I have never seen anything like this. Sure, I’d seen similar scenes. But nothing quite like this… Standing outside of what was once an elegant estate, I feel as though I'm back in Iraq. The climate is wrong, the date is wrong, but the atmosphere is unmistakable. Part of me still doubts this is real, so my idle mind recalls the events that led me here. 

I got the call late in the afternoon as I was about to get off my shift for the day. The local mailman reported a possible explosion at the Bell manor outside of town. Not exactly a “routine” call, but I wasn’t intimidated by it. Maybe I’m just desensitized. Despite the lengthy commute, it seems that I am the first to arrive. Lots of land, small police department, I guess. I remember I was immediately taken aback by the scene. I found the mailman sitting hunched on the curb of the street, his face flashed with a mix of bewilderment and frustration. I did not immediately approach him, instead walking past him for a closer look at the scene.

My mind catches up with the present as I take in the sight. The most apparent thing about the landscape is what it's missing. The grand yard looks like that of a stately southern manor; complete with a generous lawn, well-kept hedges, and a few trees dotting the property. However, the house is gone. And it isn’t clear where it went. There is some debris scattered around the yard, mostly roof tiles and drywall. but it seems that most of the structure has simply disappeared. As I move closer, I find a potential answer in two large craters at opposite ends of where I presume the house had been situated. They seem to have swallowed most of the structure. Peering into the craters, I see the soil and what I can only assume are the remains of the building are packed tightly together into the ground, as though a giant trash compactor had pulverized every inch of the crater. I have never seen such meticulous destruction before. The elegance of the scene is disturbed by a foul odor that overtakes me. It’s a smell I know well, but have not experienced on American soil before. Death.

I had seen what thousand-pound bombs could do to a structure and its occupants. Too many times. What's before me now is similar, yet different. Typically when a bomb explodes it sends force and debris in all directions. Judging by the debris in the yard, it looks more like the structure had collapsed rather than detonated. The debris outside the craters seems to rest on the ground, rather than impacting it. Nothing digs into the earth outside of the crater itself. Furthermore, it seems nothing was launched a great distance. Most of the debris, barring a few smaller pieces of piping, rests outside the crater and around the yard. Curiously, nothing is scattered into the surrounding hills or plunged deep into the ground. Finally, there doesn’t appear to be any release of heat. I’m not a scientist, but I know that most explosions release an immense amount of heat. Yet I don’t see anything scorched by flames. And the corpses don’t smell burnt. I’m familiar with many scents of death, but this one is not crisp. I know the professor that lived here was some kind of scientist. Perhaps he had been working on some kind of new weapon?

I wipe my forehead and sigh as I hear more sirens approaching from up the long road to the property. I turn to face the mailman, who seems considerably more irritated after I walked past him when I arrived. Clearly, he is annoyed that his work day has been extended and does not appreciate being here any longer than he had to be. I feel for him, knowing I'm in for a long night myself…

Looking up from the scene, I notice the sun beginning to set behind the hills on the horizon. Three hours. We’re losing daylight and we hardly have any more answers than we had when I first got here. Dabbing my forehead with my handkerchief, I briefly think back to how we’d squandered the last few hours. We made the decision early on to begin excavating the property, as we suspected there were bodies in the rubble based on the smell. Considering we were potentially dealing with a capital crime, we knew the first twenty four hours were crucial to cracking the case and didn’t want to waste any time. Though several detectives objected as this necessitated contaminating the crime scene, they eventually acquiesced to our way of thinking. Within the rubble we hoped to discover two things: who died and what killed them. 

Rubble. I reconsider the word. It doesn’t seem right. Rubble is messy. Rubble is bricks, rocks, and concrete. This is different. This looks like a thick pancake. The world’s biggest inedible pancake. It’s smooth, even neat. The craters seem almost perfect. So circular, so evenly-spaced. They align perfectly with one another, intersecting precisely and being perfectly symmetrical. From a bird’s-eye view, I would guess it looks like a perfect venn diagram. I shake my head. I’m getting ahead of myself, thinking of the report I have to write in the future instead of the crime before me right now. But was it a crime? The officer that secured the scene mentioned it seemed like a bomb, but at the same time it was unlike any bomb he had seen before. Based on his accounts from overseas, I’m inclined to agree, but I am not an expert in explosives. And who would bomb a solitary house in a small college town? I knew that Mr. Bell was an accomplished physicist and inventor. Perhaps he had enemies? But then again… perhaps this was an accident. An experiment gone awry…

I need to focus. We had brought in the dogs an hour ago and they identified the spot where one or more bodies were, but we weren’t able to excavate them because the rubble disc is too compact. We were waiting for some heavy construction equipment to arrive from a nearby development site, but in the meantime the men have begun digging with pickaxes to break up the debris sheet. I move forward to examine the spot again, the smell of human remains getting stronger as I approach. As I reach into my pocket to get my handkerchief again, a glimmer of light catches my eye in the dwindling sunlight. Bending down to observe it, I perceive what seems like a piece of jewelry. Pulling out a pair of tweezers from another pocket, I begin picking at it, trying to pull it free from the rest of the rubble. I carefully maneuver it around miscellaneous debris in the rubble and am surprised when I successfully extract it. Carefully removing the necklace from its chrysalis of detritus, I bring it to my face for examination. The chain is made of a shiny, silvery metal, though I can’t say if it’s silver, platinum, or just polished nickel. Moving along the chain, a veritable bouquet of precious gems, most of which I assume to be diamonds, hang from the chain in an ornamental arrangement. At the center of this arrangement sits a relatively-large blue gemstone. I assume it’s a sapphire based on its color, but I’m not a jeweler, either. The thought crosses my mind to pocket it for myself, but I quickly push it aside as an epiphany strikes me. I recognize this necklace. I had seen Mrs. Bell wear it on several occasions. 

How did I not recognize it before? It always adorned Mrs. Bell’s neckline, hanging seductively over her ample cleavage. Boy, she was a beauty… blonde hair, green eyes, a flawless face with curves that could bend the most honorable man’s moral code… I really need to focus. Maybe I needed to get some kind of medication for this… NO! I am a late middle-aged man, these are normal thoughts… FOCUS! My thoughts move on to the rest of the family… Roger Bell was an accomplished physicist and the chair of the physics department at the local university. He had always had a reputation as a bit of an eccentric. Most of those science types are. He was married to the lovely Madison Bell, a former runway model-turned-fashion designer who had become a housewife after the birth of their daughter, Cassidy Bell. The daughter… I shudder to think she was in this mess of a grave. I can’t recall how old she is… Nine? Ten? 

As I slip the necklace into an evidence bag, I look out at the sunset over the surrounding hills and notice indentations in the earth heading in a straight line away from the home. Orienting myself with the surrounding area once more, I discern that they seem to be heading north. Whatever had caused this, it seemed to be a fairly precise weapon. The indentations seem to get smaller as they get farther from the house and maintain a regular distance from one another… perhaps lesser explosions radiating from the original explosion? Or perhaps a series of larger explosions led to the house itself? As the last of the sun slips over the hills, my thoughts return to the gruesome scene at my feet… 

It’s been quite a week for the town of Titanburg. And a hell of a week for me. Smoking my cigar in my office, I lean back in my chair as my weary mind takes me through the week’s events again. Everything began last Monday with the explosion at the Bell estate. I looked over the report on my desk and squinted again at the reported cause: “Spontaneous Thermobaric Explosion.” I don’t rightly know what that means, but it seemed to satisfy the detectives and the feds. The feds. The phrase still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. They had taken a keen interest in the disaster. I never liked the feds. As a staunch supporter of the second amendment and a man who considers himself something of a libertarian, despite my career in law enforcement, they have always rubbed me the wrong way. But beyond my petty personal misgivings, having them in the town really made everything a circus. They were bossy, rude, and above all: smartasses. They stepped on too many toes for my liking. Ordinarily, I would welcome the help on such a complicated case, but they brought too much attention with them and took over the whole scene, casting me and my men aside. I understood their concern; really, I did. A military-grade explosive - unlike anything we’ve ever seen before - detonating on the outskirts of a small town in the middle of America is understandable cause for alarm.

