Your phone buzzed with a reminder:

Race day! 3.30pm

You checked out your window; sky was clear. Perfect.

It was the last Saturday of August, and it was also your last day of 2023. You had no idea that you would never see 2024. Or 2025. Or 2026…

Your phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Will:

HEY FUZZ ready to get left behind.

Fuzz was his nickname for you. There was a funny story that went with it from way back, but neither of you could remember what it was.  Will sent another text:

I think he’s coming

A second later:

Sorry man, text u by accident. All goood.

This was followed by an emoji of a hand making devil’s horns.

You had just changed college campus, moved into the city, and the charity run was a great way to get a personal tour of your new neighbourhood, since the run went right through the central streets. 

At least, that was the plan. But now the run was overstaying the growing evening. The sunset streets were unreal pink and seemed to hum with conserved warmth. Runners pulsed indefatiguably past you, their shadows stretched back. The barricades warding off traffic also blocked you from running into a coffee shop for a long overdue drink. You just wanted to see the end, or drop and sleep.

You were so tired you were starting to see things out of the corner of your eyes that couldn’t really be there. You kept seeing the same two people in the crowd, a man and a woman, same dark glasses, same weird fashion sense, same odd lack of shoes.

On the streets, strands of people looked up from their phones to watch you pass. Pushing on, you reached Main Street, at the top of the cruel final uphill leg before the finish. By now, the bottoms of your feet burned and your hamstrings felt like piano wire, but your energy rejuvenated at the sight of the streets rolling downhill to the finish.

As the glowing molten sun began to melt on the horizon, you finally crossed the finish line. A stationary firetruck siren played in celebration and people dutifully cheered for you. An organizer gave you a water bottle as you peeled the number 1420 off your t-shirt and tossed it in the trash nearby.

Across the street, there was your best friends: Will was the tall, dark-haired, pale guy, the leanest of the three of you, you and surprisingly fast; he could sprint like a starving person chasing a meal in the desert if he wanted.  Right now he was relaxed, talking to a girl.

That was Ash, his girlfriend. She had very bright eyes and some tattoos down her forearms, that were elegant and not thuggish. She had a slim top, baggy pants and a baseball cap. She was actually quite attractive, despite the wannabe hip-hop look. Not like you’d say to her face, but she was such a ‘pick me’ girl; if Will was in a rock phase she’d go around wearing ripped jeans and black band tees, if he was into electronic music, she’d be all up in fluro colors and party dresses. Right now, he was into hip-hop.

At least Jake, your other friend, didn’t have a girl clinging onto him at the moment. Actually he was newly single.

Jake was the opposite of Will in every way. He was broad but shorter, with lighter hair and a tan, and very friendly. And a lot more time to work out since breaking up with his ex; he must have finished the run just before you, and was now in the middle of stretching his hamstrings. Jake seemed to be taking the break up well. He was his usual, happy-go-lucky self.

You went over to your friends. Jake earnestly squeezed your shoulder as if you had beaten him. Just the kind of guy he was. You had to admit, Jake was incredibly loveable, not that you would have said that to him. And then there was Will. Will gave a twisted smile and said too bad, you would only have beat him if there was some kitty waiting for you on the finish line. Only he didn’t say ‘kitty’.

"HEY!"

Will's face dropped. A little girl had suddenly run up to him, her hair streaming behind. It was his kid cousin, Lara, who was only seven years old. She was often over at Will’s place so you saw her sometimes when you visited. She loved to talk and try to get you to play games with her. She would be such a precocious brat if she wasn’t so nice to you, for some reason.

Now she bounced over to high five Jake and low five you, and then glared at Will. Apparently she’d given him a packet of gummi bears for energy on the run, but now he was finished, she wanted them back.

“Non-refundable,” Will said, and burped.

Lara was addicted to gummi bears. Now was pissed off. She demanded Will buy her some more. Then she got Ash on her side, and since Ash liked Lara, as you did, that wasn't very hard. So, to get her to quiet down, Will left you and went with Lara to a nearby vending machine.

Ash went too. Ash and Lara chatted like they were best friends; Lara was so precocious she didn’t notice or care Ash was a college girl, and she was still in grade school. You found it hilarious to see stoic, sarcastic tough guy Will getting bossed around by his kid girl cousin, who was riding his shoulders, and slapped his head when he said something that displeased her.

Meanwhile you spotted someone else in the crowd. It was a girl wearing leggings and pulling a hoodie on over her athletic crop top. She was strange and familiar at the same time, with Will’s tall, lean frame, some of his features, but nothing else really. You recognized her instantly. Strange that you could be best friends with one twin, while the other had always been mystery, a foreign country, with only a shade of surface familiarity.

The girl was Will’s twin sister. Her eyes casually wandered the crowd, searching for someone, probably Will or Lara.

Then she saw you.

You wondered if she knew your last name.

Her eyes hesitated on you for a fraction, hanging on a silent question. Her expression was difficult to read. Puzzled? She bit her lip.

“They’re over there,” Jake called out to her, pointing out where her brother and cousin were.

Whatever the girl was going to say, she shrugged it aside and went over to her brother and cousin.

“Hey, smile!”

A social media rep for the medical organization had stopped and raised a camera.

Jake slung his arm around your shoulder. He could do this because he was slightly taller than you, although he didn’t act like it. For some reason, Jake looked up to you, he made you feel like the boss, even though it was Will who acted like the boss.

Will returned, still piggybacking Lara, who had a new pack of candy, and Will's twin sister as well. The three of them , brother, sister, and little cousin, quickly got into the shot with you and Jake. Then Will told the cameraperson to wait a sec, as he called Ash over. She raced in, sidling up against Will's shoulder, and you were all smiling and posing, and debating what you should say instead of cheese.

The rep took the photo. Apparently they were going to upload it to the organization Facebook page for promotional reasons.

The photo would gain attention for other reasons.

When you looked around, it was just you, Will and Jake again, amidst the sea of finishing runners. Ash had left, and Will’s twin had taken Lara back to her parents.

As the sun went down, you went up the street with your friends, looking for a quieter hang out before it got too dark and everywhere closed up. With all the runners having finished, the race was terminated and organizers were dismantling the barricades blocking the road, allowing people to access the shops. You watched more and more people trickle out of the big city central mall down the block, flocking under the strobe-lit strip, most heading out towards the train station, some stopping to catch an Uber.

Later you were going to catching a ride back home with Will. At least, that was the plan. Then Will came up and tapped you on the shoulder.

“My sister,” he clarified, “says she’ll take you home with her.”

Twin sister, you said out loud without thinking.

“I only have one,” he said obviously. And under his breath, he added, “Lucky for me.”

When you didn’t say anything, he added:

“You remember her?”

This wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” you said. “I remember. You aren’t heading back home?”

“I know I said I’d get you back home, but change of plans. I’m catching up with someone in the city. Probably going to be late getting home and he’s letting me take his sofa tonight.”

“Okay,” you said, shrugging.

You imagined sitting up in the passenger seat with his twin sister driving. An hour long ride trying to be subtle about the fact you knew next to nothing about her, despite going to school with her and being friends with her brother for so long. That was sure to be an awkward conversation.

“Hey, she’s cool with it,” Will added. “She even asks about you sometimes.” He was shuffling through notifications on his phone. “Ah, she just texted me. I think she wants to meet up and have dinner together.”

“No problem,” Jake said. He had just wandered over to see what you and Will were doing.

“Seriously?” Will said. “It’s lame. Listen,” he seemed embarrassed to hang out with his sister. “We could just say you both left early.” He shrugged. “What do you want to do, Fuzz?” He looked at you, so did Jake.

It was an odd question. Why were you the deciding vote? It was Will’s sister, not yours.

“Whatever,” you said to Will. “Your call.”

“Sure it is,” he began tapping out a text reply, “I’ll tell her she just missed you guys and we can get together another time. Like in ten years. Boys night. Keep it that way.” He hit send on his phone. “Boom!”

The three of you laughed, the air immediately clear again.

It was boys night, you remembered, you were going to go bowling and then Will had promised he’d show you and Jake a late night haunt of his, allegedly a ‘secret’ strip club, called Hotcha, and he would buy the bowling winner a lap dance and a private booth in the back with their choice of girl. He said what the girls do to you inside the booths is ‘off the books’ and ‘goes up to eleven’. He swore they had a line-up of girls who looked like a million dollars, in fact many of them were some of the hottest girls in your recent college alumni, who worked the booths on the side, they looked like models and they act ‘totally different’ in the club, the ‘inner she-tiger’ comes out.

This all sounded pretty dubious to you. However, you'd have been lying to say you weren’t curious. At least not knowing about this fabled place, if it was true, seemed to be a sin against college social relevance. And now with Will’s sister out of the scene, nothing was stopping you.

Only Jake had reservations about the club, because he was the opposite of Will in many ways, he was a goody-goody, happy to go steady with one girl at a time, very, very steady. At least until yesterday, when he and his girlfriend amicably broke up, of course, because Jake did everything amicably. Naïve optimism radiated about him. He believed another girl would just happen in her own time. You couldn’t help but like Jake, as did most people, he was the most harmless person you knew. Girls liked him for extra reasons; like, Will, Jake was tall, but also broad, almost chunky. He radiated a sense of always being fundamentally the same, candid and transparent. If you didn't trust him, you trusted no one.

The three of you came upon a bustle of streets lined with dine-in restaurants. The pavement was washed with romantic light and people were making out in window booths.

Will marched on.

“I can’t go for a seat up in a diner right now,” he said. “All this cute couples stuff. It’s really grinding my gears.” Most of the people participating in the run were college age, and the event had attracted a lot of young couples, who finished together. You’d seen people running hand in hand, and it made you cringe a little.

The three of you continued up the street until the relative number of young college-aged couples thinned.

While Will was on the phone, Jake decided to split up to go get a drink from a place a few blocks away. You watched him depart and disappear into the crowd. Then Will looked up at you and grinned.

“She bought it. Now, I’m starving. What are we eating?”

You told him where Jake had gone.

“He couldn’t even wait two minutes for me to get off the phone,” Will exclaimed.

“I think it’s the break-up or something,” you guessed aloud. Even if Jake seemed okay on the surface, you suspected he had to be feeling something about it. It was only recent.

“Whatever,” said Will. “He can come check us out later. Right now, we’ve got to find something to eat.”

You agreed. All you’d consumed in the past few hours was water, and now you were starting to feel it.

The two of you headed down the street, surveying shop fronts for a café or restaurant that didn’t look too cheesy or full of gushy couples. You searched for a steakhouse or family bistro. All of these places were overpriced dining houses.

“I want a giant burger,” Will said.

Eventually you came to a strip of restaurants alongside a parkland. Then Will’s phone rang and he whipped it out.

“Oh shit,” he said. He quickly got off and turned to you. “Hey, I know this is kind of left field, but I’ve got to run down to the bus station and talk to a friend before they catch the bus. Meet up later, dude.”

The bus station was a block away. He wouldn’t take long, but you were quietly bummed both your friends were ditching you. You normally would have offered to just go with Will, but your legs ached. There was a warm lit, after hours café a couple of shops down, a particular favorite of local college kids, and you found yourself eyeing it with interest. You could sit in there and grab a cold drink while you waited for Will to return. On the other hand, you could call the night in, get drive through take out and take it home. But then you would miss out on bowling and the chance to see Will’s secret bar…

“Sure,” you said. “I’ll just be in that coffee place over there.”

Will hurried down the street while you headed up to the café. The brick path was bathed in warm lamp lights and people sat out, sheltered by wooden scaffolding and canvas umbrellas. You’d hit another romantic minefield. Oh well. You were about to head inside—

Someone came up behind you, surprising you by pressing their hand between your shoulders. You turned and it was a young woman, and tall. She smiled at you. She was gorgeous, and seemed warmly familiar. When you saw who it was, you smiled back.

“Hey there,” she said smoothly. “Surprise?” Her voice turned up at the last second like an uncertain question.

She wore a casual hoodie and black leggings; the combination of baggy top and skin-tight bottoms was admittedly cute, and appealing. 

It took you a moment to reach for her name. Noticing your hesitation, she gave your sneaker a playful kick.

“It’s Courtney,” she laughed. “Remember?” Her laugh was subtly questioning.

Courtney. Will’s twin sister. You hadn’t realized how cute she was up close.

She looked past you briefly.

“Where’s Will?”

“He’s just meeting with someone,” you said. “He’ll be back really soon.”

“Oh,” she said mildly. “Well, least I found you. This is totally the wrong way, though. I know this cool place we can do dinner. Come on—”

She noticed your confusion and gave you an inquisitive look.

“He didn’t tell you I was here?”

“He did,” you murmured, “he just…”

“Tried to keep it a surprise…” she finished, with a small presumptive smirk. Then she said: “Has he said anything about me?”

“No,” you said slowly. “Like what?”

“Oh, nothing. I mean, I’ll tell you later. Maybe. Anyway,” she tapped your shoulder and swished around. “This way.”

Suddenly you recalled the first time meeting her, many years ago. It was Will’s birthday party, and so it was also her birthday. It was the only party they had together since Will hated sharing his birthday party with her, and probably Courtney felt the same.

They were turning twelve and it was a costume party. You mom promised to arrange a really cool costume for you. But when you got home from school, the costume was a frog. She thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. It mortified you but it was too late, so you thanked your mom and put it on, even though you felt like a dork.

Unfortunately, you had already bragged to Will how cool your costume was going to be, so when he saw you, he burst into laughter, and called you ‘Kermit’ the entire time. His costume was very cool.  Meanwhile Will’s parents thought you were so damn cute, Will’s mother practically pinched your cheek and patted you on the head.

When the birthday cake was brought out, Will’s sister appeared, dressed up as a princess. It should have been cute until one of the kids made the obvious observation that, you were a frog and she was a princess, and what should happen next was so obvious it didn’t require the other kids to laugh and spell it out, in chorus:

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Then one of the kids broke out with ‘Kiss the girl’ from the Little Mermaid in a terrible Jamaican accent. You went a burning shade of pink.

Courtney didn’t react – except for the kind of glazed over expression girls got when they wisely pretended to not have heard a dumb comment. You guessed she was as embarrassed as you, if not more.

One of the party games was truth or dare. Most of the kids chose ‘truth’ and Will called them out for being ‘pussy’ which caused his mother to grumble at him. So, when it was your turn, you proudly chose ‘dare’. Next second you were being dared to kiss Courtney.  That one kid started up ‘Kiss the girl’ again.

Your face burned again and you tried to prevent your legs from shaking as you mildly shuffled over to where Courtney was sitting. Beneath your webbed green mitts, your palms were sweating.

You told yourself if you did it quickly and casually, it wouldn’t be so bad. Just like ripping off a band-aid.

Courtney sat stiffly in her big puffy gown and tiara and didn’t move an inch, she just stared at you the entire time, which made it ten times worse. She was blinking slightly too much and you couldn’t tell if her blinks were dumbfounded, grossed out or petrified. You wished she would at least turn her cheek for you or lean forward and close her eyes or do something. You shuffled closer, legs leaden and the webbed green slippers on your feet were like pool flippers.

Someone pushed your shoulder and you practically jumped. Suddenly you were on Courtney’s lap and the cheek peck had magically transformed into an accidental lip lock. A magic spell of amnesia was placed over your traumatized memory so you would not clearly remember any of this ever happening.

Now, in the presence of this young woman, much older than last time, you felt warmth in your cheeks once again, but for a different reason. It was a mile away from the birthday party. You were forced to look her in the eye, and she wasn’t a twelve year old girl anymore. She had a driver’s licence now and was even taller than you.

“You okay?” she said. “I said, guess who transferred to your college? You’re supposed to say, ‘Who?’”

“You?” you said.

She smiled.

“I’m starting next year. Maybe Will didn’t tell you that either.” She inched forward, with the ghost of her perfume brushing your awareness. “Will you still be there?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s my final year next year.”

She beamed.

“So awesome! You can show me around.”

“Well, I only just moved closer to campus a few weeks ago,” you admitted. “I’m basically new in the city, as well.”

She took this in appreciatively.

“Nice. So, we’ll both be figuring it out together.”

As weird as it felt seeing her here, you realized that if she was going to your college, you would have met her eventually. And it could have been virtually anywhere, the library, the college bar, the mall at the college’s own shopping precinct, or just passing in the hallways.  That wasn’t so weird, though.

What was weird was that, Will had mentioned earlier, that his sister seemed off when he’d met with her before the race, and conjectured it was probably because she said she’d recently gone to a fancy speed dating event held in an upmarket area of the city, and she reported that it was “mostly a waste of time”.

This gave you a weird sensation since it was the same event you had almost attended, but dropped out of last second because of car problems on route to the venue. If you had gone, you would have found yourself dropped onto a table with her staring back at you. The thought of your best friend’s twin sister, now a young woman wearing slinky dress and heels, sizing you up across a table for compatibility and potential sexual chemistry, and consciously knowing that you were supposed to do the same, was very strange. You didn’t know how to feel about that. She was the closest relative to your friend, thinking of her in a sexual light was not a backflip your brain could not easily perform.

Courtney’s touch casually brushed your arm to reel your attention back. You must have mentally zoned out again.

Your eyes had dropped to her admirably muscled set of thighs. While trying to come to, your eyes accidentally ran up her body and you noticed a very faint set of abs, and were even more impressed. It looked like she’d been training for the run in advance.

Maybe she was concerned your attention was going to wander again, because she said in a conspiratorial kind of way:

“Will can do his thing. Let’s catch up.”

She nodded you to follow her across the road, and down a block to an area called Fountain Park. It had an open field with benches and, further, was heavily shaded with trees.

Courtney stretched out on the trimmed lawn and your eyes again ran up her muscled thighs. Only then you noticed her running shorts were so tight they gave her a camel toe. Your stomach pulled tight and you tried not to stare, but the suggestive fold taunted you, pulling your focus like you were a fish on a line. You were trying so hard not to be a perv, it was mentally draining.

“I didn’t know you ran marathons,” she said, leaning back to survey you. You drove your eyes to her face, and locked them there.

“That was barely a marathon,” you said, “and I just came for the view,” you said before you could help it. “Of the city,” you added.

She finally looked away from you, groaning quietly.

“My legs are kind of tight. Mind if I stretch them?”

She was busy carrying out a stretch that seemed determined to split her legs to the fullest extent, and this actually caused her camel toe to shift around. You swore it opened a little, like a small mouth. It looked very tight and smooth. You could hear your pulse firing in your head. The level of discomfort blooming inside you was more acute than if someone threw a glass of chilled water down your back.

She noticed your eyes darting around – from her face and away, and back again. Mid-stretch she paused. Her eyebrow quirked and she smiled.

“What?” she said.

The words spilled out:

“Just, uh, noticed you have a pretty nice tan,” you said.

She gave you a puzzled look. She didn’t have a tan, any more than Will did.

Your eyes settled on a tiny beetle creeping through the razored grass, about the size of a passionfruit seed. You tried to fixate on its winding path, and channel the way the beetle care about anything, including its giant surroundings. Then Courtney repositioned herself to stretch her other leg, unknowingly capturing the tiny beetle squarely beneath one padded lip of her camel toe and neatly pressing it flat.

Judging from the pleasing sinew of her arms and legs, her camel toe was possibly one the softer parts of her, and the delicate beetle could not even tolerate that. When she shifted again, you noticed with a pang of regret, the beetle was still on its blade of grass, but now had acquired resemblance to a beetle shaped postage stamp.

As you squirmed, she stopped stretching and skewered you with another look.

“So…who are you dating now?”

She smiled a sly – very Will-like – smile, with complete awareness of her audacity.

Before you could help yourself, you answered candidly, practically regurgitating your dating history to her, even the bleak parts. Especially the bleak parts.

Courtney said nothing, but her eyes seemed to shine into your soul. And it felt good.  Cleansing. Finally, she gave another audacious smile and remarked conversationally.

“Well, you have an adorable little personality, Fuzz. A girl who really likes you will see that.”

You weren’t sure if this was a compliment, but just in case it was, you smiled gratefully.

Her eyes lingered on you, continuing to appraise you calmly. As you talked about your dating life, she’d been giving you several of these appraising looks. Then looking away. It made your heart flutter a little.

You were both silent for a moment. When you looked back at Courtney, she was looking at you. She tilted her head, coy, and then stretched her leg out and pointed the toe of her trainer in at a soft part of your stomach, giving you a meaningful dig beneath your ribcage. Then she leaned back on one elbow.

“You want to know about me?” she said, not looking up. And said before you asked: “I just got out of a relationship.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m definitely not.”

Her legs were pressed together and straightened. She dipped, pressing her chest to her thighs, showing off how toned her shoulders were. You wondered if she’d started lifting.

She wasn’t shy about her athletic prowess. She started to slowly do a kind of handstand, and gracefully spread her legs apart, trying to pull off the splits. Her camel toe became more and more obvious until you had to avert your eyes. There was also now a tiny blotch on her the fork of her tight pants where the beetle had been squished. As she stretched, the camel toe tightened and the tiny mouth looked like it was sucking on the beetle’s remains. Your stomach felt like a hurricane of butterflies.

Sitting again, she bristled.

“When did it get cold?” she asked suddenly, to no one. Then she rose onto her shins, and looked right at you:

“I think I need to warm up again. Jog with me?”

She made good speed. You ran until the end of twilight, dark enough to struggle to see where you were going, and had to slow when your back and legs began to groan. Your calves were tight and your stomach was cramping from water you drank earlier, post-race.

Clouds were stretching across the night sky, draining the warmth of the day.

Only now you realized Courtney wasn’t racing you anymore. She seemed to be leading you, deeper into the park, away from the crowd. She’d double back to check where you were.

“It’s getting cold,” you pointed out. She didn’t buy it, her eyes hung on your slight limp.

She leaned into your side, and her palm brushed your chest.

“I’m okay,” she said. Then she eyed you sidewise. “What about you?”

Your eyes dropped from her face. She noticed you staring at her hoodie and her voice became teasing again. She muttered something under her breath that made you blush. She was out and out wild. You just stared, not sure if you heard her correctly. Whatever you were thinking it wasn’t that.

You finally looked away, and in spite of yourself, smiled in surprise. She looked away, smiling also, as if you had just admitted her remark was absolutely correct.

She was teasing you. When you were with Will you felt tough and confident, but Courtney’s teasing made you feel soft and harmless.

Suddenly her hand curled inconspicuously around your own, and she wordlessly slipped your hand into her hoodie front pocket. It was warm.

The two of you kept moving through the park, leaving the roadside behind you. The ground began to turn to slush beneath your trainers. The earth was checkered with puddles and patches of longer grass.

Courtney turned suddenly and her palm brushed your chest to get your attention. She showed you a group of small frogs trilling on the wet dirt. They stopped silent as you drew closer but amazingly the frogs didn’t bound away. They must have been young or very tame.

“Maybe they used to be pets,” Courtney suggested, leaving your side to knee over them. She softly  tapped the head of each frog with soft finger, enjoying their docility. “You think they were dumped out here?”

Out of nowhere you recalled Will's birthday party, how his mother kept patting you on the head. You looked at the startled frog in sympathy. Courtney was very gentle though. She delicately scooped up one of the frogs and softly rubbed its moist body between her fingertips. The frog’s barrel-shaped torso squished agreeably between her finger and thumb. The frog didn’t look alarmed.

Courtney turned to look up at you.

“Remember my birthday?” She said. “It was a costume party.”

“Uh,” you said reflexively.

“I remember it.” Her voice turned up in a strange way. “You dressed up like a frog.” She smiled at your discomfort. “It was so cute,” she reassured you. “And all the kids said I had to kiss you.”

“That was, like, ten years ago,” you mumbled.

As if she hadn’t heard you, she continued:

“I was so young I thought, I would never actually do that,” she grinned, “I’d just keep you as a frog forever. You’d be my pet.”

“Hmm,” you said.

“I was young,” she declared. “Boys were gross, but frogs were cute. They still are.”

She put the frog in her hand back down amidst its buddies.

“Which one?” you said jokingly.

She stood back up, turning towards you. Her face was very close now. Her eyes and her lips were reeling you, that fish on a line feeling.

“Frogs.”

“And boys?”

“I’m not sure,” she said distractedly. “Maybe.”

She paused on your face with anticipation, trying to figure out specifically where your eyes were looking, and without realizing, bit her lip. You searched for a witty retort. Then your voice gave up as it—finally—occurred to you, that she might be—possibly—just waiting for you to kiss her. Hadn’t you already done this on her birthday? Why was it so hard now?

She leaned back on her hand, trying to dispassionately analyze your silence.

Finally, she decided aloud:

“You bonehead.”

In one bold move, she reached forward and squished your nose, a little painfully. You jumped. She laughed.

Someone then passed through the trees and came upon the two of you. It was Will. Your insides went shimmery like eels.

“Oh, you weren’t talking about me for once?” he said to Courtney. Then he looked at you.

“I wondered where you went,” he said.

You didn’t – couldn’t—say anything, as you had completely forgot what you were just talking about.

Even in the dark, you noticed the eye roll pass fleetingly over Courtney’s face before she turned her head to face her brother. He examined the two of you cautiously but said nothing else.

She told him nothing, getting to her feet gracefully and brushing down her leggings, smoothing the dirt off.

You also got to your feet, feeling small like you were twelve again.

Will suddenly broke the silence:

“Just checking out if you want to get some dinner at this great place in town.” He threw a quick glance at his sister. “You’re invited too, sis. If you want, or whatever.”

“Sure!” Courtney gave a dispassionate shrug.

“Cool,” you said.

“Cool!” Will agreed quickly, and said to his sister, “Better get running, Court. It’s down the street. Free tip: cut across the park. It’s faster. Laters. Fuzz and I are taking my car. Catch you there.” He kept going on towards the heavily shaded area, looking back at you. This way, dude.”

Courtney walked calmly behind the two of you, staring into the back of Will’s head. The three of you went back under the trees, heading towards the streets like electric stars twinkling through the trees. But your tendons ached and you were starting to lag. Suddenly, Courtney said from over your shoulder:

“Hey, tiny favor, Will.”

“What?”

“Take my car over there.” She quickly rummaged in her bag for her keys. “I’m going to walk Fuzz there,” she jumped into step with you, and at a glance, murmured: “Will can go back for his car later. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Problem?” said Will lightly, “You can’t drive yourself?”

“Well, let’s see, Fuzz and I were just in the middle of a conversation that you walked right in on.”

“My car’s closer,” Will replied.

Courtney paused, unwilling to elaborate.

“Guess I’ll just go,” she finally huffed aloud. “Don’t leave me waiting,” she said, but and throwing you a sly glance with added meaning.

Bonehead.

In her presence you weren’t sure of yourself. Still, you loved the devilish glances she gave you. Her eyes were a secret just for you, and reached into your inside. In a blink, she captured you, weighed you, and measured you for potential value. Her looks went deep, into you balls.

After this one last look, Courtney was gone through the trees. You wondered when you’d earn yourself another of her special glances.

Never knowing what a long time that would truly be.

Will and you strode through the park in the direction of his car, but little further on, your stride shortened from tightened muscles. The backs of your thighs started to feel like slabs of concrete. Soon you were limping a little and had to stop to massage your legs.  Will paused.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah, I just…” you mumbled, then straightened “…it’ll pass.”

You pushed yourself too hard on the run, and now it was catching up with you. For an instant you wished you could shrug off the dinner invitation. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t in a million years, because of the look Courtney would have when she realized you had gone MIA. All the secret light in her eyes would be gone. No more little glances for you ever again. That hurt you in the heart.

You had never met a girl like Courtney, because Courtney was, was…well…

Courtney was perfect.

Courtney was your bestest friend, if your bestest friend was a hot girl.

Literally.

You stopped and gasped:

“The ground is shaking.”

You barely even believed yourself. But when you looked ahead at Will, he was still, just staring into the night. He felt it too.

Will clicked back into action:

“Keep going, okay?”

“Which way is the parking lot?” you said.

“I’ve been following that light,” he said, nodding up ahead, to a white light between the trees. “That’s it.”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “We should be there now.”

“Is that light moving?” Will said.

You looked at the light and it was true; it was weaving through the trees like a drunk snake.

There were a couple of cracking sounds like a whip.

You jaw dropped. Suddenly there was a stick poking out of Will shoulder. He’d been shot by some kind of dart or needle. It was like a pencil sticking out of his back.

Then your back began to sting.

Ahead, Will’s legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground. You wanted to run to him. Then your body lost its tension, and you went sprawling forward, too. The ground pressed against your cheek and you couldn’t move. You could barely open your eyes. A wave of undeniable fatigue crashed over you.

Then it got very bright, and very cold.

It seemed like an instant later, you were lying on your back on the ground, staring up at the night sky. The stars were suddenly gone, and cloud blanketed the sky. The smell of ozone was in the air, like it had just been raining. Frogs were singing. You were wet and kind of numb, sedate, but aware enough to know you weren’t dreaming, but not aware enough to panic.

You were half embedded in thick, sticky mud, which pulled at your body like treacle as you fought to get to your feet. The mud made a kissing sound as you came loose. Half your body was wet and clay brown. Feeling gross, you stumbled forward and the mud sunk and squelched under your bare feet. It was horrendous, so thick, like a pool of tar. How deep did it go? For a moment you seriously were afraid you would sink under and drown. You were bare, clothes nowhere in sight. Your vision was blurry, but slowly began to focus as your night vision kicked in.

A voice hollered groggily:

“Hello? I know someone's there  —Answer me!"

It was Will.

“I’m here,” you replied, and heard him let out a relieved sigh. He repeated your name a couple of times, weakly, as if in shock.

You couldn’t see anything, masses of tall reeds blocked your view. You had to push them out of the way as you stumbled around, trying to find Will. The mushy earth squelched under your bare feet, which strangely was, and wasn't, cold. You could feel the cold, but it didn’t stop you. The numbness was lifting and feeling was coming back into your body.

“Will, are you still there?” you called out.

“I’m over here!”

“Keep talking,” you said, using the sound of his voice to locate him. When you finally stumbled upon him concealed within the reeds, he stared at you in shock. You stared at him. He was also slathered in mud.

You were both naked.

Will’s feet were half sunken into the soft, wet earth, and he didn’t seem too concerned. He lifted one foot out of the slush, only for it to sink in again when he put it down. His eyes widened.

“Is this quicksand?”

“We need to get out of here,” you said.

“Well, which way is out?”

You looked around, feeling hopelessly lost.

“Good question,” you said.

“Seriously,” he was growing impatient now, “where are we?”

You both stared around.

Somehow, the two of you had been dropped into the middle of a thick swamp.  Your bare feet sunk into the moist earth, and in every direction you were surrounded by tall, thick reeds surrounded you in every direction.

“Oh god, what smells weird?” said Will.

The air reeked of some kind of noxious odor. Swamp gas? If you hung around any longer it was going to give you a headache.

Craning your neck, you stared directly up. The trees reached the sky and the girth of their trunks was incredible. They must have been sequoias. Past the treetops, the night sky was cloudy, with some stars winking through. There was no end to the swamp.

“This way,” said Will, pushing through the reeds. You quickly followed him. The reeds were over adult height, it would be easy to become separated again, if you weren’t careful.

“How do you know where you’re going?” you said.

“I don’t,” he replied impatiently. “But you have a better idea?”

You couldn’t argue.

Tired, groaning, and sweat running down your bodies, you cleared the reeds, and stepped out into a clearing of bare earth. Wisps of fog danced around, and it stank even worse, a burning gaseous smell, and rubber, like a big burning tire yard. You always assumed fog was odorless.

A broad saltflat met the edge of the reeds. The earth was coal black, cracked, rock hard and bumpy, and drier than cardboard. The flat stretched both ways into the dim black night. You looked on in despair.

