Friday night. A father with his arm around his son while they cheered on the spotlight lit grassy hill, wet with evening dew and the shout of players and referees alike as the stench of churned up turf and hard-earned sweat evaporated into the humid summer air.

It was the stabbing cold he felt in his cheeks on an early frostbitten morning. Not quite the sound of his voice, but a familiar murmur as they sat together wrapped by the ocean-provided serenity, quiet whispers as waves lapped at the pylons below the pier. He couldn’t remember if they ever caught a fish but he liked to imagine they’d jump in excitement and cheer while he reeled it in. These memories of his father were located on another realm separate to the concrete maze, one where it was eternally empty yet peaceful all the same, but as time wore on these images faded into foggier versions of themselves, as if someone were spraying a mist over his memories, there were others there. He could see faces he used to remember, but there were no names to be placed on them.

He longed for more memories of his father, he longed to put a voice to the face, he longed to feel that arm wrap around his shoulder and remind him that he was okay. For that was something that he had seen and been drilled about, a father and his son was a special connection – one he was constantly reminded that he lacked. Perhaps that was what seven meant, it was a sign from some higher power guiding him towards what he desired most. That’s why he wholly trusted the plan (though he appreciated how ridiculous it would sound if he revealed this belief to anyone but himself).

Next to the letter was a map. During the week red marker had been used to decorate the torn-out page. Red circles were numbered around three locations, one: a motel, two: a train station and three: the address, far, far away from Silverleaf. They were supposed to go on a school trip today, to an old mining town in a remote part of the hinterlands. The town coincidentally sat only a few kilometres south of the first circle, another coincidence that he welcomed, he had begun to feel like he had some sort of luck-based superpower. His sleep-fuelled brain had laid the plan out perfectly. Ditch the class and embark on his way to meet his dad, it was the only thing that seemed to make sense in his patchwork life.

Gathering all but the last item, a letter from himself, nothing but the words ‘Hey Dad’ scribbled across the top. He wanted to say something to him, tell him about his life and what he had achieved, but had he accomplished a single thing a father could find themselves proud of? The most impressive feat he could recall was when he survived a week alone in the woods with nothing but a kitchen knife and a box of matches, he never wrote it down though, in the fear that once he finally told his dad what he considered to be his greatest achievement, he would look him in the eye and say: “Is that it?” He crammed everything into his bag as well as an additional change of clothes and some muesli bars he had stolen from the school canteen. The clock was ticking and he had to be by the school gate before seven.

The few kids in his grade were already trickling from their dorms, it was a 15-minute walk to school and if they left too late, they’d never make it. Jonah banged on the door opposite his and creaked it open, he’d grown used to the stale wooden smell that occupied every square inch of the building.

“Paige, get up. We gotta go.” He said with an elevated tone to rouse her, though it would be difficult to break her out of the duvet cocoon she had fashioned.

She responded with an array of murmured curses and rolled back over, her hair messily flopped down her face, the chirp of kookaburras singing into the sunrise sounded like nails against a chalkboard, she thumped a pillow over her head. He had learnt that she wasn’t a morning person.

Paige’s room was laid out identical to his, but in place of his bland wooden walls were numerous posters of bands (all with the same punk aesthetic) that he’d never heard of, not that he knew many – any, to begin with. There were untouched textbooks and rock ‘n’ roll magazines strewn over her desk and an electric guitar crammed in the corner, though it seemed to be for show since he’d never heard her play. Jonah wondered to his first night in Silverleaf where he knelt by her bed, the pressure of her palm against the back of his head as his face was shoved into her pussy, the heat that clung to his lips and nostrils still remained ever present. That was another thing he had learnt about Paige, she was a nymphomaniac who had no reservations introducing him to everything she was into. When she had initially forced him on his back with her fingers tight around his neck and mounted him with a devilish grin, something deep inside him awoke and suddenly there was an overwhelming pressure building between his legs.

He’d thought about it many times before, what his sexuality was. Was he straight or gay, or perhaps neither, asexual was it? Was he into brunettes, blondes, redheads? What about height or weight? Face or arms or legs, or, as confusing as it sounded, feet? (He’d overheard a hushed group of boys talking about one of their teachers feet before, and not in the innocent way he might have initially suspected). These preferences never made any sense to him, no matter who or what he looked at, he never felt what he assumed arousal would feel like, what he saw displayed in books and the naughty magazines, which he would have to hurriedly put down when the clerk spotted him as a young teen lurking in the X-rated aisle, none of which ever elicited much of a response. He didn’t know what he liked and he always assumed someone like him would never have a proper chance to find out and act on these basic human inhibitions until he was much older, so like so many things in his life, he forgot about it and tried not to think about it until the time was right, which now that he thought about it, was probably the first time he had begun to employ such a strategy.

That had been before he had met Paige at least. As someone with practically zero sexual experience, he was met with a veteran who had figured out exactly what made her tick and it clearly rubbed off on him and as good as it was to have someone coaching him through his first embarrassing experiences, he soon found out what was missing, it was touch, her touch in particular. He also grew to like being told what to do, and he especially grew to appreciate her attitude and body in bed, how she’d shake her chest just out of reach or let her ass glide slowly from his face down to his dick. She had a talent for knowing exactly what he liked without even him knowing, seeing how he reacted to her words and touch and acting accordingly, he would try to emulate it to varying levels of success. She taught him to admire her body but not touch until instructed and to bite back when her hand went exploring, it felt better to tame a tiger than a cat she had said. It was teasing and role-reversing and he knew enough to know it wasn’t exactly normal (not that he really cared about being normal). Yet, whenever she gave him the beck and call – which was often – he was entirely under her spell.

“Seriously get up. I’m not waiting.”

He shut the door to finalise his warning, though his cheeks were flush. There he was having wet daydreams about a half-asleep Paige, he had never had thoughts like these before, where her body and cocky grin would implant themselves in the forefront of his mind. He had also come to understand that he had no self-control of his nether regions, contributing that to having spent most of his time alone before Silverleaf, leaving his libido to lay dormant. Aside from their sexual escapades (which he had impressively kept up with), their bond had blossomed into a symbiotic relationship, one where Paige relied on Jonah’s inquisitive nature to fuel her incessant need to spout words but could just as easily coast into a warm silence enjoyed by both. They sat together at school, they ate alone on the bench outside and they mostly ignored everyone else – well, he did, Paige certainly had somewhat of a reputation. When he was around her, the frequency of his blackouts lessened, only to reappear at night when she could no longer distract him, she was like a nightlight that refused to let him sleep.

As he left the supposed warmth of the boarding house, he blew hot air into his clammy hands, it was a chilly Wednesday and the lone path towards the school was dotted with similarly meandering students. As much as he had enjoyed the hours spent with her, he didn’t have time to wait for Paige this morning, if he missed the bus, his sleep-induced efforts would be for naught, though he desperately hoped she would make it, less the trip become a muted, lonely march. But he knew she would, as much as he was becoming obsessed with Paige, he could sense her becoming equally obsessed with him (at least, that’s what he thought it meant when she crashed into his room last night after they had had sex to cuddle).

Silverleaf State High had plenty of land to spread its campus around, it was a conglomerate of old-fashioned brick buildings with intertwining concrete paths between. Jonah snaked his way through the brick maze, passing by troves of vandalised lockers, messy classrooms and empty sporting fields before ending up by the front gate where the bus puttered to a standstill. He signed his name off and clambered aboard.

Jonah adjusted himself on the stiff seat. The teacher – Mr Pertyl – stood at the front of the bus doing a final runover of names, he felt a pang of guilt as Paige’s name was read aloud. He was beginning to worry that he hadn’t urged her hard enough, maybe she wasn’t as enamoured as he thought. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes as the last few names were called.

“Walk of shame ‘ay Fowler?” A rugged voice chimed above the mild murmur in the bus.

“Fuck up cunt.” The friendly response couldn’t have been spat by anyone else but Paige.

“Looking for your sex slave?” He made an ass-slapping gesture.

Paige flipped off the rough-faced boy responsible and screwed her face in disgust, the walls in the boarding house were thin and her tastes had been publicised many years ago. At first, she had been slightly worried it would turn Jonah away, but similar to how he reacted to most things not involving herself, he was indifferent to their outlandish remarks. Putting his posse’s round of giggling behind her, she stomped towards him. His relaxed forehead came away from the window with a sigh.

“Hey mate.”

The bus swayed to a halt after bearing the brunt of her angered footsteps. She was clad in her signature oversized jacket with a fitted white band tee that led into a rolled-up pair of jeans and socks that bunched around her shins before they disappeared into her black boots, the red laces were messily tied to match bed hair that had yet to settle. Judging by the scornful look peering past her nose ring, she wasn’t impressed. Still, he was relieved, the trip would have been substantially less exciting without her.

“Why didn’t you wait for me this morning?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna wait.”

“Yeah? Well fuck me for wanting to get a few extra.” She huffed and fell into the seat next to Jonah, dumping her bag on the ground. A short, sharp exhale was used to blow her bangs from her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said finally.

“You’re forgiven.” She slumped further in the seat, early mornings were the bane of her existence. “Can I have the window seat?”

“Nah.”

“Fuck you.”

Jonah smirked, she really loved that word (if you hadn’t already gathered). Her temperament was volatile, one high octane moment seamlessly meddled into something more lowkey. It was like dealing with a cat who went from curling up next to you to bouncing around the walls of your home meowing bloody murder. His forehead pressed against the cool glass and he watched as the outside world scrolled past. The dark of the morning bloomed into a cloudy yet sunny day. Occasionally Paige would drift off and her head found itself against Jonah’s shoulder. Stoic he remained, eyes glued to the window, he welcomed the gentle warmth she provided on a morning like this.

The trees outside merged from a green blur to something more recognisable as the bus emerged into somewhat of a clearing on the outskirts of the old mining town. There was a noticeable lack of life in the decrepit looking place. Jonah nudged Paige awake, she rose to attention a little too suddenly once realising where her head lay. They silently watched as majority of the chatting students stepped off the bus before making their move.

Crisp winter air hit Jonah’s face, these were the few weeks in Australia where it was actually cold, he took a moment to soak in the fresh fragrance of nature, it had been a while since he’d been this deep in the hinterlands. Their class was in a mining town encircled by looming pine trees, who flashed a variety of greens depending on how the sun struck the swooshing leaves. The empty street was lined with aged wooden buildings whose supports would wage a losing war with the gluttonous winter provided breeze. The itinerary involved exploring and learning about these historical sites, though no one had paid much attention when they were told.

The class began to move ahead of Jonah and Paige as they slunk to the back. Adjusting the shoulder straps on his backpack, Jonah let his hands find his pockets and tuned the teacher’s babbling out. He had little interest in history and instead opted to observe the old Victorian era style buildings on the lonely street.

“Can’t wait to learn all about Mottlebong and its gold rich history.” Paige snickered after reading the by-line on an outdated sign next to the info booth.

“Real unfortunate name,” Jonah tutted.

“Nah, it could be worse.”

“Yeah, it could be Paige.”

“Or Jonah’s arsehole.” She laughed and joined him in examining the worn-down buildings lining the street. He had only opened up since the first day they met and while there were moments of odd behaviour, it was nice to speak with someone who actually had half a brain for once, after going for so long without having a chance to banter with someone whom she didn’t despise, she took great pleasure in plucking the low hanging fruit once again. For what had initially begun as a short fling, it was a welcome surprise with how their relationship had turned out.

Her eye caught a particular store that passed by, contrary to the abandoned buildings in the area, this one was not. “Wanna go check out that antique place?”

Jonah looked past the crowd of bored students who would rather chatter amongst themselves than listen to their teachers drivel and considered his options. “Yeah, let’s go.” It looked like some kind of vintage store maybe.