At first, it was just the FBI. They ruled out terrorism fairly quickly, but they struggled to find a plausible motive or even an explanation for the attack. They told me they wanted to bring in more resources and experts, to which I was originally receptive. "The more the merrier," I thought at the time. Then they told me they wanted to bring in the ATF, and I was immediately resistant. I don't like the ATF. The agency’s whole mission is to confiscate our guns and shoot our dogs. I scratch Sparky’s head as I blow out another puff of smoke. Sparky’s all I have left since Linda died… The thought of those sons of bitches doing anything to him… my mind wanders angrily. I can sense that this is a pointless diversion and put it out of my mind as my thoughts return to the week’s events. I started asking why they had to bring in the ATF, and the smug dipshit told me that they were America’s foremost experts in alcohol, tobacco, firearms, and explosives. I still wasn’t happy with this and immediately started fumbling for reasons to deny their involvement. 

“How do you know there was an explosion? Nobody heard or saw anything! The mailman stumbled upon the residence and reported he didn’t hear any explosion!”

The agent frowned, but I saw a slight grin form in the right corner of his mouth. “How else does a building get so thoroughly destroyed? The wreckage was all over the yard, the structure was flattened. Are you proposing something else did this?”

Thinking on my feet, I retorted, “This ain’t like any explosion I’ve ever seen. And it ain’t like anything you’ve seen neither! It’s possible it was something else.”

The agent seemed to concede the point, but replied matter-of-factly, “Regardless, there is a possibility that it was an explosion. And we need explosive experts to determine whether that possibility is reality or not.”

I huffed, but I could not think of another excuse. And so the ATF came. My men and I were relegated to traffic duty for the remainder of the week as the Feds conducted their investigation. We kept the townspeople and media away from the crime scene and by Thursday, the Feds had concluded their investigation. Though they were still waiting for the results of the DNA tests, they seemed confident in their theory of the tragedy. They explained that it was a special kind of pressurized explosion originating from within the house. Two devices at opposite ends of the home simultaneously detonated, flattening the structure and the entire Bell family within. They did not have a motive and were regarding the incident as an accident resulting from one of Mr. Bell’s experiments. The government confiscated his lab and all of his work at the university and considered the matter closed. I still have my doubts, though.. They didn’t explain the indentations in the ground leading away from the house. They didn’t explain why the remnants of the house’s roof remained in the yard instead of being scattered all over the hills. But frankly, I was just happy to see them go and didn’t put up a fuss. I’m not a scientist. I don’t have the resources to solve this. Maybe Mr. Bell was developing some new device that malfunctioned and this was the aftermath. I’m just happy for some peace and quiet again.

As I puff another cloud of smoke from my cigar, Sparky suddenly stands alert. He stares intently at the door. I frown and squint at it as well, wondering what could possibly be happening to ruin my Friday evening. Soon enough there's a knock at the door. I shout in a neighborly but authoritative voice, “Come in!” There is no movement. No sound. I shout again, this time less neighborly and more authoritative, “Come in!” Again, nothing. No response.

I place a hand on my revolver as I get up and approach the door. With my dog at my side, I quickly swing it open and stare out into the parking lot in front of the police station. There’s nothing out there aside from a few police cruisers. The bushes rustle in the breeze, but there is no life anywhere. Must have been a prank. I begin to close the door, but notice my German Shepherd is no longer at my side and is sniffing intently. Looking down, I realize there is a small blonde girl standing before me. Turning her attention away from Sparky to look up at me, her green-blue eyes meet mine. Her face is pale, clearly freezing from the cold walk in the evening air. She’s not wearing anything on her feet, which appear to be a ghostly white except for the dirt that cakes them in a few places. Quickly recognizing the specter that stands before me, I nearly scream, but manage to catch my tongue.

It's Cassidy Bell.

(10 years later)

Anna Rhodes POV

I feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement as I walk up the steps to Cassie’s apartment. I’ve been here countless times, of course, but tonight is different. For the first time ever, Cassie has agreed to go out to a party with me and the rest of the volleyball team. I’m eager to introduce her to the party scene, but I’m also nervous that she won’t like it. This might be my only chance to join Cassie with the rest of campus society. I absolutely adore her, but she’s always been a bit of a shut-in. A buzzkill, really. As long as I’ve known her, Cassie has always refused to drink or even go out, really. But tonight, she has finally agreed to go out with me and the rest of the girls for a “night of friendship and fun.” She needs this.

She’s been having a rough week and I’m confident that some female fellowship and some ogling from the boys will make her feel better. And if she enjoys herself, we can go out to more parties and I can flaunt my BFF. Beautiful famous friend. She just needs to loosen up a little. If I can just somehow convince her to drink with us, I’m confident she’ll forget about her problems and have a good time. I’ve never met drunk Cassie before, but I bet she’s a real hoot. Reaching the top of the steps, I knock on the door. Cassie shouts from somewhere within her apartment, “Almost ready! Come in!”

Opening the unlocked door, I can see her apartment is a mess. Clothes hang over the furniture, discarded makeup cases cover the table and counter, and textbooks lie open and scattered over the floor. Normally, Cassie is quite organized, but it seems like she turned the place upside-down getting ready for tonight. For some reason, it makes me less anxious knowing she’s anxious. Then again, she’s always anxious. People may think Cassie is this aloof, perfect girl, but I’m her best friend. I know better. Where others see quiet dignity, I see shyness. Where others see flawless beauty, I see insecurity. I love Cassie and think she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out, but I also know how she sees herself.

As I enter the apartment, I hear Cassie’s footsteps as she rushes from the back of the apartment to the bathroom at its center. She calls out, “just a minute” as she dashes quickly into the small washroom. Lost in my own anxious thoughts, I fail to get a good look at her as she speeds across the apartment’s small bedroom vestibule. I don’t need to see her, though. I know what she looks like. Her most readily-apparent feature is her height. Cassie stands at a whopping six feet and six inches tall, a daunting height that sees her tower over the vast majority of people, but serves her quite well as the middle blocker of our volleyball team. Though many people would find her height alone intimidating, the fear factor is magnified by her gorgeous looks. Cassie’s mother was a real looker before she passed away and Cassie certainly inherited her good genes. Her perfectly-symmetrical face is framed by beautiful golden-blonde hair that complements her deep turquoise eyes. Her radiant smile is accented by light freckles on her sun-kissed cheeks, which are punctuated by the cutest little dimples. I think her flawless face is wasted on most men, however, since they would have to peer over her big boobs to see it. Boasting at least double-Ds at her height, few women can see past such obstacles when interacting with her up-close and few men care to even try. Ugh, men… 

I can’t focus on them right now. Focus on Cassie. Right. Her beautiful body is set upon two thick, but toned legs joined to an equally-impressive butt conditioned by years of volleyball. The only slightly funny thing about Cassie’s appearance is that she doesn’t really look like she should be tall. Our teammates have made the same observation, so I know it’s not just me. Cassie doesn’t look like a girl that should be six and a half feet tall. Without an object or a person for reference, she would probably seem like she’s average height in pictures. Whereas most tall girls are lanky with long legs and small chests, Cassie’s frame looks like it belongs to a girl that's, like, five-foot-six. And a supermodel.  In fact, despite being several inches taller than me, I think our legs are roughly the same length. Mine might even be a little longer.

As if her height and beauty aren’t off-putting enough, Cassie is also a genius. I mean, maybe not literally. But she is definitely smarter than most people. I like to think I’m smarter than most people and she’s definitely smarter than me. A lot of people that don’t know her think that she’s a bimbo because of her looks. They assume she’s just at our school on an athletic scholarship, profiting from the naturally good genes that blessed her with tremendous height and divine looks. However, she’s actually really smart. She’s studying chemistry or chemical engineering or something like that and as far as I know she’s a straight-A student. I think her dad was a chemist or something, so she’s probably following in his footsteps. She really won the genetic lottery with her dad’s brains and her mother’s looks. I don’t even know where her height comes from because I think both of her parents were under six feet tall, but maybe she had really tall grandparents or something. 

She's also kind of a celebrity. The accident that killed her parents made her somewhat notorious, but she never talks about it with anyone. Even me. She doesn't even like watching herself on TV when our games are broadcasted because the media always brings it up. Now Cassie is one of the most popular student-athletes in the country. Her athletic prowess combined with her good looks has made her super popular on social media and landed her a lot of brand deals. Though her tuition is already covered by her scholarship, she makes a lot of money off of NIL and promotions on her social media accounts, though she doesn’t post as often as I think she should. She’s even on a huge billboard alongside the highway exit to our school. So yeah, Cassie is beautiful, smart, rich, and famous. Wow, I’m gushing over my bestie again. I’ve always considered myself heterosexual, but Cassie makes me second-guess myself.