“This doesn’t go anywhere,” said Will, throwing his hands up. “Well, that’s great.”

It was strange that the wet mud immediately ran into the parched black rockbed, you thought. Like there was an invisible line dividing the two.

Not having heard from you, Will spun around and looked at you.

“Did we do something after the run?” he asked. “Drink something? Take something? Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you said, running a hand through your hair. You kept noticing the hairs on your arm were standing up and you had goosebumps from the cold, but it didn’t bother you. This seemed vitally important for some reason. But you didn’t understand why. You fought your memory for some sense of where your clothes were, but there was just a big fuzzy void of lost time. You earned your nickname in that moment, you felt like one big fuzz.

The fundraising race was yesterday, you recalled. You could remember crossing the finishing line, and then…nothing. You woke up here. You wondered if you’d fallen or had an accident, and got a head injury. But then, how come you ended up here, with Will, in a swamp?  A puzzle piece was missing.

“What do you remember?” you said.

“Dude, most days I can’t even remember what I had for dinner the previous night.”

“Well,” you interjected, “I can’t remember anything at all about the previous night. At least not past six pm.” You puzzled over this for a moment. It was like after six pm, time just stopped. And now it was running again.

Will turned adjacently and began to trail the edge of the black flat ground. Without thinking, you followed. Neither of you wanted to cross the dry saltflat, but you didn’t want to go back into the reeds with the thick abhorrent mud. It was either dry or wet. There wasn’t a third way.

The two of you were silent for several minutes into the night, just walking. Your thoughts cycled around and around…

You had an accident, you decided. You fell, hit your head, and passed out for a few hours. Now it was probably still Saturday – the same day of the race – but later Saturday night. It could even be, at latest, Sunday, very early morning, between one and four am. If you could find the moon you could probably guess how early it was, but the trees blocked it out.

Your clothes were gone. Some lowlife must have stripped you and stole them –creepy. Or… your head injury caused you to be momentarily confused, and you took your own clothes off and left them somewhere.

That didn’t explain Will. In fact, it didn’t explain a lot of things.

So maybe Will and you got stuck in the swamp, you both got confused, fell over. Your clothes got wet and you had to take them off before you got hypothermia. In all this time, your surroundings hadn’t changed. The black saltflat kept going on and on, in a straight line. Out of nowhere you thought: she's waiting for me.

I have got to meet Courtney.

She had looked at you that way, and it was like your heart made an unbreakable promise to yourself. You would meet her at the restaurant. Then she would drive you back to your place. And then…and then…

…And then you and Will didn’t show up to the restaurant. You were missing. And Will wasn’t answering his phone, so no one could contact you.

Let’s say, on the way to the restaurant, Will and you were jumped by some thugs. They beat you over the head, stole your clothes, and dumped your bodies in a swamp. With a sinking feeling, you realized this all fit. It explained basically everything.

You mentioned your theory to Will. He stopped and stared back at you for a second.

“You think so?” he said. “So where’d these jerkasses run off to, with our gear?”

“Beats me,” you said.

“Yeah, so…where are we?” Will had stopped walking, and bent to take up a stone. “Are we even getting anywhere?”

He had a point. You must have been walking alongside the marsh for the past forty minutes, but the marsh just kept going on.

Will suddenly tossed the stone and you both watched it skipped over the dry black rock like a tennis ball. You both stared in surprise. It made no sense. Either the stone was much lighter than it looked, or Will must have thrown it pretty hard for it to do that. When the stone stopped moving, it had almost crossed the marsh. You never knew Will was such an amazing shot. He should be playing baseball.

Actually, now you noticed something about the shape of the black flats; it ran in a wide, very straight line. It had been running like this since you first came upon it. Across the other side of the black flat was a bare plain that went on to a line of towering trees, into the distance. In the dark, the trees were just black silhouettes.

The cracked flat probably used to be a river, but the water had all dried up, leaving a wide trail of black, desiccated, cracked earth. You were positioned on one side of this ancient black river bed, looking across to the other side.

Suddenly, Will gave the saltflat a strange look. He stepped forward onto the dry black earth and knelt, running a hand along the ground.

“Hey, do you feel that?” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“Is somebody drilling around here?”

Curious, you reached down, pressing you palm against the ground.

There was nothing at first. Then you felt it. A tiny vibration spasmed through your hand. Then another. Steadily, they began to increase in size, and come in faster. It was like an approaching storm.

Will stood and looked at something in the distance, over your shoulder. You turned to see two pinpricks of light in the dark, and watched with interest as they rapidly grew larger.

The vibrations now ran under the soles of your feet, and still got steadily bigger. You instinctively stepped back, receding just into the reeds, but continuing to peer out in curiosity at the oncoming lights.

It was clearly some kind of oncoming vehicle. But why would anyone drive a vehicle around on this strip of baked black earth.

Will hadn’t moved. He stood on the edge of the black earth like he was in shock. When you gazed out again, the pinpricks of light had grown into enormous strobes, and kept growing into stadium sized flood lamps until they were too bright for you to make sense of. Your brain shrank back in pain. The lights flooded up your vision like balls of white fire. You scrunched your eyes.

You stumbled back, dazed, as the strobes’ intensity seemed to penetrate your brain with injections of pure light. Off to the side, Will winced aloud. He was standing on the black rock, rendered a complete idiot from the light.

The rumbling deepened as the vibrations in the ground rattled you. Your first thought: a semi-trailer…then a steam train…and then you no longer had any idea what it could be. It was big, bright, and fearsome.

Momentarily coming to your senses, you screamed:

“Will!”

Without thinking, you sprinted forward, grabbing Will’s arm and yanking him back just before something as big as an ocean liner roared past, going at supernatural speed. The air swept you like a whirlwind, taking you right off your feet. The two of you were blasted backwards, tumbling over each through the reeds, and plopping into the soupy, watery ground. Will was on top of you, pressing you into the film of moisture. You couldn’t breathe. You pushed and kicked at him, and he finally rolled off you and helped you up.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Dripping wet and splattered with mud, you both crept out of the reeds to peer into the darkness. A plume of exhaust swept over your face, and trailed away into the night. That was the cause of ‘swamp gas’ smell. Gas exhaust. It rolled vaguely in the air. That giant cruiser belched fumes in its wake.

“What the hell was that?!” said Will.

“Will,” you said, blandly, “that was a car.”

“That’s not possible,” he countered. “A car that big…it wouldn’t even run under its own weight.”

Even as he said this his nostrils flared with distaste at the oily smell wafting in the air, of burned fuel. 

You stared at the cracked, rocky black ground bordering the forest of reeds, judging its width. Your eyes followed one reed up to the sky, trying to estimate its height. Finally, you looked down at your feet, which had sunk into the watery earth again. The mud came up almost to your knee. You did a few quick calculations in your head. You thought of how Will had thrown the stone amazingly far. Like gravity was different.

“Will,” you said, calmly, “what if we’re small?”

He shook his head.

“What gave you that idea?” he said sarcastically. “No, there’s got to be something weird actually going on here.”

"Is this weird enough?" you pointed out.

He wrapped his hands around one of the reeds and yanked angrily.

“Is this stuff even real? I bet it's like astroturf."

"Are you serious?" you exclaimed.

His muddy hands slipped off. He seemed surprised that the reed was so tough to break.

“We’re tiny,” you went on. You nodded at the reeds. “This is grass,” – you pointed past Will, out towards the dry black ‘saltflat’ – “And that’s the road. And that giant thing was a car.”

If the reeds were blades of grass, it meant the two of you were as big as a pair of walnuts. You said this outloud.

Will scowled and stormed away, heading back into the grass.

“This is crazy!”

You heard Will groan and turned. He’d tripped over an object half submerged in the mud. It looked like a plastic hubcap from a Monster truck. You helped Will up, and then the two of you pulled the object out.

It was a bottle cap. Even Will could see that.

Then, all at once, it began to rain.

The two of you stared at the road, astounded, as water balloon-sized raindrops fell and burst across the asphalt. The hissing white noise of rainfall filled the air. Will opened his mouth, saying something, but you couldn’t hear him. Something big and cold splat on your head. Then again. And again. You went to shout to him to get cover, but a huge raindrop fell in your mouth. It was like someone hosed water into your mouth; the spurt of water filled your throat and choked you for a second. There were crunchy dirt particles in your mouth from the drop.  

Meanwhile the rain filled the air. It didn’t patter, it smacked and burst. The raindrops had a lot of surface tension and clung to your face like watery slime. You desperately rubbed your face to wipe the thick water away before it suffocated you. You couldn’t see; as thick water slapped your face the world was hidden behind a blurry curtain.

In shock, you put your head down and, reacting on pure instinct, began bending and creasing the blades of grass to provide cover. Nearby, Will was frantically doing the same. Soon you had made a crude thatched roof for shelter, and the two of you huddled beneath. All around you the rain slapped and burst.

After ten long minutes, the drum roll faded away, leaving you wet, puzzled and disquieted. Will was silent, still trying to accept reality. That morning you recall seeing clear skies on your run earlier, and you’d felt grateful. The rain had come out of nowhere.

Considering this, you stepped out from under the grass roof, where the bottle cap lay on the ground, and now full of rain water. It suddenly occurred to you hadn't drunk much in a while, given you had just run a marathon. You should be very thirsty, although you weren't. 

Picking up the bottle cap, you took a sip of the water. It was slightly thicker than expected, like a sticky, melted, flavorless slushie. Strangely, the drop clung together inside your mouth, and was entirely pulled down your throat in one swallow, somewhat like a spaghetti strand. You offered the bottle cap to Will, and without argument he took a long sip. Then said:

“We’ve got to find someone. Tell someone where we are.”

As soon as he said this, a strange notion entered your head. If you were the size of a walnut, that meant other people were much bigger than you. Unthinkingly big.

They were so big they could pluck you up daintily between fingertips, like a grape. You could barely imagine what this would be like. How could you even interact with someone so huge?

Will didn’t even acknowledge this. So you didn’t bring it up.

“Fuzz— check this out!”

Will’s face had lit up and he started charging ahead over the grass. Desperate not to get separated, you chased after him.

Will had seen something up ahead. When you caught up to him, you found him pulling at a big fabric sheet that was half buried in the ground. It was faded and distressed.

“It’s my pants, dude!” he said.

“Are you sure?” you said, automatically. It didn’t look like pants. What he was tugging on was enormous, like a garden bedding mat that covered an entire yard, not clothing. Of course, just because you were small, didn’t mean your clothing was. It still hadn’t sunk in how small you were, how big your clothing would be, by comparison. And the fabric Will was pulling at, was like a half buried hot air balloon.

Will was now following the length of his pant leg, and you hurried after him. The fabric was draped through the grass for many feet, going on and on without seeming end in sight.

When you were both panting, finally Will stopped at the waist of his pants, and began approaching the opening of one of the hip pockets. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he dove head first into the pocket, and quickly disappeared from sight. He was so small the pocket contained generous space for his entire body. It was crazy to see; he became a moving bump inside the pocket, shuffling around like someone crawling around under a bedsheet.

You shivered with a weird feeling. If this really was his pants, it meant you two were really, really tiny. You could scarcely fathom how large a normal person would be if they could fit these pants. How big you used to be.

As you looked on, you kept noticing something that was not right with the pants, apart from the sheer size of them.

Will’s pants were ragged. They can’t have been lying here more than a night and yet they were faded with holes, and even grass growing through them, as if they’d endured four seasons and tenfold exposure.

As you considered this, you noticed the pocket wasn’t empty. Will seemed to be moving around on top of a flat plate. As you watched, he resurfaced at the pocket opening and gave you a look of disgust.

“My phone’s here,” he explained, “but it’s so busted.”

You came closer and peered into the pocket, which Will held open for you. At first you assumed his phone had become waterlogged, but the inside of the pocket was dry. Not just dry, but dried out, wrinkled, starchy with grit, and packed with the smell of soil, so strong like the rich smell inside a cave after rain washed through.

And there was the edge of Will’s cell phone, stuffed in the pocket. You stared in wonder. Not just because of how huge it was compared to the two of you; it was like a table edge. But because – like his pants – it was in an impossible state.

It was cracked and the cracks were clogged with dirt and mush, the screen was broken and the metal was rusting. It took days at least for rust to accumulate, yet Will had only lost his phone for a few hours; this amount of damage was not possible within that time. This was a phone that looked like it had been dug out of a landfill.

Kneeling over the screen, Will punched the phone’s ON button. The screen remained black.

“Nice” he mumbled. “It’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

He tried to hold the button down but his whisper-soft touch was too weak. You came down beside him and the two of you pressed the button as hard as you could, each with both hands, holding it down for several seconds.

The screen stayed black.

“Seriously not cool,” Will said. “I didn’t use it at all during the race, and I checked it after. Battery was at 67%.”

“It’s probably not the battery,” you deduced aloud, “It must have got wet and short-circuited.”  

“Yeah,” Will said slowly, but he didn’t sound convinced. “This just gets better and better,” he said sarcastically.” He looked up at you. “Where’s your phone?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe it got stolen by the muggers.”

He tipped his chin up, surveying you loftily.

“You still sticking to that story?” he said.

“Well,” you said uncertainly, “what other explanation is there?”

“Fuzz, look around. We got turned tiny. What kind of mugger does that?”

“Then what, is this just a dream?”

“Huh, yeah,” he put his hands on his hips, which looked much less impressive since he was naked, “not unless this is some folie à deux -size shit.”

As the two of you stared around, something inside the pocket moved. An earthworm uncoiled like a snake waking up. You both let out a scream in unison. Will leapt out of the pocket and sprinted. Panicking, you galloped after him.

By the time you had caught up with him, and the two of you managed to calm down, you both finally reached the end of the swamp. With the curtain of reeds pulled back, you had a broad view across the area, which was a vast field. The big grass was sheared so short it was like regular grass to you, and easier to cross than the swamp—

—which was actually a regular park lawn with puddles. You realized this now.

In fact you started to get an eerie feeling you even knew this lawn. But it didn’t click until you saw something that made both you and Will stand together, frozen in shock.

Across the field one of the towering trees was moving. It was far away and yet immense. Your brain battled estimating just how big it was.

As the shape headed towards you, tiny vibrations zapped through the ground. Quickly these got bigger, and accompanied by dull thumps. The huge shape was also rapidly getting bigger.

The two of you yelled and clambered over the grass to get away. The soft thumps became loud thuds, which were followed by rhythmic bursts of air, like steam exhaust from a big machine. You knew, but could scarcely believe, it was the sound of a person panting.

While it took you and Will ages to clear the lawn, in mere seconds the shape had descended upon you, reaching you in several rapid strides. There were a couple of loud thuds right behind you before weight crashed down on you, hammering you into the ground like a nail. Just as quickly, it lifted. You got a view of an enormous, dirt-streaked sneaker sole raising into the air.

The footsteps stopped nearby, though the person seemed to have not noticed you. It seemed they’d stopped to rest.

Your brain whirled with confusion and disbelief. You had just been trampled but were still alive. You didn’t hurt but you were paper flat, and stuck to the ground. Your tiny naked body was etched with grooves from the shoe’s giant tread, like you were made of dough.

After a couple of minutes feeling began inching around your body and extremities. There was a tingling feeling and your arms and legs slowly inflated, and finally the feeling rushed back into your head. You gingerly got to your feet, feeling heady, and noticed Will lying at your feet. He was also flattened and  had treads stamped into his body. He must have been trampled one step after you.

You watched in wonder as his flat body began to inflate back to normal. The tread grooves slowly disappeared.

He groaned and you helped him up. He was blanched and in shock.

Breathing heavily and trembling you stared at Will. He looked back at you, ashen and wide-eyed. It dawned on both of you. This was Reality now. Capital ‘R’. You weren’t just tiny. Everything alive in the world was leagues bigger than you. That python had been an earthworm, and that behemoth had been a person.

You couldn’t think straight for a second.  You should have been dead. But, looking down, you didn’t notice any injuries.

Wordlessly, you both turned and stared again at the gigantic jogger who had paused feet away to catch his breath.

Despite your size, and your puny vantage point on the ground, at walnut size, even you could read the huge insignia emblazoned across his hoodie.

That was your college name. The same college Courtney said she was going to start at. The campus was a couple of blocks from where the charity run started. They gave out those hoodies to the students staying in the campus dorms, in a tote bag, as part of a welcoming gift to those moving in. If you could only follow the guy, you might be able to find your way back to a place you recognized, at least.

“That’s my college,” you said, pointing towards the jogger.

“You know him?” said Will.

“No, but I’m pretty sure he’s in the dorms.”

Will stared up at the jogger, and a hard  look came into his eyes.

“Well, here’s what we need to do. We’ve got to follow that guy. He’ll take us to people.”

You met Will with a look of complete disbelief.

“Are you kidding?” you said. “It’ll take us all night.”

Will fixed you with a determined look.

“Seriously, Fuzz. We can’t stay here forever. Did you see that guy nearly killed us? Anyway,” his eyes narrowed with determination, “we’re not going to follow him. We’re going to get a ride.”

Then he turned and began sprinting towards the guy’s mega-sized left sneaker.

You stood for an instant, utterly speechless. Then, you ran after him, even though your instinct said to back off from anything as large as the jogger was. Even as you were running right into a giant’s personal space, your instinct to stay with Will was stronger.

The closer you got, the more the man’s sneaker seemed to balloon in size, until it threatened to fill up your entire view.

Up close, his sneaker was flecked with wet dirt granules. You felt a shiver of distaste since this same sneaker had just unthinkingly used your tiny body as a platform.

Will began yelling out and waving his arms.

“Hey! Can you hear me? I’m down here!”

Anxiously, you gazed up into the jogger’s face, looking for a sign he’d seen you. The man had just pulled out his phone and was fixated on it. His face was pink and shimmered with sweat. Sweat patches also ran down his sides.

You joined Will in yelling out, but the man kept ignoring you. Your tiny voices died on the wind; you were practically bugs to him.

“Fuzz,” Will said, “get aboard or get left behind!”

He launched up, agilely scaling the man’s sneaker up one of the laces, like a rope, until he made it to the top of the shoe.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t want to get on the man’s shoe, but the top of the shoe was, admittedly, one place you couldn’t be stepped on. Taking a deep breath you gauged the man’s sheer size. His sneaker alone was the size of a moving van compared to you. You were about the size of a large marble compared to him, maybe a little smaller than his big toe, but bigger than his second toe.

Will leaned over and offered his hand. Grabbing it, you climbed the side of his sneaker. The mesh fabric gave you tiny handholds, and since you were so light, climbing took remarkably little effort. Will was able to help pull you up with one arm.

You tugged on a length of shoelace and squeezed yourself in against the sneaker’s laced tongue, before belting part of the shoelace over your chest to keep yourself in place.

As the man took a step, the shoe bounded upwards and then dropped like a hammer. A tremendous quake ran through your whole body. You gritted your teeth and your knuckles went white from clenching the laces so hard.  This happened again, and again, sending you hurtling through the park at what seemed like great locomotive speed. Every step shook you like dice, but you managed to stay on.

The man’s pace went from walking to jogging, sending rocket fuel into his stride. The world was turned into a bouncing, blurred amusement park ride. Your tiny body was so squishy, it safely absorbed the shock of each step.

It seemed like forever, but within a few minutes, the man’s pace slowed again as he crossed the park, and passed an oddly recognizable sight. You stared in shock at the expansive flat ground that made up a small parking area, filled with monstrously large cars, lit under some strobes that hit your face like suns.

It was only an hour ago, that Will, Courtney and you were heading to this very parking area, for Will’s car.

Will noticed because he yelled something in alarm, but as the jogger took another step, whatever he said was snatched by the rushing air.

“What?” you yelled.

“My—!” he began, before another plummeting step shook the words out of him. You assumed he was going to say ‘car’. It must have been still parked there, where he left it. But now you were heading past the parking lot, Will had no way of getting to it. While in rapid motion, you were both trapped on the man’s shoe for better or worse.

But now you knew where you were; beyond the car park you knew was your college dorms, which meant familiar shelter, at least, and maybe some recognizable faces who could help you.

The man followed the pavement beyond the parking area to the face of a building that was cruise ship size to you. When you realized where you were, your heart plummeted.

In the space where your old, reliable college dorms used to stand, there was a mammoth shopping center, glassy, and modern, in bright friendly colors. Your dorm building was nowhere in sight. There was just the gargantuan shopping center, across from a new suite of single storey apartment buildings.

You gazed out in despair. Your dorms were just past Fountain Park, and in view of the parking area. The nearest shopping center was a couple of blocks away, and there were no new apartments. This place was somewhere else.

Meanwhile, the man came to a long set of buildings adjacent to the shopping center. It looked like an apartment front. He walked you inside, and as he swept through the lobby, walls flashed past and you briefly glimpsed some regalia pinned to a billboard that had familiar colors and name.

It was the name of your college. So this was the college dorms. But there had to be a mistake, you were certain you had never been in this building before. 

Before you could figure anything out, generic apartment building interior swept by, giving you mostly a view at ankle height, of carpet, wall and skirting boards. The landscape flew past too quick to make out specific details.

Riding out the rocking trembling footsteps, you were planted right in front of a door. With a rustle and clink of keys, the door swung open and you were shuffled into the room.

Here the ride finally stopped, as the giant man let out a big breath, like a machine piston, and went to remove his shoes. You didn’t jump off in time, and found yourself in focus as the man bent to undo his laces.

And saw you, strapped onto the top of his shoe.

Will and you both froze, and stared up at the man’s giant, bewildered face. He frowned and squinted at you, trying to figure out what you were.

You were naked and vaguely human shaped, but the shock and recoil from riding his shoe, and the pressure of his tight laces, had deformed you until you were thin and floppy. Unbeknownst to either you, the man assumed you were a tiny piece of cooked pasta that had accidentally got caught in his shoelaces.

Without a pause, his hand came speeding down for you, and in two seconds, he had plucked you up between his forefinger and thumb, which caught you by the head. Since you were belted tight in his laces, you stretched a little before snapping free, and were then lifted high up into the air.

Meanwhile, the man also took Will with his other hand.

You quickly found yourself suspended right under the man’s giant face, where you were rotated all around, so he could inspect you from all sides. Seeing you closely, he decided you weren’t a piece of pasta. In fact, you looked like a tiny, stretchy doll.

Unconcerned, he put the two of you down on his bedside desk, before leaving the room.  Now the two of your were on some college's gigantic desk, in his dim dorm room, and no clear way of leaving, if you wanted to. You still didn't know where you were, or how to find someone you knew. It was starting to feel too much. For a moment, heart beating inside your skull, you said nothing. You could barely believe a person just picked you up and inspected you like a little toy. To your side, Will let out a groan.

“That was weird."

Once you both caught your breath and your head stopped spinning, Will said:

"Someone took my car.”

“It wasn’t in the parking lot?” you said.

“Nope. Gone.”

"It wasn't Courtney?"

"She doesn't have my keys." He added without humor, "unless she's the person who beat up us up and mugged us."

"So," you said hesitantly, "you believe me; we were mugged?"

Will gave a half-hearted nod.

“Okay, but you’re still missing something. We shrunk. So how did that happen?”

“I’m still working that part out,” you said. To be honest you had bigger things to worry about. Literally. You didn’t want to be plucked up and inspected again. It was demeaning, objectifying. But you were too small to get down off the desk. Although your body seemed to be softer and gravity didn't affect you the same, you still didn't like to risk a huge drop like the one to the floor. Also, the guy had left the bedroom door slightly ajar, leading into the lit main hallway. You jumped at every little sound, worried some new person would burst into the room and eye you with interest. You were basically a sitting duck, waiting to be picked up again, and there was nothing you could do about it.

For several moments you heard activity coming from a kitchen further in the building. It sounded as though the man was fixing himself something to eat or drink. Then a TV played from outside the room, down the hallway, probably from the dorm common area.

Will and you stayed on the desk, since it looked too high to climb down. Will was pacing across the desk, scrutinizing the stationary on one end. You turned to watch him. Not looking at you, he suddenly said:

“We’ve got to get out of here, Fuzz.”

You just stared at him, thinking how dangerous the outside hallway could be, even more than the bedroom.

“I think we should tell that guy who we are,” you said. “And where we live.”

“No,” said Will, turning away from you.

“He might help us,” you said, incredulous.

“He might not. To him, we’re dirt that got stuck on his shoe.”

That was probably true, you admitted, but you said:

“That’s why we have to tell him we’re human.”

“And what if that makes things even worse? He keeps us like a prize he won at some two dollar carnival sideshow? Or sells us to some top secret lab coats at an alien research laboratory—?”

Will went quiet, and so did you. But your mind was still running. Then you said,

"What do you mean 'alien'?"

"Which part?" Will frowned. "I said science lab. Research. Study us. You want to be a test subject?"

You persisted:

"Why do you think aliens have to do with anything?"

"I don't. I thought it's muggers. That's what you said."

"Yeah...I thought so."

Then the man returned to change into some pyjamas. From outside, the TV was still going, but it was probably someone else in the building watching it. The man put his phone down on the desk close to you. The impact sent a vibration of shock through your tiny delicate body.

The man's gaze fell onto the two of you. Once again, his curiosity won out. To your utter dismay, he once again picked you up, catching you in a perfect trap between his forefinger and thumb. His firm touch caused your torso to be squeezed inward, narrowing your chest and stomach from the width of a walnut, to a pencil. For a moment you felt like your sides would meet together. He held you right up under his face, and then you found yourself get rolled back and forth between his fingertips, allowing him to idly examine every inch of you close up. After a couple of agonizing minutes, he put you down onto the table. You realized with regret that as long as you stayed in this room, he was probably going to keep picking you up and taking a look at you out of curiosity.

Then the light was switched off, throwing you into near darkness, as the man got into bed, barely paying either of you a second glance. After a sigh, he closed his eyes. Cautiously, the two of you watching the man. Within several minutes he rolled over, and soon, his low bass snoring trembled the air.

“Over here a second,” said Will suddenly, “I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m going to call Ash,” Will said.

Ashley, his girlfriend. Not the first person you would have called upon, but you didn't argue.

He stepped onto the giant college guy’s giant-sized phone screen, and used his body to work the interface, bringing up the call option.  You walked over and also got onto the screen, to help him. Will said her phone number aloud and the two of you worked to push on the screen where the numbers came up. Each key on the phone’s virtual pad was the size of an A3 piece of paper to you. Just to dial up one number was a surprisingly physical feat. The two of you had to walk around on the phone’s screen, sometimes using your hands and sometimes your feet. Then Will pressed dial and the phone rang.

You were both silent, your tiny forms illuminated by the phone’s screen, creating an island of light like a spotlight from below, amidst the dim room. You both waited for the sound of Ash’s annoying vocal fry, probably going to ask what you were doing bothering her  this late.

A woman’s voice did reply, but it wasn’t Ash. She gave an automated message that the number was not in service. You both stared, nonplussed at each other.

“Wrong number?” you said.

Will scanned the number that showed large along the top of the screen. He double checked each digit and then shook his head.

“No,” he said. “That’s it. She must have turned off her phone. Fuck.”

You stared around the dreamily dark dorm room, lost in thought. The room’s occupant, a young college age man, lay in bed, snoring with resonation that rattled your bones. Despite his colossal size, he was probably a couple of years younger than you.

Of course Ash’s phone could be off; it was very late, probably after midnight. But something didn’t make sense. Ash and Will were staying together, and since Will had obviously not gone home, Ash should be trying to contact him, no matter how late it was. Of all times, her phone should not be off now.

Only then you checked the time in the corner of the phone screen. And stared.

It said: 02:15 am, Friday 08-26-33

Will had not indicated it at all. He had not seen it.

You turned away from Will, and, feeling slightly dizzy, you wandered over to the very edge of the desk, facing the bed. The enormous shape of the man lying there was still. You stared at the back of his head, trying to determine how likely it was he was in on some big prank. But how could this be a prank—

Before you could react, the man rolled over and sleepily shifted closer to the bedside closest to the desk. Unluckily, you happened to be standing right on the edge at that moment and in an instant, a powerful wave of beer breath swamped you that stole all the air in your lungs. Your vision went black for a couple of seconds and you almost passed out. At the last second you managed to stagger away and get a mouthful of fresh air. The world swam back into focus.

Will was huddled over the phone.

“Okay. Gotta call the Justice of the Court, I guess,” Will said, walking back and forth over the phone screen to start inputting numbers. He had two nicknames for his sister, that and the Court Jester, depending whether he was in a good mood with her or not.

“Will, look,” you said, pointing to the date on the screen. He ignored you.

“Help me out with this—”

It had to be an error you decided. You crawled around the phone again, helping him input Courtney’s phone number. Then dialled.

Dialling…still dialling…

“I’m sorry, the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service, please—”

The same automated message again.

Will ended the call.

“What’s the deal?” he groaned.

“Are you sure that’s her number?” you said.

“Fuzz,” he ran a hand over his head, and gave you an exasperated look. “I know my own sister’s phone number, okay? I’m not punching these numbers in at random.”

“Okay,” you said, a little defensively. “But…they’re both out of service.”

“I see that. And the phone is the problem,” he said, kicking the phone edge like he was inspecting a used car. “Maybe it’s not on a plan. Or the reception is like Swiss cheese in this room.”

“Will,” you said slowly. He straightened and looked at you. “It’s been hours. Where is everyone? Is anyone looking for us?”

“It can’t be that late,” Will shrugged. “So they haven’t even realized we’re gone.”

You glanced again at the time and date that read on the phone. The time had to be correct, even if the date wasn’t. You said firmly:

“It’s been hours since we woke up. And you know it.”

It had been there for a fractional moment, like a gut feeling, when you had first woken. A feeling of difference, unidentifiable change. A nanosecond of panic; the feeling a sleepwalker must have after waking up in a new location, with no memory of bedding there. The feeling that time had passed. Not just minutes. Enough time that things – not just your size – had changed. Nothing was familiar. Nothing.

For an instant, Will looked confused, and you knew he had felt it too. Then he calmed.

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

You strained your brain searching for anything you had missed. Maybe you had put in the numbers wrong. The two of you were very anxious by now, your thoughts were racing, and it was highly possible you slipped up a number somewhere.

“The date’s screwed up,” Will said, glancing at the corner of the phone screen. He went on casually, “That happened to me once. There was a broken app that caused my phone date to reset to 2008 every time I used it.”

You nodded, reassured that he wasn’t panicking. There were actually rational explanations for everything.

Yes, it couldn’t be Wednesday in the future. It was Saturday in the now – maybe Sunday already – and you had last texted Jake Thursday; maybe he had changed his phone number since then. Was that so unlikely? There were rational explanations for almost everything.

You crawled across the phone screen, slowly inputting a website domain name in the search bar. Then up came the White Pages. Will stood back, watching with blank interest as you carefully typed in Courtney Rugger.

Rugger was an unusual surname, so it wasn’t surprising that so few entries came back. What was surprising was that there were no entries. Not even one.

Will said:

“That’s weird.”

He didn’t even sound that surprised anymore.

Undeterred, you typed in ‘Jacob Luxford’, and hit search. This returned several entries, but there was only one single ‘Jacob C. Luxford’, though the white pages wouldn’t you let you view his phone number or address unless you paid $10 or bought a subscription. Without hesitation, you went to wire a Paypal payment—

Declined.

“Wow,” said Will, putting his hands up, “is anything not broken today?”

Concerned, you next tried to log into your bank account. An error message came up.

Unable to verify any account with these details. Please ensure you have entered the correct account number and password and try again.

You tried again, twice. Then you were locked out for 24 hours.

You stared, reading the message three times with non-understanding. This was ridiculous.

“Guess not,” you said.