The pair discreetly broke off from the class and hurried over to the dilapidated one-storey structure. Bold faded letters that read ‘Sable’s Emporium’ hung above the entrance, it was the seventh building along the street. Paige swung the door open and entered the cramped store with Jonah, a quiet ding rang out as it closed behind them. Shelves and tables were crammed together like sardines in a can and cluttered with unimaginable trinkets that threatened to spill onto the floor.

“Welcome to Sable’s!” A busty gothic woman exclaimed from behind a tiny counter in the back corner of the store, Paige’s eyes were instantly drawn to the stretched black corset that bobbed with her expressive gesture. “How can I help?”

“Just looking thanks,” Jonah raised a polite hand. There was an odd feeling to the place, no matter where he set his eyes he couldn’t quite grasp what he was looking at as if the visible dust drifting through the sun’s rays was a blurred mask.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said.

They began to palm over bizarre statues from unknown origins and books that seemed like they were written thousands of years ago. “Bro. You see those fuckin’ titties?” Paige whispered out of ear shot of the gothic woman.

Jonah was examining a traditional Japanese demon mask with feigned interest. Unsure if this was some kind of test, wasn’t it a bit rude to perv on strangers? He hesitantly answered, “I didn’t look.”

“You’re missing out.” She made a rounding gesture around her chest.

Jonah snickered and decided to take an encouraged glance to see what she was talking about, and damn, her enthusiasm was not for naught. Moving on, he found a table lined with eccentric jewellery. Among the bedazzled necklaces, bracelets and rings was a row of amulets, each with peculiar inscriptions scrawled over their face.

“It smells like shit in here,” Paige ducked under a chime hanging from the ceiling and followed him to the cluttered table. One of the amulets was under his close examination, the face was bronze and had seven tiny green stones spaced evenly around the edges with root-like bevel details that when observed from a distance resembled a seven.

“Bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Paige leaned in to inspect the amulet between his fingers.

“Yeah, but it’s also kind of funny.” He lied, there was a certain irony to the amulet considering the odd circumstances, but strangely enough, he also felt some kind of connection to it. And knowing the coincidences that they both faced daily, it was a stupid belief, but it felt foolish to leave it behind.

“Well, are you gonna buy it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Steal it then.”

“What?”

She turned to him with a taunting grin. “C’mon. Don’t be a pussy.”

In the name of tomfoolery, he maintained her eye contact and pocketed the amulet. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he strode out the store with a smile and a thanks to the lady behind the counter. Paige’s grin grew tenfold and she hurriedly followed.

“Cheers! Love your tits by the way.” She shouted back, a sweet smile pulled at her cheeks as she shut the door behind them. The goth woman was left with a puzzled look, but a smoulder of pride.

The two eventually joined back with the main class group after Paige showered Jonah with her approval of his methods. Their absence totally unbeknownst to the others as they carried on, it was easy to go unnoticed considering the rowdiness of their class. At one point, she left to go take a shit and in the meantime, one of the boys – a tall tubby lad with a greasy rats tail – he hadn’t come to recognise came up to him.

“Sup cunt.” He extended his palm flat, but loose.

“Hey.” Jonah embraced his hand in an awkward shake (unaware that this wasn’t the formal handshake he thought it was).

“So, you’re fucking Paige?” He asked.

He nodded, unsure if he was impressed or jealous.

“Trust me bro, don’t bother. Bitch is nuts.”

“She’s alright.”

They stared at each other, the boy perplexed while Jonah remained silent. He scoffed, taken aback by his reaction. He gave Jonah an almost disgusted look and walked away muttering “weird cunt,” an insult he had heard a countless amount of times over the years.

Paige soon returned and immediately launched into a tirade against public toilets, Jonah kept the interaction to himself for reasons unknown except that he’d rather listen to her talk about Australia’s public toilet crisis and why hadn’t the government stepped in yet? As planned, the day clocked by. Every 15 minutes Mr Pertyl ground the class to a halt and spouted his passion to a disinterested ensemble of teenage angst. And once the last landmark had been cleared and the sun’s path had reached the end of its descent, the class trekked toward the bus.

“Want a dart?” She always offered during a dip in their conversation.

“I’m good.” And he denied it, like he always did.

Jonah and Paige lingered around the back of the pack, deliberately pacing their steps to be as far away as possible. Paige had noticed that he became quieter as the day passed, often staring into nothing while she blabbered on (which wasn’t particularly unusual, he was still usually listening). She knew he had an issue with sleep and even though he had stopped blanking out mid conversation, she heard him enter and exit his room numerous times throughout the night and early morning, she tried to combat it last night by cuddling him until they dozed off, but she still awoke in her own bed, alone. He had explained he was a sleepwalker, but after sneaking after him one night, she witnessed him rummage through maps of the local area in the rec room, circling and noting whenever he saw fit. Some kind of fuckin’ advanced sleepwalking that was. But when she approached him about it, he had seemed just as confused as she. It was strange, but then again, so was Jonah.

“Paige, can I ask you something?” He piped up after an extended silence.

“Shoot.”

Jonah took a deep breath. His anxiety had been dramatically building all day, the lingering thought of what he was meant to do hung over him. In the weeks following his mother’s death, was when he first became lost in the concrete labyrinth. There was no grief but mindless stumbling through moody hallways, his breath choking on the unfriendly stale air, he was thankful he had no one he should be grieving in front of considering his lack of tears may have seemed sociopathic. Instead he relegated control over to his other self, and he – the original – sat in the corner of a particularly vast concrete room, with his knees tucked into his chest, forced to watch a stranger’s life play out like a movie as they mindlessly nodded along to procedures and government protocols surrounding suddenly orphaned kids that had nowhere else to go. It didn’t feel real, so he pretended he wasn’t.

He thought that he’d truly lost all meaning, like some switch had been flicked and he was incapable of thinking thoughts about the mundane, thoughts about if he’d need a jacket today because it was just hot enough that a jumper may be too much or if he should have a smaller portion at lunch to maximise his satisfaction at dinner because there was something especially appealing on the menu. His brain replaced by an ethereal void, housing a space with no ounce of warmth to be found, the never-ending sound of silence his only companion. That was until he met Paige, who at first glance was moody and graphic but soon revealed herself to him as someone caring and sweet, which when coupled with her excitable energy made her a joy to be around. She gave him a break from the endless monotony and as much as he understood it had only been a week, he found himself dependent on her, she didn’t judge and prod him about his past or feel alienated by his severe lack of pop-culture knowledge like everyone else his age. She kept him awake and tethered to this realm through whimsical conversation, something he had lacked throughout his childhood. He couldn’t leave her in the chance that somewhere along the way to see his father, he would become lost amongst the labyrinth forever.

“You ever think about leaving Silverleaf?” Jonah asked.

“Like when I finish school?”

“Nah. I mean like, just leave. Run away.”

Paige pursed her lips, their already sluggish trawl suddenly felt too fast. Plenty of kids had disappeared over the years, egged on by their peers until they were never mentioned again. But the reason Paige – the queen of going against the grain – hadn’t joined the rebellious souls amongst her cohort was the exact reason why she was 19 years old and still in school. She felt ashamed and couldn’t find her words, which even she could recognise was totally unlike her.

“Here.” Jonah handed her two pieces of paper from his bag, omitting his own blank note. The first was a letter from his… dad? Her eyes scanned over the brief message, she had assumed he wasn’t around if Jonah was in Silverleaf. She slipped it behind the next page, a torn-out map of sorts, crazed annotations riddled over it. Why did she feel like she held evidence linked to the Zodiac Killer?

“The fuck is all this?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Remember how you asked me what I was up to every night.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I made that plan in my sleep. I’m gonna go see my dad.”

“Good for you.” She still didn’t quite get it and also didn’t understand why he had lied to her.

A few moments went by, their conversation replaced with gravel crunching beneath their feet. “Do you want to come with me?” He asked quietly. Please say yes.

Paige paused in her tracks to stare at him, to fixate on his face following that whispered request. The way the corner of his mouth fell and the glimmer in his golden green eyes made her seriously consider. The way she saw it, Jonah had offered her an opportunity she had been waiting for, a decision that she could never have made on her own. Something she and Bonnie had discussed an innumerable amount of times. And to do it with him – the dopey skinhead obsessed with the number seven. That was slightly unfair, she had begun to subscribe to the belief it meant something too, after all it was too frequent an occurrence to not mean something, right? She had no prospects in Silverleaf, no one she truly cared for, not anymore at least. And so far, the entire year had been nothing but loneliness and vapid sex only to become interrupted by her saviour, the boy with the golden eyes. Though still, there was an invisible force chaining her to that boarding house, a snarling banshee that wouldn’t let her leave without answering for what she had done. But Bonnie had left, so why couldn’t she free herself too? Despite the coolness in her voice, with every word that she said next, it felt like ripping a knife from her thigh.

“Fuck it. I’m in.” Her words betrayed her introspection, but for once, she thanked her impulsivity.

Jonah’s eyes lit up – she said yes! “Seriously?”

“Well, as long as we’re not gonna like, fuckin’ starve to death or something.”

“I brought some muesli bars.”

“Oh, thank god.” She rolled her eyes, she forgot he ate like a fucking mouse.

“Okay so, how should we do it?” He swivelled back and forth, eyeing the surroundings like he was looking for an escape route.

“Are you fucked? Right now!?”

“Yes! Look, they’re already getting on the bus.”

And indeed the class was. There was no time to discuss the logistics, if they were gonna do this, they had to do it now. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the road out of sight.

“Hey – wait!”

Her hand covered his mouth. “I had to make sure they didn’t see us fuckwit.” She squatted next to him, panting with her hand against the wall for support – a mixture of sudden exertion and adrenaline. He leaned against the backside of one of the many broken buildings, allowing a breath of relief that Paige had taken the situation into her own hands.

“Do you think they’ll realise?” He asked.

“Doubt it – not until they get back to Silverleaf at least.” She wasn’t sure why the words came so easily to her, less than a minute ago she had been having an inner crisis. Fuck, I need a dart.

They had a moment of downtime while they waited for the guttural roar of the old coach as it trundled back towards Silverleaf. Paige had gone through two cigarettes already and was lighting her third, the breeze did its best to prolong the process. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, to sit in silence and ruminate on their life until this point, had they made an immature and foolish decision based on childish aspiration? Jonah couldn’t help but think that he’d selfishly dragged Paige along with him (even though she had been the one to physically drag him behind this building), they were just two kids with barely any food or money and still he somehow expected them to get all the way to some faraway township, he knew that somewhere along the way she would stop and yell at him for having such an idiotic idea, to which he would recede into silence and ask himself how could a plan made in his sleep make any logical sense.

Paige repeatedly asked herself while staring into the dark forest beyond – what am I doing here? But no matter how many times she repeated it, she knew exactly why. In the hours after school, she and Bonnie visited Silverleaf station to smoke while waiting for a train to clack along the tracks, they came every hour and a half with little to no passengers on board and finally, when the doors creaked open, their conversation would silence as they fixated on the banged up inside until the doors closed and the locomotive disappeared into the rural countryside.

“If you could teleport anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Paige asked, their cigarettes whittled down with each break in speech.

Bonnie would sit there, cutely chewing her inner cheek, deep in thought. “I really, really want to try that bakery in Hennilworth,” she said, giggling at Paige’s rolling eyes, smoke shooting out her nostrils, her giggle bright and airy like her voice.

Stop Paige, she’s gone. Stupid, stupid Bonnie.