My amorous thoughts are interrupted as Cassie pokes her head out of the bathroom door. “Are we running late?”

I laugh this off, trying to conceal the embarrassment from my latest train of thought. “It’s a party, you’re supposed to be late! Take your time, barbie!”

Her face breaks out in a giddy smile. “Ok! Almost ready. Five minutes, tops!”

As the door closes again, I return to my earlier monologue while I spin an empty makeup case on the coffee table in front of me. I love her to death, but she is in a truly tragic socio-psychological situation. Cassie is a paradox in that she’s both shy and needy. In my expert opinion as a psych major, I attribute her shyness to her early childhood development. Her dad seemed - what’s the term? - "mousey." Based on what I can remember of him and what my parents have said, he was always pretty shy. Even timid. It’s a wonder how he ended up landing Cassie’s mom. I think Cassie could have inherited some of his personality, but I think she was also conditioned by it. She wasn’t always so meek as a kid. It’s like she was taught to be afraid. She probably picked up on it from her dad. She also may have some lingering trauma from “the accident,” but she won’t talk about it with me, so I can’t say for sure. Maybe if I get her liquored up a little she’ll open up about it… Focus! Did I take my ADHD meds today? Hmm... where was I? Oh right… 

Unfortunately, Cassie isn’t as confident as everyone perceives her to be. In fact, she is super shy, but because she’s perceived to be this “perfect girl,” a lot of people think she’s just self-absorbed and reserved, so they don’t make the effort to approach her. It’s tragic, really. She’s truly quite lonely… and of course, there’s the companionship issue. Being as tall and perfect she is, very few guys dare approach her to ask her out. And the ones that do are self-absorbed douchebags with too much confidence. Between their overconfidence and her lack of confidence, they consistently steamroll her. She always gets pushed around by the guys she’s with. If only she’d let me set her up with somebody… any guy would be lucky to have her. Maybe she’ll meet someone special tonight.

Of course, just because she’s practically perfect doesn’t mean any guy that’s lucky enough to be with her actually appreciates her. Which brings us to our present woes. Derek.  He was always a jerk that took her for granted. I learned through my extensive social network that Derek had hooked up with another girl at a party and, being the dutiful best friend that I am, of course I told her. She didn’t believe me at first. She loved him so much and was so desperate for it to not be true. She even accused ME of being jealous of her! Or jealous of him… I don’t really remember. But the truth prevailed when the other girls on the team backed up my story and she eventually confronted him about it. That arrogant pig didn’t even deny it! And he blamed MY bestie because she always refused to go to parties with him! The nerve! Fortunately Cassie at least had the self-esteem to dump him after this.

But the following weeks have not been kind to her. She’s become more withdrawn and doesn’t seem as passionate about volleyball or her schoolwork. In my qualified opinion, she’s clinically depressed. It certainly doesn’t help that she knows Derek is going out to parties, sleeping with other girls and spreading rumors about her. That’s how I convinced her to finally go out with me tonight. We have to take her out to have a good time! To counter the rumors Derek spread, to show everyone how fun she is! And maybe find her a new man more deserving of her affection. It will be good for everyone.

I look up as I hear the bathroom door open once again. Cassie steps out wearing white flip-flops, a white skirt, and a pink top that shows off a generous amount of cleavage, but still keeps “the girls” in place. Surprisingly, she’s not wearing much makeup. Not that she needs it, but what took so long? She excitedly squeals “Ready!” and I roll my eyes with a silly grin, pretending I’m embarrassed to be seen with her and feigning nonchalance, despite my heart racing in my chest as the realization that this is really happening finally hits me. No going back now.

“Finally! What took you so long?”

Cassie beams at me and addresses the unspoken part of my question. “I know, I’m not wearing a lot of makeup, but it took a really long time to curl my hair today. It’s hard to get it wavy the way I like it!”

Her hair is luscious, I think to myself as I admire its waves and faint sheen. She should really do a shampoo commercial or something. “The no-makeup look suits you. And besides, with the frat house’s pool and hot tub, it would probably just make a mess. Which reminds me, are you-?”

She interrupts, “Yes, I’m wearing my swimsuit underneath. Let’s go!”

Trying to feign more expertise than I actually have, I chirp back, “Not so fast! Let’s go over the checklist.”

Cassie rolls her eyes, but I can see through the act and can tell how excited she is to go.

“Is your phone fully-charged?”

“Check.”

“Did you go to the bathroom?”

“Check.”

“Condoms?”

She sheepishly looks at her feet, but nods and says “Check.”

“Fake ID?”

She pauses, still looking at her feet, before slowly raising her face to look at me. “I have it with me, but I really don’t think I should drink tonight. I mean, I’m not old enough yet to legally drink and everyone already knows who I am. Plus, I stand out like an elephant in a chicken coup.” She gestures up and down at herself. “Anyone can Google me and find out I’m not of age to drink. And if anyone takes a picture of me drinking, I could get in trouble with my scholarship and my brand deals. And besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to drink, because I’ve never done it before, and I’m feeling kind of nervous, and with all these sad emotions in me I don’t know if a depressant chemical like alcohol should be in my system…”

I can see she’s spiraling, so I interject quickly, “You don’t have to drink tonight! It’s just in case you change your mind! Besides, you won’t get carded at the party anyway. It’s just in case we decide to bail early and hit a bar or something. It’s like the saying goes: Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

She smiles at my reassurance, and together we walk out of her apartment door.

I did tell a little white lie, though. Though I meant my promise that she didn’t have to drink tonight, I have no intention of keeping her sober. She needs this. Besides, this is a bonding experience!

Rebecca Thomas POV

I check my phone’s clock for the dozenth time and sigh. I knew they would be late. Annie always loves to make an entrance and having brobdingnagian barbie with her was only going to make her even later. Looking at the other three girls around me, I just give a frown and a shrug that wordlessly communicates “What now?” The girls look around at each other before Sydney speaks up.

“Maybe we should just go in without them?” 

“No!” Emily shouts with a bit too much enthusiasm. Seemingly realizing this, she backtracks. “I mean, Cassie is the whole reason we’re doing this. We really should greet her outside and go in together.”

The last girl rolls her eyes at the plucky libero before quickly retorting, “Puh-lease, Emily. We go out to parties like this almost every week. We’d all be here tonight, too - with or without Cassie - and so would Annie. I know she’s having a rough time and I want to help her out, too, but let’s not overstate why we’re here or pretend this is some kind of act of altruism.”

I know Ronnie’s right, of course. We went to these parties pretty much every weekend. I weigh the considerations in my head. On the one hand, I don’t want to be too late entering the party. When you get in too late, everyone is already talking to each other and it’s hard to immerse yourself in the atmosphere, find a good place to put your stuff, and a cute boy to talk to. On the other hand, it’s not like we’ve ever had trouble getting into parties before, nor would we be missing out on anything we couldn’t do next week. Cassie seemed really nervous to come out with us and she has never done this before. We should probably go in as a group to make her feel as comfortable as possible. Looking around at the group’s faces, it seems everyone else is doing the same moral calculus in their heads that I am. Though perhaps Emily is just trying to figure out what the word “altruism” means.

“I think we should wait for them,” I state abruptly. That resolves the matter, as Emily seems to get less anxious and Ronnie nods approvingly. I can’t say if Sydney talked herself out of her suggestion or my words dissuaded her, but she seems to agree, too. And so we stand on the curb outside of the frat house, three statuesque women and our spunky little libero. As minutes pass, though, the awkwardness sets in again. Nobody really knows what to say to each other. As time goes on, we see more and more people walk past us on their way to the party and with each person we begin to feel more awkward. I can tell from the looks on the girls’ faces that the idea of going in without Cassie and Annie is getting more tantalizing by the minute. 

I still feel that waiting is the right thing to do, so I preempt the resurfacing of the idea by suggesting we stand farther away from the loud frat house so we can hear each other better. I really just want to stop awkwardly standing in front of the house and buy us time to wait for Cassie. Nobody was talking anyway. Emily, seizing on the opportunity to stave off the group’s impatience, lights up at hearing my proposal and begins confidently striding over to some trees along the edge of the house’s front yard. As she does so, I catch a glimpse of a large silhouette walking down the street. Though I can only really discern its shape in the darkness, I know it has to be Cassie. The figure’s walk, curves, and lengthy hair betray that it is a woman and the only girl I know who is that tall is Cassie. Alongside the larger silhouette, a smaller figure emerges from the shadows, standing slightly above shoulder height to the first girl. That must be Annie. Though Annie is tall in her own right, probably hovering at or slightly above six feet tall, she looks short next to the amazonian figure of Cassie.