This was getting unbelievably strange. The error message said there was no account with your details. Your details were not incorrect, they were non-existent. You silently wondered if the mugger who beat you up stole your bank card and tried to use it. Somehow hacked into your bank account and changed your password. Maybe the bank was on notice for fraud and they were forced to lock your account.

You didn’t know what even made sense anymore.

“Let me try it,” Will said, clambering over the phone to bring up his bank’s site and input his log in details. You were both met by another error message, stating Will’s account was unverifiable as well.

“This is insane,” you said, beset with conspiracy-grade confusion. “Right?”

“Okay, let’s do something else,” he said, flipping onto another website. It turned out Will had a crypto account with some spare funds in it, and it wasn’t locked up or non-existent.

“Crypto wallets never have this problem,” he explained. “They basically never go down. Like, ever.”

He then created a Paypal account and wired himself the funds from his crypto account. Then he paid $10 through PayPal to White Pages and finally brought up Jake’s listing. You sighed in relief that something, somehow worked.

But there were more surprises.

The listing under ‘Jacob C. Luxford’ not only had a new phone number, but also a new address.

“I didn’t know Jake moved,” you said.

Will’s eyes narrowed as he read out Jake’s new address.

“What is it with that place?” he exclaimed, once he got to the suburb. “Everyone wants to move there.”

“I don’t know. What do you mean?” you asked.

He didn’t explain. There was a concerted look on his face as if remembering something. Then, seeing some empty envelopes on the corner of the desk, Will suddenly had an idea. He explained: The two of you were small enough to fit inside an envelope, so you could try to trick the man into mailing you to Jake. Then, once you arrived, you could get Jake to tell Courtney where you were. And then—

“What?” you asked, after Will went silent.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m hoping one of them can tell us what happened.”

That was unlikely, you thought. But finding Courtney would be helpful.

At least, to Will. You weren’t sure how you felt about seeing Courtney as tiny as you were. Wouldn’t she be as huge as the college guy? The thought flashed through your mind again:

She’s waiting.

You had to meet her. You had to let her know, somehow, you were still coming. And what other option did you have? Still…the post? Crazy.

For a long moment, you were silent, staring at Will to figure out if he was joking. Finally, you managed to say:

“That’s impossible. We can’t get mailed, Will. We could die.”

“Think about it, Fuzz,” Will said, pacing over the table to pull at a corner of one of the envelopes, bigger than a bedsheet, and drag it over to you, “we should be cold. We should be hungry and thirsty. But I’m not. Are you?”

“No,” you admitted slowly. You had made the same observation when you awoke; you should have been uncomfortably cold, but you weren’t. Last time you checked, it was August, but still, you were naked and it was nighttime.

“So,” Will went on, “I say it’s related to us being shrunk, and made squishy like this. That guy stepped on us. We should be toast by now. But we can’t get hurt like normal. And we don’t need to eat or drink like normal, either. We’re more soft but more…tough.”

“What if you’re wrong?” you said.

“It’ll take a couple of days for mail to get to Jake. Not going to starve in two days.”

Will had a very tempered voice and normally level head. This made him very difficult to argue with.

Still, you gestured at the sleeping man:

“You don’t think we should just try him tomorrow morning, to see if he’ll ask Jake to come over here, so we don’t have to go over there?”

“I don’t know this guy,” Will frowned. “And I don’t want to think he’ll decide to keep us for the fun of it.”

You thought about this, and then nodded. Will raised a good point; this man did not recognize you. He hadn’t realized you were human earlier. He might not tomorrow, either, even with the two of you trying to persuade him. The fact was, you didn’t look very human right now, and neither of you could explain how you even got like this.

But Jake would recognize you. So would Courtney.

Together you lifted a pen and stood it upside down. Then the two of you carefully dragged the pen tip over the paper, scrawling Jake’s address. This was made harder since the bedroom light was off, so you had to use the illumination from the phone screen, which kept blinking off. So you had to jump on the phone screen until it came back on again.

Then you stood back to check what you wrote. It was messy but legible. Meanwhile Will had another crazy idea. With his guidance, you helped him write on a separate piece of paper:

URGENT: Wrong address; please send to correct person!

You hoped the man would just obey the note and not overthink who wrote it. If you were lucky he’d think he wrote it and forgot, or someone else in the dorm left it for him as an errand. He was drunk; you could tell from his breath, so he could even mistakenly believe he wrote it for himself, and didn’t remember.

Although your body clock had malfunctioned a while ago, you intuited it had to be pretty late. Though it was still dark, some light was starting to come through the chink in the curtains.

You were both growing tired, so Will and you crawled into the envelope, to curl and go to sleep.

***

You were awoken by great pressure pinning you to the table. It was now morning and the man had gotten up. While Will and you slept, he moved some things on his desk, which included placing one of his study books on top of the envelope, without realizing. You and Will were immediately pressed flat, as flat as the envelope you were inside.

Frozen in place, you pondered how long you would have to spend waiting beneath the book. You couldn’t hear or feel the vibrations of his movement, which meant he had to be in a different room. You guessed he was showering or eating breakfast.

It felt like a long time, but after what was actually probably fifteen minutes, the weight was lifted off you, letting you breathe deeply and begin to reform your size. Will sighed in relief.

Then it seemed the envelope was caught up in a vise and you were pinched flat and lifted off the table. It felt like you were stuck between two firm hard objects. The man must have picked up the letter and his grip held you like you were a piece of paper. To him, you practically were.

You couldn’t move an inch, and were forced to feel yourself flying through the air, swinging back and forth at the man’s side, though you couldn’t see anything.

Luckily, the college guy had been drinking last night –at least, he smelled like beer – and when he saw the letter, he assumed he must have written the note and had forgotten it by next morning.

He left the dorm and stepped outside. From inside the envelope, you heard the front door open and shut and then the sound of his footsteps clap over sidewalk, the hum of traffic and birds singing. At the end of the block, the man came to a post office box and slotted the letter in.

Suddenly you were falling through the air, like you were on a plunging rollercoaster. Beside you, Will screamed. It was dark and neither of you could see anything, or what direction you were falling in. After a surprisingly soft landing atop a pile of letters, everything was quiet and still. Bird tweets echoed faintly inside the big letterbox, and traffic revved down the road.

You couldn’t see Will in the dark, but had a feeling he was thinking the same incredulous thing as you.

His voice shimmered with excitement:

“I can’t believe it worked.” He was obviously grateful not to be in the giant man’s possession anymore.

“We still have to get to the right place,” you reminded him.

Voices of chatting people passing by wavered in and out of earshot, echoing faintly as they bounced around inside the letterbox. These wavered away again. After several moments of calm, you started to drift asleep…

Suddenly your surroundings were alive with motion. You were being squashed from one side and then flipped around and being squashed from the other side. Boulder-sized weight was shifting around, with you getting packed between.

“What’s happening?” you yelled out.

Will responded:

“Mail process! We’re in the system!”

As the mail was sorted it was flipped and ended up pressed up between big volumes of other mail. It was dark inside the envelope, and difficult to tell which way you were facing. You were pressed one way, and then flipped and pressed another way. This caused your shape to steadily squeeze and become rounded. After a few hours of this, you had been pressed completely round. Your arms and legs were pinned against your body and you couldn’t move them, or your neck or head. The only thing still in shape was your penis and balls. So you were basically turned into a fleshy ball with a face and genitals.

Even despite this, nothing could shake your relief that you and Will finally had a plan in motion. Very soon, you might be able to locate someone you trusted, who could help you figure out what happened. You were willing to tolerate these indignities and discomforts if it resulted in telling someone where you were.

After the mail was processed, everything went dark and quiet for some time.

After all the exertion and panic, your body needed rest, so you drifted off to sleep. But you recalled every so often waking up to check where you were, to find nothing had changed. On the edge of wakefulness, you were aware of traffic sounds, a truck engine, vibrations.

You called out to check Will was still there, and once he hollered back, you calmed down a little, or went back to sleep. The time flew by in the dark. Sometimes you chatted with Will, but mostly the two of you were silent. It wasn’t so different from a plane ride. For at least a couple of days, you spent blocks of time asleep, since there wasn’t anything else to do, except play word games with Will – the type you play during a long car ride.

“A celebrity?” you asked.

“Warmer,” said Will.

“Are they alive?”

“Colder,” he said.

“Have you met them?”

“Warmer,” he said.

“Do they live in this country?”

“Really cold. Really, really cold,” he said.

“That can’t be right,” you said. You stared around in the dark, and remembered.

It was really cold.

It was like time had stopped. The calm breezy night had turned cold and quiet. Even the frogs had stopped calling.

When you threw a look back over your shoulder, you saw something following you.

That can't be right!

A big black tentacle the size of an anaconda was sliding over the ground. It rose up off the ground like a cobra, exposing a long transparent needle pistoning out of the end and pointing at you. There was a pneumatic whoosh like an air compressor going off, then liquid ice speared into your back, down your veins. You went numb and fell down.

*

It was really, really cold. There was a sound like strong wind from outside, and a shake of turbulence.

There were pulsing sounds, or vibrations echoing through a cavern, repeated mechanical groans, and a sound like rain, which wasn’t actually rain, and made you think of a sewing machine going really fast.

Some giant construction with metal arms had just been shooting you with lasers, although it didn't hurt. The machine made a steamy hiss and stopped, silent

Your eyelids twitched. You were lying on your back, on a hard surface, in semi-dark. Machines buzzed and trilled around you. Your vision slowly adjusted but your night vision didn’t kick in. It wasn’t that the room was unlit; but the walls were black. Giant shapes surrounded you in the dark, outside some kind of glass panel that curved around you like a dome, and separated you from everything else.

Your arms and legs wouldn’t move, but you were oddly calm, forgetful. Your breathing and heart rate refused to increase, as if you were sedated. Your thoughts refused to race, even though you were confused, you were not alarmed.

Then a voice:

u4;w2;Ԡʉb4;v4;(5;(7;ǀǁǂȾxœƍ(4;Ԡx4;z1;y7; (Understand this sound?)

It wasn’t a human voice. It was like white noise and ringing tones had been mashed-up in an editing program to approximate speech. There was no one in sight. Your skin was crawling at the sound; practically walking off your body.

“I think so,” you said weakly.

(4;(5;ԠɀȹԠӶǷɷɸʉǀǁǂȾɀȹɁʅӶǷt1;Ԡx6;y3;b4;v4;x6;y3;ɸʉb4;v4;x6;ɷɸʉb4;v4;t1;y2;Ξj5;p0;ɷԠȾɀȹt1;ɁʅԠԠǷɷɸʉԠt1;őœƍ(4;ԠȹɁʅӶw30;őp8;ԠǁǂȾɀȹɁǷɷ Ⱦx6;ӶǷɷɸʉb4;v4; (The sound is not us but we use it)

You remembered the black tentacle and realized it wasn’t alive; it was a cord or tube, or entwined cords.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

x6;y3;y2;Ξj5;p0;p8;p4;o9;k6;q2;y3;y2;Ξj5;p0;p8;p4;o9;k6;y3;y2;Ξj5;p0;j5;t1;s4;u4;w2;p0;p8;p4;o9;k6;q2;q4;r2;q0;t0; (We are inside a moving space machine)

You stared around, trying to work around the sedation. The blankness was infuriating. Almost worse than panic, only because it was so inappropriate. You just wanted to know if you should be panicking, even if you couldn’t.

“What do you want?”

There were tiny red and blue dots out there, blinking and changing. You wondered what they were attached to. The dark was bad enough, but these pinpricks of light were more unnerving. You hoped they were machine lights, and not eyes.

The machine voice answered:

Ƿȹp8;ĦĽIJ¥w30;őԠɀȹԠӶǷq2;q4;r2;q0;t0;őœƍ(4;(5;(7;y2;t1;Ξj5;p0;p8;ԠǁǂȾɀȹɁʅӶǷɷɸj5;r2;q0;t0;x2;xʉb4;v4; ȾɀȹɁʅӶǷɷɸʉb4;v4;w30;őœƍ(4;(5;(7;ǀɀȹɁq2;y3;y2;Ξj5;p0;p8;p4;o9;k6;y3;y2;Ξj5;p0;j5;t1;s4;u4;w2;p0;p8;p4;o9;k6;q2;q4;r2;q0;t0;ɷɸʉœƍ(4;  ȹɁʅӶw30;őp8;ɁʅӶ—  (the experiment has proceeded in three stages is now in termination the total time of suspended animation equals 1.3 *******—)

The last word was nearly unintelligible but it had sounded like ‘tergons.’

“What’s that mean?”

The staticky, polyphonic voice had carried on:

¥(4;(5;(7;ǀq4;r2;q0;t0;p0;p8;x4;z1;y7;ӜԈǁǂȾɀȹɁ (—the contact must die)

“Please let me go!”

j5;n pq0;ԠsԠnt0; beenr2; aq0;Ԡ q0;et0;r2;q0;nԠd t0;or2;q0; Ԡt0; sr2;q0;facԠԠ r2;q0; j5;nd (you have been spatially reconditioned you must be reconditioned again for successful return to your kind)

“Yes, let me go back!”

The eerie tones vanished, replaced by an instantaneous pulse of comprehension, so clear that you couldn’t be certain it hadn’t originated as a thought in your own head:

ȹ(4;(5;ȾɀɁʅӶǷœƍɷɸʉb4;v4;w30;ő(7; (Experiment terminated)

*

“So, what about you, Fuzz?”

Will sounded serious. You had been asleep, and now opened your eyes, yawned, blinked and looked around. Of course it was dark; the smell of paper was everywhere. You were still in the envelope.

“Yes?” you said.

“I said,” came Will’s voice, “when was the last time you had to go? – use the bathroom?”

“Uh, what?” You thought. “Before the race. I don’t remember.”

“So if we don’t eat,” he reasoned aloud, “we don’t need to go.”

“Sure,” you said, feeling uncertain.

A minute or so passed. Then Will said:

“You and my sister. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sounded calm, and a little curious.

“What? I don’t know,” you said automatically. “It’s nothing.” That was technically true. Nothing happened.

He contemplated this for a second. It was hard to tell whether he seemed angry or puzzled, since you were both in the dark. You couldn’t see him.

“Okay. Good talk,” he said brusquely, with sarcasm. “I’m serious though. Courtney said after she dropped you off at your place, she was going to stay over.”

“She never told me that.”

He didn’t believe you.

“It’s not a big deal, Fuzz, if you just said so.”

“It was her idea.”

“Yesterday,” he went on, “– or whichever day the race was –she wanted to know if you were going to be there. She texted me just to ask.”

“Why?”

“I thought she told you. She’s starting at your college and she doesn’t know anyone else there. You heard, right? Someone’s got to warn you; she’s going to be knocking at your dorm, trying to drag you to these weird weekend bohemian markets and things.”

He sounded amused, maybe the thought of you and Courtney dating didn’t really perturb him as much as you feared. It was still slightly awkward for you though; even if you liked Courtney, it was still weird to be talking about her with her brother, and your best friend. If they weren’t twins would it be less weird? Maybe, maybe not.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll see her around,” you said casually.

Will sighed.

“Fuzz, get real with me. Yesterday wasn’t the first time she’s asked me about you. This is a thing that’s going on now.”

“Okay,” you said. If so, you weren’t sure when this ‘thing’ actually started. Seemed like it started even before anyone told you.

“If you like her back,” Will went on, conversationally, “just get it off your chest. Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s not weird?”

“We’ve been miniaturized almost into quantum space and now we’re being sent by mail. Everything is normal compared to that.”

“Will,” you said suddenly, wanting to get off the topic, “you really think Jake –or Courtney—could help us return to normal size? They don’t know what happened.”

“Not even close,” he conceded, “but neither does anyone.”

It was true. Even if you were abduct—er— mugged, probably no one saw. And it didn’t seem like anyone even knew you were missing, which gave you a tiny sliver of hope not much time had passed.

“I’ve never been to this neighbourhood,” you said. “You said you’ve heard of it?”

“No,” answered Will, “I mean, sure I’ve heard of it. I’ve never gone there. Never lived there, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said. “So we could be anywhere right now. I thought you must have been there before. Like you said.”

“The only reason I know this place even exists,” he explained, “is because one time Courtney mentioned it. Just so happens,” he went on slowly, “she dreamed of moving here one day. So I was just going with my gut on this. But, no, I really have no idea where we are.”

“I guess Jake must like the same neighborhood,” you said.

“Yeah, small world,” Will said uncertainly. “But not for us.”

Truck engines rumbled as you were conveyed to each mail processing facility, gradually getting closer and closer to Jake’s new front yard. You spent much of the time napping, and experienced the inside of the envelope in blocks of displaced time.

Finally, one morning a couple of days later, you were awoken to the grumbling sound of a motorbike. Your envelope had made it onto the mail carrier delivering Jake’s mail. At least, you hoped it was going to Jake. You considered in the back of your mind, that the White Pages had printed a mistake. So many other little things had been going wrong, it wouldn’t surprise you.

At some point a stack of mail was dropped over your envelope. Although light, you were so small this created intolerable pressure, and then everything went white as you passed out.

There was a noise like someone tearing a newspaper in two and light burst onto your eyelids. Next second something huge caught you in its grip, shading out your vision again, and the pressure was like someone lying on you in bed.

The face of a man peered in, impossibly big, like the face of a giant from a movie. It took you an extra instant to realize who you were looking at. His hairstyle was different, neater, and there were other little differences. But after a couple of seconds you knew for certain who it was.

It was your best friend, Jake.

He had picked you up out of the envelope and now you were safely crammed between his pointer and thumb, as he stared at you, apparently perplexed. You were barely able to notice he had a different haircut for some reason. His face was more filled out, too, in a way that couldn’t be weight gain. His face was more angled, less boyish.

Nothing made sense, and the pressure on you was so great, you couldn’t open your lungs so you could speak. Your chest and throat were basically flattened, making you mute. The pressure of his grasp made you so dense you felt like a wad of clay that had hardened.

When you tried to speak, your throat was compressed into practically paper and no sound came out.

In no hurry to put you down, Jake took his time surveying you with vague interest. Then you were whirled around so abruptly the world became a blur and you lost track of which way was up and down. Jake had just began to roll you back and forth. He rolled you one way, then steadied you with his thumb, and rolled you the other way. The firm pressure of his thumb kneaded its way into you, gradually smoothing you even rounder.

As he contemplated what kind of tiny object he was inspecting, Jake seemed determined to keep doing this until he’d contoured you perfectly spherical. With your arms and legs pressed into your body, you couldn’t move or squirm. He gave you an unthinking squeeze, flattening you out of shape, and then rolled you for several more minutes, until you were returned to being round.

Losing interest, Jake put you down on a tabletop surface. You radiated in warmth from the friction and contact of his thumb and fingerpad. Your skin was pink and tingled from all the rubbing and rolling.

Meanwhile, Jake’s gargantuan hand swept back over to the opened envelope on the table, and this time fished Will out, only to subject him to a round of puzzled scrutiny as well. Will was also squeezed and re-shaped into a ball.

Then a phone rang from across the room.

Jake quickly placed Will down next to you, and swept around as he jumped to his feet. His arm came crashing into you headlong, and like you weighed absolutely nothing, you were brushed clean off the table. Suddenly you were flying through the air. In freefall, you got a quick glimpse of an expanse living room, with a window showing the night sky. You guessed you had fallen asleep inside his mailbox, and now Jake had only just collected the mail at the end of the day. It had to be late, but the way the house was lit up inside, and the fact Jake was still in his day clothes, it probably wasn’t that late. Then you hit the carpet. Your soft, light form cushioned the impact, bouncing harmlessly on the carpet fibers.

While you flicked on the floor, Jake got to his feet and moved like a storm across the room, sweeping you with a flow of air and quaking you with his mighty footfalls. You wondered if he’d accidentally step on you, but his motion departed across the room, to the door. In a couple of long strides, he was gone. You felt relief deep in your chest.

Suddenly, Will dropped from the sky onto the carpet at your side. He must have rolled off the table after you. Only problem was, he didn’t look like Will anymore. He looked like a ball with a face. Staring at him, you realized with a strange feeling, you must look the same. As Jake’s thumb had patiently worked you, he had accidentally smoothed your features so much that you didn’t even look like a person, or doll anymore. Now you looked even more like a kid’s toy than before.

That was bad. If you didn’t look like you, no one would recognize you. Not Jake or Ash, or Courtney, or even your own parents. Will's voice jarred you:

“This way,” he said, waiting you to follow him.

You both were at ground level in a humungous living room, surrounded on all sides by a rug the size of a meadow that seemed to stretch away in all directions. Furniture rose up around you like cliff faces. You had no chance of climbing anything, so your only option was to move along the floor. Will was already rolling away, and called back to you. You worked to roll your body after him. It was like doing somersaults at first, before you got some momentum up and it became easier. Your body quickly adapted to rolling and it became almost as automatic as walking.

Slowly making a path across the living room rug, Will led you towards the closest wall. However, the rug fibers were like thick grass at your size, and slowed you down. Will was speedier than you, as always; it was like the charity run all over again. Any moment it felt like Jake would return, and you were placed to get stepped on. Many times your tiny hands and feet got tangled up in the fibers and you had to stop and free yourself. The whole time you looked around, worried that Jake was going to re-enter the room and and you were so exposed there was no way you could avoid meeting the underside of his shoe.

But the room stayed clear. From another room, indistinctly, you could hear Jake talking on the phone. Across the room you noticed something on the floor, near the doorway. A shoe rack against the wall. One pair of worn trainers that probably belonged to Jake, each shoe like a parked truck compared to you. There was also a light pair of feminine sandals, also worn; like they must have been there a while.

You paused to stare at the shoes. Did a woman live here, too? You hadn’t considered that Jake had a housemate. Sensing Jake could walk in any moment, you were drawn towards the shoes. Given that you and Will were the size of walnuts, each shoe was big enough for you to enter and hide inside. The only risk was, if you managed to climb inside, you might not be able to easily get out again.

“Will!” you called out to get your friend’s attention. But he had nearly made it to the other side of the room. He just shook his head and gestured impatiently for you to keep going.

After several minutes more of rolling you managed to fight your way over to the window-side wall, where you both slipped behind the curtain, which seemed to stretch unimaginably up into the sky. The ceiling was so high above it practically was as remote as the sky to you; you half expected to see birds circling up around the ceiling lights.

Will was waiting for you. You made an effort to look calm and feel grateful your friend would wait for you, but deep down you were becoming slightly unnerved. If someone saw you, would Will wait then? It was like that old joke: ‘If you and your friend are being chased by a bear, you don’t need to be faster than the bear. You just have to be faster than your friend.’

Will was faster than you.

“You see how huge Jake is?!” Will exclaimed. “What does he think we are? He grabbed us like we’re grapes or something.”

You pushed your discomfort away, and said:

“We need to tell him it’s us. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t.”

“That’s not going to work,” Will shook his head. “I already tried. Yelled out and he still didn’t hear me. We must have pipsqueak voices.”

Crestfallen, you thought hard to come up with a new idea. Since he’d had a chance to stop and think, Will was already a step ahead of you. He said:

“We need to send him a message.” In ball form, he shifted on the spot. A shrug. “It worked for that college guy.”

You scanned the room, which took an extended moment since it was so big. Other than the rug, shoe shelf, and a welcome mat, there was nothing lying on the ground within reach, no drawing tools.

And there was another problem. When you wrote the college guy a message, you had working arms to hold the pen. Now the two of you were basically smooth balls of putty, even if you found a pen, you couldn’t do much except roll around.

And something else had snagged in the back of your brain. In the grand scheme of things, it was a trivial observation, but damn it, it wouldn’t go away. You said slowly:

“Jake looks different.”

“You think so, Fuzz?” Will replied, deadpan. “I noticed that too. He seems a lot bigger now.”

“He has a different haircut,” you persisted. “And his face looks different. His jawline, I think. Like he’s lost some weight.”

Although Jake hadn’t been exactly fat before, but his overall face shape was undeniably different. Harder somehow.

“And gained a lot more weight on his body,” Will butted in. “A hundred tons.”

“I’m serious, Will,” you insisted. “Something’s really weird, and it’s not just Jake. Listen,” you went on, “has it only been a day since the race? Because, what if we were knocked for a while, and the race was actually a week ago?”

Will had a disinterested look, but there was a shadow of concern underneath as he weighed your words.

“We couldn’t be knocked out for that long. We’d be starving.”

“We haven’t eaten or drunk anything, but we don’t need to,” you reminded him. “You said so.”

Will looked genuinely startled now. You both realized something at the same time. If it was true that, in your new form, you didn’t need to eat or drink to stay alive, it raised a very concerning possibility. You had no reliable biological indicator for how much time had passed. If you didn’t get hungry or thirsty, how could you know how much time had passed since you last ate or drank? There had to be something you could use, other non-biological indicators of time. But the only ones you had noticed made no sense. There was a strange pattern going on, and it had something to do with when you woke up small.

For instance, the weather had been bright and mild during the race, but when you woke up it rained beneath an overcast sky. Then when you found Will’s pants and phone, they were damaged. Now Jake was different, too. You remembered when Jake moved away to the other side of the country for a couple of years, and you hadn’t seen him in ages. When he came back and you caught up, he looked slightly different, but not in a radical way. He had gained a little weight from drinking and an uneven tan from being a warmer climate. It was a little startling at first but you soon got used to it.

It was like that now; like you were seeing him again for the first time in a couple of years. But it wasn’t just weight. Jake’s face, his brow, jawline, was less boyish and more mature. His eyes were more serious and grounded. His hair was shorter and neater. His build was leaner and he even moved a little differently, with better posture. You saw Jake only a day ago and he didn’t look like this. He looked and acted, and was, 22. Apart from getting a new haircut, he couldn’t change into this man in 24 hours. A weird thought; but you had to keep reminding yourself Jake didn’t have an older brother.

Meanwhile, you didn’t notice the sound of Jake’s resonant voice getting louder and closer, until he re-appeared in the living room, first as trembling quakes through the carpet before his towering shape followed. His shadow was bigger than a blue whale. Loud, heavy footsteps rumbled over the floor as his enormous shape passed through the room like a tsunami. Will and you instinctively pressed yourselves against the wall, although you were both well out of Jake’s path. He was still on the phone and the low resonant timbre of his voice thrummed the air like a truck engine as he paced around the living room.

“—no need to rush, hon. This works out fine actually. I said I’m making something…Yes! …Guess you’ll have to see…Don’t bother…I promise… Okay. See you soon…”

Jake didn’t stop moving. Once he had left the room and his voice cleared the airways, Will turned to you.

“Is that his girlfriend?” He looked dubious. “Didn’t he split from Katelyn just yesterday?”

Katelyn was Jake’s ex-girlfriend. You weren’t half as surprised as Will at this since you’d already seen the female shoes across the room, and put two and two together.

Will scoffed: “I thought they drew a line and it stayed that way.”

You weren’t sure why he was so surprised since his own girlfriend Ash was pretty forgiving herself, having episodically split up with Will only so many times before.

“I think Katelyn lives here, too,” you said, peering out from the curtain to spy the shoe shelf. “Look over there.”

“I knew this place was too big for one person,” Will remarked.

You had to agree; it was big and homely. Jake didn’t just crash here each night, he lived here, was settled here, and with space enough for someone else. Which was impossible, because as far as you were aware, Jake had only just moved here, and he’d only been back with Katelyn for one day, or less.

Will’s gaze fell on the feminine sandals, and he got an odd look. His face blanched. But for a moment he said nothing.

You looked at him, puzzled. True, the shoes were all shockingly big, but they weren’t any bigger than anything else in the room. And if Jake was back with his girlfriend in whirlwind time, it wasn’t really that unbelievable, he was friendly and likeable enough.

“What?” you asked.

Will turned away.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I guess a lot of girls must like that type of shoe.”

You glanced again at the shoes; a strappy, delicate, very exposing, slightly heeled pair of sandals that were not made for just any day at the beach or in the park.

“I don’t think those are ‘girls’ shoes,” you pointed out. “They're 'womens' shoes." Katelyn evidently had a mature, sexy preference for sophisticated female footwear, compared to a typical teenager's trendy love of keds, ballet style slip-ons, and ugg boots.

Now there were sounds coming from the kitchen. Jake was opening drawers and rummaging for things. It was close to dinner time, you realized.

Within a moment, light flashed past the living room window from an outside car that had swept in under the carport, and stopped. Jake’s other half had arrived home.

Slowly and indelibly your confusion was mounting. The sense that something was wrong with the scene was like a persistent thorn in your side. It was like you’d come back to the living room after a bathroom break and found the movie playing on your TV had accidentally unpaused itself. Somewhere, in a blink, a whole chapter had vanished. You could feel it. Jake had moved, resumed dating, lost weight, gained weight, changed shape, and settled. When had this all happened?

“This could work." Will 's voice had shifted to cautious optimism. “Another person around means we have an extra shot to tell someone we’re here.”

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound hopeful.

Will’s voice: you never noticed it before, but he sounded…young. And so did you. You had the crackly unsmooth voices of kids just stepping into being adults. And Jake did not.

From down the hall, the front door opened and shut. Then footsteps growing down the hall, closer, and different to Jake’s. They didn’t pound, they clapped sharply but carefully. Feminine shoes. You felt each clap in your head. It gave you a headache.

You and Will remained at the wall, behind the curtain. You had a great view to watch the visitor without them seeing you, and hoped it was a friendly face. A female voice echoed through the hallway:

“Jake?”

She wasn’t yelling but her voice resonated through you like a steam train horn. Jake replied:

“In the kitchen.”

A pause.

“You didn’t go bowling?” the woman said. She was putting her things away.

“Not tonight.”

—and then she appeared.

At your height she was a pair of dark leather heels at first, and much higher, a woman, achingly beautiful, svelte and leggy, with luscious smooth skin.

Totally blank, you just stared. You’d seen beautiful women before, but never on titanic scale. Never so big she could squash you with one toe of her perfect feet. Suddenly you were more aware of your tiny size than ever before, your incredible fragility and softness, and puniness, like if she even brushed her finger on you, you would melt or burst like a bubble. The thought of just being touched by her made your heart race. In the back of your mind you wondered what it would be like if she picked you up and put you against her lips. Your brain reeled and your balls tightened just realizing the stark reality of her size, and yours. Her form was a geological event; a stunning hotel with space to fit you.

She took such large strides across the living room floor that you barely got a good look at her. But enough to know she was sublime. Beside you, Will had gone into silent shock as well. Only, you sensed it was a different kind of shock. Then he snapped out of it.

“Oh, shit,” he said, half amazed, half dismayed.

The woman paused, gazing around as if searching for something. She stopped. You held your breath.

“What is that?” she said.

There was a steamy aroma passing through the room now. Jake’s reply echoed from across the house.

“Bourguignon. Just a few more minutes.”

The woman stopped by the shoe shelf and began to slide her heels off, one by one, placing them alongside the feminine sandals.

“Really? When did you get it started? 'Cause if it's a chuck steak you need to keep it on 'til it's practically radioactive."

“I had plenty of time. Plenty of time. You just get in? –which way you come home?” he inquired conversationally.

She looked briefly distracted about something, then it passed.

“Oh, the regular way.”

“Traffic didn’t look so nice when I was passing through. And I got off early.”

Her reply bubbled up as if by accident:

“So weird.”

“What?”

“I'm in a mood. Nothing. Tell you later, maybe.” She gave a small sigh. “Huh. The regular way might become the 'never again' way in future. You know traffic sucks when your audiobook says ‘thank you for listening to this audiobook’ and the gridlock still hasn’t moved.”

He stopped humming and replied:

“Well, that sounds…terrible.”

“Gee, Jake. You’re supposed to say…oh, never mind.”

The woman looked like she was going to head into the kitchen, but at the doorway, looked in without entering.