So, why now had she decided to go ahead with it? Partly because of all this seven shit (every branch in the forest was starting to resemble the digit, though if it was a figment of her imagination, she did not know) but mostly, it was Jonah. His sharp jawline, buzzed head and her biggest weakness – his eyes, a brow packed with concentration as he fingered the dirt between his legs. She had learnt rather quickly that he was a mysterious person, his memory seemed to go no farther than the week that preceded his mother’s death – he didn’t know what his favourite band was or which celebrity he wanted to fuck the most (in fact, he barely knew any bands or celebrities) and as much as she hated to admit it, he reminded her a lot of Bonnie, with his curious but cheeky nature. She had assumed his father was dead like his mother, though the belief didn’t stem from jealously (well maybe a little bit), more curiosity around where he had come from and why he was in Silverleaf instead of wherever they were headed. Honestly, she was glad she had said yes, who else can claim they’ve run away from all their responsibilities with some smokeshow they’ve known for a week? Nah, she glanced at him again and hid a tiny smirk, she liked spending time with Jonah, he was pretty good company.

In sync, the two shuddered under the nightly winter breeze, both cocooning themselves in the jackets they wore. While enveloped by their thoughts, they had only just come to realise that the bus left minutes ago.

“We should get to that motel before we freeze to death.” Paige broke their chattering silence and stood, extending a hand to help Jonah up.

That simple gesture was like a sigh of relief for him, she was still on his side. For now at least. They both rose and brushed off the dirt that clung to their clothes. The empty street: lit only by the moonlight and nature’s ambience, now occupied two runaways meandering their way down the gravelled road. The old mining town slowly but surely disappeared behind them as the looming pine trees closed in on either side of the lonely path.

“Jonah, when was the last time you saw your dad?” The question had been fresh on her mind since they started walking.

“I don’t remember exactly, but it was sometime around my seventh birthday.”

Paige snorted, then laughed, because of course it was around then. She quickly apologised but was dismissed by Jonah who said with a reassuring laugh that he had been thinking the same thing.

“What about your parents?”

“I’ll save you the sob story. They died when I was twelve.”

Jonah frowned. “I’m sorry Paige.”

She scoffed. “C’mon dude. Don’t fuckin’ apologise for that.”

Jonah held his tongue from apologising again, he considered a joke consisting of another seven related punchline but came up empty. Instead, he asked about her time at Silverleaf to which Paige gladly took the imaginary microphone and filled the vacant space with tales of her adolescence. When she was 14, only two years after she first arrived to Silverleaf, she and Bonnie had been feuding with a supervisor for months, Kevin they called him (his name was definitely not Kevin). It started with the regular scolding or removal of dinner privileges but soon evolved into deliberate targeting. After a particularly long week, one where they had both received several detentions at school for a new trend they dubbed ‘watermelon week’, Kevin had told them they would have to miss the beloved year 8 camping trip because they still refused to remove the ugly piercings covering their pretty, young faces. “Fuckin’ Kevin,” she added. So, in their free time while the rest of their peers were excitedly roaming the great Australian outdoors and the other grades filled the dining hall, they waited by the staff showers for Kevin and once he was inside, they snuck in (eyes squeezed shut of course) and took his clothes and towel and threw them outside. The only hall connecting the bathrooms to the rest of the boarding house ran directly through the dining hall. Suffice to say, Kevin was not seen again after that day.

“Dart?” She asked between stories, as if she hadn’t just described how she’d ruined some creep’s career.

“You’re wearing me down,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

She had an expression he hadn’t seen before, one of genuine hope. “Dead set?”

“No, but I admire the effort.” Jonah was eager to hear more. “What else did you get up to?”

Paige held a finger up to stop him. “We are gonna smoke a fuckin’ cig together one day,” she lectured, “but alas,” she stopped herself from ranting. When she was 17 she found out after hooking up with a guy named Max Collin (or Colon as she referred to him), that he had a girlfriend – a sweet brunette with little reciprocated love. After profusely apologising and calming her tears Paige assured her he’d regret it. And so, the day of their school’s highly anticipated rival rugby match, she snuck over the counter laxatives into his water bottle and then watched with pleasure as Colon shit himself after a particularly brutal tackle in front of a hillside of supporters. Unsurprisingly, the nickname stuck.

Jonah was shaking his head with a large grin over his face, she never failed to impress him. “You’re evil Paige.”

“I try,” she shrugged, she mightn’t show it but she was eating his admiration up.

He told her about the interaction he’d had earlier and she didn’t know whether to feel a sense of trust or to laugh because he genuinely described her as just ‘alright’ (but the fact he had defended her was nice).

“What’d he look like?”

Jonah tried to picture him again. “He was kind of tall. I think he had brown hair.”

“Hm – was he fat?”

“If you want to put it like that.”

She did. “No way – did he have a shit rats tail?”

“Yeah he did actually.” He nodded along, the picture became clear in his head.

“Holy shit Jonah. That’s fuckin’ Colon!”

Their hike paused to allow them to double over in laughter, their tears frozen against their rosy cheeks. The seclusion offered by the looming pines set an intimate stage for their amusement. Paige in particular was cackling while holding onto Jonah’s shoulder for support. It was moments like these where Jonah was wholly grateful to have met her and he found himself wondering what miraculous feat had he achieved in a previous life to allow someone like her to enter his. She so effortlessly brought back that airy feeling in his stomach, that tightness around his cheeks as his smile felt like it became a permanent feature on his face.

He didn’t know if he deserved to have stumbled upon such a person, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was just another one of his mind’s tricks, a mere façade conjured inside the labyrinth. She was almost too good to be true. He pushed the voice away, for it had dictated his life for too long, he would enjoy their time together since there was no telling when she would decide his presence was more a burden than anything else. And until that moment, he would treasure these moments.  

***

With their gait recovered, they agreed that it was starting to feel like they might actually freeze to death out here. And so, they continued on, and on, until their legs pleaded for them to stop. Paige assumed they had to be close, though her increasing complaints were their only source of reference. And when she ran out of cigarettes her complaining went from sporadic to constant (the only reason Jonah knew she ran out was because she had begun to mope in melodramatic fashion).

Mercifully after a few hundred more draining steps, the trees on one side of the road thinned out to reveal a cheap looking motel, the M and T had fallen off the sign outside and the outer walls had a multitude of cracks and graffiti. They tiptoed through the unoccupied carpark, it felt like they shouldn’t be there, if only because it was a public place and after hours. the silence grew heavy as their caution swelled.

“Reckon anyone even works here?” Paige wondered aloud, her breathing a little heavier after the long hike.

“A serial killer maybe.” Jonah peered through the door, he would have entered even if there were a killer, it looked toasty in there. He pushed the door open, their entrance signalled a bell and thankfully, a buffet of warmth. The foyer had a stale aroma and the once bright lights had faded to a dull yellow, their constant buzzing accompanied by a swarm of moths.

“Hellooo?” Paige called out to the empty reception. She cautiously stepped forward, peering to her left down the door filled hallway, expecting an axe-wielding psycho to start charging at her. The sound of quiet snoring caught her attention as she reached the front desk. Looking over, she saw an old, bearded man laying his head in front of a sleeping computer screen. A hushed sigh of relief escaped her.

“Excuse me.” Jonah reached over to nudge the man’s shoulder.

“Wh- wha-“ He jolted awake, blinking manically and swivelling his head back and forth. Soon, he realised the customers presence and rubbed his bald head. “Heh, sorry ‘bout that. Gets a bit dull round ‘ere. How can I ‘elp?”

“Don’t mention it,” Jonah said. “Do you think we could get-“

“A double room thanks mate.” Paige leaned forward on the counter, a sweet smile across her face.

The man regarded them for a moment, his gaze flicking between the blank buzzcut boy and the spunky blonde-haired girl. What were two kids doing here in the dead of the night anyway? “So, what brings you two round ‘ere?” He matched the girls smile and turned to grab a key off the wall.

“We wanted to fuck where no one can hear us.” Paige held her smile and plucked the key from his grip.

He looked at her with a perplexed look and only received a shrug in return as she walked off, leaving the boy to stutter an apology while he tossed up whether he should be following her or not. The man excused him and fell back into his chair, this was the Greater Silverleaf area, there were plenty of eccentric individuals around, what harm were a couple of kids? If anything he was doing them a service by offering shelter. Exhaustion forced the interaction from his mind and he welcomed the onset of sleepiness.

Once Jonah caught up to Paige, they were almost at their room. “He was just an old guy Paige, don’t you think that was a bit much?” Jonah had said while chasing her through the corridor.

“Shut the fuck up Jonah.” Paige placed her hand against his chest, the other on the doorknob. “Count to 30 then come in.”

Jonah immediately ceased, sensing in her tone exactly what was about to transpire. “Okay,” he said and she let her fingers linger on him before disappearing behind the door. It was perhaps the longest thirty seconds he had ever experienced in his life. He pronounced each number in full with his eyes closed, not wanting to rush the moment and ruin her surprise.

…27…28…29…30!

He eagerly turned the doorknob and barged through the door. The room itself was of little note, a dingy kitchenette and off-yellow walls with a few tacky paintings, but that was not what caught his eye. A trail of discarded clothes led him to Paige sitting on the edge of the bed, with her legs folded and her chest topless – her wry smile lured him closer.

Paige wagged her finger. “Clothes off first you little bitch.”

He complied – without hesitation, for if he prolonged the act any further he might explode.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out baby.” She pounced from the bed and imprinted her figure against his side. Her hand wrapped around his crotch and the other raked a fingernail across his ass cheek.

“Good,” he said with false confidence, her perky breasts against his skin disallowed him from saying otherwise, he was still getting his sea legs.

Paige spun and threw him onto the bed before clambering over and sitting on his hard dick. She smirked and leaned in close to his face, his probing gaze caught under hers. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Before he had a chance to lie, she increased her bounding rhythm and elicited nothing more than a groan from him as he grabbed her hips for support. They fucked into the night and despite the numerous complaints Paige made during their walk, her legs held up enough to finish them both off multiple times.

Together they panted, their faces inches from each other as they looked into each other’s eyes, the stench of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Jonah was about to speak when Paige slapped him across the face, his mouth gaped which she found amusing. Why does that feel so good? He found himself asking this every time something like that occurred while they had sex and he would wonder what it was exactly that he liked about having sex with Paige, there was something else beyond what he already knew. Certainly, her body was a part of the equation, she was trim and fit but curved where he had discovered his tastes aligned. But, it wasn’t that. The answer was right there, he just had to accept it. He liked – no, loved the fleeting singe her nails would leave in his flesh, the way his skin would come alive with a burning fever after a hard slap and the confusing tingle he felt at the base of his neck when she insulted him. It was like he had been depraved from intimate touch for so long that his body now yearned for it to be dialled up to eleven to make up for all the lost time. The fact he liked it would never explain why he did, and though Paige had assured him she thought it was totally chill, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else to be added to the long list of things wrong with him.

“Paige, why do I like it when you slap me?”

“Because you’re a kinky little fuck,” she teased.

Maybe it was that simple and none of this deserved as much thought as he was currently putting into it. But the question would always remain, was he forgetting some transformative moment in his childhood (a definite possibility), had some neurons in his brain been fried and consequently forged a series of unusual pathways (similarly, a likely scenario) or perhaps Paige was an ancient succubus disguised as a bratty Australian girl (this one was admittedly a little far-fetched).

Paige had fallen asleep with her arm across his chest, her face pressed against his shoulder, he traced his finger along each stick and poke tattoo on her arm admiring the scratchy design and rustic feel. Before he joined her, he carefully reached over the side of the bed to grab the amulet from his pants. His thumb ran over the bronze surface, over the little emeralds circling the face, over the lookalike seven formed from roots. There was something incredibly peculiar about this amulet. He couldn’t quite place it, he just knew that by holding it, he was holding up something greater. Like, everything he had ever known and unknown hinged on this moment right here. The left-most emerald had awoken, its gaze bore into Jonah’s. An electric shock clamped his fingers shut around the amulet.