As they continue to approach us, I nod in their direction to direct the attention of the other girls. “Finally,” Ronnie sighs under her breath. I wave to the pair as they continue walking toward the house in order to identify ourselves. As they pass under a streetlight, I get a better look at them. Though the sun had set a few hours ago, it's still fairly light out and it would likely stay that way for the remainder of the night, as the moon is almost full. In the light of the streetlamp, I can see their outfits better, though their faces are still too far away to read. Annie is wearing a yellow and white sundress with yellow sandals and a white bow in her hair. Annie is a bit of a ditz, but I have to admit her fashion sense is always on-point and the outfit complements her fair skin and blonde hair elegantly. Cassie, on the other hand, is wearing far more scandalous apparel, which is very uncharacteristic of her. I can’t get a good look at her shoes from this distance, but they are definitely some kind of open-toed footwear, probably flip-flops. The color is fairly bright. Maybe white or a light pink? Moving up, she’s wearing a white skirt that almost reaches her knees and is pulled up to her belly button. She’s wearing a pink top that reaches about midway down her stomach, leaving her toned midriff exposed in the gap between the top and her skirt. Had I not been moving up from her feet to her head, though, I likely would not have noticed the exposed midriff, as her top covers very little of her upper body. Her large breasts are held firmly in place by the lacily-strapped top and either a bra or a bikini underneath, covering much of her upper belly and side boob, but her cleavage, collarbone, and shoulders are almost completely exposed. Cassie is out to break some hearts tonight.

As Cassie and Annie approach, I start to wonder if Cassie will feel self-conscious about her outfit. Looking around the group, she seems to be most boldly-dressed. Sydney and Ronnie are both wearing oversized t-shirts and short athletic shorts. Though the latter seems a little audacious, the length of the t-shirt compensates for the skimpiness of the shorts as it almost completely covers them. Emily wears a similar outfit to Cassie, wearing a skirt of similar length and a top with comparable lacy straps, but it conceals much more of her upper body and frankly Emily’s body is not nearly as bodacious as Cassie’s. My own outfit is fairly modest, too, though it’s arguably the second-most audacious in the group. My v-neck top shows a decent amount of cleavage, but my B-cup breasts hardly make it a show-stopper. Like Cassie, my top is short enough to leave a strip of midriff exposed, but my best feature is the one I flaunt the most. My long, toned legs are on full display with a pair of athletic booty shorts that closely hug my butt and barely reach my mid-thigh. I take great pride in my legs and know they are by-far my body's sexiest characteristic. Even though Cassie is taller than me, I think my legs are probably longer than hers and narrowly more well-defined. It's actually surprising how tall Cassie is, considering her legs-to-torso ratio. It’s not like her legs are short, but most tall girls have much longer legs than she does. Reflecting on this, I realize her outfit is probably fine. Between her top and my shorts, it’s probably a wash for “sluttiest outfit” and we’d seen plenty of skimpier-dressed girls walk past us in the time we stood outside the frat house. Besides, if we all get in the pool or the hot tub, we'll all be in swimsuits anyway.

It’s kind of ironic, really. The two most prudish girls in our group are wearing the two most racy outfits. I know why I’m wearing my outfit; I just enjoy flaunting the body I work hard for and delight in making boys desire me and girls envy me. It sounds conceited, but it’s just how I get my kicks. Why shouldn’t a girl be proud of her body anyway? While I know my own reasons, this is a decided departure in behavior for Cassie. She has always been modest and reserved. Even on her social media posts, the most revealing thing she ever wore was our team’s volleyball uniform or a dress that showed a little collarbone. This outfit suggests to me that she is on a mission, but I can’t yet say what that mission is. Maybe she is looking for a rebound after her breakup? Then again, Cassie never really goes to parties. Maybe she thinks this is just what everybody wears to them. Based on the girls I’d seen tonight, she probably wouldn’t be wrong…

As they walk up to the group, Ronnie chides them with a sarcastic, “Took you long enough.”

Annie just smiles while Cassie, slightly red in the face, sheepishly admits, “It wasn’t Annie’s fault. I took too long to do my hair. To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous about this.”

Sydney chimes in, “Everything will be fine! You look super cute!”

Emily, staring at the veritable cornucopia of cleavage that is eye-level with her, struggles to find her words. “Y-y-yeah. Super cute!.”

I just give a reassuring nod and gesture toward the front of the frat house. As we approach the door, the stunned ROTC kid serving as a bouncer stares flabbergasted at us. I think I recognize him from a few other parties before, but it's hard to say since they all tend to look alike. Slight muscular build, short hair, fierce eyes. Or at least they would be if he didn't look like a deer in headlights. The sight of five six-foot-plus girls (and a very excited Emily) approaching him must have been a surprise, but as we get closer it becomes clear his vision is honed on Cassie’s boobs. I walk up to him at the front of the group and stare at him expectedly, feigning moderate annoyance. The slack-jawed guy just continues staring silently at us, so I clear my throat and say, “Can we go in?”

Fumbling over his words, the stunned bouncer manages to squeak out a meek “Y-yeah, sure” and reaches for the doorknob, though his hand struggles to find it. Eventually grasping it on his fourth attempt, he opens the door for us and we walk inside. As I enter at the front of the group, Annie suddenly rushes past me and addresses the partygoers by yelling up to the ceiling, “Watch out everybody! Babezilla is in the building!”

I roll my eyes and give an amused look at Cassie, non-verbally communicating, “Can you believe this dork?” Cassie smiles, but I can tell it’s motivated by a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. Much of the party has taken notice after Annie’s heraldic announcement, and soon most of the room’s eyes are on us. Surveying the crowded room, Ronnie mumbles under her breath, “Here we go…”

Emily Granger POV

This is all too much. My heart must be beating a thousand times per minute. I feel like I’m struggling to breathe. And it’s so hot in here! Is it noticeable? Am I sweating? Is my face red? Am I hyperventilating? Somehow I manage to move through the crowd with the rest of the girls, but I feel like I’m on the verge of passing out. The room is packed with people and we get bunched together as we push through the mass of people. Annie suddenly stops, causing a chain reaction as one girl after another bumps into the person in front of her. I bump into Ronnie’s backside and hear her let out an irritated sigh, but before I can even squeak out a “sorry” the back of my head is squished by Cassie’s gargantuan boobs. Cassie eeks out a sheepish, “Sorry, Emily” as the procession begins to move forward again. 

It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not turn around and stick my face in the valley of her cleavage. I could quickly turn around, just to face her, and there I’d be. It would be so easy. Even excusable. But at the moment, I’m more focused on trying to conceal my incredible arousal. I need a distraction. Think about something else. I had developed a crush on Cassie before I even attended Titanburg Tech. She was a year ahead of me in school and when I saw her posts on social media, I immediately knew I wanted her. Truthfully, I could have gone to a better school than the Titanburg Institute of Technology. I had the grades for it. I had offers from better volleyball programs, too. But TIT had one thing that no other school could offer: Cassie Bell. 

I’ve had a thing for tall women as long as I can remember. I can’t quite explain it; they're just so… sexy. The presence, the power… it's all so hot to me. It doesn’t even strike me as odd. Most girls want to be held in the arms of a tall, strong, man, but I’m simply not into men and I never have been. Women are just so much more elegant. It’s probably why I got into volleyball in the first place. It’s not exactly a “natural choice” for a girl of my stature, but I work hard at maintaining my agility and excel in my role as a libero. I love being a short girl surrounded by tall, fit women. I realize the irony of my recent train of thought, as I’m still thinking about Cassie, but this more detached analysis is strangely calming. It’s academic, perhaps even clinical. Whatever works, I guess… 

The problem with tall women is that most of them aren’t all that… womanly. That's not to say they're manly or anything, it's just that... tall women are already rare on their own, but to find tall women with great curves; that is a herculean task. Cassie, though… Cassie isn’t just tall; she’s gigantic. And she isn’t just "pretty" or "curvy;" she is a goddess. Sure, there are taller women. Cassie isn’t the tallest middle blocker I’ve ever seen, but she rates among the tallest. And sure, Cassie may not be the most beautiful girl on the planet, but she can certainly be counted among their ranks. And I can definitively say that she is the most beautiful woman of her stature, or remotely near her stature on the planet. Believe me, I’ve looked into it. That combination is what drew me to her. She is truly a divine exhibition of amazonian beauty. Aphrodite herself would struggle to hold a candle to her.