“Can you keep it warm for me? I’m going to change.”

“Go ahead.”

Without another word, the woman went back out of the living room. Without the ‘serious business’ pumps, her footsteps were gentler, but still sent little shakes through your soft form, even across the room. You felt like a speck of dust being rattled by her sheer presence. These shakes died away as she carried on down the hall.

Will shifted on the spot at your side. You could almost sense his brain going back and forth, before he finally said, incredulous:

“Fuzz. It’s my sister.”

It took a second to process.

And when it did, you decided the situation had gotten to Will. He was seeing things. That figure who had just come into the house was a big, serious, beautiful, mature woman. And you were a college kid, barely past being a teenager. She looked confident, slightly impatient, and would have looked down upon you like the kid you were.

That wasn’t Courtney Rugger.

You recalled Courtney’s face, brightly. Her eyes that pretended to be disinterested but locked onto you immediately when you looked at her and became suggestive. The pitch shift in her voice when she talked to you. Her college girl energy, nerves and easy moods.

Over the top of that mental image, the giant woman’s features swam into in your mind, impressionistic, like you viewed her from behind rain-lashed window. If you squinted, sure, they looked alike. But that woman came from a different place, practically another country, to college girl Courtney. You hadn’t gotten a detailed look at her face. It was too far away. Her body was graceful and mature, and swelled in the right places. You had noticed her thoughtful eyes, the way they were glazed slightly with pretended interest. You noticed the thickness of her tempting lips. 

That wasn’t the Courtney Rugger you remembered. Did Courtney and Will have another sister. An older sister?

Then you remembered you had thought the same thing about Jake. But it was true. This woman had even an inkling more resemblance to the woman who had greeted you at the front door, at Will’s 12th birthday, who thought you were so adorable in your frog costume, and then scolded Will for saying ‘pussy’.

“Which sister?” you said, dumbed with disbelief, so much you momentarily clean forgot Will only had one sister.

“Huh?” Will said, thinking you were trying, and failing, to be funny. “Is it her?” he asked no one. “Her and Jake..?”

“Maybe she’s just visiting,” you said.

“Katelyn makes sense. This is just…crazy. Court?” he repeated in disbelieve.

You said slowly, embarrassed to have to point it out:

“Don’t you recognize her?”

“Yeah, my own sister, Fuzz. And that was some lady.”

You could tell he saw it too. The woman had an uncanny resemblance to Courtney, but she was…different. Like Jake, more defined.

“Jake looks different, too,” you said.

Will didn’t reply. He had started off rolling,, following the window-side wall further along. You started in a quick spin to tail him.

“Wait a minute,” you said, “where are you going?”

Viewing the world in a steady revolution, you fought to keep Will in your sight, or anything much. Your shoulder continuously bumped the wall for guidance. It was the most you could do to roll in a straight line. But you were keen on not losing Will. He was after all a tiny ball in a humungous living room, as were you. If you lost him, you wouldn’t know the first place to look to find him again.

The two of you stayed behind the curtain, for cover, slowly rolling your way to the far corner of the room, gradually edging closer and closer to the kitchen and dining room entrance.

Stopping to check you were behind, Will surged on through the entrance, following the wall skirting. A moment later, you emerged into the dining space. The rugged carpet turned to lino, which made rolling easier. Although the ceiling wavered with cooking steam, the floor was cool and clear. You were swept with gentle draughts from Jake’s movements as he stepped around fixing dinner.

Will and you were silent, tenacious as you followed the kitchen wall, while Jake finished up with the cooking. The stovetop shut off and a draught brushed you as Jake opened the kitchen window to let out the steam. His shoes squeaked past you as he passed on into the dining space.

“You done?” he called out. “Come eat!” Jake always had a boyish energy about him even if he looked older now. There was no doubt in your mind it was really him.

Doggedly chasing Jake, Will built up some speed, practically hurtling to the dining entrance. You pushed on, following Will inside, and a bare minute later, the woman swept in on your trail. 

Your breathe caught, stunned. If you’d come seconds later she might have tread on you.

Now everyone was in the same room, it was too late to back out. The giant couple were hungry and just wanted to sit and eat. This was your chance. It was a clear opportunity to get their attention, as they were focused on their meals. It allowed you and Will to get close without the risk of being stepped on or accidentally brushed aside. For a few minutes the only sound was of the cutlery digging around the plates. At the same time, Will and you were rolling up to a table leg which was like a rectangle oak tree trunk. Here you paused to consider how to get someone’s attention. Directly above, the underside of the dining table created a flat canopy high over, bordered by a towering pair of legs on either side. There was Jake’s in a pair of casual jeans, and the woman – (Courtney, really?) – in black pantyhose. Her toes kept scrunching and rubbing against each other, and scratching the hose. You couldn’t help notice you were the exact size of one of her big toes.

“Hey, Jake, all the’ soft touch’ stuff,” the woman murmured. “You don’t really have to.”

“Well, too bad,” he said casually between bites. “I’m trying here. It would help a guy to know what the problem is. So what’s up?”

The woman teetered.

“You know,” she said finally, “the other night. I’m…sorry,” she answered. “It’s that time of the month…heavy. Don’t even ask.”

“It’s not nothing,” Jake said. He took a deep breath before going on. “I know what this is really about. This is a special day. I don’t know what the correct ritual is here to acknowledge it, whether you even want me to bring it up, or…You don’t need me to remind you. I’m sorry, someone needs to check in, and it’s probably got to be me.”

The woman didn’t say anything for a moment, but her toes gently swirled against the floor as if she was trying to scrub something. Jake went on:

“That’s why I cooked tonight. So, you just relax.”

Across from you, the woman’s hefty toes screwed up and then, as if taking Jake’s advice, began to relax. It was hypnotic; the movements of her toes kept distracting you and making it hard to come up with a plan.

Will seemed to have a better time of staying focused. Of course, if the woman was Courtney, he was naturally immune to the effect she was having on you. But you still weren't sure it was her.

Will began to survey the distance to the male and female feet and then rolled right up to you.

“Wait there,” he instructed, “I’m going to push into someone’s foot and hopefully get their attention.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“What if you get squashed? There has to be another way to do this—”

He didn’t answer, he’d already started to roll further in under the table, assessing what to do next. He seemed to hesitate about approaching the woman’s feet; they were shifting and scrunching so much. Jake’s feet weren’t moving at all, which was probably the safer bet.

You held your breath, dreading the worst: that if Will brushed someone’s foot, it would tickle them and the foot would jerk out, not only smashing him flat, but sweeping you across the floor. Without realizing, you subconsciously began to roll backwards, slowly getting out from under the table, until you could see the table edge straight above. The shoulder strap of a woman’s handbag dangled over the edge.

“But you skipped bowling,” the woman was saying. It sounded like she was digging at her meal but not eating.

“Not a good night for bowling,” Jake said brightly. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much, knowing you’re here, thinking about today…unless you wanted to join me?”

“I...” she sighed, “...I think I would probably just honestly be back here sitting in the bath with a bowl of microwaved pasta and a bottle of wine and cramps.”

“So long as there's warm water in the bath that sounds normal,” Jake said mildly. That was definitely Jake, you had to admit; the last guy in the room to freak out, ever.

“God...” the woman came back at him, “you think that’s just what I do when you’re out bowling? That's coping."

"You're doing good," he said calmly.

"Not if I get preoccupied."

"Things like this are timeless, They stay, and that's normal. You're doing fine."

“You know what? I can’t even argue with that. You’re probably right. No sense ruining the whole night.”

“Neat. Does that mean I’m still getting laid tonight?”

“You asshole. That’s what this meal is all about.”

“I’m joking. It’s a good meal! Don’t knock it. Are you being serious about the bath? What if I make you up a totally game-changing bath later?"

“...Maybe I’d like that.”

There was a pause. Her feet seemed to have relaxed for good, and you watched as Will appeared to decide to approach them, aiming for her left foot while it was idle. Being a fleshy ball, he didn’t look so different from her big toe.

He seemed in a hurry now, impatient with their flirting, maybe wanting to get them to knock it off.

“It’s ten years today, you know,” she said suddenly. “And,” she went on slowly, “kind of hard to separate that…them from ‘us’, in a way.”

She explained, pausing and thinking in moments:

“That night, when you drove me to my place, I was kind of pissed. And then we…you know. And, you know, it all kind of followed that, eventually. And sometimes I wish I could take back that moment and give it to a better day, you know? Of all days.”

“It was…sudden and out of character,” he admitted thoughtfully.

“Sorry—”

“Hey, you didn’t know then. Neither did I.” He paused for a long moment. “And then we did.”

“—It’s just that I was feeling stupid and pissed off because I really, really wanted…” there was a beat and she sighed, “…to catch dinner and have a nice night and then time got by, I was still stupid; I thought they went somewhere else without telling me.”

“But you think they did?” Jake said hesitantly.

The woman was quiet for a moment. Then she said ruefully:

“Then it would have to be Will’s idea… because it would have to be. Will led and Fuzz followed. It irritated me like nothing. God, I was such a kid. They were just kids, too. We all were. Kids who might have got in deep trouble...” Her breath caught before she was able to continue:

“For the longest time it’s felt like a story going the wrong way. Or just not ending.”

The enormous feminine feet started absent-mindedly grinding the floor again.

“Yeah?” said Jake, mildly.

“You ever feel like that?”

“I guess,” he said, reluctantly. He changed tack. “But it’s your life, too. You get to decide how the story goes.”

Then Jake said something and it felt like your stomach plummeted over a cliff.

“…Courtney?”

Her reply sounded very far away. The pieces in your mind trying to fit together didn’t fit. You suddenly had difficulty concentrating. The moment she stopped speaking you realized she had just said something but you missed it.

Will rolled rapidly into the inner side of her left foot. He crashed into her arch and bounced back, confused. You snapped back into awareness. So did Courtney.

Her foot jolted back and she let out a squeal. Her arm flung out and knocked her handbag over the edge of the table.

You watched, completely frozen as the gigantic handbag overtured and came speeding over your head. With a clap it crashed onto the floor right in front of you – any closer and it would have squished you. Your heart fluttered like crazy and you were rooted to the spot, wondering if you should feel relieved.

When the bag landed, feminine accessories were flung out on impact, and sped past you. For a second you stared into the dark silk-lined inside of the bag, in wonder at how cavernous the inside was compared to you. If you had a flashlight you could have gone caving in there.

Then, with a couple of bone-shaking thumps, Courtney re-positioned her feet as she slid over to reach her bag. She was so focused on her bag, that she failed to see you at all. Her foot carelessly slipped over to you. Without warning, what felt like a truck plopped directly onto your body as her foot chose you to land upon.

You were alarmed to feel a powerful stretch run full-body along your spine. Holding on you, the weight of her foot pulled your little body from head to toe from a ball shape into a tube shape.

When she felt you poking her gently under her sole, she stopped reaching for her bag. Instead she went to shift her foot to investigate what you were. Her foot shifted so the ball of her foot balanced on your lower half, keeping you trapped in place. Then she unthinkingly nipped your head between two of her toes. Her first two toes acted like a vise on your flexible head, accidentally tweaking it into a tapered point, like the tip of a bullet. Then her foot’s weight lifted completely. But one of her toes made one last contact with your body, swishing your insubstantial weight aside without meaning to.

You flicked over the carpet at rapid speed, and came to a stop right before Jake, who had also shifted in his seat to help pick up the bag and its contents. His foot was about to lower but he had just enough time to prevent from stepping on you.

“Let me get that,” he said.

With a sweep of his great hand, he quickly piled the spillage back into the depths of her bag. He also plucked up a plastic packet that had fallen out of the bag, and landed beside you. He was about to put it back in when his gaze fell squarely on you. You were so surprised that you failed to react, not even when Jake’s gigantic form shifted in his chair to lean over and examine you closer.

The plastic packet in his hand was cylinder shaped and used to have an eyelash wand inside it, which had slipped out when the bag crashed on the floor. It just happened to be the right fit for your size, and Jake assumed you had tumbled out of the packet, and decided to poke you back where he thought you belonged. After giving you a cursory look over, his forefinger and thumb grasped your chest and lifted you off the floor, completely taking you by surprise. He then smoothly worked at stuffing you into the packet. Your bullet shaped head was well-shaped to drive straight inside and wedge in place. He gave the plastic a quick tug, tightening it around you until you were enclosed completely. Then he dropped you into the bag.

You bounced onto the silky folds of the bag lining and rolled into a crease, hiding you away from sight. For a second you stared up through the bag opening at Jake’s face before the zip was pulled up, and everything went dark and sound muted.

Jake then pushed the handbag under the table over to Courtney’s side, where she took it and put it against a table leg, close to her ankle.

“Did you poke me?” she asked Jake.

“No.”

“Oh, crap," she said under her breath. "Mice.”

“You saw a mouse?” he said. His voice muffled by the leather bag surrounding you.

“No, but I felt it,” she insisted.

“It was probably just something that spilled out of your bag.”

“Hope you’re right.”

As if nothing had just happened, the couple went back to finishing their meals, both of them blissfully unaware you were now a prisoner of Courtney’s handbag, like just another feminine accessory in her personal kit.

There you lay, waiting patiently to be retrieved, but Courtney and Jake quickly forgot about you, as they carried on with a conversation over dinner. Their casual banter went back and forth over your head for some time, and you lost track of time.

Will didn’t make another attempt to touch Courtney.

You could imagine he was freaked out over her reaction. Or, more likely, he was insulted that she thought he was a mouse. You could only hope he was taking his time coming up with a better plan, that involved freeing you.

Meanwhile, you lay at the bottom of Courtney’s handbag, where it was dark and cool. You had dropped down and your new thin tube-like shape enabled you to become neatly tucked into a silky crease in the bottom of the lining. A bunch of objects were piled on top of you, keeping you trapped in place, plus you were inside a skin tight plastic wrapper like a straightjacket. All this pressure kept you contained in tube shape, and you couldn’t move. You were stuck in a tight lengthwise stretch that kept you dead straight, like a log, and couldn’t move an inch. Plus, your head was still a bullet shape after Courtney had by accident moulded it that way with a couple of deft twists of her toes, and the plastic wrapping kept it from reforming to normal.

Before long, there came the muffled sounds of the couple getting up and putting their dishware over to the sink.

“Well, that went down nice,” Jake said.

“Sorry, I need to sit down again so bad,” Courtney said, “cramps.”

“I’ll wash up,” Jake offered, taking her plate and starting the hot water.

You heard her open a cabinet and pop some foil and fill a glass with water.

Then the bag was lifted –with you inside—by Courtney, and the kitchen sounds faded away. You were in another room. Now you started to grow worried she was putting the bag away in her bedroom and you would be left there overnight. Will wouldn’t know where you were.

The bag came down on firm floor, giving you a small bounce within the lining crease. The TV was switched on and its sounds played over head.

You were now in the living room. The sofa creaked as Courtney took a seat, and then you heard her shift around getting comfy, while switching the channel a couple of times. Suddenly you felt yourself in motion over the floor. Courtney had stretched one leg down to the floor and casually swept her bag aside with a foot. Within a few minutes the sounds of heavy footsteps moved over the floor, making you tremble.

Jake’s heavy footsteps drew very near, before stopping to take a seat near Courtney. They began to murmur and nuzzle. On the inside, you blushed.  You were forced to listen to this weird sensual display between your friend and your other friend’s sister, and wondered how Will took this. If he was even around.

For the next thirty minutes Courtney and Jake watched TV, making comments every so often. Their stereo-sound voices rumbled your head like aeroplanes. Your soft body was basically a medium through which vibrations ran easily, which included soundwaves, and Jake and Courtney’s rich, resonant voices trembled smoothly through your body like you were a pond surface and their voices were ripples. It didn’t hurt, but it hit you in all your ticklish spots, and caused you to have to wiggle around in the plastic packet in agitation. There was no escaping it, since you were trapped in the handbag.

Whenever Courtney giggled, it surged like a pulsation of bubbles that eventually trickled into your balls. You felt like your tiny pliable body was being played like a fine instrument. You were convinced their acoustics were actually leaving physical grooves in your body. Within several minutes the sounds on TV were interrupted by a series of persistent smacking sounds, with small delighted moans. Each soft smack bubbled through your body, until you thought you might burst.

Jake and Courtney were kissing, and their passion was slowly escalating. There was nothing you could do but listen and feel it. Your body was forced to soak up these provocative sounds, and within an instant you became stiff, even though you fought with all your might against it. It was pretty embarrassing to have a physical reaction to the sounds of your best friend making out. This was the worst response you could have had in the moment, because now the vibrations caused by their noises pulsed up and down your iron rod, like it was a tuning fork. Every time Courtney let out a soft moan, the sound carried along your rod, right into your balls, as if your flesh itself was conducting the sound like electricity. This only made you even stiffer. The soft sounds of them kissing triggered pulsations around your body, like you were being pinched all over. It was agonizing.

At some point Courtney indicated to Jake to stop.

“Hey. My time of the month,” she murmured.

“Oh, right,” Jake said quickly.

“Yeah…” she said, rising from her chair. It was clear she didn’t want to leave. “I’ve got to take a bathroom break,” she added. She started to leave the room suddenly you found yourself bouncing around inside her bag as she carried it out with her.

The bag went swaying pendulously through the air, with you rolling back and forth around on the bottom of the bag. You banged off heavier objects, and some small items unmoored from the bag’s floor and rolled over you. One of these was a tube of lipstick which was slightly bigger than you. Its heavy girth landed on your chest and nearly squashed you, knocking your breath out. You were unable to breathe again until the bag swayed again and caused the tube to dislodge from you, and roll away.

Another swing sent you sliding frictionlessly over the bag’s silky lining. You then became accidentally wedged inside another purse fold and were trapped in place again. With the bag swaying again, the purse bounced around and shook you free, swishing you away where you helplessly ended up pinned under or squashed by several other items in the bag, including the large, heavy plate that was Courtney’s phone.

Once the dizzying motion had ceased, you looked up to see the opening of the bag was now stretched open to admit the ceiling light, and Courtney’s humungous face was peering down at you. It filled up the entire bag opening, leaving you with nowhere else to look. You felt positively diminished in her focus, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was like a fantastical and pleasant dream where she was divinely large and beautiful, and you were hers.

Her gaze searched the bag before landing right on your face. As you were trapped inside the plastic packet, you were a complete spectator to her; you couldn’t move or fight back. It was like she was the star of a movie and you were merely a member of the audience. Except, by accident, you were in the movie as well, playing less than the bittiest of bit parts. Right now, you were a prop.

Next second her face was blotted out by her grasping hand, which entered the bag and enlarged until it surrounded you everywhere. There was acute pressure around your middle as she plucked you up and brought you up out of the bag. Her soft touch was like silk. For the briefest instant you thought you could be in heaven.

There was an instant of extra tension as she peeled the plastic off you, and then your tiny bare form was completely exposed to her. You found yourself hovering in the air between Courtney’s soft fingertips, and staring around at the interior of the bathroom. The room was intensely bright, revealing your full insignificant size completely to Courtney, who was breathtakingly gigantic. You were caught between her fingertips like a tadpole that had just been plucked out of the dark ocean of her bag. Her liquid brown eyes were hitting into your own, but with no recognition of who you were.

In alarm, you tried to speak, but nothing came out. Being squashed inside the plastic packet for the past forty or so minutes had caused your insides to narrow, and until they reformed, you were unable to produce a sound.

This close to her, you were once again struck what a beautiful woman she had matured into.

It’s ten years today.

She had been talking about the day you and Will went missing. And that would make Courtney 32. You gaped up her in wonder, intimidated by her size, and knew this was all true, even if it didn’t make sense: It was 2033. She was not waiting for you at the restaurant. She was ten years older, and here you were, reduced to a tiny object in her hand.

Far above was the ceiling, lit up with warm molten light. And stretching far below was the expanse tiled floor. Here, Courtney’s stockinged feet were planted, rubbing together to keep warm, and a drop would have caused you to land directly on one of them.

If this really was the same Courtney, you could trust her to look after you and keep you safe  Your best bet was to let her hold you, and be as obedient as you could while she examined you, and try not to freak her out. Otherwise she might accidentally toss you away in fear.

As you considered all this, you found yourself being rotated the other way, and for whatever reason, Courtney took a quick look at your butt. She then groaned as if annoyed by something. With your butt pointing up at her, your head was pointing down. You were now directly facing Courtney’s vulva, which was bare. Your insides crunched with embarrassment. She was sitting on the toilet, and her panties were shamelessly down.

It was a fact; she didn’t recognize you.

You were so unprepared for this, the blood rushed out of your face and you almost went out like a light. Because of your shape, you couldn’t turn your head away.  It wasn’t her crotch that shocked you as much as its size. The lips of her pussy were like the division of a pair of pink curtains that were drawn together very tight. As she groaned in discomfort she became tighter. Cramps.

Tight as she was, you were so scandalously small that you could slip into her easily. The sheer size of her womanhood was like a geological formation of smooth pale earth with a provocative crease that was smooth and shaved. It would be like ducking into a padded cave.

While you were pointed at Courtney’s labia, she sent a fingertip to investigate you from behind. Without warning, you felt her attempting to peel apart your butt cheeks and push them about, as if trying to prise you open from behind. Heat and shock surged through your body. The enormous fingernail continued to root around your butt, poking and scratching. It felt like she was working up inside your stomach, stretching your waist from the inside.

The reason Courtney had groaned was because she had expected to find a string coming out of your butt, but there obviously wasn’t. She went on to explore your butt with her fingernail, hoping to uncover a string poked up there and pull it out. After molesting you a couple of times without realizing, and finding no string, she gave up.

With despair, you realized your shape and size was exactly like a small, slim tampon right out of the packet. When you had been squashed by the bag earlier, and stuffed into the cylindrical plastic packet, your body was reshaped into the tiny missile shape of a tampon. Also your naturally soft squishy form felt exactly like a tampon. Your arms and legs also resembled tampon ribbing. Since your body had not had enough time to reform, you had no way of moving or telling Courtney that it was actually you she was holding.

Courtney reached over and quickly rummaged on the bathroom countertop, and in desperation, broke off a length of dental floss. Before you knew what was happening, she looped one end around your ankles, and neatly tied them together, with the rest of the floss string hanging down. Now you were ready to function as a tampon.

A surge of dread went crashing through your body, and your pulse quickened. But before you could do anything, you were rotated and plunged through the cool air. She carefully targeted your bullet shaped head on her opening, lining the point of your head dead center of her slit. The smooth shapes of her mammoth shaven thighs parted, giving you direct access to her awaiting labia. It patiently anticipated your entry, and tried to relax enough to receive you.

You drew closer and closer and closer to her opening, which was a darker shade of pink, almost red, and faintly moist and raunchy from the earlier soft make-out session with Jake. The aroma of her sex became thick, like a curtain you had to pass through. Her vagina’s evening breath made you feel faint, and worse you were going straight into the source.

As you hovered before her puffy lips, without a moment’s hesitation, her slit made a huge gulp and swallowed up your face. Her orifice surrounded your head and gave you another quick munch for grip. Pressure crunched around your bullet-shaped head, which was briefly reduced to pea-size, before her opening relaxed again, letting your head expand and reform. The sheen lubricating her pussy coated you, and you became hopelessly sticky. Warm thick folds then slid along your neck, slowly swallowing up each vertebrae before catching around your shoulders.

Once again, her orifice calmly scrunched, causing your shoulders to get tucked in and touch together, before being released and allowed to re-expand. Her opening continued to slide beyond your shoulders, down your chest, pausing at your solar plexus to scrunch again.

A mega pinch was placed on your diaphragm, making your midsection narrow so much that for a second your tube shape bottlenecked like an hourglass. As your chest cavity was tucked up into a thin piece of string, you couldn’t take a breath, and waited patiently for Courtney’s orifice to relax again. It tested you to your absolute limit. Then, applying slightly more pressure, your middle was narrowed so much that for a second you felt like you would snipped in two.

Just as you started to panic, it released you. You slipped further in, before her sex muscle put a chokehold on your lower stomach. Once it let up and you were slid further along, you hoped the rest of you would slide in easily. Unfortunately, her opening found another place to munch on you.

It closed like a fist around your groin, catching everything between your hips in its grasp. Your entire pelvis was scrunched thinner than a drinking straw, while your penis was pumped with small convulsions of pressure, as the vagina walls fought to pull you deeper. In an unbearable instant, your rod became dense like iron. Then, with one push of her fingertip, your tiny mass was unceremoniously gulped up like a morsel of food, and quickly buried in her sex. Her muscular tube continued to munch on you in intervals until you were deep under lower belly, where you were allowed to settle. Only the end of the string around your ankles trailed out from between the lips of her snatch, which were again pressed together like mattresses, keeping you locked away inside.

Her vagina’s grasp of you was so tight, as if you were clay in a mould cast. The pressure kept you perfectly cylindrical, and all your former features were now flattened away. Every few minutes her vagina dominated your tiny body with a stern squeeze that caused you to narrow and stretch a little more, teasing out your length bit by bit. Luckily your body was so soft, it was happy to stretch and flex for her, as much as her vagina wanted. And most of all her vagina seemed to want to gradually close together entirely, even if that meant bringing your body together, bit by bit, until you were curled up long and thin. The thought filled you with dread.

The voices of Courtney and Jake echoed around. It sounded like their voices were coming out of a stereo amplifier behind a brick wall; loud but unclear. Every few minutes her vagina walls gave you a small probing scrunch, as if to check you were securely in place.

There was also a rushing sound like a waterfall or hot tub jets. It didn’t take long to realize Jake was running Courtney a bath. Soon you felt yourself being rotated so you were on your back, facing up. Courtney had gotten into the bath and lay back, turning her lower belly – and you—you face up. Her sex muscles relaxed, giving you a little more space.

The air was calm. She sighed with contentment, let the strain leave her muscles, and went quiet.

You were buried in the depths of her dark—and a little swampy— passage. Although you couldn’t see anything, your brain was awash in a vivid realization. You tried to think of something, anything else, but it was impossible. There was literally nothing to distract you. Right at this moment, Courtney was laying naked in a bath. And you were inside her, closer than anything. Her vagina kept you tucked away inside, unable to appreciate her nakedness. The thought filled you with unstrained lust, and your prick turned to steel.

The thought that you were a tiny helpless captive caught up inside her scaled-up anatomy made you positively tremble with arousal. But your trembling was quickly quelled as her sex effectively kneaded you into quiet submission. Every few minutes your body was shifted about as Courtney gently moved in the bath, washing herself. Lastly she leaned forward to wash her feet, causing you to get compressed beneath the downward pressure of her torso. Her toned abs packed down as if treading on you, literally compressing the air out of your lungs. You were held in this state for leisurely minutes as she finished her feet. Then she straightened again, relieving you somewhat. But not for long.

Her abdominal wall tightened again, and held. You wondered if she was trying to hold back a log. Not exactly correct. For whatever reason, Courtney suddenly decided to rapidly engage her pelvic floor. Her vagina became a vise that tightened and tightened and the flex placed on your body was truly unimaginable. This was worse than even the previous times; it seemed this time she was actually determined to squish you out of existence. You were pushed inward from both sides, causing your front and back to pack together, closer and closer. For several moments, every nanosecond you lost half your body width. You suffered this without reprieve.

The reason for this sudden crunching became clear. What sounded like a stick of dynamite burst near your head, on the other side of a wall. At the same time, you felt fast moving flow expanding on the other side of the vaginal tunnel and pushing out against you, pressing you very thin. Your head was pulled even longer and thinner, stretching even more from bullet-shape to a fine tip like a screwdriver. The noise didn’t just explode in your head. It played out, a stunning rippling explosion through your entire body. For an instant, your body was reduced to almost shaking to bits. Every thought was shook out of your head. Once this offensive bomb had completely detonated and escaped, Courtney sunk back and relaxed again. Meanwhile your painfully tense body was allowed to shrink back to its bullet-shape.

The bath water was drained and Courtney stood, and got out. She wrapped a towel around herself and began blow drying her hair. Now that she was once again standing upright, the fierce squeezing of her pelvic floor, combined with the pull of gravity triggered a minute change in her anatomy.

As you patiently listened to the drone of the hairdryer, you felt a persistent tapping feeling on your head, like big raindrops. It seeped into your whole body and spread warmth everywhere. It felt like you were being peed on, but that wasn’t possible. Your soft squishy body eagerly drank up this steady spill, like a tiny sponge.

It was blood. And it was your job to soak it up.

Slowly, you started to inflate, like you were drinking warm water. It didn’t stop. Your body tightened and stretched like a little water balloon, with the strain of being filled up, whilst Courtney’s vagina walls acted as a countermeasure, keeping you bottled in, refusing to let you expand even an inch. As your inflating body fought for space, her fissure remained stubbornly tight, forcing you to deform. Your body helpfully swallowed her sex wastes. This was just another way your body had changed. It didn’t just squish and stretch, but also squeegee’d up fluid.

Her passage was its most narrow just below your armpits, creating a bottleneck at your chest. There was a muscular knot circling your ribs that pulsated regularly, serving you with a regular series of vigorous squeezes that pumped the fluids through your tiny system, more efficiently than you could swallow. Once you were filled with more blood than a greedy vampire, the stream dried up again. You now felt like a soda can that had been shaken and was intolerably firm. Her muscular walls continued to probe you with small squeezes, as if to test your limits. You focused on withstanding each of these endurance tests as they came.

Courtney went into the bedroom, and slid onto the bed. Once more you were in a lying position. A moment later Jake entered. Although his words were garbled, his tone was unmistakable.

“Better?” said Jake.

“Almost,” Courtney said, coyly.

You were rolled until you were face down. Then pressure was grinding up and down the length of your body, as Jake took Courtney from behind. Her back passage crammed you against her front wall, and pressure grinded up and down your length. It was like you were the last blob of toothpaste in the tube, and Jake’s organ was the giant thumb trying to squeeze you out. His organ was substantially bigger than you. Even his tip was bigger than you, and treated you the way a hammerhead treated a nail that needed to be pounded flat. By the time it was over, your whole body was ringing with sensitivity and longing for rest. The giant couple slid into bed and spooned, and before long, they both drifted to sleep. Warm and tight inside Courtney’s lady slit, listening to the steady pulse of her circulation in your head, you soon followed.

*

At six in the morning, Courtney slipped out of bed. She was grateful her period was over; lucky because she was on her last tampon. Overnight, it had dutifully soaked up the last fluids, and she could feel it was now very full. As she stepped out of the bedroom and made her way down the unlit hallway, finding the bathroom in the dark, she could feel the tampon squish every time she took a step. It was gross and probably left in too long for such a small delicate tampon. It was full to max capacity and begging to come out.

She took a seat on the toilet and caught the tampon string – or dental floss – and tugged, and felt the tampon drag its way from under her lower belly, towards her vagina entrance. It was slow going; the tiny thing was now packed with fluids, and was exceptionally moist and stretchy.

It probably wasn’t just full of blood but also some backlogged girl cum, following her long session with Jake before bedtime. The tampon had lazily been marinating in all these juices most of the night, until it was fragile now and prone to stretch like chewed gum if she tugged too hard. She had to very carefully rotate and wiggle it. Although she was gentle, the tampon stretched anyway.

Finally, the whole thing was out, and her vagina felt fresher, exorcised of all unholy impurities. Without a second glance, she dropped it into the small sanitary bin in the bathroom and went back to bed.

*

For eight hours you lived and breathed inside Courtney’s vagina, and in that time you had been deformed to an extreme degree. You gradually emerged from Courtney’s slit, part by part. Pulled backwards by the loop of dental floss around your ankles, you felt less like you were being born again, and more like fishing tackle being recovered from a fish’s throat. She had to ease you out slowly to prevent stretching you any more. Nevertheless, with every small tug, you felt some part of your body elongate and get thinner, and prayed you wouldn’t get pulled apart.