Then he saw it, a seven, and another seven and another. They flew past him speeding into a static vortex all around him. He knew then to surrender, to plummet into a deep unconsciousness for if he chose to brave the maelstrom any further he may turn to insanity. So surrender he did.

Sirens. A gun. A crimson demon dressed in a suit.

“The heat’s on us. Regroup on Seventh?” The demon spoke fast and brief, his glossy face unmoving as it shone under the sunlight. “Jay, you with me?” He nudged him with the tip of his gun.

Jay? Oh. That’s right. He was Jay, short for Jonah. They were in the middle of robbing a bank, there was approximately $750,000 cash slung over his back. And this was his friend – his accomplice, Loch of course, he wore a matching demon mask. The job had gone awry, the getaway car wrecked by a telephone pole and now they were hobbling through an alley preparing to split up.

“Fuck – alright. Wait no longer than a minute. Don’t get cushy with me.” His words came out so naturally, he was a professional.

They bolted their separate ways, the police sirens wailed close. Jay turned the corner, his shoes pounding against concrete, he hopped a fence and dashed across a busy street, parents and their kin fled in response to the bloodied man. He was on Sixth, down that alley and he’d be on Seventh, he trusted Loch would make it on time. He bound down the lane, a mix match of old stores and factories closed in on either side of him. He could see it, he was almost out when he ran straight into a solid navy wall.

“And what do we have here? A little criminal trying to escape?” A deep feminine tone mocked.

Jay took a step back, his eyes widening once he saw the huge black combat boots spread wide on either side of his tiny dress shoes. Slowly, he craned his neck to gaze upon the looming police officer. A muscular blonde giant, whose waist easily crested his head. She was in an all-navy uniform, toned thighs filled her pants and there was a vest around her chest with a variety of tools and gadgets. The two items around her waist intimidated him most. A gun and a chunky pair of metal handcuffs. He scrambled to his feet to try and run the other way but his legs flailed uselessly in the air.

“Ah, ah!” She gripped his head in her palm, letting the weight of her fingers settle around his skull. “You’re under arrest mate.”

That voice, he recognised it – Paige?!

She wrapped an oversized palm around his backside and hoisted him up to face her with the ease at which one would move a child. Her name was Paige Fowler but call her Officer Fowler lest you wish to be shining her boots every morning. She loved this part of the job, the power that would course through her beefy arms when manhandling those smaller than her, relishing in their plight between her thick fingers and the compact feeling of their body in her palms. This one in particular, a little bank robber in a Japanese demon mask, his struggling had ceased so she shook him, a squeeze of his ass to elicit a squeak.

“Paige!” He shouted.

“Huh?!” She was stunned, how did this runt know her name. “Who are you?”

“It’s me,” he pulled off his mask, “Jonah.”

Jonah? “Jonah!” She became lucid then, aware of her dream. This was her friend Jonah, though for some odd reason he was the size of a toddler and she was, a police officer and incredibly jacked? She’d probably been in the midst of some weird wet dream again (as per usual). But, what she didn’t expect was for this freaky little conjured up version of Jonah to start speaking to her like he knew he was dreaming too.

“Paige,” he started, “the amulet, it caused this – it caused this dream to happen. I was staring at it like two seconds ago and then – fuck, I don’t know I saw a bunch of sevens and then I was here.”

“You saw a bunch of sevens? Like in your vision? Are you fuckin’ insane?” She hardly believed it. This was just a dream, this wasn’t the real Jonah, it was a vision from her sub-conscious – honestly, it made sense that he was a seven-raving lunatic.

As their conscious roused, the dream became unclear, a shady mist enveloped the surroundings and the sensation of their bodies weakened. Their heads unable to house both this immense dreamscape and the thoughts reserved for their awakened selves.

Jonah woke first, blinking the sleep aside. Amazingly, unlike every other morning this week, he awoke in the same place he fell asleep and his eyes didn’t sting from overuse. He took a moment to close them and appreciate the cooling sensation his eyelids provided. But, as rapid as his waking thoughts, the expansive warmth across his back and the lightly freckled arm draped over his shoulder came into the equation.

Something was off. The arms wrapped around his shoulders were – wait, they were massive? With a mix match of home drawn tattoos lining the length of the forearms. They were Paige’s, except blown up in proportion. Was he still dreaming? He yelped in surprise when one of her hands glided down his stomach and gripped his waist, pulling him tight into her crotch, from the very strength of her grip, he could tell her thick-padded fingers would leave a fading mark.

“Mmmmrr. Jonah?” Her voice was strained as it always was in the morning. “Jonah.” She sounded confused, a level of distress lingered too in her calling his name. Her palm wrapped around his shoulder and rolled him to face her.

“What the fuck,” they said in unison.

“What the actual fuck,” Paige added, wiping the sleep from her eye.

Jonah could hardly believe what laid before him, his toes only reached her waist, and her two bare breasts were stacked on top of each other, each one almost as big as his head. His attention turned to the now much larger amulet still clasped in hand and he brought it between them – was it you?.

Paige’s eyes widened, had that actually been Jonah in her dream? The same one who lay across from her like he was her child. “Holy shit. That was you.” His entire frame was perfectly proportional, just a hell of a lot more compact. She cursed to herself, feeling that intense urge rush between her legs, now was not the time. Hesitantly (and because she couldn’t help herself), she tracked down the length of their bodies, enchanted by how her hips and stomach rose over him, a shadow cast across Jonah from the eclipsed morning sun rays. Her tits as well, far too large for him now, he’d need a whole hand to massage her stiffening nipples. With only the two of them in this bed, she couldn’t help but relish in the rush that coursed through her, it was certainly a unique feeling, being the biggest one in the room. God, she couldn’t help it, could she? It really wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

He ignored her wonderment, enwrapped by his own. The way she so easily upheld the rack on her chest, her nipples already beginning to harden in true Paige fashion and how she could lounge there with so, so much… body. Since knowing her, she had always been small, she had pixie-like features that he thought of as cute as much as he thought attractive. But as her giant sapphire iris glossed over his, he found her more predatory than anything else. While they lay there on their side, he was glued to her muscles like he were observing some mighty nude statue built by the Romans – with their features and definition cut to perfection. A sharp pain shot up his arm, he was still clenching the amulet like it owed him money.

“Jonah. Cunt. You with me?” She prodded his shoulder, watching as it rocked back and forth with her touch, she had gotten herself somewhat under control after seeing the light go out in his eyes.

As if resurfacing from the bottom of a pool, he breathed. “Paige. Why am I so fucking small?”

She stifled a shaken chuckle by rolling on her back to speak to the ceiling, her head was always foggy in the morning. “You said it was that amulet thing right?”

Was it? He glanced at its bronze face, the left-most emerald was now glowing a brilliant green in contrast to the dull remaining six. What in the world could that mean? He showed Paige and she pinched the amulet from between his fingers, she too took note of the glow. She’d never seen anything like it, the only solution that popped into her mind was to ask the store clerk they’d stolen from (it took her a minute though, her mind now preoccupied by the image of the goth woman). “We should bring it back to that chick with the huge tits. Surely she knows what’s up,” she said.

“I guess that makes the most sense,” he spoke in an inaudible whisper, he’d gone quiet again. His current predicament had begun to truly set in. Should he not have been reacting in a more alarmed manner. What if he was stuck like this? What if he got smaller? What would his father think if he showed up at the same height he had been when he was seven? And though he had felt somewhat cured of his insomnia, that familiar feeling came back, the feeling that struck when something became too much or felt unfeasible and he treated the situation with an indifference that bordered on oppressive. The ledge had become impossible to cling to, his fingers aching and begging for rest. So, he let go. Falling, away from the light, away from Paige and away from anything and everything. For he was now locked away to watch his life play out before him, wandering alone through that endless concrete maze.

Paige rolled toward him, it had been a few days since he had entered a state like this with her – often it was a sharp transition, where a phrase or situation would trigger his eyes to glaze over and his wit to turn bland. She often wondered if he realised how obvious it was when he slipped back into it. He was clearly troubled, yet she could sense another layer concealed away, one he kept from anyone but himself. She didn’t claim to know what was going on inside his head and no matter how badly she wanted to know, she knew it wasn’t that simple. She related it to her personal experience, when she lay in bed intently listening to thoughts that didn’t sound like her own taunt her in the early hours of the morning. Paige had figured out a cure for these episodes, simply to scream in frustration at her wall until her head was so full of anger that every other emotion forcibly shut down. It may have been – 7:17AM on the dot – but she was determined to break him from his spell.

“Hey Jonah.”

There was no response.

“Get the fuck up.” She leapt over him, landing with her fists akimbo against her hips.

“Paige?” He said quietly.

“I said get the fuck up shortstack.” There was a cross look on her face, one that told Jonah if he didn’t do as he was told he’d be punished. “Stand the fuck up Jonah.” She was unaware of her own strength (or rather Jonah’s lack of size) that when she tried to prod him he was sent rolling over. She tried not to feel bad, it was for his own good.

An earthquake ripped through the labyrinth, dust and cement shuddering from the roof. Jonah began to panic, the structural integrity of his mind under attack. He was still a bystander allowing his actions to play autonomously, and while he would normally walk in silence until he gained control, Paige’s intervention had awakened an emotion that had laid dormant for months. It was an almost forgotten feeling for Jonah, but unlike before, where his emotions were content to sit and marinate, this one was begging to be released into the world, bucking against its restraints, like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He pounced to his feet, standing on the mattress he was thankfully eye level with Paige, he wanted to tell her to stop but she pushed him back down. He stood and again she pushed back. “Stop fucking pushing me,” he snarled, his words didn’t feel like his own.

“Yeah. Or what?”

Jonah was stumped, his realities were merging. “Fuck off.” She went to push him again and he weakly grabbed her wrist.

“Yell at me Jonah.”

“What?”

“Fuckin’ yell at me. As loud as you fuckin’ can!” Her voice rose in volume and tone like she were giving a grand battle cry.

“Wha – no? I’m not doing that,” he said, shuddering under her intensity.

“Fuckin’ do it.” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close so that their noses almost touched. “Or I’m gonna smack the shit out of you.”

He was speechless, the weight of her hands very much told him that he did not want that.

“Do it!” She yelled, rattling his body back and forth.

And now, he wanted to. He really wanted to. Because of everything that had happened to him, his fucking birth to his fucking mother to fucking Paige who threw him around like a ragdoll. That’s when he realised, this feeling was what he had been looking for, it didn’t belong to the stranger controlling his actions, it was his, Jonah’s. Seven months ago on that fated day, it had felt like an awful concoction of poison rotting away in the pit of his stomach, at the time the slurry of components were impossible to pick apart, but there was one that had risen above the others. And now that his mind had been incinerated into clarity, he was utterly offended, that the stranger who acted as he could pretend to know what it was like to be Jonah. All that was required was his action. A simple action to expel the bubbling magma within his core. From the passenger seat, Jonah could see what Paige was doing, she had thrown a lifejacket over the side of a sinking ship to save him, he only had to reach out and take it. It would be easy, the pressure had enough time to build. Just do it. Just fuckin’ do it.

“Fuck you Paige. Fuck you Paige!” He shouted.

“Nah – fuck you Jonah!” She shouted back, a heavy finger prod his chest.

“Fuck,” he stumbled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fucking cunt fuck!”

“Fuckin’ fuck Silverleaf.” Paige stomped her feet with each word, the whole room shaken by her ferocity.