When I first joined the Titans’ volleyball team, I was really looking forward to seeing more of Cassie. At practices, in the locker room, at social gatherings and parties... But I was disappointed to find that she didn’t go out much and generally kept to herself. Annie always brags about how close she is with Cassie, but it doesn’t seem like they interact with each other all that much, nor do they seem to have much in common. Sure, I suppose she is probably Cassie’s closest friend, but Cassie is more of a loner. Her shyness adds to her mystique for me. I tried to make inroads with her on several occasions. I offered to help her study, but it turned out that Cassie was actually pretty bright. Her being a year ahead of me in school didn’t help my situation, but Cassie clearly isn’t your stereotypical "dumb blonde." Just as I had chosen TIT for non-academic considerations, it seems Cassie did as well. She is driven, studious, and disciplined. Annie had mentioned that her late father worked at the school, so maybe she was here for sentimental reasons.

Reflecting on the roads that led me here was helping me keep my emotions in check, but another sudden stop sets my heart aflutter again. This time, Cassie manages to avoid bumping into me, but I can sense her bountiful breasts looming near my head. I wasn’t prepared for this. I was so excited to learn that Cassie would be joining us tonight, but I never expected her to show up like this. I may have fantasized about it, sure, but to see it in the flesh is… breathtaking. Literally. I'm struggling to breathe normally. Just as my lustful thoughts begin to tempt me again, Becca turns around and addresses us. As our team captain and the most senior member of the volleyball team, she is the de-facto leader of our little troop of amazons. 

“Ok, it’s super-crowded in the house, so I’m going to look for a place to set down our stuff in the backyard. You’re welcome to come with me if you want, or begin mingling. Either way, I’m sure we’ll see each other around.” 

Ronnie smirks, then jokes, “You better come with us, Emily. It’s not safe for little girls to attend frat parties without a chaperone.”

Unsure if this is a reference to my youth or my height, I settle on a non-verbal reaction by way of offering an insincere smile and a flip of the bird. Ronnie is a stand-up girl and a good teammate, but her little digs at me have gotten on my nerves over time. Maybe I'm just feeling like I have to stand up for myself in front of Cassie, but I'm ready for a verbal sparring match regardless.

Annie quickly interrupts before the conversation digresses into petty insults. “I want to introduce Cassie to the party scene. We’ll meet you guys later. I’m sure we’ll ‘stand out’ in a crowd!” she says, winking up at Cassie. Cassie nervously grins down at her and back at the rest of us, not saying anything but silently acquiescing to Annie’s desires. Becca nods and turns to walk to the back door with her loyal lieutenant Ronnie and the indifferent Sydney. Still distracted and feeling amorous, I realize that the group is splitting up and I have to make a decision. Though I worry it may make my feelings for Cassie too obvious, I blurt out, “I’m going with Annie!” and hurry to catch up with the other two girls moving deeper into the festivities. I hope that omitting Cassie’s name may conceal my intentions, but at this point the amygdala is guiding my decision-making process. My frontal lobe is taking a backseat to my primal fight-or-flight instincts as my brain struggles to function with the adrenaline and dopamine flooding my system. Wow, am I so horny…

Veronica Green POV

What a baby. Emily always comes with Becca and I to set down our stuff. That pipsqueak would get lost in the crowd otherwise. But I make one little quip and she decides she doesn’t want to go with us anymore. I didn’t do it to be mean. People know I’m nice, I just have a unique way of showing it. Still, I wonder if the other girls are judging me.

“I didn’t mean anything by that joke to Emily,” I say aloud to no one in particular. 

Becca and Sydney continue walking, and after a few moments Sydney responds, “I know. And so does Emily. Having a new addition to our posse is just throwing things off a little. I think we all got a little tired and impatient waiting to get in here, but things will all settle in as the night goes on.”

I look to Becca for reassurance, but she seems to be more concerned with finding a place to put our stuff. Surveying the backyard, it appears most of the prime real estate has been taken. No surprise there, considering how late we were getting here. The area around the swimming pool and the neighboring hot tub is crowded with tables, chairs, and laid-out towels with only enough space between them for people to walk through the mess to the pool itself. Looking farther around the yard, much of the grass is likewise covered by towels and blankets, but the fenceline towards the back of the property leading into the woods seems fairly open. Becca begins wordlessly moving towards the back corner of the yard, where one tree is situated on our side of the fence. Following behind her and dropping our bags at the tree, our attention refocuses on the festive scene around us. Being in the far back corner of the backyard and fairly removed from the pool where most of the people seem to be congregating, I have minimal concern about our bags being stolen. Continuing to look around, I fail to notice any giant women among the partygoers and assume that Cassie is still in the house with Annie. Becca reaches the same conclusion and says, “Looks like they’re still inside. Someone has to tell them where our stuff is.” 

Sydney seems to have her attention fixed on a guy in an orange Hawaiian T-shirt standing by the hot tub. Even though the sun set long ago, he’s still wearing a straw hat and a pair of sunglasses. Typical of Sydney to go after the douchebags. Recognizing that Sydney didn’t want to track down the adventurous Annie and her band of multi-sized misfits and still feeling a little guilty about offending Emily, I volunteer to find the girls and tell them where we've made camp. “I’ll do it,” I say grumpily, though secretly I’m somewhat eager. Becca nods and begins walking towards the pool, with Sydney only one step behind her. 

After walking back to the door and pulling it open, I once again survey the scene. Being taller than the average man, and much taller than the average woman, this is usually an easy job. Looking for the tallest girl in school should make this task even easier, but I frown upon failing to spot them in the main area of the house. Damn. Moving through the kitchen from the back door, I part the crowds to the living room. I always enjoy doing this. I feel powerful as I notice the eyes of most of the guests looking up at me, taking in the sight of my awesome towering figure. I always imagine even more people looking at me as I pass by, though I never look back to confirm this theory. Ah, the perks of being six-one. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. I wonder how Cassie must feel. Certainly, being almost half a foot taller than me, everyone looks up at her. But she always seems so bashful. Maybe having eyes on her all the time makes her timid. Like she’s always being scrutinized. I notice people staring at me fairly often, but for her it must be constant. Maybe she worries they’re judging her. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t go out much.

Continuing to part the sea of people, I scan the heads of the crowd as I wander the house. As I arrive at the foyer that connects the front door to the living room and the main stairs, a tall boy roughly my height approaches me. “Hey, legs,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

Ugh, what a terrible line. As he gets closer, I realize that he’s actually slightly taller than me, but probably only by an inch of two. I frown at him, but resist my urge to be mean and reply, “Sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry to find my friends.”

Clearly not taking the hint, he continues grinning and responds, “What do they look like? Maybe I’ve seen them.” Looking him over again, I recognize that he’s actually sorta cute, despite his terrible pick-up line. Hazel eyes, defined jaw, and good cheekbones, plus he looks like he actually works out, though he probably isn’t a competitive athlete. That's fine by me, though. I like a boy I can push around a little.

I decide to humor him, turning up the charm a bit and replying, “Well, I’m looking for a ditzy princess approximately my height wearing a yellow and white sundress. She is accompanied by two peculiar companions: a giant and a dwarf. Does that ring a bell for you?” I flutter my eyelashes at him and his grin grows wider.

“Yes, I believe I have, actually. The princess took Goliath and Gimli through here a few minutes ago. I think they were heading through the garage to the backyard. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to them?” 

I am moderately put-off that he chose to use Gimli as a stand-in for Emily, considering he is a bearded brute, but I suppose there aren’t that many notable female dwarves. Still, he is cute… and he is helpful… so I decide to give him a chance.