Finally, you were fully out, and left to dangle weakly upside from the string around your ankles. You weren’t the same compact tube shape as when you went in, but now were as long and thin as a pencil, and blood red. You looked scrunched, practically chewed up and spat out by your giant muff prison.

The brief look Courtney gave you told you everything. You looked like a dirty rag.  Without a second glance, she dropped you into the small sanitary bin in the bathroom. You hit the plastic bin liner and stuck in place like a schoolyard spitball.

The toilet flushed and her footsteps moved away. You lay at the bottom of the trash, amidst a couple of other used tampons and shreds of toilet paper. For the next hour, you were stuck to the inside trash wall, and the smell of vaginal wastes permeated your entire being.

Once your energy had come back, you attempted to shift and try to detach from the trash bag. By tensing repeatedly, you were able to wring the female fluids out, which felt not so different from voiding your bladder. Gradually, your color returned to normal, and your body began to return to normal human shape. Still slightly sticky, you climbed up the liner, to the top of the bin, and pulled yourself over the edge.

With one last squeeze to drain out the last drops of fluids, you then dropped off the bin, and slapped onto the tiled bathroom floor. Your reflection on the shiny bathroom floor stared up (or ‘down’) at you. You looked down at your hands with a small sense of relief; regular human hands.. You were once again your normal shape, if incredibly tiny, and still naked.

Feeling a little better, you began to make the journey out of the bathroom and down the hall. With everyone in bed, the house seemed bigger, cool, and deceptively empty. The coolness didn’t bother you as much as the quiet. Will was still out there somewhere, but it was too murky to search right now.

The air shuddered. Without thinking, you had wandered into the bedroom, where Jake and Courtney lay in bed, snoring. The vibrations of their low breathing trembled your body. All the stress the past few hours made you very tired, and longing for sleep.

You journeyed across the room and finally lay down on the bundle of Courtney’s discarded pantyhose, which lay in a pile next to the side of the bed. Her scent rushed powerfully at you and filled you with arousal. Only then you realized you had accidentally wrapped yourself in the crotch part of the hose. Rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes, you meditated on how Courtney had changed. Like Jake, she had lapped the biological cycle a few solar revolutions, had lost weight, gained muscle and vice versa. She had gone from baby smooth to subtly toned. Her figure was now unambiguously womanly, her long legs no longer gangly but sexy. As you tugged at the hose, wrapping it over yourself a little more like a blanket, the bedsprings let out a noise. The squeak was so sudden, that it came like an exclamation mark, or an eruption of surprise.

Courtney had suddenly lifted her head off the pillow, and was staring down right at you.

You were flooded with shock. You tried to jump up but got tangled in the hose, and spent a second struggling to free yourself. The whole time desperately conscious that you had one hundred percent of this giant woman’s attention in one unannounced instant. Her startled stare gave you no doubt that she was looking right at you. She then slung one arm out of the blanket, and sent it straight for you.

By now, you managed to slip out of the hose and were on your feet. Courtney’s inquisitive fingertips were a fraction away from making contact with you. It looked like she wanted to poke you in the head – probably to check if you were real – but maybe she also wanted to grab you. Her stare was filled with unfiltered curiosity and when you’d seen that look on other people, it meant one thing. A candid need to touch you and squeeze you and work out what you were. You could still remember being picked up and examined by the college guy, and being squeezed by Jake.

She wanted to check you out and see what you were made of. Heart hammering, you sprinted to the nearest possible hiding spot where she couldn’t reach you; under the bed.

Jake grunted.

“What is it?” he said sleepily.

“Sorry,” Courtney murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“You still got cramp problems?”

“No, I just…thought I saw something.”

“Like a dream?”

“Maybe. Jake…?” she said.

"Yeah?"

"What if...I don’t know…" she didn't finish, and went quiet for a while. Then she gave a small sigh.

"I think I’m going crazy."

*

“Fuzz? There you are.”

You blinked awake. It was daytime and Will was standing over you, his normal shape back; lean and fit. He had also found some cloth and wrapped it around like a towel. You gazed past him, anxiously, but it seemed like the bedroom was otherwise empty, at least you couldn’t see or hear anyone big treading around.

After helping you to your feet, your friend looked at you in astonishment.

“Why didn’t you say something? I went all through the bag trying to figure out where you were.”

“I couldn’t exactly,” you replied, “I got…”

“Yeah?”

“I got stuck somewhere,” you finished awkwardly, and stared down at your feet, blushing.

He shrugged it off.

“Well, forget yesterday. Day two. Start again.” He turned around and began heading out from under the bed. “So let’s do this. We’re going to get someone’s attention. Pencil it in.”

“Wait—” You followed him, a little nervous to be exposed at floor level, imagining, any second, a giant foot would slide down from the bed and land on you.  But it seemed the room was empty.

At the bedroom entrance, you gazed down the long stretch of hallway leading to the living room. The coast was clear; Will immediately began striding ahead, and you following. The air was mild and quiet, no sounds or draughts from occupants opening the doors or moving around.

From the other side of the house, the TV played idly, too quiet to make you think anyone was watching.

“Where is everyone?” you asked.

“Out doing stuff. Courtney left, and Jake went for a walk,” he deduced aloud, “It’s Saturday. Courtney was just doing some cleaning before you woke up; and seemed kind of bothered by something. And Jake was going around looking for something…And I don’t mean us.”

“So what are we going to do?” you asked, hopeful he had come up with a solid plan in the time you had spent squishing around inside Courtney’s steamy slit.

Without looking back, Will said:

“Like yesterday; we’re going to try and get my sister to notice us, but it’s got to be you who does it this time.”

You thought of last night and shivered. Everything that followed was a result of Will poking Courtney’s foot.

“Why me?” you said.

“Because this is a turn-based game, and now it’s your turn.”

A small tremble ran through the floor. Will felt it too. At the edge of the main area, bordering living room and dining room, you both stood dead still. 

Someone had just come in the front door and shut it again. As soon as they stepped inside, you and Will began hurrying across the expanse floor to the wallside of the living room.

A minute later, Jake trudged into the room, panting. He had come back from his jog, and quickly found a seat to sink into, slipping off his trainers and putting his feet up. The sofa groaned as he settled around, folding his arms behind his head.

Neither you nor Will moved a muscle. You both just stared at him, unsure what to do. Several minutes passed while Jake lay there. He took his phone out, and began to scroll and type.

Then a car rolled up against the house. Within minutes, Courtney stepped inside and found Jake still laying on the sofa.

“Oh, caught you,” she said dryly, whacking his head with a rolled up newspaper. “No sleeping on the job, slacker. The girls are going to be here soon.” She began tidying up the coffee table.

“Come on, we have to get this place looking a little nice at least. Cleanliness is next to godliness so make a goddess of me.”

“You don’t need my help there, Courtz,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It seems he had almost fallen asleep right before Courtney came home.

She switched on the TV and got some music playing.

“Get some tunes blasting over here, that’ll wake you up. Move it!”

My Immortal by Evanescence began playing. Courtney fiddled with the remote, trying to change the song, but it wouldn’t respond. She just laughed with mocking delight, and said, turning to Jake:

"Oh, not this old tearjerker. On your playlist really? You sap. This’ll even send me to sleep like a lullaby."

"It's not one of my songs," Jake said, also laughing. "It must be yours."

Chastened, Courtney went quiet. She tried feigning unfamiliarity with the song and failed. Finally she sunk into the sofa and succumbed fully to nostalgia.

She said:

"Wow."

She lay back on the sofa like she was in therapy and looked at the ceiling.

"I haven't listened to this song in a while."

Will looked at you and rolled his eyes.

‘She listened to it basically yesterday’.  But ‘basically yesterday’ was basically a very long time ago.

Courtney turned the music right down.

"I can't."

Caught her breath. Then decided the quiet was worse. She slowly turned the volume back up.

Will was giivng you an expectant look.

"What?" you said.

He gestured ahead, towards his gigantic twin sister. Were they still twins if she was ten years older than him, you wondered.

"Your turn," he replied. "This is you shot."

She waiting for you.

Why was it so hard now?

You trembled. Unable to speak for yourself, you stole Courtney's own words:

"I can't."

Now Jake had headed off into the bathroom under Courtney’s order to clean scum off the surfaces. Meanwhile, she was rustling around in the cupboard. In living room, the TV was still running through a saved music playlist, and the tunes lulled you and Will into a sense of calm. Then a loud sound crashed over the top of the music.

You both went stiff in alarm. The sound was like a passing train, and obliterated all other sounds. It was a vacuum cleaner motor. Courtney was vacuuming down the hallway outside the living room. With a jolt of panic, you realized the sound was gradually getting louder.

You went running over the floor. As usual, Will was a little faster than you. He was heading for a reclining chair, and you unthinkingly followed him. The two of you reached the chair as the vacuum noise encroached into the living room. Will ran straight under the recliner footrest, which was lifted, and so did you. There was a metal frame that ran around in a square, supporting the reclining mechanism. The two of you pressed yourself in against a length of this mechanism and watched in wonder as a gigantic vacuum cleaner came in and swept around. It glided around searchingly, as if it could sense you. You could only watch as a vacuum nozzle bigger than you nosed around the floor, back and forth, pausing to swallow every small object it came into contact with. Objects whizzed so fast up the nozzle they practically vanished, and any of them could have been you. The sound was everywhere, like a surging storm. The size of a pair of walnuts, and feather light, the two of you were adequately sized to pass into the nozzle and whiz straight into the vacuum bag like a monster’s belly. Courtney had no idea she was leading this monster around to eat you up.

At some point, Courtney began getting down and sending the nozzle in under the chairs to strip up all the dust and detritus that was trapped underneath. She stopped in front of the recliner and got onto her hands and knees to check beneath.

You were met with the sight of her humungous face peering in under the footrest, exposing the two of you directly for her consideration. Her eyes locked upon you; she seemed to make you out amidst the shadows, but didn’t know what you were. Maybe she thought you were a couple of pieces of discarded litter that had drifted under the chair and gotten caught in the metal framing. Whatever you were, she decided to swallow you up whole with the vacuum. The nozzle came impatiently pushing its way under the sofa.

With no time to escape, and no way to outrun the vacuum, you and Will both wrapped your arms around part of the metal frame and desperately held tight. Next second your view of Courtney’s face was obscured behind a huge metal ring that roared and sucked at you. Dust, lint and crumbs tore away from the ground and disappeared down the nozzle before it aimed right at you. A fierce stream of air grabbed your feet and pulled hard. You yelled in shock as your legs whipped back and were guzzled up into the nozzle. Your hair was rippling; you felt like a piece of paper being flapped about by a fan. No matter what, you ensured you held onto the framing with all your might as the nozzle fiercely tried to wrench at you. As the surge of powerful air grasped and shook you, you felt your torso stretch alarmingly, and your body became thinner.

Unable to detach you, the nozzle reluctantly relinquished its hold on you in order to focus on Will. It tugged at him viciously, but he managed to hang on. Undaunted, the nozzle returned to claw at you, stubbornly trying to separate you from the framing. It even managed to gulp you all the way to your head, but every time it pulled away, you had managed to cling onto the chair and keep from vanishing down the long cylinder.

Unable to suction either of you away, Courtney finally gave up. She assumed the two of you must be fabric strips lining the underside of the chair, and retracted the nozzle. Forgetting about you, she went back to vacuuming the floor.

Breathing so heavily your lungs ached, the two of you let go of the framing and lay back on the floor. You listened as the roaring of the vacuum gradually receded across the house. Courtney was taking a phone call on her phone, through an earpiece. The vacuum was so loud you couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was clear from her lively tone she was talking to someone she knew, probably a friend.

The vacuuming had exerted so much force on your flexible body, you had been pulled out of shape. The yanking torrent of air had teased your body out into a long, thin tube. You had previously been the thickness of a walnut; now you were ¼ that width, roughly the thickness of a pencil, and half a pencil in length, or 3 ½ inches long. Looking across, you noticed the same had happened to Will.

It was a little weird to have been stretched out, but also a relief that you hadn’t been sucked up. Either way, you needed to get moving again and find a sheltered area to give you time to reform, and then figure out the next move, maybe figure out another plan to get someone’s attention.

The vacuum cleaner noise had now receded further down the hall. You tried to get up, only to wobble on your feet and fall over again. You were too long and skinny to balance upright. Will had gotten to his hands and knees and began to crawl. Taking his lead, you did the same. Crawling was easier than walking upright, but still difficult. Your body was weirdly stiff and difficult to move.

The two of you slowly crawled to the middle of the room. Will seemed to be leading you to the side opposite where Courtney was. When you were both nearly across the room, the vacuum shut off and you heard it get packed away. A moment later, Courtney reappeared. Like opossums the two of you lay down and went completely still as she began to walk through the room. Surprised, you could only watch as her mountainous form strode directly on the path you were lying on. Playing dead was a bad idea, but you realized too late.

Without a downward glance, Courtney marched over the carpet, heading towards the kitchen. She didn’t even notice you lying on the floor. Before you could react, the end of her foot shadowed over your vision and got lower and lower…

Her big toe landed squarely on your face and your entire head was flattened by her stupendous weight, and also curled a little around the underside of her toe, cupping it from beneath. Then her foot lifted, her toe slipped off your head. You were left lying on the ground, and your head was a shallow cup shape. By flattening your head, her toe had effectively stamped your face into frozen position, which meant you couldn’t close your eyes or open your mouth.

The steady thudding of Courtney’s departure trailed away. Mere minutes later, more footsteps boomed in the room, different from Courtney’s. A gigantic pair of socks appeared nearby, and stopped right before you. Jake bent down, briefly looking into your face without comprehension. His humungous forefinger and thumb delicately pinched the skinny pencil-thin tube that was now your neck. His fingertips were so huge your neck practically got lost between them. You hoped he wouldn’t press too hard and accidentally squeeze your neck even thinner. As his firm grip searched about for a comfortable position on your neck, he accidentally closed off your throat, your voice was trapped in your lungs.

Holding you in one hand, he grasped up Will in the other, who was also the same weird shape as you; thin with a flattened, slightly curved head. Courtney must have accidentally stepped on him as well.

“You leave these spoons here?” Jake called out. With a sinking feeling you knew he was talking about you and Will. Courtney’s tread had accidentally deformed the two of you into what looked like a pair of spoons.

When Courtney didn’t answer, Jake said:

“I’m putting them in the wash.”

Taking you both in hand, Jake briskly went into the kitchen and stopped by the sink to yank open the dishwasher.

He placed you down on the retractable cutlery tray with several other knives and forks, and then slid the tray back in. You had one last glimpse of Jake’s legs before the dishwasher interior surrounded you, some plastic rotors directly above. The door shut you inside.

Then you had to wait out the dishwasher cycle. This involved two hours of being sprayed by warm jets of soapy water, which blasted you from below. The spouts of water then rained back down, like a monsoon, rinsing you thoroughly. Roaring like a waterfall, water pounded around and sluiced over you in unending waves. Your body naturally absorbed the water. As you began to fill like a little balloon, you could feel yourself swelling and tensing. You flexed your little body rapidly to keep squeezing the water out so you didn’t burst.

As the deluge carried on, detergent was added into the mix, causing the hose down to get thick and soapy. You were covered in bubbles and foam, before being blasted by more jets of water. Now your body began to absorb the detergent, and some pieces of dishwashing tablet. Once inside you the chemicals reacted with your body, clumping together and turning you rock solid. No amount of squeezing and flexing pushed them out.

Over the course of the dishwashing cycle, more pieces of dishwashing tablet packed into your body and stiffened. Your body had removed all the water and some of the chemicals, and the tablet pieces were left behind, filling up inside your body, all gummed together like rock candy.

Now you were straightened out, stiff like a log and you couldn’t move. You lay in place, motionless, listening to the sound of the dishwasher wind down. As the cycle finally drew to a close, the spray reduced, pattering down from the spinning rotors like rain drops.

It had been some time now, about two hours, since you had been placed into the dishwasher. There were a few beeps, indicating you were finally done. And good timing, since Courtney and Jake would need a couple more tea spoons; they had guests.

A pair of teenage girls sat together at the dining table, murmuring to each other.

“I’m going to make some coffee. You girls want a drink?” said Courtney.

The two girls looked up. They looked like the kind of preoccupied teenagers who talked quietly and excitedly together to block out the world, and thought anything before ten years ago was too old. One of them was a reflexive hair-flipper while the other barely turned her head from her phone.

Hair-flipper flipped her hair and then piped up:

“Do you have any carrot or celery juice?”

“Any other requests?”

“Some carrots and a blender? Vegetable juice makes you younger.”

"Aren't you seventeen?" Courtney lowered an eyebrow. "If you got any younger you’d be a kid again.”

The teens concurred; tea for ‘weight loss’. Courtney went into the kitchen to make a tea, and coffee for herself and get something for Jake, who had just wandered in. He happily took whatever.

“You’re Jake,” Hair-flipper said suddenly, staring at him. The other girl finally lifted her eye a fraction from her phone screen to glance at her friend.

“That’s right,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Okay I didn’t know you’d be here. Whatever.” She giggled and flipped her hair.

Courtney came back with the drinks.

“Oh, I forgot the spoons,” Courtney said. 

"Guess we don't need them," Jake said. But Courtney insisted.

"No, I've got some cake in the fridge, too - wait, you girls said you're on a diet-?" she smirked at them.

"No," Bratty protested, "my friend was only joking! I want some cake!"

"Yeah, I was only joking, Mrs Rugger," said Chatty. 

"It's Mrs Luxford now," said Courtney.

She offered to get the cake and plates, but Jake offered to get the spoons, since he already knew there were some just finished in the dishwasher.

You vaguely heard him enter the kitchen before the dishwasher door swung away, revealing Jake’s legs again.  He pulled the tray out, giving you a full, bright view of his enormous upper body, and his hand hovered over you a second before noticing you specifically. He caught you around the waist and lifted you into the air. You wanted to say something, tell him it was you, but the pressure on your stomach kept your voice trapped, plus you couldn’t move your mouth. His other hand took another couple of spoons, including Will, which were all bunched together with you.

Back in the dining room, you were placed down on the table and Jake took his seat. He kept one of the spoons for himself, leaving you and Will and a third spoon out. Staring around, you wondered if you’d be picked up. Then you noticed the teens and did a double take.

Placed center of the discussion, you instantly felt hyper-conscious of your size. The girls were disarmingly pretty, not shy, and didn’t look like the kind you could just walk right up to and join. The girl on the right, hair-flipper, was the most confident and talkative (you called her Chatty), and sitting next to her, the girl on the left was smug and interruptive (you called her Bratty). She didn’t talk as much as Chatty, but when she did, she talked fast which came as a surprise. You could do nothing but stare up at everyone, in awe how big everyone was, and how tiny you were. It was weird to be lying on the table, in full view of everyone, yet no one paid you any attention. Anyone could, at any time, pluck your narrow body up off the table and keep you between their fingertips. It was crazy how helpless you were, a basic tool waiting for use.

Meanwhile, the amplified voices resonated vibrantly through your body. Because you were long and thin, you made a great conductor for acoustics, and every utterance ran from head to toe down your body in ticklish waves. There was nothing you could do except patiently wait to reform. Unfortunately all the chemicals your body had absorbed during the dishwashing prevented your body from naturally reforming.  There were other distracting sensations. The air was layered with herbal tea and perfume.  Every time a cup was put down, a tiny shock trembled up your spine.  

Then Chatty and Bratty reached over for the spoons. 

Chatty picked up one of the normal spoons. And Bratty innocently chose Will, balancing his ankles delicately between her forefinger and thumb, before tilting him head down into the rim of her cup. An instant later he almost entirely vanished into her cup, with just his ankles caught in her grip. She twirled him a couple of times, before taking him out again and placing him neatly beside her cup. Amazing; she thought he was just a spoon, you realized in shock. And they all thought you were just a spoon as well.

Now you were the last ‘spoon’ left for Courtney. She reached over and unthinkingly picked you up around the waist. Her huge thumb placed itself right on your groin, using it as a fulcrum to angle and manoeuvrer you about, which felt sensitive and strange, like her thumb was manipulating your groin like a joystick.

She thoughtlessly dipped you face down into the sugar jar, where your head dug into the silky granules up to your neck. She scooped your head about the sugar, piling granules onto your face. Once your face was completely covered in a pinch of sugar, you felt yourself being lifted through the air and brought over her hot coffee. The hot steam tickled your scalp. Then you dropped headfirst to deposit your sugar load into the drink. Very hot liquid climbed all over, melting the sugar off your face. Hot coffee swept into your mouth and eyes. This was uncomfortable but didn’t hurt, since you were immune from extreme temperature.

Meanwhile, your head was turned around and around, to stir the drink, and making you a little dizzy. Once again Courtney’s thumb used your groin as an axis to lever you about, accidentally grinding your member, and keeping you obediently stiff at her commanding touch. You were finally lifted out of the drink, and your head was tapped on the cup’s rim to shake you off. Then you were laid face up on a coaster, adjacent Courtney’s cup, which radiated warmth. Her cup alone dwarfed you quite a bit, making you feel very small by comparison. All of the gigantic objects on the table, cups, sugar bowl, water jug, scaled over you tremendously, serving unavoidable reminders how tiny and slender you were. You were one of the smallest objects on the table.

Now lying next to Courtney’s hand, which rested on the table, you had a direct view up her gigantic face and shoulders. And painfully closer, the undersides of her breasts, straining her light top slightly. They suspended over you like chandeliers, even swinging a tiny bit as she leaned forward to pour some water. They had to be the biggest, ripest pair of fruit you’d ever seen.

Every so often she took the cup and lifted to drink, causing the bottom of the cup to eclipse her face. You were forced to watch her drink since you couldn’t look around, which wasn’t so bad since you couldn’t deny; she was captivating.

“All right, girls,” Jake said suddenly, “I guess you want to explain to Courtney this theory of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Courtney said. She straightened a little in her seat.

“The girls have some information. And I have some questions myself.”

“Kayla does,” Bratty said quickly, referring to Chatty, the hair-flipper.

The cup stopped short of Courtney's lips and she put it down and cleared her throat.

“Information?”

Jake added:

“They told me you might like to hear it, Court. It’s something, apparently.”

Without a pause, Kayla started:

“I don’t know what exactly happened. But I think it’s all related. Like, you ever hear about Dylan Madden and Santiago Cruz? They vanished the exact same way.”

“The ‘Lost Boys’,” Courtney said slowly, narrowing her eyes ”Those guys all over the news, some time back?"

“Yeah. So, what I know is, Fountain Park is a massive hot zone for these freaky sightings and events. It’s a known area of craziness for people who are into in these types of mysteries.”

“The ‘Lost Boys’ aren’t ‘Lost’ anymore,” said Jake. That Madden kid? I thought they found him. And Santiago, I don’t know if he went ‘missing’. I think he faked his own death, but it failed.”

“How would you know for sure?” Courtney said earnestly.

“Everyone thought he was long gone into the high country,” Jake offered. “And then it turned out he wasn’t.”

“How do you explain the coincidences?” Kayla jumped in. “The ten year gaps.”

Jake shrugged.

“Some kind of disorder that makes them age more slowly. Rare, but it happens. And the opposite can happen, too—”

“They were totally healthy before and even the doctors didn’t know—”

Courtney leaned forward, appraising everyone anew, even Jake, as if just realizing the conversation she was in.

“What are you saying?”

“It happened again!” Kayla and Bratty said at the same time. “Jinx!”

“What? No one knows what happened. They don’t know.”

Kayla clasped her hands together and said sagely:

“They were abducted.”

Jake looked over at Bratty, who quickly hid behind her phone again.

“When you said your friend had a ‘deep’ theory, I thought you meant thought-provoking, not… cr—”

“You think it's crazy?” Bratty glowered. “-or crap?”

“I think it's cryptic.”

“Can’t blame them for wondering,” Courtney said quietly. “Not really as if the authorities gave us anything to go on. Is something crazy really less plausible than nothing at all?”

“We’re not crazy,” Bratty said, sounding in tiny part mortified as if it only just hit her how crazy they sounded. “I mean, she’s not. Neither am I. But her especially.”

She glowered into her tea. Then she took Will and plunged his head into the drink and stirred him madly.

Kayla smiled through fluttering eyelashes at Jake.

“It is kind of crazy. I mean you don’t even know the half of it.” She flipped her hair.

“Yes?” Courtney said.

“Oh. I did some digging. You know there's a big pattern? There is. It's happened over and over. Guys go missing in the park at night, then they show up again after ten years, and either they have amnesia – they don’t remember what happened in the last ten years – or they won’t say anything at all. And then they do talk, and it’s always about the  being taken by something. Something that's not human.  And when doctors test them they say they are ten years younger than their actual age. Like they literally disappeared all that time. Right?”

“Right,” Jake said, glancing at Courtney again, but she was looking at Kayla somewhat unguardedly, looking like she was about to get her palm read. Jake looked back at  Kayla:

“Have you done any more digging on those guys? Maybe if you tried following them up, some of the mysteries clear up all by themselves. Who knows…well, technically, no one. No one knows.”

Bratty rolled her eyes.

“Great idea, Jacob, but Dylan's in prison."

Kayla sighed, adding: “And Santiago either moved country or changed his name or went underground or something.”

“One interesting group of people you’ve rounded up for sources,” said Jake. “But I wouldn’t put Will and Fuzz into that category at all. They were nice, ordinary kids. They weren't wanted felons or conspiracy theorists,. They were like us." he reassured Kayla, "Or, like we were back then.”

“Yeah right!" Bratty gave a displeasured snort. When you next looked around, Will’s head was stuffed in her mouth. She pulled him out to blurt out:

“Anyway, this is three different guys who were all unaccountable for ten years, and then magically they’re back, and they all said the same thing. They said they were taken by something. And then you have other people who claim they’ve seen UFOs in the sky and weird things happen, and it’s all in this one park. You don’t think, maybe, it’s connected to what happened to Billy and Fuzzy? Besides,” she added, “it basically happened to her, too, so if you think it’s crazy, then I guess you think she’s crazy too.”

“You saw an alien?” Courtney stared at Kayla, startled.

“The ‘Lost Boys’ weren’t the first ones,” she replied, and explained:

“Everyone in my family said my uncle, Shane, went on the down low for twelve years, and a mental breakdown made him forget ten years of his life, or something. My aunt said he was faking it though. But he told stories about being followed by something before he went missing, and not a person. Or he said,it was like some things that wore clothes - but not shoes - but he said they weren't people. And then someone talked to him - he said they talked characters in a scratched rental DVD that's been watched a hundred times. Yeah, totes creepy, super weird.." She frowned. "And can't believe people rented DVDs in his time. Anyway apparently he told the police he hadn’t been gone at all, and didn’t know what year it was. Then he said he was only away a dfew minutes but it was ten years for sure. Then doctors did a test and found he really was ten years younger than he actually was or something. Then I found out the same thing happened to Santiago and Dylan. Get that. They talked about the giant people too. None of them knew each other, so they didn’t all make this up together.”

“Your uncle disappeared in Fountain Park, too?” said Courtney.

“Yeah, he sent my mom a letter explaining a lot of stuff because it was too weird to say in person. But basically, last he remembers he was going for a walk in the park. Then he woke up in a field across town."

“Where’s your uncle now?” Courtney said.

“He’s okay,” Kayla stressed. “He seems pretty happy, even. But he never talked much about what happened. He said we wouldn’t believe him.” She chewed her lip. “But I think I do, whatever happened. ‘Cause nothing else explains what happened to him except something really weird.”

Courtney looked down, curling her hands together on the table before her. Then she said quietly:

“I never got a letter.”

“Well, maybe it’s unsafe to send it right now. Maybe they can’t talk right now because they’re under surveillance.”

Courtney didn't say anything. In the silence, Jake looked between Kayla and Courtney.

"Are we.still talking about the lost boys here, or are we...are you actually suggesting Will and Fuzz are out there somethere?"

"Yeah," Kayla replied, shrugging. "I mean, aliens."

Jake leaned back, folding his arms, giving the girls a puzzled look as if trying to determine if they weren't joking. Courtney looked wistful.

"But where's there?" said Jake.

"My uncle said once it was like, cold, so they could be in space or in alien refrigerator."

“Aliens," said Courtney.

Kayla paused and looked down. Then she said:

“It could mean…well, I don’t know, exactly.”

“Kayla just said it's aliens,” said Bratty. “Duh.”

"I'm even wishing I could believe that," Courtney said. She looked away "Sure you could draw some strange connections with..." she got a strartled look and stopped.

Jake glanced at her.

"You okay?"

She murmured under her breath:

"Just thinking about how they found Fuzz's phone. It's nothing. Tell you later, maybe."

Then she decided to distract herself with her drink.

Suddenly you were lifted and dipped into Courtney’s cup, where your head circled around her coffee a couple of times, lifting out again only once your face was covered up with a mouthful of coffee. Strangely, you could see through it, but vaguely. Courtney’s lips grew closer and closer and, right before meeting your face, parted. Her tongue smoothly ran up and down your face as she sucked the coffee out of your head. Her strong suctioning lips caused a chill to race down your spine. Once your face was cleared, it was immediately fogged up by her breath, and the warmth spread like a fever.

She put a slice of cake onto her saucer and then started using your head to carve the soft cake into pieces, sliding your head in and out of the cake like butter, which felt weird.

Each small piece was scooped up onto your face and dutifully delivered to her awaiting mouth. Your flat head slipped smoothly between her lips, and you felt your scalp buoyed by her shifting tongue, before she cleanly rotated your head until you were face down, so she could scoop her tongue in and around in your face. The slightly concave shape of your face caused it to hug the tip of her tongue while she cleaned you of cake crumbs. Being in her mouth felt like quicksand sucking around you. The pressure of her grinding tongue even caused your head to stretch a little, and it felt like your head was being flattened by every motion of her heavy tongue.

As she devoured the cake, she gave you no rest, repeatedly pushing you in and out her mouth to have your face brushed down with her tongue. An aching fever built up in your head as it was persistently fed to Courtney, over and over. Your eyes, nose and mouth were probed and grinded as if by a huge warm mop. Her biting coffee breath stung and made you feel light-headed.

Finally, you were pulled out, with a wet popping sensation inside your head. Kayla said your name and the conversation sharpened into focus again:

“—That was the other man. Did you know him as well?”

“You mean Fuzz,” Courtney said. “Jake’s friend. And my brother’s friend, too. And—” she added, “he wasn’t a ‘man’ he was just a kid when they disappeared. Poor kid.”

She idly swirled your head around inside her coffee.

“Did you know him?”

“I wish I did. It’s weird. The Ruggers all knew about Fuzz. If Will was out, it was always ‘he’s out with Fuzz’. Even Will’s girlfriend, Ashley, was running around trying to get some quiet time with him outside of boys time –”

“I babysit her kids,” Bratty mumbled to Kayla.

 “—But I never really got to know Fuzz, he was this mysterious guy my brother always hung out with.” She sighed and looked down. “And now the mystery continues.”

After a pause, she went on:

“We weren’t even super close but I'd feel like I lost a twin I never had. A brother who never was. A family member who could have been…” she cut herself off. “I don’t know what I’m even saying.”

Jake swept his hand over the table, discreetly taking Courtney’s hand and squeezing it. He took her silence as a cue to elaborate:

“Yeah, we were good buddies,” he said. “But Court’s right; Will and Fuzz went way back. I don’t know if Fuzz knew it, but the attention he got from Court’s family when he disappeared,” he added: “and all his anonymous admirers…”

As he said this, he glanced  across at Bratty. She went pink and ignored him, playing with her phone.  