“Fuck Silverleaf,” he agreed with a stern nod. “And fuck this stupid fucking amulet,” it clinked uselessly against the wall he pegged it at.

“Jonah,” she dragged him close by the shoulders again. “Tell me. Who do you hate the most? Curse their fuckin’ name.”

Their fierce eyes were locked in tandem, Jonah wouldn’t back down now. No. Now, he felt like he could conquer the fucking world. “Fuck Miriam! Fuck that miserable cunt so fucking much.”

Paige grinned a devilish grin, she leant her head back to the ceiling and yelled at the top of her lungs: “Fuck Kevin! Fuck Colon! Fuck James!”

“And fuck you.”

“No – fuck you.”

“Fuck.”

“Cunt.”

“FUCK!” Jonah screamed and smashed his fists against his legs to expel any remaining bits of explosivity. He slouched to the mattress – not defeated but tired. He knew it to be hopeless, but there was a small part of him that thought maybe just by letting everything out he’d return to his normal size. He was thankful though, to Paige, for yanking him up before he fell too far.

“Do you feel better?” Paige asked, curious if her prescription had truly worked.

“I feel fucking pissed.”

Paige snickered and sat next to him, her added weight an unwelcome surprise as Jonah seesawed into her side. Her arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him tight, his cheek smushed against her underboob. “C’mon ya little shit, being short ain’t so bad – and that’s coming from me,” she noogied his head. There was an absurd pleasure to be found in holding his body weight like he were a child, his small warmth snug against her skin. And while she couldn’t help but allow a smidgen of waking arousal creep back into her mind, after all, she and Jonah had made it somewhat of a habit to begin their day with a quick fuck. It felt wrong to think of him in that way while they dealt with whatever this was (but damn if that wasn’t making it even hotter).

Jonah snorted and closed his eyes. He did feel better. He felt more in control. Honestly, a lot more than he usually did, that feeling of anger had finally been captured and compartmentalised. He peered up past the swell of Paige’s bust with doe eyes that she would come to love and said, “but Paige – thank you.”

Her horny thoughts froze at his words, now begging that her blush couldn’t be seen from his lowly perspective. She felt so, so silly, but his thanks gave her butterflies, similar to when he hung onto her every word while she told an exaggerated story or allowed her to rant about why post-punk was an objectively positive evolution to the punk rock genre. And among a cohort of students who were beginning to think about their future and what they’d become, she found herself left behind in their conversations with little to add because she had accepted that she’d never be quite enough to achieve success. Jonah – as complex as he was – alleviated that worry, not that she didn’t believe it anymore, but at least when she was with him she could pretend she was someone else, someone sure of themselves and confident in their approach to life.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said.

“God, I fucking hope so,” he muttered and after a moment of tension they laughed.

Paige freshened up and applied a new layer of eyeliner and mascara while Jonah constructed their plan of action: head back to Mottlebong and tear into the lady working there about how she could be so careless to have an amulet that can shrink people on display and hopefully glean from her a way to reverse the effects. In the midst of their discussion a knock on the door froze them in their tracks.

“Kids? I heard some shouting before, is everything okay?” The bald man who checked them in said from the other side.

Jonah and Paige looked at each other, a silent argument between their eyes until Paige cut in. “Yeah – uh. We’re okay. We’ll be checking out in a sec.” Jonah seconded her reassurance.

“No need love, I couldn’t live with myself if I charged a couple of kids.” A hearty chuckle devolved into a coughing fit. Paige rolled her eyes and theatrically feigned a retch, she hated the habit old men had of calling any woman under the age of 30 love (Jonah thought it was a nice gesture at least). His footsteps shuffled back down the corridor, his cough relentless.

“We can’t let him see me like this,” Jonah said finally to which Paige agreed.

 They changed back into their clothes, well Paige did, Jonah managed to slip into his shirt, the hem of the button up reached down to his knees and now he looked like a kid who had found their way into their parents closet.

“I look ridiculous,” he said.

“You look very handsome mister,” she pinched his cheek in her huge hand.

After impatiently waiting for Paige to stop laughing and asking if he needed any assistance climbing on the bed, they busted open the window facing the pines outside and crawled out.

The sky was devoid of clouds, it was an unusually warm winter day and the trees were still. Jonah had silently been getting used to his diminished size, sneaking glances at Paige as they snuck around the side of the building, it was incredibly distracting, having to walk behind her, staring up at her ass packed into those jeans, the way the denim of her jeans contorted with each step and how her boots outsized his feet with ease, loudly crunching the foliage beneath. After bolting through the tree line toward the road they had previously travelled along, Paige caught one of his wandering glances as he lagged behind her. “What?”

“It’s just really weird. Seeing you so tall.” He gestured upwards, puffing from their sudden burst.

“You’re the one who shrunk. I’m still short as fuck,” she snorted, “you’re like, a dwarf or something.”

She had a point, he barely made it to her waist. The thought of comparing himself to someone even taller was enough to send a shiver down his spine. It helped to imagine he was the normal one here, and it was Paige who had grown instead, which would at least be an entertaining chaos. “Cool it with the shit talk, I can only get so hard.”

“Ha! Don’t tempt me Jonah,” she said, but it was too late, she was already considering and thinking then imagining it, her hormones responded accordingly. “You know what we should do?”

Jonah knew exactly what she wanted to do, so he played the fool. “What?”

“We should fuck in the woods.”

His body was keen, but truthfully he was unsure how their new size difference would come into the equation. The bordering tree line would provide ample coverage, so it all came down to if he was game enough. “Are you sure?”

Paige crossed her arms and made her already imposing figure seem even larger. “Did you really just ask if I was sure if I wanted to have sex? Me – of all people Jonah? Seriously?”

Her challenge was the final straw and they removed themselves from the road, dry undergrowth crunching beneath their feet as they walked, paced no – ran deeper into the forest, their arousal building the further they went without sating it. Paige led them to a small clearing, a perfect, flat rock baked under the rising sun surrounded by looming pines.

“Pants off squirt,” she commanded.

He eagerly nodded from just under her waist and reached his hands to the golden button holding her zipper together, it was harder than it looked to pry the tight denim apart. Paige’s curiosity and arousal combined within the cauldron of her thoughts, she usually had him on his knees when he did this, but now he could barely reach her hip while standing at his full height. There was something so – it was hard to place it – but so alluring about the fact that taking her pants off required a full body effort. Jonah tugged downwards on the zipper and was immediately struck by the fishy scent emanating from within, he tried peering up over her stretched white top, only to have her chest obstruct her face.

Paige wrapped her palm around his head and pulled it into her crotch, she bit her lip to stifle a moan and leant over to harshly whisper in his ear. “My pussy’s fuckin’ starving Jonah.”

Oh my god. Jonah could feel his nose snake between her lips, his nostrils burnt with intoxicating warmth. His heart was racing and blood rushed between his legs, he stripped his shirt off at a blistering pace. Paige’s fingers drummed against his head, their thick pads caressed his neck and if he tested her strength by trying to pull away she didn’t budge. When they had sex, there was always an underlying safety for Jonah, since she was a naturally small person, her strength often betrayed her intentions. But now, he could feel the full brunt of her lust in each jerk and twist of her immense body.

The flat rock acted as a bench as Paige let her weight fall backwards, and much to her pleasure, she had to look downward to meet Jonah’s eye. She would be lying if she didn’t say she found that exciting. Standing at five foot two, she had always been shorter than most and especially in bed, she’d never had a partner shorter than her. So, to be staring down at someone half her size, someone who (judging by the hard rod between his legs) was very eager to please her. Someone she could manhandle with ease, she wrapped her hand around his throat this time – entirely, until her fingers overlapped. She released and he breathed deep, his lungs blue from a lack of oxygen. It was totally exhilarating.

“You’re not gonna know what hit you,” Jonah said while trying to clamber onto her lap.

“So naïve.” Her hands snaked around his hips and she hoisted him up. “You’re pretty confident for a ragdoll.”

Jonah buried his head between her tits and squeezed them as best his shrunken hands could, her flesh gobbled up his attempts, tweaking her nipples until they filled the space between his fingers. With his legs wrapped around her waist, she cupped each of his ass cheeks in her huge hands and his squirming increased tenfold as she spread them and let her fingers explore deeper in his crack. “Wait – wait. Just wait.” Jonah peered up at her, frightened by the large digits snaking their way dangerously close to his rear door, their lingering trail electric.

“Where’d all that confidence go big fella?” Paige had a smug grin as she leaned in to ask, her fingers still squeezing and plying with his flesh, he was putty in her hands.

On his fourth night in Silverleaf, Paige had made a grab for his ass similar to the one she currently held him in, albeit she wasn’t able to hold him in her lap at the time. But, to his complete surprise, while she was massaging the area around, she snuck a finger into his asshole, his eyes had bugged and he gripped Paige’s shoulders in shock (she hurriedly pulled back and asked if he was okay). The feeling had been strange, he’d never been touched anywhere remotely close before, let alone a whole finger. Though the feeling wasn’t entirely awful, it was strangely pleasurable, not in the way that getting off was, but in a way that debased him even further and Paige had seemed to especially love how he squirmed and whined in her hands. She had discussed boundaries afterwards, obviously if he didn’t enjoy it she would never do it again, but he had told her he enjoyed it, not because he didn’t but also because he was afraid she’d decide they were no longer a fit. Jonah knew he could stop her at any time, they’d decided on a safe word that night – Kevin – though that had been when he could comfortably peer over her head.

Now, as they gazed into each other’s eyes, he felt entirely intimidated by the behemoth who held him by the waist with her bare hands, light reflected off her piercings and her bleached hair glowed a platinum white under the sun. He felt even smaller enwrapped by her body, she had the look of a predator, sneering and investigative, a wolf prowling the forest for prey unfortunate enough to be caught in her vicinity. And he, a meek and shaken rabbit, who should be quivering beneath a tuft of foliage begging to be spared. Instead, he was caught by the scruff of his neck in her maw, thinking he had some kind of death wish.

He wanted to brave it, scream at her to just do it already, or stay calm and collected and maintain his image as someone who could keep up with any antic she suggested. What he actually said failed to align with his wishes. “Just,” he sighed, avoiding her gaze, “be careful Paige.”

“Hey.” She brought his chin to meet her eye. “We don’t have to.”

Somehow, her understanding was worse than her penetrating, he didn’t want her to see him as weak and needing of special treatment. He recalled her words on his first night with her: “It feels better to tame a tiger than a cat.”

“I never said stop.” He nipped at the finger upholding his chin.

 Paige’s concern vanished in an instant, her brow raised and a cocky smile. “Suck it bitch.” Her pointer shoved itself into his mouth, covering his tongue and reaching the inside of his cheeks. With a pop she removed it and he felt the confines of her hand around his ass again, the wet tip of her finger crawling closer and closer, the cool sensation guiding a trail to his back door. “Ready?” Her brow raised.

Jonah nodded and immediately, she pushed. He hadn’t expected one finger to feel as stretched as he did now and groaned deep into her bosom, intense pulsing radiated from his insides. Before he had a chance to consider if it felt good or uncomfortable, Paige aimed his cock to her pussy and rammed him inside her. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to feel him at his reduced size but combined with the degrading act she had pulled off and Jonah’s whines between her tits, it didn’t even matter – at this point a feather could get her off.

Explosions of rich pleasure racked his mind, rattling his brain around his skull until he could no longer think a single clear thought. His waist downwards had become paralysed through overstimulation and his legs flailed around her, he could see through the glimpses of his own shut eyes that Paige had rolled her head back and was chewing aggressively on her lip, her moans suppressed to the best of her ability.