“You may have the pleasure,” I say in a posh British accent as I offer him my hand. He gently kisses it and proceeds to lead me through the garage to the side of the house. Geez, this guy is a dork. Still, he seems nice enough…

Walking out the side door of the garage, I immediately spot Cassie with Annie and Emily on either side of her.  They are talking to a group of three boys, though I can’t get a good look at any of them yet as their backs are to me. They all appear to be about the same height, probably 5’9” or 5’10”, and are all wearing differently-colored Hawaiian shirts and tan shorts. Though I can’t yet see the boys’ faces, I can read the three girls like a book. Annie is clearly enjoying the attention, beaming ear to ear and talking excitedly to the group. If I had to guess, I'd assume she had been talking non-stop before I got here. Cassie looks shy as ever, hunching her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. Clearly the gambit of her bold outfit wasn’t giving her the confidence she had hoped for. Finally, Emily looks annoyed and eager to be anywhere else. She reminds me of a toddler impatiently tugging at her mom’s shirt to get her to leave a store. Perhaps she’s just in a mood today. Realizing my new boy toy has stopped, I take the lead and pull him along towards the group.

Upon seeing me, Annie’s face lights up again as she exclaims, “Guys, this is our friend Ronnie. She’s on the volleyball team with us!” Her gaze lands on the boy whose hand I’m currently holding, but before I can begin to introduce him I realize that I actually don’t know his name. After a couple seconds of awkward pause, Annie prompts me. “And this is…?”

Pulling his hand out of my soft grip, he takes the initiative to introduce himself. “I’m Luke. Luke Thompson. I’m with Tau Alpha Lambda.” Cassie reacts to this, casting her eyes away and  hugging her arms closer to herself, as if trying to get smaller. The rest of the group smiles, though, as everyone goes around introducing themselves.

The pale redhead in the red shirt waves weakly and introduces himself as Jasper, but doesn’t bother to offer a last name or any other information about himself. His companion next to him, an Asian boy wearing a green shirt, introduces himself as David. Following suit with Jasper, he doesn’t say anything else about himself. The last boy in the trio, a muscular guy whose biceps bulge a little in the sleeves of his blue Hawaiian shirt, introduces himself as Lucius Furson and extends his hand confidently for a handshake. Luke takes his hand and shakes it firmly, while I extend my hand and give a less enthusiastic double shake. It seems Lucius is the leader of this band of merry men. 

Before I can open my mouth to tell the girls where we dropped our stuff, Annie seizes on the opportunity to introduce herself to Luke. “I’m Annie Rhodes! Nice to meet you!”

Looking to her right, Cassie is still crossing her arms and looking down at the ground. She mutters “Cassie” without looking up, as though she were an abused housewife who expected Luke to hit her. However, whatever reaction she was expecting from Luke never came, as he grinned warmly at her and then shifted his grin to the right at Emily. 

Emily, still looking like an anxious toddler who wants to be anywhere but here, puts on a clearly-fake smile and extends her hand limply. “Emily Granger,” she murmurs as Luke gives her a gentle handshake.

With introductions out of the way, I quickly deliver my intended message before the airhead Annie can open her mouth again. “We dropped off our stuff at the tree in the far back corner of the backyard, if you want to leave your bags there. Keep an eye on that spot. We’ll meet up again there when it’s time to go.”

Emily, eager to take the opportunity to escape, excitedly grabs Cassie’s hand and starts to pull her towards the backyard. Cassie seems eager to go, too, so Annie follows behind with an improvised goodbye. “I guess we’ve gotta drop off our bags now. It was nice talking to you!”

Leaving Luke and I with the three guys we just met, I stare awkwardly at their faces. Jasper and David don’t seem to be big on eye contact, but Lucius is beaming at us with his eyes totally locked in. His enthusiasm is off-putting, so I make for an exit. Grabbing Luke’s hand, I begin to back away and awkwardly offer, “Well, you guys enjoy the party. We’re going to go mingle with Luke’s frat brothers.” I don’t know if the TAL boys are even at this party; I just want any excuse to get away from the odd trio as fast as possible. Lucius stands stationary and grins at us as we walk off. First stepping backwards without turning my back to them, I then quickly turn around and rush to turn the corner to the house. 

Once we're clear of Lucius’s line of sight, I quiz Luke about Cassie’s reaction to him.

“Why does it seem like Cassie is afraid of you?” 

Luke responds matter-of-factly. “Truthfully, I’ve never actually met her before, but I’m in the same fraternity as her ex-boyfriend, Derek. I assume she thinks I hold some kind of ill-will towards her, but I really don't. Derek dumps girls all the time, why would I be vindictive about it?”

I pause, processing his words. Did I hear him right? He thinks Derek dumped Cassie? I gently correct him. “Fair enough, but Cassie dumped Derek.”

Luke shrugs indifferently. “That’s not what I heard, but it’s really none of my business. I’m not going to be mean to somebody just because my frat brother used to date her. Certainly not someone with such… beautiful friends.” 

Ok, he’s turning up the charm. But the point sticks with me. Did Derek really break up with Cassie? God knows her self-esteem could use an upgrade, but surely she wouldn’t stay with him after he cheated on her? And why would he dump her after cheating? What does that accomplish for him? Wait a minute... Did Cassie lie to me? Did Cassie lie to all of us? I feel the anger building up in me as my cheeks get hotter.

As Luke leans in, presumably for a kiss, I tug him by the arm toward the end of the backyard. Over my shoulder, I bark at him, “We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

Cassidy Bell POV

Emily moves like a woman possessed as she pulls me towards the tree at the back of the property. It’s sort of adorable, like a little kid pulling her mom through the park. I haven’t seen this side of the tenacious brunette libero before. I know she is energetic, but I have never seen her so assertive before. Truth be told, though, I appreciate the rescue. The three guys we’d been talking to were weird, even creepy, but Ronnie bringing one of Derek’s frat brothers was terrifying. On the one hand, I have no idea what Derek had told him or what he thought of me. Does he even know what happened? Would he bad-mouth me to Ronnie? On the other hand, I also fear he could compromise the story I had told the girls. If Derek told him the truth of what happened between us, then he might tell the rest of the girls. What would they think of me? It probably wouldn't be good. Maybe they would pity me for being so pathetic. Maybe they would resent me for lying. Maybe…

“We’re getting to the bottom of this!” I hear Ronnie proclaim loudly, aggressively tugging her date behind her as she closes the distance to Emily, Annie, and me. Annie and Emily turn around to see what the commotion is about, along with many of the other party guests. I can feel my face reddening, but I get a brief respite as most of the party seems to quickly lose interest in Ronnie’s outburst. The break doesn’t last long, though…

Ronnie plants her feet in the ground in front of me, staring intensely into my eyes. I know I’m physically looking down at her, but at this moment it feels like I am cowering beneath her gaze. Her gaze is assertive and refuses to break with my eyes. Her dirty blonde hair blows slightly in the wind behind her, as though she’s an ‘80s action hero glaring defiantly in the face of danger. She stares expectantly, as if I will volunteer something before she even asks. I choose to stall for time, feigning a curious expression and not saying anything. It feels like we’ve been staring at each other for a while, but I’m sure it’s only been a few seconds. Time slows down as a sense of dread overtakes me. Making their way over to us from the rest of the partygoers, Becca and Sydney interrupt the stalemate as they walk up to the group. 

“What’s going on, Ronnie?” Sydney asks, looking back and forth between Ronnie and Emily. Becca, true to her laconic nature, just watches silently. Though her eye movements are hard to make out in the lighting of the backyard, it seems that she has already deduced that this standoff is between Ronnie and me.

Ronnie nudges Luke in the arm to communicate to Sydney and Becca that he is the catalyst of our present predicament. “Luke here tells me that Derek dumped Cassie. I told him that he has some bad information. Cassie, would you care to correct the record?”

Welp, stalling for time and hoping Ronnie would ask me about literally anything else didn’t work. I am truly in the worst-case scenario. I’m caught. I’m overcome by a desire to disappear; for any kind of distraction to give me some relief. I continue to stare in stunned silence for a few more seconds, trying to gather my words, but my mind is blank. I find myself hoping for something, anything to get me out of this situation. A house fire, a police raid, an alien invasion, anything. Panic is setting in. I stop thinking of explanations and start vividly imagining outlandish scenarios in which I could escape. I wish I could shrink to the size of an ant and disappear in the grass at my feet. In my desperation, a more sinister thought enters my mind. I could make them all ants.

Then calm washes over me. My head clears. I push away the idea, along with the painful memories bubbling up in my subconscious. No, I can get through this. These are my friends and they’ll love and support me regardless. I just need to be honest with them. A newfound bravery courses through me as I find my tongue. Before I entirely know what I’m going to say, I open my mouth and feel the words coming out. “Luke is telling the truth. I didn’t dump Derek. He… dumped me.”