Courtney slid away from the conversation and headed out of the room, turning back in the doorway:

"I'm just getting a refill. Any takers?" then she was gone, without even taking her previous cup, which you currently were stood upside down in, staring at the drops of coffee lying on the bottom. You sunk in despair, realizing she was set to spin you around in a fresh coffee.

No matter how many times she did this you never got used it; she did it at random and it always caught you by surprise. You were listening to the conversation and out of nowhere found yourself inside her warm damp mouth. The sound of their voices muddied by the oceanic rush of Courtney’s breath, like having a fan blasting your ears. Once she’d swirled her tongue around your face a couple of times, you were thankfully pulled out again and given a rest inside her cup.

Once the food and drink was done, Jake glanced over his wife. She had gone quiet for a little while now, stirring her coffee way past the point the sugar must have dissolved, and then distracting herself with a cake slice, before idly inspecting her reflection in her spoon.

Jake cleared his throat:

“Hey, Court,” he spoke up, “you want to show them that photo project you were working on?” He told the girls: “Courtney started a scrapbook photo album to commemorate the ten year anniversary.”

“Right,” she said slowly, coming out of herself a little. She rested her hands on the table, one on the other. “But why don’t you start taking them through it, and I’ll take the dishes away.”

He frowned.

“You sure? I mean…But you made it.”

“You’re in some of the photos, too,” she replied distractedly, getting up and leaning past him to collect the cups and saucers. “You could explain what’s happening in the photos just as well as I can.”

“Just seemed personal, that’s all.”

“I made it for you, too, Jake,” She said through pursued lips. “And you haven’t seen it since I finished. They’re your friends, too, remember?” Pausing to stack the used plates, she seemed to think a moment. Then, without looking at anyone, she said:

“I think I’ve poured over it a little much, and it’s in my head; really early this morning, for instance…” her words stopped short. She then smiled and shook her head: “Need to take a break. It’s weird without even talking about aliens.”

Kayla shifted guiltily in her seat, while Bratty’s eyebrows furrowed and quirked with puzzled exasperation, as if intuiting Courtney was the crazy one after all.

Jake’s tone changed as he realized her mind was decided.

“Well, come in when you’re ready.”

He and the teens left the table, Jake leading them to the drawing room on the other side of the house, leaving Courtney alone with you in the dining room.

Will met your eye and gave you an insistent look that said: Now! Get her attention!

Now?

You hesitated.

Now was the worst time. You were dainty and teaspoon-shaped, and had oily smudges of lipstick on your face. If Courtney thought you could possibly be alive out there somewhere, surely she didn’t expect her spoon to start talking to her, claiming to be you. She might think she was having a breakdown, freak out and toss you in the trash.

There had to be a better way to tell her.

You thought hard for some clue that would help Courtney put it together for herself. Only then, you decided, you would reveal yourself to her: when she called out your name. Then you would show yourself, only to confirm what she had already figured out. Just like at the birthday party, you only had the confidence to approach her when the moment practically demanded you to, and not a moment before.

Courtney lightly plucked you and Will up off the table. For a moment your shoulders were precariously held between her forefinger and thumb as she collected the other spoons, and piled everything on the empty cake platter. Next to you, Will, was smeared with half-licked cake icing. You lay on your back on the plate, staring straight up the sensational visage of his twin sister as she took you into the kitchen.

You kept imagining she would look down into your eyes and light up with recognition. But a tiny part of you didn’t want to be recognized. For an instant you thought what it would be like to be her spoon forever, being used and washed on repeat. The problem was, Jake would eventually use you as well, plus any guests they had over.

Courtney dropped the two of you into the sink and you were swallowed into a pool of hot soapy water. The saucers piled on top of you, trapping you to the bottom of the sink. She fished you up again, and swiftly scrubbed you up and down with a scour that grinded like sandpaper, making your tiny sensitive body tingle. Then you were laid on the dish rack to dry, while she left the kitchen to find the others, who were continuing their conversation in the living room. Will lay next to you, and the two of you slowly shrank in length and filled out, until you were once again a pair of walnut sized people. You gingerly stood up, and Will turned to face you.

“Do I look okay?” he said.

“You look normal to me,” you said, trying your best to ignore that the two of you were once again naked and walnut-sized. You had to admit your definition of ‘normal’ had changed radically since race day.

“I can’t believe it. I thought getting her wet willies was bad enough,” he muttered, “but she nearly sucked my head inside out.”

It had been Bratty who was sucking on him, who was a stranger. Confused, you said:

“Do you know her?”

He looked at you uncomfortably.

“Fuzz…that’s my little cousin. Lara.” He added: “I guess not so ‘little’. You met her a few times already. Hope she’s not too bummed I missed a couple of birthdays.”

It hit you like a slap:

Lara Rugger. Will and Courtney’s kid cousin. Last seen at the race, plus a handful of times when you visited Will’s house. She was a precocious little know-it-all seven year old who loved gummi bears.

Now it was more obvious than ever – undeniable – ten years had passed. Of everyone Lara had changed the most; she wasn’t a tiny seven anymore, but a tall seventeen –only a few years younger than you and Will. She had sulky good looks, wore earrings, a choker and a little too much eyeliner and pouted a lot. Her black combat boots made more noise than Courtney’s elegant heels, and when the teens got up and left the table, her tread had echoed through your body with each step.

Lara was a teenager now, and in one year she’d be an adult. This was real; you thought despondently, everyone was older. You were not.

Will tapped your shoulder, pointing at something. Across the other side of the sink, there was a phone on the counter.

“This is our chance,” he said.

The two of you moved beyond the drying rack and inched around the sink, which created a narrow pass alongside the stainless steel basins, which went deeper than any swimming pool.

“Whose phone is that?” you asked.

Will jumped on the screen and began flipping through apps.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “as long as it works.”

He seemed to have forgotten that the people you knew had changed their phone numbers, so you couldn’t dial anyone. You needed a phone with a useful contact list. Kayla’s phone would be no good, possibly not Lara’s either. It needed to be Jake’s or Courtney’s phone. You said this out loud to Will.

He opened the phone account settings and then looked up at you:

“It’s my sister’s.”

“Then we can’t call her,” you said obviously.

“Why call?” said Will. “Who’s going to believe us? We’re just going to leave a message explaining the deal, on a phone memo. So, you type and I’ll dictate.”

“We need to prove it’s really us,” you pointed out. “Not a prank.” It pained you to imagine Courtney thinking she was getting pranked by someone pretending to be her missing brother.

“We’re not ourselves.”

“You know what I mean.”

He shrugged.

“We’ll talk to her when she comes. What’s better proof than that? And you’re the one who’s going to get her attention this time,” he quickly added.

The scene from that early morning flashed in your mind: Courtney leaning over in bed to take a good look at you. The feeling of dread as you realized you were stuck in her hose. Only because the bedroom was dimly lit she didn’t get a good look at you.

You were grateful you had hid under the bed, as much of a blow it was to your goal of being discovered. You had been worried she wouldn’t recognize you. She would pick you up, look you over, like the college guy had, and put you away in her bedside drawer, like an interesting keepsake. If you were going to get her attention, the moment had to be perfect. She had to be able to see and hear you properly otherwise it was too risky. She couldn’t be sleepy or distracted; you needed her full attention.

Will glanced at you.

“Don’t hold out on me.”

You said:

“I’ll do it.”

He picked up your hesitation.

“Hey, I think I get it,” he murmured. “You can’t stand her right now. And that’s cool.”

“I-I don’t – ” you said quickly.

“You were really into her,” he pointed out solemnly. “And she done backflipped. I mean…”

“She’s your twin sister. Of course I don’t blame her. I don’t. It’s been a long time for them.”

But it wasn’t a long time.

It sounded like she got together with Jake the race night. Probably after arriving at the fancy restaurant. Waiting alone. Being unable to call you or Will. Remembering how Will tried to brush her off. Deciding you were colluding against her. Finally, being found by Jake. Feeling relieved that he was just as confused as she was; that maybe she wasn’t the only one being stood up. Offering to drive him home. Taking him inside her place, at 1.30 AM, for coffee and revenge. They were just kids too. She regretted it now.

None of this made you feel better.

“It’s been ten years,” you insisted. “She dated someone else, so what?”

“Jake’s not someone else. He’s your best friend. Our best friend.”

“He didn’t know I liked her.”

“He knew she’s my sister.”

“So, you think he dated her just because you disappeared? Jake would never do that.”

“Maybe you’re right. He would never do that.”

Puzzled, you stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

He looked away.

“It means I don’t think Jake did that. I think Courtney did that. She jumped all over Jake just because we disappeared. Gross. Why did I say it like that?”

“Maybe it looks like that to you,” you said, “but, I’m sure it’s much more complicated.”

Will changed the subject:

“You think Lara was kidding about Ash?” he remarked, “She has kids now. That’s so weird—”

You were again struck how young you sounded. You had the whiny strain of youth, to remind you how little you aged. Will’s voice sounded closer to a kid’s than Jake’s deep, mature voice. If he recognized you, would he treat you like kids, or like adults? Would Courtney?

“How old do you think they are?” Will wondered aloud. “Ten?”

“No way,” you said. “That means she was pregnant the same year we left.”

“We’re talking about Ash,” he said calmly. “It’s not that weird. She needed a guy there all times, even in her dreams.”

He seemed oddly dispassionate. You asked if he was okay with it.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed. He held his palms up as if weighing two alternatives: “Kids. No kids. I’m young and single again, man.”

His voice was drowned out by a resonating sound; the sharp tap of incredibly large footwear over tiles.

The two of you had assumed Courtney had gone off to find the others. Now it occurred you made a grave error of judgment. She had only disappeared to use the bathroom, and had just finished. Now she was washing her hands and the piping sounds of water flow ran through the wall. In a minute she’d be done, and you guessed pretty soon she was going to appear to get her phone back.

In a state of growing panic, you looked across at Will. He gestured you to hurry up, but there was no time. You were still thinking up what to say via note on her phone, and ‘oops, we’re shrunk now’ wouldn't cut it.

“Leave it!” Will said. “There’s no time to type, you basically gotta her draw a diagram!”

That gave you an idea. You quit the memo app and opened a drawing pad app, then began swiping letters out, trying to make them as big as possible.

Will wasn’t even looking anymore; he was starting to edge back over the kitchen counter. The piping sounds shut off.

“Get out of here Fuzz!” he yelled back at you.

But you needed to set an alarm on the phone, to distract Courtney while you ran for cover. You scrolled through her music playlists.

"What's her favorite song?" you asked Will.

"How would I know?" he said with irritation, "Fuzz, we have no time for this."

You saw:

Walnut Tree by Keane
Moon by Sia
Losing My Religion by R.E.M.
How Soon Is Now? by The Smiths
Pictures of You by the Cure
A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton
From the Sea by Eskimo Joe

You chose one. Maybe you liked the title. Maybe you closed your eyes and pointed at one. Maybe the choice was obvious, or maybe it didn’t matter which one you chose, because all of Courtney's songs were the same song.

Then you maxxed the volume and pressed play. Even before the soundwaves rippled through the air, you and Will had begun to run like it was race day again, and he was still faster than you.

*

At first she thought one of the girls had left their phone out and it was ringing, even as she felt a weird shimmery feeling, like a ghost had touched her shoulder.

It was coming from her own phone, and it wasn’t a ringtone. It was one of her ‘special’ songs that she never played except on those ‘red wine and bathtub’ nights that happened more often than she told Jake about, but she thought he’d begun to suspect.

With an eerie feeling, she burst into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Jake and the teens were on the other side of the house, in the drawing room where she kept her photo journal. Her phone lay on the kitchen counter, and when she picked up it, she noticed strange tiny markings dotting the screen, like miniature hand and foot prints. They went all over the screen.

She was just about to swipe them away with her thumb, but stopped, feeling weird again, remembering what she’d seen early that morning. Or, what she told herself she had not really seen.  

The drawing pad app was open and there was a weird message drawn on it that puzzled her even before she read what it said. First of all, it was in a loopy childlike scrawl, like the writer couldn’t write very well. Secondly, even more puzzling, it was very tiny. Absurdly tiny. It made no sense a messy writer could also write that delicately.

Then she read it:

hi court
it was me
the frog

One second, you were running with Will over the kitchen counter. Then, in a heartbeat, everything went red.

The two of you went back along the narrow strip by the sink, but this time you ran; there was no time to slow down. Will accidentally stepped too close to the edge of the sink, and his foot slipped. His arm shot out to grab you, and locked around your bicep.

One second the two of you were on the sink edge, next moment Will yanked you over and you were plummeting, and then—squish.

You landed on something soft, wet and round, before sliding off, into blood-red water. Paddling and kicking, you managed to swim over to Will, who was wading nearby. He was stained red all over. The two of you looked identical; crimson little shapes bobbing in a sea of red.

Everything smelled sweet, syrupy, fruity. Around you, big objects like red balls bobbed about. They varied in size, from being the size of exercise balls, to being slightly larger than you. The liquid wasn’t blood; the two of you had fallen into a bowl of pitted cherries floating in deep red syrup. There were also some raspberries and blueberries sprinkled around. You guessed it was for a dessert or fruit salad.

Before you could help yourself, you cupped your hands and drank some. You hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in a while, and it tasted real good. Sweet. Curious, Will did the same. You drank so much the two of you ended up full and your swimming got sluggish. But the syrup was slightly thicker and stickier than water and your lighter weight kept you buoyant.

The top of a glass bowl encircled your heads, too high to climb. There was no way you could get out. You’d have to wait until someone came. Realizing this, Will groaned with exasperation.  However, you felt hopeful. Someone was bound to retrieve the cherries and they had to notice you. And you had a good feeling it would be Courtney. She was going to rescue you.

Trying to relax and conserve your energy, you slowly started to feel a weird tingling all through your body. Within minutes a feeling of coolness seemed to surge through your veins and radiate throughout your entire body. A shiver went up your spine. You recognized this feeling: it was the feeling of liquid being absorbed into your body, like you were a tiny sponge, and the thick syrup was slowly making you heavier.

Startled, you tried squeezing your muscles to push the syrup out. Across from you, the same was happening to Will.

“It’s getting inside me!” he exclaimed, shocked. Forcing yourself to stay calm, you explained,

“We soak up liquid now.”

Will thought you were joking.

“How is this possible?” he yelped.

You told him to squeeze his muscles to strain it out.

“I’m trying!” he said.

It was no use; every time you managed to squeeze juice out, more got sucked into your body. It was like trying to shovel water out of a sinking canoe.  As your body continued to absorb the syrup, you slowly turned a deep rich shade of red, like wine. Across from you, you noticed the deep shade of red obscured Will’s features so his face was harder to make out. It wasn’t just that; he was changing shape, becoming rounder.

The red liquid flooded nonstop into your chest, head and stomach. You could feel it filling up inside your lungs, inflating your stomach and even expanding inside your penis, which gave you a huge, pounding erection.  Your entire circulatory system was buzzing with the sugar. It made you heady. You let yourself sink in the syrup until just your head was barely on the surface.

Your body stretched and rounded out to contain all the vast masses of syrup pumping in. There was nothing you could do but feel the liquid gradually fill out your tiny body into a fat, featureless red sphere. The syrup was also stretching out of Will’s form. He didn’t even have a head or arms or legs anymore; he was perfectly spherical, and since he had no features it was difficult to make out his face anymore. Which meant you looked the same.

The two of you were starting to look no different than any of the cherries bobbing around in the syrup. You couldn’t help but wonder what all these cherries were for. Was it going into a blender to make a smoothie? Or be sprinkled onto some yoghurt or cereal? Or be put on top of a cake? Or baked in a cherry pie? Or be made into cherry glaze and spread over spare ribs?

Also who were they for? You’d never seen Jake eat cherries. You asked Will if Courtney liked them. He just said:

“Don’t think about it too hard. It’s past lunchtime, so probably no one is eating any time soon.”

“How do we get out of here?” you indicated the vertical walls of the bowl over your head.

Then someone entered the kitchen. You both went quiet.

It was Jake. He stopped by the fridge and peered inside, shuffling some items around.

“Hey, the punch you made is still here, Court,” he called out in surprise. “You forget to take it to your work function on Thursday night?”

“No,” Courtney called back. “It’s extra. I accidentally made a little too much.”

Kayla perked up.

“Ooh, what kind?”

A smile crept into Courtney’s voice.

“It’s not exactly a prom night punch.”

“Well, I skipped prom,” Lara shot back.

“What happened to your diet?”

“It starts when I say it does.”

“There’s no more room in the fridge,” Jake went on, bending over to search deeper in the fridge, “unless you take out the rest of the cake.”

“Oh, no,” Courtney jumped in, “that’s a keeper. There’s at least another couple of servings, and it’s a good one.”

Jake said:

“Well, then it’s showdown. This fridge is too small for the both of us. Who are you rooting for, Court? Loser goes.”

“I hate to just toss anything out.”

“Choose one. Anything.”

“I don’t think so.” She thought for a moment, then relented: “The cake is mine.”

“Fine. I’ll have some punch.”

“Wait a minute. It’s bitter right now. When I said I accidentally made extra, what I really meant was I screwed up the first one.  It needs to be sweetened a little. And then maybe I’ll have a glass, too.”

Jake shut the fridge door.

“Some fruit should do the trick.”

As he said this, he loomed over the sink and eyed you. “On second thought, keep the punch. I’ll just eat up some of these tasty-looking little cherries.”

Courtney then entered the kitchen behind him, and suddenly you were staring up at her face as she leaned over the sink. The husband and wife, giant-like, both scrutinized you dispassionately, and you felt like an insect that had fallen into the soup. But worse than that, they thought you belonged in the soup. Courtney gave you a quick inspection, and finding nothing amiss, lifted the bowl from the sink.

“Let me put them into the punch first, then you can have all the leftover fruit you want.”

Cherries bounced around like big red beach balls as you were carried onto the kitchen counter, saving you and Will from an imminent tour of Jake’s digestive system. You were overcome with a big wave of relief.  Jake stood back and was now feasting on a bag of potato chips. You really didn’t want to spent your evening swishing around the rumbling ocean of Jake’s gut anyway, buried up to your neck in chomped up potato chips.

Courtney took the punch out of the fridge and put it on the counter next to the sink. Then she began catching the cherries in a ladle and dropping them into the punch. Obliviously she also scooped you and Will up and dropped you into the wider red lake of punch, losing you in a forest of sliced strawberries, raspberries, and cherries.

Jake suggested:

“The juice will make it sweeter, too.”

“Guess it can’t hurt,” Courtney said.

You held your breath as a heavy shower of cherry syrup poured over your head. Anxiously, you tried to locate Will, amidst this red shower but he was now practically indistinguishable from a cherry, and it wasn’t clear which one he was. He probably thought the same about you.

A spoon hovered over your head and parted the punch. In wonder, you watched it scoop up a teaspoon size and then disappear between Courtney’s parted lips. Just earlier a spoon like that had been your head.

“The juice worked,” Courtney sounded delighted, “Problem solved.”

Jake said through a mouthful of chips:

“Except not really. You just doubled the punch without creating any more room in the fridge.”

Courtney called out to the teens in the next room:

“I fixed the punch! You girls are welcome to take some before you go.”

From the living room, the girls chorused eagerly. Courtney looked back at Jake with satisfaction.

“There. Like I said, problem solved.”

You watched as Courtney’s face again appeared over the rim of the punch bowl. She was so big to you she blocked out most of the ceiling.

You tried to yell out for her but punch rushed into your open mouth and filled you up, causing you to sink slightly, until more punch lapped at your face and everything became red. You pushed to the surface again, and with a spike of alarm, you watched the giant ladle pour in and out of the punch bowl, subtracting a scoop each time, and pieces of fruit. A couple of times it bumped into you, pushing you aside to collect some red liquid and then depart again. Courtney watched you calmly, but also barely you paid you much notice. You tried to imagine what was worse; ending up in Jake’s potato chip-filled stomach, or Courtney’s stomach, filled with coffee and cake.

As you bobbed to surface again, you caught her say to Jake:

“My aunt’s going to be here soon to pick up Lara, but someone needs to take Kayla home. She lives across town.”

“I’ll do it,” said Jake.

The ladle dove back into the punch, making a broad scooping motion for you, and this time you were pulled into its cup and lifted into the air.

Courtney, it’s me! you thought desperately. You were firm and full up with syrup juice, it was like your throat was swollen and you couldn’t speak. As the ladle lifted, you accidentally poured out and landed in the punch again, bouncing a little on the surface.

It suddenly occurred to you that no matter what, you were getting drunk, today, tomorrow, or the next day, unless you could tell someone you were there. You would end up in someone’s stomach, even if it wasn’t Jake. This caused your heart to race. Since you were perfectly round, you couldn’t swim, or even move much, except tilt. You were totally at the mercy of whatever direction the syrup was flowing in, like a cork bobbing in the ocean.

“Did you show them the photo book?” Courtney murmured, looking up briefly at Jake, who was somewhere beyond the rim of the punch bowl, again crunching on the chips.

“Yeah,” he replied vaguely. “Lara seemed to like it. She didn’t say it, but I think she did.”

Courtney’s voice piqued with interest:

“Were you joking earlier? –She liked Fuzz back then?”

He shrugged.

“Heh. Little girl crush kind of thing,” he said indifferently. “That strange?”

“She was only seven you know. Very mature taste for a seven year old. But I guess she’s always kind of—”

“I think she still does.”

“Oh, Jake,” she said. “You just don’t get girl crushes. They’re…silly. You always want the one you can’t have. That’s all.”

“That explains why Sarah left. I was too available.”

Folding her arms, she considered him with a lifted eyebrow.

“You weren’t with her that long. I mean, not when she was a little girl.”

“If we’re remembering ten years ago;” he added, “ten years ago I was with Sarah.”

After a moment he asked:

“You were single.”

“It…It’s not that simple. Well,” she thought aloud, “It seemed simple. It seemed really obvious. And then the boys went missing it complicated itself.”

“You did like Fuzz though.”

Courtney paused. Surveying her calmly, Jake said:

“I can tell.”

“Really?”

“Loud and clear. Courtney, I knew the moment you told me about your twelfth birthday. You were praying for him to kiss you, and when he did, you thought you’d pass out.”

“No, no,” she giggled, suddenly sounding like her twenty-two year old self again, “I just meant…oh, you’re right. Why the hell did I tell you that?”

“It must be a thing with you Rugger girls, you get the Fuzzies going way back.”

Courtney folded her arms and shook her head.

“If you say so,” she said. She seemed to want to get off the subject. “By the way, I looked up those Lost Boys kids again. I didn’t realize there were updates since they were found. The reports about them being ten years younger seem, I don’t know, credible.”

Jake thought about this.

“Yeah? What about the flipside?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“They ran away and lived some secret double lives without telling anyone “That’s what I’m thinking happened.”

“If that’s true,” Courtney murmured, as she stirred you around with the ladle, “what made them come back?”

You gazed up at Courtney’s huge face.

She glanced down at you, in thought, but from her point of view, you looked virtually identical to any of the dozen pitted cherries floating around the punch bowl. She kept paddling you around gently with the ladle, scooping at you without trying to lift you out. Then she looked up as the teenage girls passed the kitchen. The ladle paused and you stopped being gently swirled around in the punch.

“Mom’s here,” you heard Lara drift in from across the room. She jumped to her feet and ran and got her bag.

“You need a ride home?” Jake said, going down the hall.

“Yes!” said Kayla.

“Okay, I’ll take you. Let’s go, kiddo. My car’s in the garage.”

Kayla, who had been beaming at Jake, looked crestfallen at being called ‘kiddo’.

“Um, I’m seventeen.”

“But not eighteen.”

“Not like we don’t know what adult stuff is,” Lara rolled her eyes, “you know, like beer and fucking—”

“Okaay—”

“Don’t forget to take some punch,” Courtney offered, helpfully ushering the girls into the kitchen, and trying not to smirk at Jake’s puzzlement.

“Definitely not beer,” she emphasized. “But has a little something going on. Just don’t give any away to Ash’s kids,” she told Lara, “know what I mean?”

Back in the kitchen, Courtney looked right at you this time, and next second you were scooped up in the ladle for the second time. Hovering beneath you was the opening of a plastic jug already filled with rich, purple-red punch and some fruit pieces. The ladle tilted sharply, sending you plunging straight in, and hit the liquid, driving you beneath the tumbling red. The cool rush of liquid encapsulated you all around like you’d been dunked naked in a lake on a cold morning. The shock actually caused your brain to stop working for a second.

When the drink settled and you finally broke the surface, Courtney was already fitting a plastic jug lid over your head, to trap you inside. The world that surrounded you was very strange. It was as if you were floating in a red swimming pool in transparent walls, with giants looking in. You felt like a fish that had just been bought from a pet shop, being evaluated from every angle. It occurred to you, with acute discomfort, that everyone could freely see your dong, even if they didn’t know what it was.

No, wait, Courtney, please don’t give me away—! You thought, staring out miserably through the plastic at Courtney, but she wasn’t looking at you. The jug was passed into the awaiting hands of Kayla, who tilted it a little to look in at you briefly. Their voices were partly muffled by the liquid around your head, and echoed inside the jug.

“That rock-emo boy was your little brother?”

Kayla looked over at Courtney, and held the jug close to her chest. She wore a tight top and had large boobs for a teenager and they were squished up against one side of the jug. You could even see the faint crescents of her nipples, each as big as your head.

“Older brother by a minute,” Courtney replied. “And that rock thing was a phase. Then it was hip-hop.”

“He’s cute.” Kayla risked a smile, and that made Courtney smile back, in a slightly pained way.

“You know,” she said in a low voice, “I had a crush on Fuzz.”

“He’s like basically almost half your age!”

Courtney just laughed.

“No, we were the same age. He was twenty-two.”

“I don’t mean you’re, like, old, but I mean if he came back,” Kayla quickly added.

“Not sure I understand, but I think you’re mistaking him for someone else. Fuzz would be thirty-two this year. And a handsome thirty-two, I bet.”

“That’s just how it was for my uncle,” Kayla shrugged, causing her boobs to jiggle slightly against the jug. “He ended up 10 years younger than my aunt, and they both ended up in different relationships because he dated this girl 15 years younger than her. But, also, my aunt was already with another dude when he came back, who was actually 9 years older than my aunt, so he was like almost 20 years older than my uncle, which was very freaky, ya know—”

“That sounds like a whole other story between your uncle and aunt,” Courtney said gently. Then she got serious: “But…Kayla, you find out anything that is connected to my brother or Fuzz, let me know. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Kayla swished around, sending waves through the punch jug that pushed you to one side, “Gotta go now. Thanks for the cake!”

They said their byes and Kayla moved quickly through the house. Towering walls flashed past either side of the jug as she made her way into the garage. She dropped into the passenger seat of a sedan, placing the jug on her lap. Jake, in driver’s seat, started the car and the punch swayed you around as the car turned out of the driveway and into the streets.

The streets seem to zoom by, and you swished to and fro with every turn of the car, before the car cleared onto a highway through town that was a straight shoot to Kayla’s neighborhood, in a well-kept street with nice lawns.

Caught in a thoughtful trance, you came to when the car slowed beside a two-storey house. Kayla got out, again nursing the jug to her chest, her large boobs once again rudely staring in at you. Looking elsewhere, you didn’t recognize the street and wondered where you were. By the time you got a quick look around, Kayla had reached the doorstep of her house. Before you knew it, Jake’s car had peeled out of the driveway and you painfully watched it disappear down the block.

Kayla brought you inside her house, where it was fresh and new like she must have just moved in. Everything was wondrously big and spacious, although that made you feel even smaller. You bobbed around inside the jug, riding the gentle current of punch that swelled about in sync with Kayla’s movement.

From inside the clear plastic jug, you scanned the distance from room to room nervously; and it was clear travelling on the floor would be difficult and risky, taking you too long to cross a room safely. If nothing else, you were grateful Kayla was carrying you place to place for now.

From the size and space, you guessed she lived here with her family. On the other hand, your home was a jug. As the walls passed by your jug, you searched for family photos or some clues about the others, hoping they looked friendly. Kayla seemed nice, so you trusted her family would be like her. Then it shouldn’t be too difficult to get their attention and possibly explain to them what happened to you.

In the kitchen, Kayla set the jug down on the counter while she opened the cupboards. Just then, a woman wandered into the kitchen and noticed Kayla. From inside the jug, you gazed out at this woman in surprise.

She was a good-looking redhead around forty, and voluptuous. The woman’s large breasts hung full, stretching out her top, her hips were wide and round, and her tummy and thighs were slightly chubby in a desirable way. Even her lips were full. She also had pierced ears and an eyebrow stud, plus a coiling snake tattoo that peeked out of her low neckline, curving close to her armpit. You wondered if the snake was on her substantial breast, but it was hard to tell.

“Hi, mom,” said Kayla. “I just got back.”

Kayla’s mom squinted at the jug; and it seemed for an instant she was looking at you.

“Did you make that?”

“It’s punch that Courtney made.”

“It looks delicious but we’re going to have dinner soon, so no punch until after dessert, okay?”

“I’m not having it all right now. I’m just gonna have the tiniest little bit, and a cherry.”

The older woman pursed her lips and said:

“It’ll refrigerate perfectly fine for a couple of hours, and taste even better if you waited for it.”

Sensing she couldn’t win, Kayla sighed.

“Okay.”

She opened the fridge and found some space for you against a carton of orange juice, and a bottle of sparkling water, which were as tall as buildings. You stared out at Kayla, whose enormous shape was filling the fridge doorway, and behind her, her mom started running the kitchen sink, completely oblivious about you. Kayla was bending slightly to peer in at you, checking the jug had space. Then, without a second look, she shut the door.

The fridge hummed all around, and the cold trickled in like a cool gel was being applied to your whole body.  Although it wasn’t painful, it did stiffen you after a while, until you were unable to move, and could only bob helplessly like a buoy on the punch surface. Even your thoughts slowed to a lazy crawl. You felt oddly calm and safe; floored at how much your body had been altered to endure extreme environments.

You thought of Kayla, how it made sense she was into UFOs, when her trendy ‘cool’-seeming mom seemed laid-back and mildly alternative, too. Even Lara seemed to be going through an experimental, alternative phase herself, something like Will a couple of years ago – or specifically, a couple plus ten. That made you think of Will; and wonder what he was doing. There were a couple of possible answers. He could have been poured into the punch Courtney had then given Lara and she took him home with her. Or, he stayed in the punchbowl and was still at Courtney and Jake’s house. Both of them were keen for another glass of punch, and Will could be poured into either of their drinks. Hopefully he could get their attention before then. He might be able to tell them where you were and they could come collect you.

It seemed like a long time passed, much longer than expected. At some point you fell asleep, awaking to the fridge door bursting open, and Kayla’s dad’s enormous face stared in at you. He was now wearing pyjamas and looked sleepy. He took the punch jug handle, only to slid it sideways, and pull out the sparkling water. The kitchen was dim, it must have been a weird time of night. Kayla must have gone to bed without remembering the punch.

Somewhere outside, a car exhaust popped and revved into almost hyperdrive. Kayla’s dad groaned a little. Within a minute, he put the water back and closed the fridge.

Another long period passed. The fridge door opened, and again it was Kayla’s dad. A glimpse of pale sky outside the kitchen window told you it was morning. It was Monday. The fridge opened several more times and each time the doorway filled with the gargantuan visage of either Kayla or her mom or dad. They alternatively reached for milk or bread, and didn’t notice you at all. Kayla was getting ready for school, while her parents were preparing for work. They each left the house, leaving you in the fridge over most of the day.