They charged. Their pace quickened until it felt like the friction would cause a fire to erupt from between their legs. Together, they leant back and deeply groaned as their climax reached its peak, their moans echoing around the forested coverage. Paige rolled Jonah to the side and they lay with their nude backs against the hot rock, staring into the vast, never-ending blue sky, winter had taken the day off, gifting them a sheen of sweat.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jonah said with a scoff of disbelief.

Paige burst into laughter, her eyes creased and her hands clapped together, even she was shocked with herself for going through with it. “I know – I know,” she said between draws of breath.

Like always, they debriefed about what had felt good, what had felt bad and what had felt fucking amazing, Paige had firmly believed in communication from the start and sought out to make it equally pleasurable for the both of them. At first, Jonah was embarrassed to talk about the sex they just had, but those worries were quickly alleviated by the way she spoke to him about it, she was intrigued and open to his opinions and ideas and though during the act, she was dominant and provocative, afterwards her touch no longer had an aggressive force to it, it was sweet and light as it danced across his olive skin.

He found himself snuggled next to her, a reversal of their usual position, with Paige’s arm wrapped around his neck and down his back. Oddly, he found it rather comforting to be enwrapped by her like this, and in their silence it almost sounded like Paige was purring along to his fingernail scratching circles on her stomach, running up and over the small bump of her abdominals. For the first time in a while, he could say with definitive proof that he was comfortable, no longer stuck in the largely ignored orphanage system and his height strangely no longer a bother to him, somehow he could tell they would figure it out. Instead, he basked in the feeling of their bodies compressed together and the calming rhythm of her chest rising and falling. He was thankful, thankful that Paige had been kind enough to welcome him into her life and then accompany him on his outrageous request. Even though he had only known Paige for a little over a week, he had never, ever felt closer to anyone else. 

Coming down from the high of their spontaneous sex, they lounged across a flat rock as the sun primed itself for an amber afternoon. After their debrief, stamina returned, they continued on their journey. Paige carried her jacket in the nook of her arm and longed for a cigarette, Jonah on the other hand was beginning to see some of the downsides of his size. Yesterday, Paige had been the one to complain about the long trek but now, he was finding it increasingly exhausting to keep up with her strides. He tried keeping it to himself, yet she had noticed the redness in his cheeks and the pants between steps. Begrudgingly, he dealt with her teasing, at least someone found enjoyment in their bizarre role reversal.

“What if we had a race?” She’d suggest while easing into a speed walking pace, Jonah having to jog to keep up. “Oh fuck, my boots are undone,” she’d say and suddenly stop in her tracks to bend over, giving Jonah a face full of ass as he ran straight into her. “You sure you don’t want a piggyback ride little guy?” She’d say over her shoulder, a triumphant smirk on her face.

Jonah had had enough. “I know what I want to ride,” he jumped to slap her ass and ducked away giggling as she chased after him, threatening him with all kinds of ludicrous acts.

Mottlebong emerged from between the looming pines, still as lifeless as ever, a fact which was not lost on Jonah and Paige. How could any store survive with zero customers? Once they arrived at the dilapidated antique store – Sable’s Emporium, they agreed on a bad cop bad cop dynamic (Paige assured him two bad cops were better than one) and if the clerk mentioned the fact it was stolen, they would act clueless. The bell above the door signalled their entrance and they paced toward the counter, ignoring the strangeness of the store. Paige cut the generic store introduction short, “Yeah, hi. We were in yesterday,” she paused to check the name badge on the goth clerk’s voluptuous chest (focus Paige, focus). “And Lilith, we were just wondering,” Her eyes shot back up, her sweetest smile on, doing her best to comfort Lilith with just a look, “if you could explain what the fuck this is?” Jonah was yanked from behind her by the arm and she slammed the amulet on the table, her smile replaced with a scowl.

Lilith took a step back, eyes darting between an angry munchkin and the bronze amulet, she was speechless. Not because of Jonah’s size, but because the amulet was only supposed to be a mere accessory. She briefly remembered these two from yesterday (a plain pair compared to the regulars), but had she served them? Finally, after suffering under their impatient gaze, she found her words. “I don’t – uh. That’s not supposed to happen.”

“Well, it did.” Jonah had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot, the dramatic effect lost as Lilith had to take a second to lean a touch over the counter to see the scowl on his face.

“And we want you to fix it,” Paige added quickly, mirroring his stance.

The clerk was flustered, she didn’t usually deal with unhappy customers. “Let me call my boss,” she offered a reassuring smile, as much as she could. Lilith disappeared behind a weathered satin curtain, her hushed whispers unable to be overhead.

The minutes stretched on as Lilith’s whispers seemed to become more frantic. “This is bullshit,” Paige had said to which Jonah promptly agreed (mostly to calm her impatience). “So fucking bullshit.”

Eventually, Lilith swiped back the curtain and sheepishly stood before them. “Firstly, we just want to apologise for the inconvenience, here at Sable’s we try to offer customer support that is second to none!” Jonah and Paige weren’t impressed. “And, um. Secondly, my boss wants to meet you guys, she can handle this far better than I can.” She offered another shaky smile, “I can drive you to her place.”

Lilith led them to the backside of the store, where a janky white Toyota Ute was parked. Jonah had stepped aside to let her lumber past, she was taller than Paige, so he only made it up halfway on her thigh. He caught himself staring at her rounded backside as they walked into the bright day from the side door, the weight of it heaving back and forth, her meaty flesh wobbled the dress she wore as much as her chest did (he realised then that Paige’s pervasive habit had become his own).

“It’s a certified shitbox,” Paige said.

“It was my dad’s.” Lilith gave a nervous laugh and opened the side door for them. “There’s room for three, but it’s a tight fit.”

The three of them crammed themselves inside the claustrophobic interior, Jonah had the misfortune (or fortune depending on how you look at it) of being compressed between the two titans, in a plush valley of covered flesh. “Sorry, sorry,” Lilith had said while her wide hips steamrolled his leg, his whole right side swampy from her impressive curves pressed against him. A similar situation on his left, as Paige accidentally (purposely) thumped her leg over his, offering an apology defying smirk as she did so. He felt smaller than ever, his legs eaten up by the thighs on either side of him.

The dashboard was littered with trinkets expected to be owned by someone like Lilith, crystals and skulls and all things gothic. “So, what, you some kind of witch or some shit?” Paige asked as the Ute’s engine sputtered to life, like she was oblivious to Jonah’s plight below.

Lilith’s huge hand reached between Jonah’s knees to shift into gear, the stick forcing his legs apart. “Something like that. I only started the job a few months ago.”

“How many months ago?” Jonah asked, trying to treat the conversation with normality despite not even being able to see past her heavy rack.

Lilith paused to count in her head. “Seven, I think.”

Paige nudged Jonah. “Our old friend.”

The countryside scrolled past, sprawling green fields now in place of the pines as they drove further away from Mottlebong, it was going to be a long three-hour drive. Paige had drifted off against the window, leaving Jonah and Lilith to sit in silence, he’d grown used to her hulking warmth. He leant on Paige’s arm and pondered the day so far. It had been rather eventful and truthfully he was tired, though that was not out of the ordinary for him (he won’t admit it, but he was also hurting from the sex). The shrinking and their shouting match before were especially prominent components of his wondering mind. He had said her name again, even after he had promised himself to never say or think of it again. He had told Paige his mother’s name – Miriam.

They had lived together in a small Queenslander in the suburbs when he was younger, the open planned home allowed the breeze to sail through and the wrap-around porch overlooked a freshly trimmed lawn across the road from the nearby rugby fields. His parents had been living there for a year before he came along, a hopeful child to patch the emerging holes in their marriage. The yellow walls in that home had been thin, and the nights between his parents yelling matches grew thinner, until finally, it all stopped. His father said goodbye, confusedly tears ran down his face. Why are you crying dad? He had thought in the moment. He would come to realise why, but at the time he took solace in the nights where he could listen to the chorus of crickets outside instead of muffled curses. Though unlike his father, he had always felt strange around Miriam, and now that they lived alone together, he began to feel an oppressive haze choke the air around him, like he was a stranger who had overstayed his welcome. Sometimes, he would ask where dad was and she would ignore him, or rarely, she’d simply say: “He’s dead.” She was lying, she had to be. As the years wore on, her demeanour worsened, they had to move from their house to a mobile home and she’d picked up the nasty habit of being unable to hold a job for longer than a few months and instead of attempting to find comfort in her son’s presence, she drunk more. His tenth birthday, the first time Miriam had thrown an empty wine bottle at his head. She had screamed at him – blamed him for everything, his father leaving, her failed life and his inability to be a normal kid. That was also the first time Jonah disappeared into the woods, youthful tears running down his cheeks as the guilt finally had its way with him, he’d been brave before, internalising the shortcomings of his life, and now, it all came out. His thoughts screeching like a cave full of bats, shrieking at him to be better, that he was the reason he’d never see his dad again.

Since that day, he made it his mission to please her, if he had to earn her love, then so be it. He cleaned their mobile home from top to bottom and responded immediately to any request she had. He was determined to be a son she could rely on. But the verbal abuse never ceased and he would continue to escape into the woods to rack his brain on how he could do better, it was the only place where he could think clearly. Miriam also never allowed him to keep possessions, that was his punishment for what he’d done, the tiny, cramped closet he slept in was to be devoid of personality. He kept the walls bare, but in some childish act of defiance he held a secret compartment of items beneath a loose floorboard, his only possessions – sticks, rocks and leaves as well as a small collection of books stolen from the local library. After one of her particularly bad episodes, one spurred by his inability to fetch her wine in time, he had left the house to collect as many fallen Jacaranda flowers as he could, his best effort at an apology. But as soon as he had stepped foot inside, her hand struck him across the mouth.

“Do you take me for some kind of fucking idiot Jonah?” She had said while dumping his precious belongings at her feet.

“No Miriam.” His head was low, she didn’t like when he called her mum.

“Then what the fuck is this?” She hissed and pinched his ear.

He broke down into tears, he cried a lot when he was a kid, a trait that his mother had truly despised about him. And in her rage she locked him outside, to brave the frosty winter alone, initially he had slammed himself against the door, begging to be let back in, screaming his apologies but was only met with silence, and so he found himself curled beneath their porch, his body shaking from both the biting cold and regret for making his mother so displeased with him. He knew now that she was a miserable old woman, that she had only kept him around as a punishment to his father, to keep from him what he loved most, but at the time he suffered from years of blaming himself for the awful life they led, how could someone put that on a child? Those were the years where he was supposed to be making friends and getting up to whatever shenanigans kids got up to, but instead he was trapped with someone who hated his very existence.

At this point, these memories only served to fuel his anger and he found himself scowling at the gear stick between his legs. Whenever he ventured into this abyssal part of his mind, he would creep past a heavy metal door into a vast circular concrete room, footsteps echoing to the unseen chambers above, he knew this was a place that he mustn’t spend too long in. Droves of filing cabinets stacked hundreds high, all linked to a specific day in his life, some overflowed with documents while others sat empty and forgotten. What kept him from rifling through his past all at once sat in the middle of the room, an enormous cage – a thick tarp draped over to conceal whatever monstrosity dwelled within. He thought of it as the protector of this place, its snarls and murmurs would increase in volume and frequency if he came too close. In the past, simply witnessing this colourless room would send him careening into a multi-day blackout, where he would wake with cold sweats and bouts of amnesia. Nowadays, he could spend a few minutes palming through the cabinets, always alert to the beast in the centre for as soon as the time arose where he must leave, he would with haste. One day, he would pull the tarp away from that horrid cage, that’s what he promised himself. He shut the iron door and returned to the decorated interior of Lilith’s Ute.