I don’t feel as embarrassed as I thought I would, now that it's out there. I feel a weight of anxiety leave my body after saying it, but the anxiety trickles back in as the group’s silence isolates me with my thoughts. Once again, I feel time slow to a crawl, but I recognize that this is probably just another relativistic illusion as my brain is overloaded analyzing data, trying to discern each girl’s reaction from their faces and processing my own feelings about the situation simultaneously. Because I am moving so fast between thoughts, it feels as though everything around me is slower. Time flies when you’re having fun, but it crawls like a wounded bird in moments of dread. 

Annie is the first to speak, though what she says is little comfort to me. “Oh, Cassie…” she says as she walks toward me and embraces me with a hug. I process her words, trying to decipher their meaning and that of the gesture. Empathy? Pity? Disappointment? Whatever it is, it seems the other girls are not so easily moved. Looking around at the group’s faces, it appears the only person who might want to be here less than me right now is Luke. He seems extremely uncomfortable, as though he regrets ever mentioning anything. A small part of me is angry with him, but a bigger part of me sympathizes. He’s now the seventh-wheel in whatever emotional catharsis is unfolding right now, and likely feels extra awkward having initiated the situation in the first place. 

Ronnie seems considerably less moved than Annie, but I can see in her eyes that she’s not angry with me anymore. Her gaze has softened, however I can tell she is still determined to learn more. She had likely already suspected the truth, but she becomes considerably less adversarial with my honest admission. Briefly reflecting on my decision to be truthful, I realize that I had never really considered lying to them. Sure, I wanted to flee. Sure, I may have pled for catastrophe in a moment of panic. But I never thought to lie. It's ironic, since a lie is what got me here in the first place. Would I have even been able to get away with it if I had? Why wasn’t I just honest in the first place? My mind drifts back to the day of the breakup… my weakness… my shame… 

Ronnie interrupts my thoughts by asking aloud the question I had just been contemplating in my head. “Why did you lie?”

I haven’t formed the complete answer in my head yet, but riding the wave of honesty and stream of consciousness, I say what I feel. “I thought it would be easier.”

As the group seems to consider this response, Sydney interjects, “Easier than what?”

My mouth is now moving well ahead of my brain. “Easier than explaining the truth.”

Annie squeezes me harder in understanding. Becca likewise nods in acknowledgement, but Ronnie and Emily seem to still be confused. The latter seems to still be finding her tongue, so Ronnie asks the obvious follow-up question: “Which is…?”

I can feel the tears building up behind my eyes. There’s a lump in my esophagus that makes it hard to get the words out. I swallow hard, but I can’t seem to clear it. I swallow again, harder, but the lump feels like it only gets bigger. There’s a weight growing in my throat and behind my eyes. I know what I want to say, but I physically can’t say it. I can feel the pressure building in my nose and cheeks. Behind the eyes, I can feel tears forming, poised to burst. I keep trying to speak, opening my mouth but unable to push out the air. Inhale after inhale, I start to feel the slight sensation of low oxygen levels in my blood. I need to exhale…

Finally, I manage to choke it out. “I still love him.”

The dam breaks and my tears start flowing, with snot not far behind. I know it must be an ugly cry, but I can’t stop it. The other girls come in around me, circling Annie and I in a group hug. First Sydney joins Annie, who has maintained her embrace of me this whole time. Then half a second later, Becca wraps her arms around the group. Ronnie seems to give in immediately after Becca. Squeezing me from all sides, the volleyball team collectively embraces me in a group hug. Well, all of the team except Emily, who seems like she’s almost as hurt as I am. Though her face is still filled with resolve and she has no tears running down her cheeks, I can see her eyes are red and her nose is stuffy. As the hug is completed with each girl resting her head on me, Emily asks through teary eyes, “Why?”

I don’t immediately understand her meaning. Why what? Replaying the conversation in my head, I realize this is a response to the last thing I said. "I still love him." It's a question I had contemplated with varying degrees of rationality for weeks. I know how I feel, but upon being asked to articulate it, I’m coming up empty. Why do I love him? We didn’t have a lot in common. He didn’t treat me well. And of course, he cheated on me. It wasn’t rational. It isn’t rational. It defies logic. I just know how I felt with him. How I feel about him. But how could I express this to Emily, and everyone else for that matter? I consider using a cliché like “the heart wants what the heart wants,” but it sounds insincere to me. Those aren’t my words. Trying to think of a clever answer, I find the same advice from within that got me this far. Just be honest.

“I don’t really know, Emily. I just do.”

This answer seems to hurt her. Her face stiffens as she snorts up a drooping line of mucus and attempts to steel her eyes with intensity, but melancholy overtakes them. I had no idea Emily was so empathetic. I have never seen Emily express any interest in boys before. She must have gone through a tough breakup herself and never really recovered. I guess I'm digging up a lot of painful memories for her right now…

I nudge the group apart a little to make room for Emily in the group hug. I extend my arms to her and plead with my eyes for her to join the embrace. She appears hesitant, but I notice something seems to capitulate within her as her shoulders lower and she moves toward us, arms extended. I close my eyes with the team squeezing in around me. We all pull in close, and I find I do feel a lot better. Not just relief from the anxiety I felt earlier, but sincerely… almost… happy? Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes to find Luke still awkwardly standing outside the group. One by one, the girls pull off of me and we resume standing around in a loose circle.

Feeling deliverance and sincere gratitude, I express: “Thank you, girls, really. I’m sorry I lied and honestly, I don’t know why I did. Maybe it was pride. Maybe I was hoping for sympathy. Regardless of why, it was selfish. I know I’m not the most 'personable person,' but I really love you all so much.” Everyone takes this well. Annie is beaming, but even the stoic Becca and Ronnie can’t stifle slight grins. Emily, too, seems comforted at hearing this. Her eyes are still watery, but her mouth is reconstituted in a smile.

Annie speaks up, asking the obvious: “So you feel better?”

Taking another breath and seeing everyone’s supportive faces looking up at me, I nod and say, “I do. Thanks, girls.”

Annie continues, asking rhetorically, “Do you know what will make you feel even better?” A shit-eating grin is plastered on her face.

I play dumb and shake my head, but I know where she’s going with this…

She persists with a goofy grin. “SHOTS!”

I can’t help but smile at Annie’s antics. I have always vowed to never drink alcohol, or at most I would revisit the subject once my brain was fully-developed. I know how dangerous it is for someone to not be in full control of their faculties. Especially me. But still… these girls have done so much for me. Not just tonight, but for the last few weeks. Honestly, ever since I came to TIT they've been there for me, even if I didn't always use them. Annie in particular has been a source of comfort for me since my parents died. After moving into my aunt and uncle’s house and entering my self-imposed pseudo-isolation, Annie always made the effort to visit me across town. She was probably my only true friend through elementary school, middle school, and high school. And this whole night was her idea. I felt like I had to give back to these girls. To Annie, especially. 

Despite my concerns, I reluctantly acquiesce. “Ok, let’s try it…” She had already made me feel better once tonight. How bad could it possibly be?

Luke Thompson POV

This feels… weird. A brief encounter, a short, honest answer, and now I’m stuck on the outside of some intimate girly moment. Truthfully, though, part of the weirdness is this awkward conflict of loyalties I now find myself in. On one level, I feel an obligation to Ronnie. I barely know her, but she seems really cool. On top of finding her super attractive, she seems to have a great personality. She’s witty and charming, but also firm and intense. And on another level, I feel sympathy for Cassie. I had heard about her from Derek and seen her occasionally on social media. Plus I drove past a big billboard of her whenever I took the exit towards school from the highway. But seeing her in person… I don’t understand why Derek would ever break up with her. I mean, she’s super hot, for one thing. I figured on some level all of these pictures of her were edited, but she seems even prettier in person. On top of that, she seems like a really innocent, sweet girl who loves him unconditionally. Sure, she's a little needy and probably has some psychological problems under the surface. But honestly, what girl doesn’t? 