You were very meditative and inattentive, in a low-energy trance state. Sometimes the fridge motor clicked over and you came to, before realizing you were still in the fridge. Then you drifted back into a daydream. You allowed yourself to recall the day you were abducted, running through the events from waking up that morning to being knocked out that night. It was hard not to wonder if you could have done anything differently to avoid it, but what? It was also tempting to imagine what would have happened if you had not been taken.

That evening you made out some muffled noises of people in the house. Kayla was back from school and her mom had finished work. A short time later, her dad returned. They seemed to go about the house doing their own things, and then came together again for dinner. You heard the conversation at the dinner table, barely, but couldn’t make any words out.

Again you listened to the cooler motor whirr and click over, staring blankly around a second before remembering you were inside a refrigerator, held in a jug of punch. By now, you had a weird flashback this had happened before, which made no sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. It was gradually coming back from behind an inexplicable fog; a whole chunk of your life.

It ran through your mind like a movie playing…

--------------------------------------------------

Amazingly, you had not been knocked out in Fountain Park. Neither had Will. A dart shot into your shoulder and paralyzed you, you fell to the ground, unable to speak, but aware. Then something truly incredible happened.

Through the shadowy trees, out of nowhere, a curtain burst open. It wasn’t through the trees; it was the trees. Two trees melted away, or were shrugged off like a sheet falling away in a magic trick, leaving two figures standing in the park. Alien camouflage. The figures stood upright and had thin wires coming off their bodies in some places, connected to fabric that looked rubbery and stretchy. Alien clothes.

With no warning, they sprinted at you and Will running crazily on two skinny legs with splayed, long-toed feet, like two big chickens. You would have laughed if you hadn’t been so dazzled.

But you weren’t laughing when they stopped by you and you got a better look at them. They had bodies like cuter, baby versions of dinosaurs, with rounded baby dinosaur heads and big expressive eyes, but intelligent eyes. Their clawed hands were double jointed and exceptional for dextrous grasping and there were a lot of teeth in their mouths, which they kept showing each other in expressions you couldn’t decipher. They had scaly bright colored ridges over their eyes – alien eyebrows – which they lifted and scrunched to convey more expressions.

They didn’t move like animals; they were precise and efficient, like animatronics, but more fluid. They tweeted melodically to each other like songbirds, fast chirpy ringing tones and little vibrations like purring or soothing white noise. Their speech came like hopelessly complicated morse code of extravagant, varied sounds that you had no hope of following.

They looked at each other, and then looked at you. One of them made a rapid pulsing sound like lots of lasers. The other understood and showed its teeth.

From across the park, through the trees, a male voice called:

"Hey...you fellas okay?"

The dinos stood straight and fixed their posture to look human. Out of nowhere, one of the dinosaur-aliens said:

"A-okay," perfectly mimicking a human voice, straight out of a scripted TV show, although the accent was a little strange. “Nice scenery here. It’s different. I think we’ll come back.” It then began to whistle happily. The man left.

The dinos chirped angrily at each other, and then flipped some sheets around themselves, that pixelated and showed images. These quickly got very detailed, until the sheets projected a man and a woman where each dino used to stand. The sheets were kept slightly off the ground so the dinos didn’t trip on them, ending where the human ankles would be. There was a sound like compressed air, and the sheets pulled around the dino bodies like vacuum suction, expanding in some parts to suggest a human form. As long as the dinos didn’t move much there was a good illusion of two humans standing there. Once they moved, the illusion glitched.

Suddenly the human images fragmented back to shifting pixels, and then reflected the forest. This was much more convincing since it was dark, making the dinos virtually invisible, although you could faintly make out where they were when they moved.

The dino-aliens swiftly unrolled a tablet with wheels and placed it on the ground, lifting you onto it. Then they did the same to Will, and began to cart you away through the trees. They sprinted like roadrunners, but it wasn’t funny anymore because you realized you were being abducted.

There was a streamlined shape ahead, edges partly blurred. It looked like more trees but you could tell now it was a big object covered with an image sheet. One of the dinos slipped inside it, taking Will with them. The other dino went next; sliding you inside a hidden doorway under the sheet. You were rolled into a compartment like a morgue tray and were freaked out immediately, but it was light lined and aerated inside and you sensed you wouldn’t die. There was a clear panel on one side of the tray viewing a high tech control room with lots of weird machines, lights, screens, and devices.

The dinos appeared in this room, on the other side of the glass, operating the machines. The room rocked and you felt a sensation like a punch in the gut that nearly made you puke. When you looked out the window there was outer space.

One of the dinos went over to a panel and began operating it. It got dark in the control room like a movie was about to play, but the lights in your compartment intensified, strange and UV blue. A big moving screen descended on a robotic arm and began running back and forth past you just outside the glass of your compartment and there was the sound of lots of tiny fast lasers.

You eventually guessed the lasers were invisible and shooting your body from the panel that was moving back and forth across the compartment. Within a few seconds your body heated and then began to twinge in different places, while your joints and bones cramped and ached a little.

There was a claustrophobic feeling of tightness, but as you looked around, nothing was squeezing you. Instead, the walls of your glass compartment began racing away from you on both sides, and the top shot upwards, way over your head. The glass compartment was growing, and growing…

When it stopped, the walls were a hundred feet away. The moving panel folded away on its mechanical arm, and the dinos moved in front of the glass window on the side of your compartment to look at you. Now, they were giants, closer to the size of ancient dinosaurs like the tyrannosaurus. Satisfied, they moved away.

Some kind of gas flushed through the compartment and you became unable to move. Then it got very cold. You succumbed to complete stillness, and the feeling of cold evaporated, although you could recognize it was cold, that it was uncomfortable, it didn’t bother you, which was weird. Something was flowing through your body, which hurt acutely for a minute, then went numb. With shock, you realized a tiny cord was injected in your stomach, pumping you with something. You drifted on a cloud of patient, serene awareness. You could have spent a lot of time in this state, as the spaceship circled Earth for ten years, while you were cryonically preserved, time travelling the slow way. Or the cryonic process was brief and the spaceship actually took you far away, into Earth’s future purely by general relativity, time travelling the fast way.

Either way, you ended up in 2033, tiny, naked, cold.

As Earth’s atmosphere came back outside the window, the fluids stopped flowing into your body, and you warmed up a little again. The chemical effect wore off, giving you a moment of piercing awareness as a tiny piece of machinery on the ceiling of your compartment buzzed to life, and said:

“u4;w2;Ԡʉb4;v4;(5;(7;ǀǁǂȾxœƍ(4;Ԡx4;z1;y7;”

--------------------------------------------------

You weren’t sure how long you’d spent in the fridge now, but it was at least a couple of days. On the first night at Kayla’s house, since her dad had some sparkling water in the middle of the night, he accidentally returned the bottle directly in front of the punch jug, hiding you from view. This caused you to get forgotten.

After two days and nights you were very chilled and stiff. If someone had picked you up you would have been quite tough like firm clay, or even hard like a pebble. But you were relaxed and mentally rested, like you were in hibernation, and although you were aware of the cold it didn’t bother you too much.

Suddenly, the fridge door swung out, awakening you from a nap. It was Kayla’s enormous face which framed in around the sparkling water bottle blocking you, but failed to see you. She hurriedly swiped her school lunch off the fridge shelf above your head, and then quickly shut you away in the fridge again.

A minute later, when the fridge door opened, her dad’s face greeted you; perking up your ears with a cheerful whistling. He pulled the sparkling water out for a drink. There was one glass full remaining, after which he tossed out the bottle, leaving the punch jug in view again.

Today was another weekday, and each family member quickly left the house to get to school or work. You weren’t put out having to wait for them to return, though, since you were starting to relax. In the cold, your thoughts were more sluggish, which seemed to make time run faster for you, since you were less aware of its passage.

Outside the fridge, muffled sounds drifted around. Usually Kayla was the first home as school finished before her parents got off work. You assumed she must have just got back from school, which meant it had to be around 4 or 5 pm. In fact, it was even later, about 6pm. Kayla’s mom had just come back from grocery shopping for dinner, and her dad had just come back from work. Both of them were looking forward to a quiet, relaxing night.

When the fridge next opened, there was a man’s large form framed in the opening, Kayla’s dad. His gaze searched around the fridge, brow furrowed and sucking his lips in thought. He gazed in at you, before sliding the punch jug one way, then sliding it back. He seemed to be looking for the sparkling water, and forgot he’d drunk it all already.

“I haven’t seen Kayla, is she in her room?” he said over his shoulder.

A woman’s voice answered, Kayla’s mom:

“Oh, she’s at a friend’s house tonight. She’ll be back tomorrow night after school. Can you find me some sauce and a couple of peppers?”

Further in the kitchen, you heard the oven cooking and stovetop fan, driving the aroma of meat and spice into your awareness, which smelled good.

“Hold back the Tabasco this time.” Said dad. “Last time it was pretty hot.”

“I did warn you, and you said you liked it spicy. And this isn’t Tabasco; it’ll be much tamer this time, I promise. I’ll only put the serious stuff in my meal. And I just want some mild peppers.”

Dad peered back into the fridge.

“Where do you keep them?”

From across the kitchen Kayla’s mom answered:

“Normally in the bottom shelf.”

He bowed down a little lower, bringing his gigantic face within range of the punch jug, and noticed you at a glance.

“What’s in the jug?” he said.

The woman’s voice piqued with pleasant surprise:

“Oh, I completely forgot! It’s punch. Kayla got it from her friend’s cousin. I’m so glad you reminded me.”

The man took some peppers from the bottom shelf and the fridge shut again, stealing away this taunting glimpse of the outside world.

You sunk back a little from disappointment; since learning Kayla was out of the house, it meant you would have to wait at least another day before she took you out again.  Once more, the familiar cold twinged through your body and your awareness clouded, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The fridge was like a big sedate, isolation chamber and it was easy to go into a trance listening to the droning fridge motor.

It was hard to keep track of time, but it seemed like another two hours passed, and your thoughts became vague and calm once more, as you slowly began to slip into a deeper state of relaxation, preparing to hunker down for the night, and awaken the next morning, preparing to see Kayla again sometime in the late afternoon.

The fridge was suddenly opened, interrupting your rest in an instant. You automatically expected to see Kayla – even though you now knew she was out – but this time it was her mom who filled up the fridge doorway with her wide, full bust and hips, and beautiful face.

She leaned down and her hand drifted to your side, where the jug handle was. Her fingernails were shiny, polished the same color as the punch.

“Courtney must have made enough punch to fill a hot tub,” she said to her husband, who was nearby. “I’m sure Kayla won’t even notice if I try a tiny sample.” Her eyes sparkled over you with growing appetite.

Without waiting for an answer, she took the jug out and put it down on the kitchen counter, and as you bobbed mildly in your glassy red pond, this sensual older woman lay out a tumbler glass.

Keeping the jug lid on, she opened the shutter covering the jug spout, and poured some punch into her glass. You were tipped sideways and sent surging towards the top of the jug, but the spout was too small for you to pass through. While the punch rushed out the hole, you were pressed in place at the spout. As her glass slowly filled up, you became aware of the woman’s gaze drifting onto you and stayed stubbornly on your face. She identified you caught at the jug spout and seemed to consider you with a spark in her eye.

When her glass got almost to filling, you felt a small leap of relief as she put the jug down. But instead of closing the lid, she detached it completely, exposing you nakedly to her growing interest.

She watched you floating on the punch surface, catching your eye and flashing you a gorgeous smile, as if she recognized you. However, she actually thought you were a cherry, and she loved cherries. She quickly decided that you looked too cute and yummy to ignore.

The spoons had been used for dessert and were now in the dishwasher. So she took a pair of chopsticks from the cutlery drawer, and brought the tips apart to hover just over your head, as she surveyed and selected the fruit she liked. Each piece of fruit was pecked up in one unpredictable motion and added to her glass. You watched a blueberry and two raspberries get taken. Then, finally, it was your turn.

The chopstick points spread apart on either side of you, before your ribcage was daintily pincered up, which caused your sides to push together. Squeezing you a couple of times for extra grip, the behemoth woman then lifted you out of the punch, and you dropped into her glass with a plop. Floating on the surface, you looked up to find the mountainous visage of Kayla’s mom gazing happily down at you.

After the punch bowl was back in the fridge, she got a mint leaf and dropped it into her glass, which landed on your wet head and stuck there. Before you could take it off, the punch tilted and swished about as the giant woman took her glass up and relocated to the living room. Her favorite show was due to start, she had the living room all to herself, and she could think of nothing better than enjoying a regular swill of the punch as she watched, undisturbed. She planned on giving 100% of her attention to the show, ignoring all distractions until her glass was empty.

You looked through the glass at the surrounding living room, and wondered how to get someone’s notice. Meanwhile, Kayla’s mom flicked off the ceiling lights, so the room was dim except for the TV. This made you virtually impossible for someone to see, unless they looked really hard. It also meant Kayla’s mom wouldn’t be able to make you out clearly. You were a tiny dark red smudge floating at the top of her glass, and half hidden under a mint leaf.

With the TV playing, you had no hope of talking loudly enough for anyone to hear. Kayla’s mom slid onto the sofa, and nursed the glass while she put her feet up. Her massive bust lifted and fell as she gave a great sigh of relief. Through the glass you could see her shapely, tanned feet lying on the end of the sofa, toenails the same luscious red as her fingernails, and a small cute tattoo on her ankle. As her toes wiggled you were struck by how sexy her feet were, sensual and playful, so much that the sight alone forced your member up into a painful rod. You had to remind yourself you were smaller than her big toe.

Your private view got interrupted as she swirled the glass gently, tumbling you around in a circling wave. When the punch stilled, you were on the other side of the glass, and made out the woman’s face inspecting you.

Gazing up from under the mint leaf that was stuck to your head, you searched her enormous panoramic face, hopelessly realizing Kayla’s big-breasted mom was determined to eat you up.

Noticing the mint leaf stuck to you, she gave the punch another swirl, trying to separate you from the leaf, since she didn’t want to eat it. Cherries and raspberries jostled you from both sides, shifting the leaf, but it stayed stuck. She then stroked the leaf off your face with her pinky, clearing your sight.

Her vast face was now expanding in size; getting closer and closer as she went to make the first sip. Though twenty years older than you, you couldn’t deny she was one sexy lady. Her eyes held on you, observing you calmly. It was the way she might look at a lover, except in your case, she was imagining how tasty you were. She even tilted and swirled the glass a little more to dislodge you from a couple of raspberries and line you up with her awaiting lips, which were growing bigger by the second. They parted slightly and shaped into a tempting pout, ready to receive everything inside her glass.

She gave the glass another small tilt, swishing you even closer, bringing you just beneath her nose, which overlooked the glass rim. Now you were just on the cusp of being sucked in. The tip of her nose almost touched to the top of your head, and gazing up, you could see straight up inside. When you did, a fierce gust of air hailed down from her nostrils clouded up your vision.

The glass tilted one last time, and her lips parted just a little extra to let in a mouthful of punch, which rapidly slipped past you. For a moment you found yourself right on the edge; caught between a pair of puffy red lips, stopped by the walls of her teeth, and watching a rush of punch slip on ahead of you down her murky throat. You were held here while she paused to let the cool drink refresh her mouth, and giving you a picture perfect view of the inside of  her mouth; the bumpy floor of her wide tongue, her teeth, which were well-kept and dazzling. Further was the cave of her throat, and a couple of fleshy red tonsils on either side, each bigger than your head, and flexed impressively every time she swallowed.

You couldn’t fight the current of punch pouring into her mouth forever, and waited for her to finish. When she did, her tongue gave you a quick poke to send you back into the glass. Then her face withdrew from the cup rim, leaving a faint lipstick smudge on the edge of the glass.

Once again bobbing on the punch surface, you felt relieved, but not for long. Kayla’s mom took intermittent swills of the drink for the next fifteen minutes, stealing a little more from the glass each time, but leaving you inside. Every time she took a sip, you were swept along to bounce gently upon her lips as she drank, for yet another view into her mouth, before ending up back in the glass, floating in a slightly smaller pool of punch.

Sometimes she sucked up one of the raspberries and gulped it down whole with a wet squish sound, or sucked on it for a few minutes. But each time she took another sip, she carefully observed you to make sure you didn’t end up in her mouth. If you got too close, she pressed her lips closer to block you or swept you away softly with her tongue.

Pretty soon, the punch had one mouthful left over, leaving you close to the bottom of the tumbler. Now the blurry glass surrounded you somewhat like a fish bowl. All of the other pieces of fruit had been swallowed, and there was just you.

After what seemed like a long time being swirled around in the glass, Kayla’s mom keenly looked into the glass for her chubby little red cherry, and decided to wash you down with the last mouthful of punch.

Then, to your surprise, Kayla came home. Her dad had just picked her up; she decided not to stay the night. She passed into the room, and noticed her mother on the sofa. Briefly, Kayla squinted at you but of course she couldn’t recognize you.

“Is that the punch?” she asked. “Is it good?”

Her mom said:

“Tell your friend’s cousin her punch absolutely slays. I see why she made so much.”

“Sweet I gotta try some.”

“This fruit is so ripe; does she grow it herself?”

“I dunno. Forgot to ask. Anyway, it looks totally delish.”

And with that, Kayla disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you feeling as if a tiny lifeline had vanished. She called out from the kitchen:

“You better have left me some.”

“Of course I did,” Kayla’s mom scoffed, once again slowly conveying her glass back up to her face, “but I’m nearly finished. It went down in a wink, to the very last little cherry. I have to get the recipe.”

As the glass tilted, you were aimed in the enormous woman’s direct sight, and she seemed to look into your eyes and smile with anticipation and delight. A tiny shiver went across your body. Kayla was your final hope of being rescued, and now it was clear her mom was unstoppably keen on literally having you as the cherry on top of a delicious drink.

Without pause, the glass carried on towards the woman’s mega-sized face, and you watched it grow even larger as it got closer, until she was peering directly in at you. You gazed at her in amazement; her face filled up the glass rim and left you nowhere to go except straight into her mouth.

The glass was tilted by degrees, rotating you horizontal, before tilting even more, making an incline. She caught your eye, and held it, keeping track of you, at the same time delicately tilting the glass to align you with her mouth, which was positioned at the rim. She observed you very closely as you slid down the inside glass, continuing to tilt your path by very fine increments, controlling your slide to target the very center of her lips.

You felt her eyes on you the whole time, and could only watch as, straight ahead, her lips seemed to double in size as you passed right down the glass. They scrunched slightly into a pucker, and then parted to create an ‘O’ that was almost bigger than you. Now you were almost at the end of the glass, her nose abutted your sight as you passed in under her nostrils. At the last second, her puckered lips tightened slightly, catching and pressing you softly between, in a tight ring that encircled your torso. A little juice was gently squeezed out of your body, and trickled into her mouth, and the pressure compressed your body a tiny bit, shrinking you to 2/3 the size of a cherry. Now you were only as big as a peanut. The giant woman sucked powerfully, whisking you through her lips with a small pop. You quickly skipped in between her incisors, landing on the tip of her tongue, which was dyed deep red from the punch she’d just drunk.

The instant you went inside her mouth, her eye-watering after-dinner breath submerged you in heat. It pummelled you in queasy waves, a pungent mix of sweet and sour. With irresistible force, it trickled down your throat, popping open your stomach and lungs, expanding you to the size of a full cherry again, but now as taut and firm as an apple.

Once you had endured this uncomfortable state for an extended moment, the woman took a slow, relaxed breath, and the air rushed out of you, leaving you with a surge of relief. This only lasted an instant before, once again, the woman made another pounding exhalation which flooded you with air, filling you right up until you were as round and tight as a barrel. It felt like there was a massive cork stuffed inside your body and all you could do was desperately wait for it to be removed.

Gratefully, a moment later, Kayla’s mom breathed deeply in, sucking litres of air down into her lungs. You got rapidly thinner and smaller as the air was sucked out, and began to screw up tightly like a vacuum pack. This was very uncomfortable but you couldn’t fight it.

It seemed just as quickly, Kayla’s mom let out another easy breath, pouring litres of unstoppable warm air into your mouth, which swiftly swelled up your chest, belly and head. You stretched unbearably tight and once again were forced to wait urgently for her next inhalation.

Meanwhile, the woman’s tongue shifted you over to the right side of her mouth, pocketing you inside her cheek for safekeeping, while she enjoyed the punch’s aftertaste a little longer. Buried behind her molars, you waited patiently with hope of relief.

A quick pause and the woman let her lungs expand again, and the air pressure pulled in a powerful current towards her throat, emptying your body.  Now that you were pressed against her cheek, luckily it prevented your body from expanding so much, and made the woman’s breathing cycles more tolerable.

Without warning she passed you to the front of her mouth, putting you between her ample lips to suck on you for a couple of minutes. The constant pressure acted powerfully on your tiny body, straining some juice out and compressing you slightly until you went down from cherry to 1/3 that size.

Since Kayla’s mom had just enjoyed a spicy meal, the inside of her mouth radiated with biting heat, and as she sucked and smacked you, she was at the same time soaking her spicy saliva into the fibers of your being. It should have hurt like hell, but because your body could now withstand punishing temperatures, it instead caused an insane ticklish feeling to spread all over your body, like you were crawling with ants. The more you were rubbed and coated in her spit, the deeper this feeling got. Although not painful, it was pure torture.

Her great tongue calmly stroked spit all along your back, like massage oil, before flipping you over and spreading another generous glob up and down your front. The tip of her tongue then targeted different parts of you at random, to poke and circle in a kneading motion, those areas tingled especially as her saliva penetrated you even deeper. As her tongue soaked and massaged more sticky globs up and down your penis, you nearly fainted from the pounding sensation.

She lightly swished you to one side of her mouth, and when you were tucked into her opposite cheek, she rotated you with her tongue while she measured your shape and firmness. Then she sent you back to the other side, where you were rotated once again. For several minutes she leisurely worked you back and forth like this, letting your refreshing coolness touch different parts of her mouth.

The coolness of your body was gradually soaked up by her breath, which cast you in intense heat at all sides. Warm breath blew all around the inside of her mouth non-stop, you couldn’t escape it. Her oral cavern was basically a dutch oven of dinner breath.

A second time, she moved you to the front of her mouth, to pass between her incisors and get carefully positioned between her lips. Once you were carefully positioned right behind her lips, they puckered and began to suck on you, subjecting you to repeated waves of soft pressure. For the next few minutes you flexed in and out, unable to fight the magnificent strength of her mouth.

Her lips got busy trying to shape and mold you, bullying your tiny squishy body to make different shapes, rotating you from time to time. You tried to fight the pressure but her forceful sucks were too much for your puny body to withstand. With every round of suction her lips applied to your body, you felt yourself ripple with a stunningly tight scrunch, and wondered if you’d burst.

As you were gradually milked of more juice, you got compacted down 1/3 smaller, going from the size of a blueberry until you were reduced to the size of a pea.

Finally giving you a break, Kayla’s mom scooped you up on her tongue tip and placed you upon her molar on the right side. Now the size of a pea, you could fit neatly on the surface of a single tooth. As Kayla’s mom began to close her jaw, you felt the tooth slowly lifted. Not wanting to squish  you, she tried to find the top of your head with her upper molar. Lifting a little more, the upper molar finally fitted in place onto your head, and pressed very softly, etching the ridge shape of her tooth into the top of your head. As the tooth capped your head, a pointed edge slid down over your forehead, grinding very softly across your eyebrows. Luckily since her teeth were coated in saliva, they weren’t too tough on your small sensitive face. You quickly closed your eyes as the tooth edge settled on top of them and then finally came to a stop.

Once Kayla’s mom could feel you tucked in place between the crevices of her molars, she felt satisfied you were safe and secure, and decided to keep you there for the moment without having to focus on you.

Now very small and soft, you couldn’t help but feel worried that if Kayla’s mom lost track of your, her teeth would decide to crunch you flat by sheer accident. Luckily she just wanted to hold you gently in place. For what seemed like a long time you sat in her mouth mostly unnoticed by her, which was a relief.

Her breath warmed and stimulated you without break. It was fiercely strong and even had enough power to tug at you, while the rest of you stood immobile in the stubborn clamp of the woman’s upper and lower molars.

At some point Kayla’s dad called out to her – Vanessa. That was the first time you heard her name. It was hard to conceive this mountainous giantess was just a regular woman called Vanessa.

Before long, Vanessa became distracted by you once again. Every minute or so the tip of her tongue searched and fondled you, as if to draw over your body. Wet and squishy by now, your body parts were easily squashed and reformed by the force of her tongue’s curious probing.  It took its time travelling around your chest and stomach and groin, once again attempting to measure size and firmness, noticing with interest you were now slightly smaller. She noted your erection without reaction.

Everywhere she poked squished inwards. You had no defence, and it was getting insufferable for you, especially when she poked your groin, but since you were held neatly between her molars, you just had to wait.

Not a moment later she parted her jaw a little, shovelling you up with her tongue to put you carefully in place between her lips. The moment you were securely between top and bottom lip, a familiar feeling of suction pulled at your head and tugged along your body. You admitted there was nothing you could do as surges of mighty scrunching overcame you, in fast cycles.

You lay face down on her soft pillowy bottom lip, with her top lip resting along your spine. Each sucking motion made her lips tighten intensely, screwing you up a little. It caused your body to squeeze along your length, making your body flatten and reform in gentle cycles. With each wave of pressure, you felt your back and front touch together and then relax again. Then she flipped you into a standing position, so that with every suck you felt your head and feet touch together each time.

Watching her TV show, Vanessa became distracted, sucking you for much longer than she meant to. You felt yourself gradually compressing little by little, your sides all drawing in, and your height reducing, until you had lost over half your size. You had been the size of a pea before, and miserably you now realized now you had been shrunk to the size of a sesame seed, just by the brutal pressure of relentless sucking.

With surprise Vanessa suddenly became aware of you again, as a tiny bud nestled within her pursed lips. You were bowled over by her lips incredible size; they surrounded you entirely in a soft, pressurized walls, radiating with warmth and slick with a faint polish of saliva that kept you stuck in place.

Vanessa delicately captured you between her front teeth, and in a calm, businesslike way, quickly measured your size, a little astonished how miniscule you were. She guessed that just another minute of being sucked and you would have been squeezed down to nothing.

She then decided she wanted you back, safe and sound deeper in her mouth where you couldn’t possibly fall out by accident. You were so tiny you had virtually no weight and the surface tension of her saliva was like glue and neatly stuck you the tip of her tongue. From there you were taken back to the inside of her rightside cheek.

You were bumped against her upper molars as she tried to carefully fit you into a groove between teeth. Then she rubbed you against the tooth until you dislodged from the tip of her tongue and stuck in place to the unyielding enamel. This wasn’t very comfortable but you were glad you weren’t being sucked and reducing any more in size.

Minutes later you had to admit Vanessa had probably forgotten you again. This was confirmed once her TV show ended, when she yawned and stretched. A sweltering gust of incoming air – cruising in on her huge yawn – washed over you. Then she unthinkingly brought her jaw together.

In the blink of an eye, your body was seized by unimaginable pressure. Her teeth had you pinched on your head and feet, and pushed inwards. This caused you to both flatten and lengthen into a long thin shape. You felt like you were just about to squeeze flat, when your body shifted sideways, getting forced into the crevice between molars, while just your head came out.

By now Vanessa had not only forgot how small you were, but thought she had already swallowed you earlier, by accident. Now, feeling you in her molars, she just assumed that a fruit seed that had gotten caught in her teeth.

Distracted by the feeling, she went into the master bathroom. Mid-leak, she pushed your head about with her tongue, trying to scoop you out, but struggled to even loosen you. You were wedged in like a stone in a shoe tread.

While washing her hands, Vanessa leaned over and opened her mouth in the mirror, and began looking around inside for you. Towards the back of her mouth, there was a miniscule flesh-colored bulb protruding from between two of her bottom molars, which was your head and shoulders. The rest of you was tucked securely between the twin bulks of enamel that were the woman’s teeth.  

With her mouth open, you could see the woman’s reflection peering in at you. Looking down, you noticed her large breasts hung from a silky pyjama top, sending a desire coursing through your manhood.

Since you were still too small for her to see, she leaned even closer. She could feel you acutely in there, and was getting annoyed by you. To you, this made her reflection enlarge and her mouth broaden, bringing your reflection slightly into focus.

You gazed back up at her face, as she searched the inside of her mouth for you. She took a pen-sized flashlight from the cupboard above the sink, and sent the narrow beam straight into her mouth. She sent the spotlight around her mouth methodically. Finding you, she trained the light directly on your face. You winced and shut your eyes.

Having finally spied you, she leaned closer to the mirror while clicking up the brightness, trying to make you as clear as possible. She squinted at you, gauging your meager size, and decided you must be a strand of fruity pulp and it shouldn’t be too hard to yank you out.

Putting the flashlight away, the woman broke off some dental floss and held both ends out. She wrapped them around her pointers fingers for stability, before angling the floss into her mouth. The white strand crossed her tongue and you watched restlessly as it grew closer, carefully aiming for the crevice you were trapped in. The whole time her gaze didn’t break from you.

Then, in one quick, delicate motion, she looped the floss around your exposed neck, crossing one end over the other to create a basic ligature. The ends of floss were held up on either side of her mouth, securely twined around her pointer fingers so that it wouldn’t slip out. You again noticed her fingernails, shining with a seductive, eye-catching polish, and admittedly sexy.

While you were distracted, she slowly began moving the ends of floss even further apart, until the tension began to increase on your neck, where the strands crossed over. With dread you watched her draw the floss even further apart, making it taut. She kept slowly separating the floss to find the optimal tightness, and before you knew it, it created a knot feeling in your neck, which she kept secure by keeping the ends of the floss wide apart.

You gazed in wonder at her bright feminine, nice-looking nails as she began to twang the floss a couple of times, hoping the stress would dislodge you.

You were pulled the width of a pencil lead, but the rapid tension of each twang tweaked you to an unthinkably tiny width, about the width of a hair. Your squishy body could luckily cope with the stress, but the knotted feeling in your neck was coming more obvious and harder to bear.

Vanessa began to notice each tweak was making you stretch a tiny bit, but not enough to stretch you completely out. Realizing this wasn’t working, she began working away at you little body, tugging and twisting it.

She kept up tweaking the floss, experimenting with snapping it a little, and then rotating it as much as possible. Since you were caught in the floss, you were forced to get plucked and turned as well. Her grip was so powerful and commanding, it thoughtlessly manipulated and bent you like you were nothing.

Completely at the mercy of her manipulations, you could only wait it out as she keenly strummed you with rapid strokes to wiggle you back and forth. You began to loath the power her mere fingertips exercised over you. Powerless, you were subject to a series of powerful pinches that effortlessly controlled your entire tiny being.

The whole time she locked her eyes onto you, calmly wondering how much tension you would take before you tugged free.

When this didn’t work, she also tried working the ends of floss to twist you about a little, clockwise and counter-clockwise. She turned you as far left as it would go, sending a powerful stretch right up your spine. Then she brought you to the opposite side, playing with your limits.

She tried bending your head forward as far as possible, curling it up a little, before stretching it back as far as it would go. With determination, she basically tried to move your head around every possible way she could think of, to see what would work. It was as if she wanted to drive you insane, and you miserably hoped it would end.

Finally, you stretched enough to slip out, and felt glad to be out of her mouth.

Triumphant, Vanessa held you up for a closer look, and that’s when she noticed you weren’t a seed or fruit pulp. All the twisting and tugging had stretched and narrowed you into the shape of a squishy loose thread. However, you were still dyed a shiny deep red, from having absorbed punch. For a moment, Vanessa peered closely at you, but couldn’t figure out what you were.