Lilith reached over to turn the volume knob on the dashboard, a gritty riff grew in volume. She hummed along to the music, they were nearing their destination.

Paige had apparently awoken. “Bitta Interpol huh?”

“I love ‘em. Saw them a few years ago,” Lilith said without taking her eye off the road, she reached into the side of the seat and pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?”

Paige’s eyes grew ten times in size, her heart rate suddenly fluttering. Yes, fucking yes please, yes. “Yeah, if you don’t mind,” she said.

The two discussed music for the remainder of the trip while Paige chuffed down as many cigs as Lilith offered, her head spinning along with their conversation about the bands Lilith had seen and what they thought of the current genre climate. Jonah found comfort in listening to Paige talk, she had a certain knack for conversation.

They pulled up to a long driveway flanked by greenery, one that lead to a moderate asymmetrical cottage on the top of a hill, smoke billowing from its crooked chimney. Its architecture – dark and gloomy with pointed arches and external buttresses, gargoyles menacingly hung from the roof. Lilith parked outside and the three of them exited, Jonah took a moment to sink into the indent left by Paige.

“My boss – Sable,” Lilith began as they reached the front door. “She’s – well, she’s interesting.” That’s one way to put it, she thought to herself and rapped her knuckles on the intricately detailed door.

Within a cacophony of what sounded like plates smashing and hurried yelling instantly silenced once Lilith knocked. Footsteps approached from inside, the recognisable clack of heels. The door swung open to reveal a lofty mature-aged woman, easily towering over both Lilith and Paige, not to mention Jonah who stared right into her pale knees, her overpowering floral perfume polluting the trio’s air supply as she fanned her face. She had jet-black hair with silver streaks running through it and a black corset and dress that matched Lilith’s, all she was missing was a pointy hat and broom.

Paige’s eyes almost gawked out of her head, she was met by two enormous breasts that wobbled ever so subtly under the hulking witches movements. If she wasn’t trying to act as a disgruntled customer, she would have tackled Sable then and there to tear her top off to get at those fuckin’ titties. Goddamn, she’s stacked.

“Lilith dear, how many times must I tell you to park around the back,” she said, her voice full and mature, much too preoccupied to notice Paige’s ogling.

“Oh, I – um. Sorry Sable,” Lilith looked down at her fidgeting feet.

Sable huffed her apology away and shifted her focus to Paige and then down to Jonah. “And you two must be our new little friends. Please, you must come in.” She moved to the side and waved for them to enter, the blonde girls eyes lingered on her before they seemed to snap back to reality. Jonah and Paige glanced at each other before entering, the midget sized man was apparently not worth her mention.

The interior very much matched the exterior’s aesthetic. Black. Lots of black and shelves lining each wall, rows of jars filled with otherworldly ingredients (and every spice under the sun), pots and pans and brooms and bones and a black cat darting around broken shards of glass. The kitchen was a mess, a cast iron cauldron bubbled next to an embellished dining room table situated beneath an ornate chandelier. It was like someone had jampacked the props from every witch related piece of media in existence into a dusty lodge.

“Murray!” Sable exclaimed and thundered over to the cat who dashed between her legs, knocking over another two jars in the process. “Lilith! Help me out here,” she eeked while chasing it with her arms outstretched, Lilith leapt into action.

Ignoring the absolute bizarre nature of the home, Paige gaped with great interest at their desperate attempts, likewise, Jonah could not take his eyes of Sable as he too dealt with a similar inner monologue. She was absolutely huge and buxom to boot, her every curve so full and thick. Each time her booted heel slapped to the floor he and the floorboards felt it in their joints, if Paige could manhandle him like a child, she would be able to handle him as if he were a doll, a goliath in her own right. He tried to peel his eyes from her behind, jampacked into that tight black dress. Shit, he needed a clear head for the upcoming discussion. Truth be told, he had no idea what to expect from this visit, did witches actually exist? Did magic exist? Was that not totally and utterly absurd? Would she be able to mutter a spell to reverse the effects or would she brew a potion to grow him back. It seemed unfeasible, but then again, he was currently the size of a toddler.

The cat weaved between the witches, agile and calculated, and sprang into Paige’s arms. “You’ll never take me alive!” it exclaimed.

Paige almost threw the writhing cat back at Sable. “The fuck!?”

“Of course there’s a talking cat,” Jonah said, watching the situation unfold with a bemused look.

The black cat turned to Paige and brought his paw to his mouth like he was trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. “We gotta get the fuck outta here man.”

“Hush Murray,” Sable hissed and snatched the cat from her, her bosom intruded Paige’s personal space in a welcome surprise. “Heavens. What must a woman do to find reliable employees these days,” she muttered to herself.

“I want sardines.”

“We’ll both be eating cat food for a month if you’re not careful,” Lilith said while scratching the cat behind his ears.

Paige leant over and whispered in Jonah’s ear. “I can’t stop looking at her tits.”

“Same thing over here,” he whispered back.

They both checked out her ass as Sable waltzed over to the dining table, the situation thoroughly under control, or so she thought. The cat still tucked into her arm and swiped at the tassels of her hair. “Please, take a seat. And Lilith clean-up will you,” she motioned to the clatter of glass. Once Jonah and Paige had taken a seat, ominous music suddenly began to build out of nowhere, the piano down the hall playing a building crescendo by its lonesome. The side of her face illuminated by the glowing purple cauldron to her right, smoke billowing all around them. “Now.” Her face lifted from the misty shadows. “Enlighten me.”

“Fuckin’ Christ Sabes,” Paige swiped the smoke away, her lungs doing their best not to sputter up a cough. “Ease up on the theatrics.“

While dealing with a similar predicament, Jonah stepped in to save Sable the trouble of having to decipher Paige trying to explain something. He explained everything he had rehearsed in his head, with Paige helpfully (not really) adding in her own parts of the story. The strange dream, the strange visions of seven and of course, the strange shrinking (though this was the least interesting to Sable it seemed). Jonah recalled the moments before he faded into sub-consciousness, the zap that travelled up his arm as the hurricane of numbers consumed him. Sable nodded along, intrigued by his story. She fiddled with the amulet, flipping it over and running her hands along the curious inscriptions.

“Murray, go fetch my tome dear,” Sable said, dropping her cat to the floor.

“Meow. I am cat,” he said. “Me no understand English. Meow.”

An actual meow shrieked from under the table as Sable guided him toward a shelf with her foot. He groaned and begrudgingly skittered through a doorway, reappearing with a thick book dragged by his teeth – yeah, get the guy with no hands to fetch your shit. Sable slammed the tome on the table, a layer of dust puffed outwards as she began flicking through the pages, whispering to herself. Finally, she landed on a page she was content with.

The amulet was from an ancient civilisation, one that flourished during the golden ages of the Aztecs and Mayans. Though previously thought to be a mere talisman of the times, there were fine prints that Sable had neglected to consider before she decided to display the jewellery. The amulet served as a rudimentary toy, a practical joke that played with the emotions of the wielder. If its conditions were met, two very specific set of conditions – the amulet would activate and gradually, over a weeklong period, shrink the thief responsible until there was nothing left to remain.

“So Jonah’s fucked?” Paige asked, a budding of dread built inside her.

“And what would these conditions be?” He questioned further.

“Patience little ones,” Sable said.

Paige rolled her frustrated eyes as Sable continued. The amulet was used to ward of married thieves and the conditions reflected that. There were to be two individuals crossed by fate (a real occurrence apparently), their sharing of seven could be attributed to that.

“So, like star crossed lovers?” Paige asked, a glimmer of wonder in her eyes.

“Not that contrived,” Sable replied. “But indeed, something like that I suppose,”

And the next condition was a crime. A crime? They both thought. Paige could rattle off a long list of things she’d done that could be considered crimes and Jonah was a notorious small-time thief. But, what had they done recently that could be considered a crime, did anal penetration count as a crime?

“You stole this amulet, yes?” Sable said.

Oh. Obviously.

The two runaways gave each other a sheepish knowing look. “Well –”

“I knew it!” Lilith piped up, a broom and pan in hand.

“Lilith please.” Sable shot her a look and she quickly resumed sweeping. “I’ll be docking this from your pay.” Lilith groaned but didn’t let up.

“Well congrats, you got us,” Paige said. “Yeah we stole it alright, but it’s a bit fuckin’ daft to leave something like that on the shelf.”

“I admit, it was my negligence. The conditions were so abstract that I never thought it would be activated.”

“Right – so we stole it. I shrunk, how do we fix it?” Jonah asked.

Sable showed the amulet’s face and circled around the left-most glowing emerald. “This is you Jonah, you need six others to complete the seven.”

“This all seems so unnecessarily complicated,” he said.

“That’s magic baby,” Lilith chimed in.

Sable shot her another look and motioned for her to come by her side, she had an idea, a way of repaying the two who dealt with her own mishap, her eyes rolled back and she mumbled an incomprehensible jumble of words. Opening her eyes, she said, “all you must do is hold the amulet and wish for them to shrink.”

“Bullshit it’s that easy,” Paige scoffed.

“Oh hon. You might want to keep your eyes off me for this one,” she winked and the next emerald began to glow. Before their eyes, Lilith dwindled down, her clothes became loose and her face sported a surprised expression. Sable rifled around the pile of clothing, a wry smirk creeping on to her face, she retrieved a tiny, nude Lilith, only a few inches tall and squirming between her fingers, her assets pliable and squishy like the rest of her. She let out an inaudible squeak as she was dumped on the table. “Now, now Lilith, this is the least we can do for our disservice.”

Lilith quivered on the tabletop, her hands covering her privates underneath Sable’s husky gaze, she knew what a look like that meant (there were some perks for working under Sable). She glanced around the other giants at the table, Paige – a crooked grin, Jonah – mouthing a sorrowful sorry and, oh gosh, Murray – a hungry feline sneer. Sable and Lilith ‘argued’ back and forth. The larger witch largely ignored whatever protest Lilith could spout and when she’d had enough, her face, caked with makeup, rose and her heaving chest loomed large over Lilith, the disturbingly long canyon of cleavage doing its best to break out of her corset.

She sucked in and let her mighty bosom do the talking as it inflated, the very size of each enormous tit enough to strike fear in Lilith’s heart. And, oh, she loved to tease Lilith. She was the perfect employee, competent, reliable and a perfect smidgen of loyal obedience, it was no easy task to get someone so willing to go along with your witch-related research. She sat further forward, resting her elbows on either side of the tiny woman. The milky swell of her cleavage completing blotting out her form. Good heavens, she couldn’t take it any longer.

Her fingers hooked beneath Lilith’s arms and Sable rose her to face her prodigious chest. She peeled back her bra, unleashing one hefty tit that wobbled freely, bare to the world. Lilith’s protest squeaked up to an audible level as Sable placed her face first against her areola and let her bra snap shut over her, her tiny employee’s head swallowed up by her chunky nipple. Sable smirked to herself, knowing they were both going to enjoy the supposed punishment she had inflicted.

“Shall I get dinner started then?” Sable said, a grand smile on her face. The rest of the table sat in awed silence. “Yes? Okay!” She grunted, trodding to the kitchen, humming to herself.

Paige sat frozen, her jaw brushing along the floor. “I think I’m gonna pass out,” she finally managed, looking down at her own stiff nipples poking through her shirt.

Jonah, equally speechless after the casual brazen display, shook his head in disbelief. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Ahh, I remember my first time,” sighed Murray.