While she studied you, she had the ends of the floss apart on either side so it was perfectly straight between, and since your neck was still looped in the middle, you were also pulled taut. You silently hoped she would unwind and loosen the floss, to ease the knot of tension focused on your neck. But instead she began to part the floss little more, without even realizing, which pulled you so taut you were almost a straight line.

She then decided she couldn’t see you properly with the floss in the way.

As you stared back at her broad visage plaintively, you were struck what a beautiful older woman she was. Vanessa kept her looks up into maturity. She had defined features and knew how to care for them. You were bathed in her focus and practically hypnotized by her gorgeous presence. You were practically a sliver of nothing compared to her, and in her complete control.

She brought you a little closer until her warm breathe fanned over you in cycles, causing your tiny body to stretch and crinkle. She lifted one fingertip, aimed it at your head, and then it drifted, on a direct path to your head. You watched it with dread before it lightly settled on top of your head. You were still caught up in the floss, and felt yourself stretch gently as Kayla’s mom tried tugging you free.

 She then tried giving the floss a sharp twang to rapidly wiggle you free, and hopefully dislodge you forcefully. She did this a couple of times, more than you could stand. Then, to your surprise, she put the floss down on the bathroom sink, laying you face up, while she left the room for several moments to search for some item to help free you.

Once she was gone, you sat up and looked around. You couldn’t go anywhere because the distance from sink to floor was too high. At least now that the floss wasn’t applying extra tension, your body was able to start reforming. Your neck gradually began to expand again, widening the floss, straining just enough until you could pull it off, and sigh in relief.

Vanessa returned to the bathroom with a tiny thread picker in hand, only to stop and see you. At first she was puzzled the floss came off on its own, but quickly forgot about it.

Putting the thread picker away, she didn’t hesitate to pluck you up off the counter between forefinger and thumb, quickly rolling you to view every angle. Before you knew it you had become perfectly round again.

Then you were held right up and she stared at you in surprise, wondering how you got round. You looked cherry about the size of a sesame seed, and she realized you were the cherry from her punch, but now vanishingly small, matching the size of her pupil.

You were brought even nearer, and her eyebrow arched at you with curious interest. With shock you realized she could see your face or maybe could make out your hair and ears, which were red as punch but still human shaped. You shouted up at the mega-sized woman, praying she‘d hear, waiting with bated breath for a response. You watched her eyelashes calmly sweep up and down with each blink, and wondered if she could see your face. The width of one of her eyelashes was greater than the width of your entire eye.

Vanessa perused your petite face closely, accidentally sending a strong lashing of her fierce breath in and out of your face. Just trying to hold up in the face of her scrutiny was exhausting, and you were utterly terrified she’d give up on you and decide to eat you again.

She started reaching for you with her thumb, directing the pad to meet you head on. Stuck in her grip, you winced as it touched down on your face and began to carefully rub back and forth, as if trying to wipe something off your face. Her thumbprint grinded back and forth against your face like sandpaper, and it gave you a massive headache.

She lifted her thumb to see the strange-looking miniscule features of your head were still there, and became puzzled. It didn’t click you were actually a person. She finally decided you were just a cherry with markings that looked like a tiny face, and became more interested in figuring out what to do with you.

She’d been enjoying you over the night, it seemed only right to cap it off with a quick friendly gulp. Without a second thought, she popped you into her mouth. As soon as you landed on her big meaty tongue, she targeted you with a sticky wave crest of saliva. It folded over you, gluing you inside like a tiny bubble trapped in gelatine. As the wave was swished to and fro between her cheeks, you were hopelessly embedded inside, like a tiny particle of food, and forced to go rolling wherever the wave went.

Since you were now so despicably tiny, the atmosphere of her mouth, perfumed thickly with her dinner breath, had you utterly swamped. Although your vision was clouded over, you could feel yourself being powerfully washed along the length of her humungous tongue,

As you shifted around inside the rolling wave, fighting to free yourself, your head got caught inside a big spit bubble, which was too thick. At least this cleared your vision. The mountainous mom’s sticky afterwash completely coated every inch your member and whatever spices were in her last meal made your cockhead shiver and tingle, until you were fighting a boner so big it almost made you pass out.

Without delay, the wave surged on to the back of her mouth. You found yourself passing rapidly between her massive red tonsils, and without any ability to stop, were cleanly swirled down her throat.

One second in freefall, next second, splashing into a big pool of dinner and the punch, all mixed together in a big messy soup. At least this melted the saliva off.

A mushy pile of food broke your fall, and you sunk right in until you were totally encased. The half-digested was even stickier than saliva, gluing you stiffly into position, where you remained for a long time.

Digestive juices gradually pooled and bubbled, echoing in the relaxed watery interior of Vanessa’s stomach. Deep organic grumbles filled the air, trembling your tiny body with echoing sound waves. Her stomach lining flexed, unhurriedly turning food over and mushing it up. You remembered it could take up to 44 hours for a meal to digest, which meant possibly spending several hours in each part of Kayla’s mom’s belly, or almost two days inside her.

The size of an ant, you were walled up inside the hunk of food, every so often feeling it shift lower as it was melted down by stomach acid. You felt concerned that Kayla’s mom had failed to notice you were human, and thought you were just a morsel of food, and doomed you to a 44 hour trip that would keep you moving straight for her dark crack.

While the TV was playing, Vanessa became vaguely aware of some odd feelings in her stomach. It crunched a little, and then relaxed. She decided probably the spicy food she ate earlier, and wasn’t too worried; this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

During an ad break, she took some antacid tablets with a glass of water. They would help mulch up everything currently inside her stomach, and flush out any small irritants. It had a side effect of making turd bulky, though, but that was a small price to pay for not being woken up in the night by stomach pain. She knew she was due for a mega dump in the morning, though, and it wouldn’t be very nice.

Once she had settled back in the living room and her TV show returned, she felt the tablets immediately turn the crunching feeling into soothing flutters, as tiny bubbles fizzed in her insides as the tablet worked its magic. It was the tablet’s job to give her stomach acid extra kick to eat up its contents and reduce everything to bubbly liquid. Sighing with relief, she stretched back on the sofa, and relaxed again.

---

You had been stuck in a firm hunk of chewed up food for about an hour, before it was melted down by stomach acid, and you could wriggle free. It was dank and very humid inside Vanessa’s gargantuan belly, which had been churning and grumbling the whole time. Her stomach had to be the size of a big living room.

Something dropped from above and splashed into the stomach juices. It sounded like liquid, with clumps. Immediately it began to fizz and turn the waters to soda. Before long there was a sticky, soap-like foam coating everything, including you. You desperately wiped it off your face, but not before inhaling some, and it tasted like sugarless toothpaste. Then, your body began to naturally absorb it.

At first you didn’t feel a change. But then a bubbling feeling spread all over. And to your surprise, your body began to literally turn into bubbles. Whatever you had absorbed rapidly munched up your tiny body, softening you and reducing you to fizz, making you into a tiny cloud of fluffy bubbles, which quickly spread around and lightly coated the surface of Vanessa’s broiling stomach juices, like a small layer of bubble bath suds. Fortunately, you were slippery like oil, preventing you from mixing into the stomach juices and being dissolved entirely.

You had no body parts anymore, but still had your five senses. Without limbs, you were completely subject to the sea of stomach juices as it whisked and stirred you about.

As you bubbled away happily, you were lapped up by her juicy currents and tossed around inside her stomach wall. Then picked up by another wave and pounded into her stomach lining again. The constant push and pull of her brewing juices scrubbed you about. All this dizzying churning went on for forty minutes, and the whole time you were giving Vanessa’s aching stomach an internal soapy ‘car wash’. As your fluffy body lapped at her agitated insides, the bad-tempered sea seemed to cool down.

Now all the food had been broken down into bilious sludge, with some food chunks floating around, as well as you, in the thick of it. The contents of her stomach had been reduced to a bubbly foamy sea. It was time for everything to evacuate to the next part of her plumbing. The bottom of Vanessa’s stomach opened up and juices began to funnel out. The liquids rotated quickly into a whirlpool. You were a bubbly sheet floating on the surface, and found yourself being whisked around in the vortex as the surface level inched down toward the exit.

You were tossed around faster and faster, as each revolution got increasingly narrow, bending ever closer to the exit. At the bottom, as soon as you hit exactly on the exit sphincter, you were yanked in and stuffed through. The sphincter exit sucked you like a straw. Since the sphincter was so small, your soapy body spaghettified into a long strand that was eagerly slurped down.

All sense of direction vanished; you shot around a rubbery U-bend before being squirted back into a backed up mass of digestive juice. This was the start of Vanessa’s small intestine, and ahead, a segment had contracted to prevent further movement so some more digestion could happen. At every turn, her lower insides were going to clamp up and make your journey as long as tiring as possible. It had only been about one hour in a 44 hour period, and your body still had to be whipped into shape some more before you could be let out.

---

During late night programming. Kayla’s mom shifted to one side on the sofa, stretching. This probably stirred something in her abdomen.

She got up and went into the bedroom, changing into a night slip, brushing her teeth, and going to bed. Her husband was already in bed. He shifted as she slipped the covers on, turning her back to him. After a minute he rolled over and swept his arm across her.

He rubbed her stomach seductively, and when she didn’t complain, he cupped her breast. He needed big hands for this, and luckily, had them. She groaned with interest, but didn’t respond.

“We can’t, Gary,” she murmured.

“Sure?” he said, a little deflated. “Kayla’s out of the house.”

“They came by earlier to drop her off.”

“Oh. Well, I bet she’s asleep now.”

“It’s not her. Sometimes the spicy food doesn’t mix well. I swallowed a little helper-outer, and pretty soon, well, something’s got to give.”

“Vanessa,” he said, losing interest. “Say no more.”

They spooned for a while before drifting off to sleep.

---

Now you had basically been reduced to a tiny thinking patch of soapy water caught in the depths of Vanessa’s lower belly, and she had no idea you were there. She could only trace your location by some faint gurgles as you very slowly made your way around inside her stupendous-sized abdomen. And she had happily put you there, blissfully unaware of your silent, miniscule struggles against her domineering anatomy.

You must have spent an entire day in her small intestine, but it felt like a week. It was uneventful, flowing through her intestine at dreamy snail-pace. Every so often, her intestinal tract injected chemicals into your body to try and leech out your nutrients and greedily absorb part of you. Her body was literally trying to feed on your proteins and substance, but it couldn’t reduce you any further because of how durable you were. However, it did slowly dehydrate you, as each pint of fluid was sucked up by her intestines, your foamy body became thicker and stickier, like a tiny sticky thread submerged in a puddle of her steaming bile.  

At the end of the small intestine, your soapy residue were thoroughly dehydrated into a thick wad of sticky matter. Still, the route wasn’t over. As you came to the small sphincter into the large intestine, you steeled yourself for the next part. By this point you had completely lost the sense of time, and just wanted to finish the whole ordeal. You felt like you’d been a prisoner in her belly for weeks.

The end of the small intestine tapered into a small muscular ring, so small that it would be like trying to force your head through gap in your own closed fist. But the current was flowing indelibly towards it and either way, you were bound to get sucked through.

Catching and dragging you along, the current of digestive juices got strained through the intestinal sphincter, and pulled you along besides. For one instant, you were pressed up against the tight knot. When it flexed, you got caught and in a heartbeat, it swallowed your head through its pinprick diameter. You were so well lubed, you squished through easily, and emerged into Kayla’s mom’s bowel. Now you had been strained into a small piece of string so thin, you could have fit through the eye of a needle.

Swampy fumes filled the next segment of the tunnel, and you nearly choked. You struggled needlessly against the pull of the current driving deeper on through dizzying passages and bends, before hitting the next bottleneck, and being forced to wait, battling mind-numbing odor.

Every so often the gas clouds built up in such volume, they began to roll through the intestine, thundering over you. More than a couple of times the gaseous pressure and odor combined made you faint, only to wake up a little further down the tunnel. Feeling pathetic, you wondered what Courtney would think if she learned you had been squeezed like an orange through a fruit juicer, through the mammoth belly of this sexy, big-breasted MILF.

*

It had been a day, and now you were ready to be reborn back into the world in a new form. Kayla’s mom’s bowel had cooked up a spicy giga turd, and you were headed straight for it.

As you made it past the last bend in her intestines, it waited for you just short of her rectum. With no way to stop yourself, the flow of colon juices sent you penetrating into the wall of soft turd until just your head stuck out.

This was lethal because once the turd was out, you would have mere seconds to escape before Vanessa sent you washing down the central plumbing system and into the waste collect.

In a desperate fury, you began wriggling and thrashing around inside the gross bowel hotdog, and little by little, inching your way out. You were as thin as a hair, and pitifully weak. At the same time, your turd prison got denser, as it formed, like hardening clay, slowly squeezing you all around. The stickiness and pressure caused you to stretch even thinner, and by the time you squished out of the turd, and were released back into the watery bowel. This was even worse than being Courtney’s tampon. At least she appreciated the work you did for her, soaking up her wastes. If Vanessa ever saw you like this she’d want to stamp you under her shoe. If you got out of her alive you needed to hide immediately.

It was evening. By now, Kayla’s mom felt an urge to use the bathroom. Since she was in the car, and home was still five minutes away, she held on. Her bowel squeezed up, and the turd backed up, crashing onto you. You were again swallowed up beneath its fat weight, and squished against the bowel wall. In agony, you were pinned beneath it, pressed so flat you felt like you were being tattooed to the surface of the turd. Every time you fought to get a breath, the fumes choked you up.

After several harrowing minutes, Kayla’s mom arrived home and finally got to the bathroom. She was not the only one to feel relief; as the tremendous, dense weight rolled off you, you were able to catch a breath, even if was thick with the fumes of ass. It was incredible you hadn’t been etched onto the turd.

Before you could figure out what to do next, the bowel contracted and you were expelled from her anus on the trail of a powerful surge of gas, that warmed you up like an oven.

You tucked your head in, managing to swing around, and slap against the inside toilet bowl, and stick there. Clawing up, you made it up under the toilet lid, acutely aware of the enormous ass bearing down on the seat just over you. Her ass was a pair of the beefiest hamburger buns you had ever seen, It was infuriating that even after your ordeal, her ass was as unapologetically sexy as ever.

Her voluptuous ass eclipsed the entire toilet seat trapping you inside. A thick stream of pee fell into the toilet. It was so close it warmed the air and almost hit your head, and made you gag.

She then shifted and part of the stream hit the seat, sprinkling by accident at you.  You were terrified it would wash you off into the bowl, and clung on tight. The turd had made you so thin that even the force of her pee would have hurt like a slap.

Finally it ended, and her colossal ass lifted, letting light in.

A torrent of cold water gushed around as the toilet flushed, and Kayla’s mom left. Using the last of your strength you worked to pull yourself up over the toilet seat, which was still warm, and slide down onto the floor. The toilet door was shut; you raced over and quickly squeezed your thin body under the gap before you reformed. Anywhere was better than the toilet.

A hallway stretched beyond. You traced one wall, keeping clear of the passage, since you didn’t want to get stood on and stuck to someone’s foot.

At one point you again heard Kayla’s dad call out – Vanessa. Somehow you couldn’t quite associate the labyrinth of internal workings you had been flushed with the name ‘Vanessa’. It was like calling an amusement park ‘Jessica’, or a car ‘Christine’. You wondered if you would ever get the opportunity to tell her your name.

It was still lit outside, but the air was starting to cool. The evening was growing, but you had no idea what day it was, or how long since you were at Courtney’s house.

After a long hike down the hallway, you passed a bedroom; the door ajar showing a sliver of light. For a second it looked like the light flickered, like something passed by.

You automatically yelled out:

“Hey! Someone there?”

It was foolish to expect a response; you only wanted to scare off any rodents, if that’s what it was.

As you came up to the crack, something thrust out and grabbed you and pulled you inside the room. 

 “Fuzz!”

Will was leaning against the wall, staring at you.

“Huh?”

You were inside a girl’s bedroom, awash with bright colors, posters spread over the walls, mostly of films and male celebrities and bands, a shaggy rug, and a small pile of clothes on the floor. A stack of books reached the height of a house on a shelf, next to a guitar and standing speaker tower.

If this was Kayla’s bedroom, it looked like she’d been doing some painting. Newspapers were spread over the carpet alongside the bed, with a bunch of glass paint pots, delicate paintbrushes. Some of the paint had been recombined in a larger glass jar.

Kayla was nowhere in sight.

Ignoring that for now, you searched the room for a good hiding place. Kayla could come back any second and if you were close to the doorway, there was no way she’d see you on the carpet, and you’d get flattened by her feet.

Will didn’t seem concerned.

“How did you get here?” you said.

“Kayla took my jug home,” he said simply. He must have been in the same jug as you. Both of you had looked just like cherries so you didn’t recognize each other.

You explained the same thing happened to you; and that Vanessa drank you.

Will almost seemed concerned.

“Whoa, man. Are you okay?” he said.

You brushed him off.

“I think I nearly got digested but I’m fine now,” you said evasively.

“You saw that milf's insides? Yo, sick!” Will enthused.

Meanwhile, you were reluctant to point out your tally for being inside women was now ‘2’. You didn’t want to explain in detail how you got out of Vanessa, and suddenly wished you hadn’t brought it up. Seeing your expression, Will went on:

“What? That hot momma’s got a nice rack.” He began to sing ‘Stacy’s Mom’ but changed it to ‘Kayla’s Mom’.

“Will,” you grumbled, “not now, okay? We need to figure this out.”

“Sorry, dude,” he relented, “Hey Kayla’s got it going on too if you know what I mean.”

“Kayla?” you said. “She’s young.”

“We’re young.”

“I mean, she’s the same age as Lara. She’s your cousin’s best friend.”

“Bro,” he said, “if you haven’t noticed, Lara’s gaining on us. She’s practically old enough to smoke a joint. Anyway, you’re right,” he changed tack, “new plan. Time to get serious. We’re not trying to talk to my sister anymore. We’re going to talk to Kayla. I’m counting on you.” He slapped your back.

You must have looked worried.

“It’s your turn, remember?” he added. “You have to get Kayla’s attention. Don’t forget to introduce me. Say that I’m a pretty top guy.”

On second thought, this didn’t seem so tough. Your biggest triumph right now was just staying on the outside of Vanessa’s mouth. Compared to that, getting Kayla’s attention would be simple.

The two of you decided to wander over to her bed, which was as big as a hill. Here, the smell of paint filled the air.

You and Will walked over the newspaper spread on the carpet. While he kept going towards the side of the bed, you stopped to check out one of the glass paint jars, and were struck by an idea.

“We should write Kayla a message,” you said.

“We already tried,” Will said. “It didn’t work.”

“We don’t know it didn’t work,” you said. “Courtney could be figuring out where we are right now.”

Will slowly circled back to you, and then took one of the delicate paint brushes out of the pot.

“Let me handle this,” he said, and began painting a message on the newspaper. He wrote with abandon, and it was messy but legible.

You looked at what he had written:

to kayla
you were right about everything, especially the part about aliens.
we know because WE are the aliens.
our spaceship crashed on earth.
we need your help. BTW we come in peace.
from the aliens.
Peace Out.

“You can’t write that!” you exclaimed. Panicking, you dashed for the brush, to write your own message. Will caught your shoulder and stopped you.

“She likes aliens,” he said quickly, “this will get her attention for sure.”

“It’ll mess everything up,” you complained. “Who would believe an alien wrote that?!”

“Trust me, Fuzz,” Will shook his head, striding away. “If that doesn’t get her interested, then nothing will. Now,” he gestured at the bed. “We should try to get up there.”

You were about to protest but realized he had a good point. It was safer to get some height, and then you’d be able to get someone’s attention when they came in the room.

This was easier said than done. The two of you struggled to grip the bedspread and climb. It was completely vertical and there was nothing to hang on to. You got a couple of meters up before falling onto the carpet again. Will made it a half meter higher, and then dropped down. But he had an idea.

He went over to one of the open paint jars and, without hesitation, thrust his hands inside. He then tried to climb up the bedspread, and to your surprise, it was much easier now. His hands stuck to the fabric as if glued. He was able to ascend by repeatedly attaching his hands, which was helped by the fact he was so light.

You dipped your hands into the paint as well, which smelled like varnish. At your size the paint’s surface tension made it more sticky, like glue. Taking Will’s lead, you began to climb up the bedspread after him.

Finally you both made it up and sighed in relief. You felt less exposed than on the ground. At least no one could step on you. If they did, you were so small that you would probably get stuck to the bottom of their foot and they wouldn’t even notice you.

“What do we do now?” said Will. He stayed at the edge of the bed, looking down, as if marvelling at the height from the ground.

“Let’s wait here,” you suggested, keen for a break. Kayla was bound to return soon, and hopefully see you.

Will thought about this.

“That doesn’t sound like a great idea. What if she sits on us?”

You never got to answer.

Kayla entered the room. You both jumped. Now her gargantuan form was approaching the bed with bone-quaking steps. You had a fraction of a second to realize that she hadn’t seen you – couldn’t see you. She had her cell phone up to her ear and was chatting briskly, completely shutting out the world.

The two of you jumped and waved your arms, and yelled at her, but it was no good. She was completely oblivious.

She was a giant teenage girl in an animated gossip session with her school friend and her eyes fleeted around the room in distraction, refusing to land on you. You and Will were so small you might as well be invisible. You felt your stomach sink in dismay.

Worse, she was striding eagerly up to the bed, and in mere seconds she was going to flop down on it… crashing down right on top of the two of you.

With no other choice, you and Will charged to the side of the bed, where you had just climbed up from. But, teetering right on the brink, your legs turned to lead. You had no idea what to do. If you stayed on the bed, Kayla might lie on you; you would be flattened and stuck beneath her. But if you jumped onto the ground, she could step on you. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Fuzz,” Will exclaimed, “jump!”

He made your decision for you. Will shoved you from behind and you went tumbling over the bed. The ground was flying up.

What you landed on was not the firm carpet, but a round flat pond of shiny neon blue liquid. Next second you sunk into the depth. It had the thickness and stickiness of honey, clinging to you and keeping you under.

The moment you sunk, you realized you had made a terrible mistake by jumping off the bed, but it was too late.

Somewhere nearby, Will had just landed in a similar open jar of lime green paint, and was sinking beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, you were hopelessly enveloped in cool, sticky liquid. You couldn’t tell which way was up or down anymore, and the varnish smell nauseated you into dizziness.

Kayla stretched across her bed, chatting and laughing to her friend on the phone.

The cool liquid went into your insides and you began absorbing it. For a second you were shocked at its coolness, enveloping every part of your system. You could feel the cool sensation inside your chest, stomach and head, like it was pouring in via a hose. It felt strange and distracting. After squeezing your muscles a couple of times to push paint out, you realized it was no use. Your body was starting to absorb the paint.  

This wasn’t too bad, you thought. Even if you became some paint, you’d get painted on a piece of paper or canvas, and stick in place at least until your body reformed. That was at least tolerable until you reunited with Will.

Kayla stretched one leg over the edge of her bed, and rotated it to check her nails while she chatted on the phone. Your head pounded with the sound of her loud, excited voice. Her gigantic foot hovered in the air directly over you, eclipsing the ceiling light. As you watched, it dipped down and came to rest on the carpet as Kayla gingerly sat up and then slid onto the carpet right in front of the tiny paint jars.

But you were wrong. You hadn’t fallen into paint jars, but something else.

Kayla’s voice warbled loudly over your head:

“—just let me finish painting my nails and I’ll be right over!”

Before her friend called her, Kayla had gone out of the room to make up some shape stencils to apply to her toenails and paint over, to make nail polish patterns.

One of her legs stretched past you, rivalling the length of a fallen trunk of a 150 foot tall tree. You had been the size of her little toe, now your body was softening and becoming a small blob of cyan nail polish that sat on the surface of the jar.

Unable to move, you could only watch helplessly as Kayla scooted her massive butt very close to the jar you were inside. As she cradled her phone with one hand, still chatting casually, she plucked up the nail polish brush, and sent the fine brush tip on a downward path heading straight for your face.

As you stared up in disbelief, the black tip grew bigger and bigger, until it completely dominated your view. It impacted your head and pushed, poking you to the side, as it pushed on into the jar. You sticky liquid body was easily shifted around inside the jar, and you were delicately whisked around a couple of strokes with the polish wand, before it scooped underneath you. Then it slipped out, covered in polish, while you remained inside the jar.

You sighed in relief as the brush rose back into the air, carrying on to Kayla’s foot. She began applying a new coat of polish to her big toe. It was already painted magenta, and now she painted some light blue patterns on top.  

The brush returned several more times, each time poking and stirring you, before stealing some polish from beneath. Each time, the brush only succeeded in mixing you further into the polish, making it harder for you to get out of the jar, or reform.

Each time Kayla went to recoat the brush in fresh polish, she inadvertently poked into you, which was pretty uncomfortable. It felt like the polish brush was poking holes all through you, except because you were now liquid, and sticky, your body reformed quickly after every poke. Every time she lifted the brush, you were worried you’d get stuck to the tip and pulled up as well.  

Suddenly, Kayla said impatiently into the phone:

“Okay, okay, I’m coming over now! I’ll finish this later!”

And before you knew it, your view of the world was replaced with the black cap, which Kayla quickly screwed on the polish bottle, sealing you perfectly inside.

For another couple of minutes, Kayla continued to talk on the phone as she got ready, while you waited inside the bottle. Everything was dim and the glass surrounding you was blurry, but you could hear Kayla’s voice as she chatted to her friend for another minute. She also quickly touched up her right foot with polish; this time she must have been using the jar Will fell into. You wondered if she had inadvertently painted him onto her toenail.

Once she finished, she plucked up the polish jars from the floor. Your glass enclosure lifted and was carried around. Then it came down in a cool, dim space, which was a drawer in the bathroom shelving unit.

Kayla decided to keep you there while she went on. The sound of her footsteps then retreated, and then the room was quiet. She must have decided to go to her friend’s house now, leaving you alone, apart from her mom Vanessa, who was still at home somewhere.

In the cool darkness, the urge to sleep was overwhelming, in fact you could barely remember when you last slept.

*

You suddenly felt yourself being shifted around, and quickly awoke.

It wasn’t dim or cool anymore. You were out in the open again, and the bathroom heat lamp beamed down on you.

Stirring, you looked out, and through the clear glass noticed someone had taken you. Your jar was caught in the grasp of a monstrously large female hand, but the hand was too big to be Kayla’s, and the nails were painted red.

Without warning, the jar cap came off, exposing Vanessa’s greatly magnified face peering straight down into the jar at you. You grew weak with dread. Vanessa must have decided to borrow some of Kayla’s polish.

You must have been in the bathroom cabinet for the entire night. Now it was the next morning, Vanessa had just woken up and was still wearing a silk slip. You were dazzled by the sight of her massive face scrutinizing you; it was obvious she was stunning even first thing in the morning, without makeup. She was a naturally attractive older woman and you were dazzled by the power she had over you. She didn’t even know how effortlessly she held you, scrutinized you, and manipulated your body.

As she observed you, she brought you up closer and closer to her face, until you were positioned right under her lips. Now as she inspected you in detail, she accidentally hit you full on with a couple of waves of morning breath, and stuck in the tiny jar, you couldn’t avoid it. You felt heady and nauseated and prayed for her to give you a burst of fresh air.

Kayla called impatiently from the hallway:

“Mom, stop stealing my nail polish!”

“Uh, excuse me,” Vanessa said sternly, looking over her shoulder, “but this was my nail polish first, and I think you stole it from my bathroom.”

As you gazed up at Kayla’s colossal mother, her face was quickly replaced with the black wand, and dipped into you. She poked you a couple of times in your head and chest, and then began stirring you calmly, to get you thin and runny. It felt like she was trying to wrap you around and around the brush.

“I only borrowed it for one time,” Kayla corrected herself, “I was going to give it back. Can I use it again? I haven’t finished.”

“Okay,” Vanessa sighed, “but then you have to put it back where it belongs. Properly.”

Kayla dashed into the bathroom and eagerly took the jar from her mother. Vanessa’s gargantuan face shifted so you were staring up at Kayla instead. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower; it was the morning of a school day and although she was getting ready to leave, she had some time to spend finishing her toenails.

As you stared up at Kayla, she unthinkingly stuffed the wand tip into your face, and screwed the cap back on the jar, blocking your view of everything. Meanwhile, she took the jar back through the house. You could feel yourself being carried along but didn’t know where you were until she unscrewed the cap again, giving you a view straight to the lights on her bedroom ceiling.

 The tiny jar – with you inside – was put on her bedside table while Kayla sat down and quickly prepared one foot, putting a foam separator between her toes, before propping her foot up on the bed. She had to work quickly so she could finish up and make it to school on time.

Once again, with barely any notice of you, she dipped the black wand into your awaiting head, and it sunk in deep. You felt the brush stirring hypnotically inside your head and body, which was a strange feeling, pulling and tugging you in rapid circles. It felt like you were being poked and swept all around inside. This also caused your body to get scooped around the wand tip like cotton candy.

Having unknowingly captured you on the tip of the of the fine brush tip, Kayla then retrieved you from the jar, and sent you straight into her large, feminine big toe, which was waiting patiently on the bed.

Since she’d just showered and put lotion on her feet, they were fragrant at least. You were awash in the scent as you got closer. Stuck to the brush like honey, there was nothing you could do but watch Kayla’s humungous bare foot and luxuriously stretching toes expand closely in your direct view, before she tilted the polish wand, angling you face first at her big toe, which flexed with anticipation, and then stilled to receive you onto its glossy nail plate. Without a second thought, she touched you delicately to her glistening pink nail.

She rubbed you onto the nail, and then with patient, methodically strokes, began petting you down over it, gently stretching you thin over the smooth surface. Your tiny liquid body compliantly spread out in every direction to cover the entire nail surface, and the wand swept back and forth over you, molding you in place. Your spine conformed to the curve of her nail, as the brush continued to swish back and forth and around over your face and body. Pretty soon you were stuck there like a postage stamp. It felt like you were a piece of paper that was glued to her nail.

She then changed her mind and, before you managed to dry, manipulated you a little, shaping you into a small tiny bright blue love heart pattern on her pink nail. Since you couldn’t move, you could only stare directly up at the bedroom ceiling, which was partly blocked out by the soft brush repeatedly rubbing over you, smoothing you until you were entirely flat and inseparable from the nail. As Kayla leaned over you, your view was limited to the underside of her boobs, which appeared huge to you. You watched them shift under her top, while she pushed and probed you with the fine brush, until you were almost crazy and embarrassed with arousal.

Once you were tiny and heart-shaped, she decided she was finished, and stretched her foot out, shifting you parallel to the bedroom floor. Now, anywhere she moved her foot, you moved with it. Otherwise you couldn’t move an inch and were fixed in position, only looking up at the bedroom and Kayla’s massive form from the floor while she did her other foot. Once again you were struck by her tremendously large figure, and her considerable chest, barely concealed in her top.

Finally, she finished her other foot, and her attention returned to you. She quickly dabbed about your face with her fingertip to check you were dry. You were so tiny that her broad fingertip alone blotted out your entire vision. You didn’t like being poked in the face but couldn’t defend yourself from her gigantic thumb brushing back and forth over your face. To her, you were just a tiny blue heart pattern on her crimson-painted toenail.

Then she wriggled and stretched her toes with satisfaction, and stood up. You were subject to even the littlest movements of her flexing big toe, as if someone had grabbed you and was rocking your body around. It made your head spin a little.

At full standing height, Kayla loomed directly above you like a mountainous giantess. You had a view straight up her formidable height and looked up at her from directly below, which made you feel utterly puny and insignificant, like a bug. Her form was basically a vertical wall and her chest appeared absurdly large, a shelf that blocked out the ceiling. Then she began to walk. Knowing what was coming, you held your breath with dread.