***

Sable cooked dinner for the three of them that evening, she hummed to herself as she threw frog feet and rabbit tails into a large pot filled with broth. Appreciating the feeling of Lilith’s dainty body flattened along the underside of her generous breasts, occasionally she would flick the outline of Lilith’s bum just to feel the sudden influx of squirms against her milky flesh, she was such a tease. She couldn’t help but think about later in the night, where she’d have Lilith licking and sucking on her teat, as best as her shrunken size would allow, while she massaged her unoccupied hefty mountain. Shoot – she had poured too much dragon urine into the pot, she leant backwards to see her guests in a heated discussion with her cat, it would be fine, they won’t notice the difference.

Jonah, Paige and Murray sat in the dining room, playing I Spy with their surroundings. A particular argument had arisen between Paige and Murray; the topic – at what stage does green become blue? Is it on the cusp of a cyan or the tip of a turquoise. A mysterious blueish animal leg of some sort was the defendant, with Murray as his charismatic representative, and Paige as the red-faced plaintiff.

“That’s not fuckin’ blue you dickhead.” She jabbed a finger in Murray’s face. Paige was in an animated mood. “Right Jonah?”

“It’s like a sort of teal I guess.”

“Do you feel tough Paige? Insulting a poor little cat?” Murray shook his head in pitiful sorrow, batting his wide eyes. “You know I could sue you for that right.”

“He’s right. Animal cruelty, look it up.” Jonah nodded to Paige, it was nice to turn the tables on her sometimes.

Their dysfunctional game puttered on, filled with countless other arguments about the nature of whatever strange ingredients Sable had accumulated over the years. Dinner had been served shortly after, a swirling multi-coloured soup, and while it had been eaten with great hesitation at first, Jonah and Paige found themselves slamming down spoon after spoon of the explosively tasty meal, as if their tongues required the sustenance to survive. But also when prompted, sneaking glances at Sable’s honey glazed eyes as she lovingly rubbed the Lilith shaped bump over her chest. Though toward the end of the meal, they noticed a weird, acidic undertone. It was probably better to not ask what was in that, right?

Sable snapped her fingers and the table cleaned itself in an instant, she thanked Jonah and Paige for sharing their story and finding it within their heart to forgive her for the mishap (and begged them to promise they’d leave a good review). “Murray, show them to their room.” she had allowed them to sleep the night in her cottage, which had been greatly appreciated. She said her goodnights and sauntered away, massaging Lilith against her tit. Peeling back her bra, she saw Lilith in a heap, covered in sweat at the bottom of her enormous cup, she gave a shaky thumbs up. It was going to be a fun, steamy night for the two of them, it always was.

“Man. Murray, how do you keep it in your pants around those two?” Paige said while they followed the cat down a deceivingly long corridor, one that twisted and turned at every corner (that on further inspection, most certainly broke the laws of physics). She couldn’t remove the image of Sable’s huge fucking titties dwarfing Lilith’s nude body (also sexy), she liked to think she had a deep appreciation for the erotic, which for some reason was a sore spot for some of her exes. But slowly, but surely, and especially helped by having two of the most well-endowed women she had had the fortune of seeing, there was something she was starting to find very appealing about the size difference she had been surrounded by as of late. Something about showing off how much bigger you are to someone else, showing off how much your own body and all its bits could completely outsize another person. She’d always enjoyed inflicting her will on her partners, biting and scratching just to see them squirm beneath her while confusion plagued their face from dealing with the pain and pleasure. Now that Jonah had shrunk, the power dynamic had shifted far into her court. She glanced down at Jonah, she felt like she hadn’t properly appreciated their differing heights in their earlier forest pash. All was good, she’d have the whole night to explore it further.

“I’m a cat Paige. I don’t have pants,” he said.

Jonah found Murray incredibly amusing, a sarcastic black cat that sounded like some Wall Street wanker. Murray stopped them in front of a black apartment door and pushed it open with a paw, the inside – a surprisingly regular cottage room, covered with black decoration and windows that faced the sprawling hills outside, the moon a prominent shade of blue-grey in the sky, even though Jonah was completely disoriented by which side they were facing out of.

“Cheers Murray,” they said and stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.

Paige strutted toward the bed with haste, discarding her jacket to the side before spinning to face – er, look down at Jonah. She whipped out an opened deck of cigarettes and undid the top bottom of her jeans. “Jonah, my two greatest addictions are battling for my attention right now. Which one will it be?”

He still had no interest in smoking, though he was confused where she had replenished her supply, were those Lilith’s? Instead, he pointed at her crotch, now that was something he had a lot of interest in. “One serving of pussy please,” Jonah said with a grin.

Paige pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “I’m bone dry over here.” She sauntered toward him, once he gave her the green light, her casual demeanour would change in a heartbeat. “You really gotta work on the small talk little fella.” She tugged the back of her shirt, accentuating her fit stomach and pert breasts, her nipples piercing through the fabric. Her smug smirk disappearing behind her round bust the closer she got, her body so close now that her thighs boxed him in a corner, she bit her lip feeling his dainty hands run along her rough denim, his protest completely lost against her sturdy flesh. Snatching the short scruff of his hair, she pulled his head back to stare up and up the claustrophobic tunnel leading between her tits. “You are so, so fucking tiny,” she breathed.

Jonah could hardly control himself, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, terrified and aroused by Paige’s encompassing body. She bunched his shirt in her hand and with an effortless yank, tore it clean off his back. Embarrassingly, he stood there stark naked, succumbing to the heat radiating off her. The domineering demon he knew she could be in bed now felt like an appetiser for whatever hulking giant she had become. Before, her arousal was packed into a small frame, and while her slaps and scratches would leave a mark, she lacked the force to make it count and once he became acclimated to that strength, it would often leave him wishing for more. Hell if that was the case now, he should have been more careful what he wished for.

He watched as her large, slender hands grazed down his body, they stretched across his torso, caressed his biceps and triceps and finally they cupped each of his ass cheeks, a firm squeeze to remind him who was in charge, the claw-like grip made him yelp in her huge hands. He felt his feet lift off the ground as her mouth connected with his own, her massive tongue aggressively attacking his. In a position like this he felt the difference in their strength, he felt violated by Paige as she had her way with him, and to make matters worse (better?) he could feel her finger inching closer to his asshole, again?! “Paige.” God, he felt pathetic muttering these next words, yet playing into it only helped his erection. “It still hurts from before.” He didn’t meet her eye (something about this was definitely better).

“Really?” Paige scoffed, her mouth agape in a cocky half smirk. “I really made you feel it, huh?” She couldn’t get enough of his flustered cheeks and his sheepishly lowered head, and fuck, he fit in her hands so easily, she really was so much bigger than him now – it was driving her wild. “Mm. Your little butt can wait,” a final squeeze before she let his weight drop from her hands and spun on her heel, presenting her round ass clad in denim. With a tantalizing peek over her shoulder, she slowly squeezed the hem of her pants over her ass, each cheek bigger than his head. Which speaking of, darted from her eyes to her ass with a look that could only be described as animalistic. Jonah gripped the flesh of her ass and buried his face in her crack, his ears covered by a heavy warm weight, the stench moist from hours in the sun as it assaulted his nostrils.

Moaning, Paige pushed his little head against the wall and by using her own strength this time, drove him even deeper until she felt his dainty hands slapping against her thighs, his pathetic muffled squeals barely able to escape the meat of her ass. Her fingers were working their way at her clit, intense shocks of pleasure coursed through her, she grinded her ass in a slow circle, lifting Jonah’s body as his frantic squirms grew to a full-on assault. In almost personal best pace, Paige reached climax, her eyes rolling back into her head, the power surging through her veins. Finally, she came away and let Jonah drop to his knees, gasping lungful after lungful of fresh air, untainted by the sweat accumulated by a day of basking in a pair of denim jeans.

“Paige, that was – ugh.” He was out of breath, his heart rate settling. Before he had a chance to even decide how he felt about what she had just done, she lunged at him and took his dick within her mouth. Immediately, his mind went blank again as she sucked the life out of him. It wasn’t long until he shot his own load down her throat. “You’re a maniac,” he said, panting against the wall, “you know that?”

“Oh, you fuckin’ love it,” she said.

He did.

She stretched over him, her hands clasped toward the ceiling as her back cracked, unable to help but push her hips out to seem just that much bigger to him. His little puppy dog face right below her pussy was never going to get old.

He shook his head, the post-orgasm clarity cleansing his mind and prioritising his worries. Changing the subject’s tone, he said, “I can’t believe I’m gonna get even smaller though.”

“Nah c’mon, we’ll make it fun.” Paige pulled her panties up and tossed her jacket over her shoulders, from the inner pocket she grabbed her lighter and the deck of cigarettes. “You gotta admit, it’s so stupidly hot.”

“It’s weird. I’m scared of you but I’m also like, damn it’s a giant Paige.”

“Well, I do like you best when you’re a little scared,” she teased, pulling a dart from the box, she liked the sound of giant Paige.

Jonah chuckled. “Where did you get those from anyway?”

“Why? You finally want one?”

“Yeah, nah, I’m good. I was just wondering.”

Paige budged open the window, a drawling creak as she struggled with the hefty wooden frame, it was easy to forget that she was small statured nowadays. “One day we are gonna have a fuckin’ ciggy together Jonah,” she said between draws of her now lit cigarette. “Mark my words.”

“I admire the determination.”

“You’re so laaame.” Paige puffed her cheeks as she blew a cloud of smoke out the window. “I got ‘em from Lilith’s car.”

“Great way to pay the favour back.”

“Hey, she’s the one who gets to play with the greatest set of tits I’ve ever seen.”

Jonah and Paige sat by the window, chatting back and forth as the night grew long, they relived the sight of Sable’s glorious tits and Paige firmly pushed the conversation to the extents of her imagination, what if they were even smaller than Lilith had been, the size of two little beetles, but crawling between her fat ass.

“I think we’d suffocate.”

“Trust me, that’s a death worth dying for my friend,” she sighed, her hands behind her head.

 After a few contagious yawns they crawled into bed. Paige pulled Jonah into a little spoon position, their chatter unable to halt as they prepared for sleep. She wrapped her arms around his body and pulled the cover over both of them, sealing them in a cocoon of warmth. Their babble finally dribbling to a stop while she stroked his head, the short spiky follicles brushing over her palm, his breathing slowed until he was asleep. While she missed feeling his chest against her back, some maternal instinct within her made this equally as enjoyable. Jonah was after all, a gentle soul who deserved this kind of love and he had done nothing but indulge her in their time together. And in these brief moments where they weren’t talking, where she couldn’t distract herself with looping thoughts and obscene stories. she found herself madly trying to decipher why he was the way that he was, she tended to hate anyone who tried to figure out what made her tick, so it felt hypocritical to be doing the same thing to Jonah.

She was at a crossroad. Part of her had to find out, to have the satisfaction of placing the last piece of a difficult puzzle, to step back and appreciate the gorgeous painting of a glowing sunset over a series snow-capped mountains. That was how she liked to imagine him, with eyes golden like the sun and his loyalty strong and unwavering amongst the rocky peaks. But another part of her was analysing him, selfishly figuring out how to freeze him in time so that he would always fit into the unchanging mould that was her life. She felt it, all at once. No one else had made her so desperately wish for time to draw to a stop like Bonnie had, not until now. It was greedy thinking, to put her own wants above Jonah’s. How egotistical of her to wish he wouldn’t get better so that she could continue to live her ideal life. So, so fucking selfish. If only she could claw that part of her brain away, the side that felt sympathy, so that she could continue to daydream of the both of them remaining together until the end of time, forever young and forever irresponsible. She pulled him close, feeling their skin compress so tightly so that she may never forget the sensation, holding him like it was the last time she’d ever have the chance and then wishing that nothing could bother her again. She was horrible, wasn’t she? But she couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t go through that pain again. She wouldn’t.

Please, she begged. Please don’t change.