And standing apart from all of this, Derek is my frat brother. We weren't in the same pledge class, but we’ve known each other for years and are supposed to be brothers for life. This is a girl he dated and - for whatever reason - he dumped her. What is my obligation here? I didn’t feel any ill-will toward Cassie, Ronnie, or any of their friends, but it feels like sort of a betrayal to hang out with them. And honestly, I feel like a third wheel around all of this emotional bonding. I want to get closer to Ronnie somehow, but at the same time I don’t want to do anything that will upset Derek. Hmmm…

An idea begins forming in my head. It seems to me that the easiest way forward is to resolve the conflict between Cassie and Derek. Cassie is clearly still be into Derek; maybe I could persuade him to get back together with her. I know he’s still fucking that Shannon chick… or was it Sabrina? Either way, it didn’t seem serious. 

My thinking is disrupted as the girls cheer abruptly. Cassie had just agreed to go drinking with her friends and this seemed to be a big deal. As the girls set off in the direction of the house, Annie exclaims suddenly, “Wait! We still have to drop off our bags!” The group turns toward the tree at the back of the yard, where I recall Ronnie mentioned they had dropped their belongings. She lingers with me as the rest of the group departs.

“Are you up for drinking with us?” she asks. 

I hesitate. This is a very forward invitation. This could be a good bonding experience. Being with her and her friends at this emotional time could be a shortcut to second base. But as I consider her offer, I remember my obligations to Derek and my plan. Besides, Ronnie will probably like me even more if I make her friend happy again, right? “Umm… I think Cassie needs some 'girl time' at the moment." Seeing her frown a little, I quickly add, “Plus, I think I’m dredging up some painful memories for her right now. I think you guys should have fun. I’m staying at the party for a while. We’ll meet up later.” 

Ronnie softly smiles at me, but then sternly demands that I unlock my phone and give it to her. I’m reluctant, but I agree and hand it over after punching the six-digit passcode. She presses the screen a few times, stops, then resumes. I try not to look, but I’m worried about what she’s doing. Suddenly she announces “Done,” and returns my phone to me. Looking down at the screen, I see I have a new contact. Ronnie Green. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and whispers in my ear “In case I don’t see you again tonight, call me.” 

I dumbly nod my head in agreement. She winks as she turns around and walks back toward her friends. God, she’s so fucking hot. Though her t-shirt is several sizes too large, I can tell she’s working with an impressive body underneath. Her butt indents the shirt as she walks. Her long, powerful legs carry her away as her dirty blonde hair blows gently behind her in the breeze. My eyes follow her as she walks away, admiring how her powerful shoulders swing with her strong arms. Her leg muscles bulge and flex with each step as her butt twists her shirt in the back a little. After a few more moments of ogling, I recall my plan and return my attention to the phone in my hand. Backing out of Ronnie’s contact, I scroll up and place a call to Derek. 

He picks up on the third ring and answers with a somewhat groggy voice, “Hello?”

I immediately feel embarrassed for calling him so late at night. Maybe this was a bad idea… but I press on. “Hey, Derek. It’s Luke. Were you sleeping?” 

There’s a pause and I think I hear a feminine voice in the background of the call, followed by Derek’s hushing. “Nah, man. Just chilling with Sarah.”

Sarah? Was I that bad with names or was he already sleeping with a new girl? I know better than to ask. “Ah, cool. Well, uh… can you talk somewhere private?”

Another pause, much longer than the first. I can hear voices through the phone, but can’t really make out what they’re saying. If Derek is going to sleep around as much as he does, he should really learn how to use the mute button. Derek’s voice comes through again. “Alright, I’m alone. What’s up?”

Now that he's asked, I'm not really sure how to approach the subject. Are there hard feelings on his end? After all, he did break up with her. Maybe she had mistreated him? Maybe she had done something to upset him? As I consider this possibility, I get another look at Ronnie’s ass from the other side of the yard and decide to press on. “I’m at the DTF party right now…”

A static-y noise erupts from the phone, seemingly Derek blowing air through his nose. He interrupts, laughing, “That’s crazy, man. I’m at a DTF party here.”

Now understanding the joke, I hurriedly clarify: “No, Derek, I mean Delta Tau Phi. The fraternity. You know.” I wait for Derek to confirm he understands what I’m saying.

After another pause he says, “...I know. I was just making a joke. But how does this concern me?”

I’m not sure if he actually understood my meaning earlier, but now I’m embarrassed and resume: “Well, you see, I met this super-hot chick here. And uh, she introduced me to her friends and it turns out that one of them is Cassie Bell-”

Derek interrupts me again. “Cassie is at a party?”

Detecting eagerness, I confirm. “Yeah, she’s here and so are a bunch of her friends and they’re about to go drinking-”

Derek interjects once again. “Cassie is drinking?”

Now I’m getting mildly annoyed by the interruptions, but his enthusiasm makes me persist. “Yeah, Cassie’s here and she’s just agreed to go drinking with her friends.” I pause, expecting another interruption, but it doesn’t come. I continue, “Anyway, she still seems pretty hung up on you, I mean… she said she still loves you-”

Derek interrupts to repeat what I said again in the form of a question. “She said that? She still loves me?”

It takes serious restraint to not give an extremely exasperated sigh directly into the phone speaker at yet another interruption. “Yes, she said that. And I was thinking that you could come down and maybe give her a second chance, because she seems really nice and all and it would help me with this girl I like if her friend were happy, and…” I can feel myself rambling, but I didn’t expect him to let me talk this long without interrupting again. I finish awkwardly with, “Umm… yeah.”

Another brief pause. Then, Derek’s voice comes through again. “Sure, man. I’ll come over soon.” 

“Uhh… Derek…?” I begin to remind him about Sarah, but I catch myself mid-sentence. This fucking douche… 

He responds with, “Yeah?”

Realizing I have already started asking, I think of a quick diversion. “Why did you break up with Cassie? I mean, I’m sure you had a good reason and all, but she seems great. Like, she seems super nice and hot and everything…” I stop myself before I ramble further.

There is a fairly long pause. Then his voice comes through again, “She was kind of a cock-block, bro.” 

Stunned, I respond aloud without thinking, “A cock block…?”

“Yeah, bro, not to sound like a douche or anything…” too late, I think to myself, “...but like, being with her made it pretty hard to hook up with other girls. Like, everyone knows who she is and that we were dating, so it made it hard to get around, you know? Like, some sluts are still down with it, but a lot of the ‘good girls’ I like so much wouldn’t sleep with me because they knew I was dating her.” I am stunned. Derek seems to interpret this silence to be either judgement or an expectation of further explanation, so he continues. “It wasn’t an easy decision, bro. Cassie is super hot, but I didn’t want to be chained to just one pussy, you know?” I am still stunned into silence, so he keeps going, “She was kind of a downer, too, dude. Like, she’d never go out with me or drink or do any of the fun stuff we come to college for, y’know? At first I was cool with it because it made it kinda easy to sleep with other chicks, but it became more trouble than it was worth, y'know?”

I can sense that things are going to only get worse if I don’t say something, so I ask him the first thing that enters my mind. “Did you tell her this?”

Another pause, then a confused-sounding Derek responds, “Tell her what?”

Moron. “Did you tell her why you broke up with her?”

Another burst of static, seemingly a snort, comes through the phone again. “No, bro. Why would I do that? Nah, I told her she was too needy and she was suffocating me. I said she never wanted to go out with me or do the things I wanted to do and she was a buzzkill and that drove me to someone else. Pretty smart, actually, considering I had to make it up on the spot.” 

I regret even asking. I’m starting to wonder if reuniting him and Cassie is really a good idea, but as I contemplate it I remember Ronnie’s long, sexy legs…

Cassie still loves him. And she seems willing to tolerate his infidelity for… some reason. And she’s probably the hottest girl he’ll ever smash. It’s a win for everybody. 

“So you’ll come over and get back together with Cassie?”

“Yeah, bro. I’ll be over in a bit. Just have to find a way to get away from Sarah.”

Thanks for the reminder, douche.

Sydney Elliott POV

Now this is a party! Drama, cute boys, late-night drinking! We settle down from our collective cheer and begin to make our way toward the house, but Annie interrupts.

“Wait! We have to drop off our bags!”

A small part of me wants to keep walking to the house to get wasted, but I know it will kill the vibe if we split up now, so I make my way back to our rendezvous spot behind Annie, Cassie, and Emily. Becca walks up next to me, but Ronnie hangs back with Luke. Is she seriously going to invite him into our girls-night? Ronnie has always been somewhat wanting for social tact, but surely she knows better than to invite Cassie’s ex-boyfriend’s frat brother along on our special night? She just met the guy; there’s no way.

Becca and I are the last to arrive at the spot, only a few steps behind the others. As Emily and Annie begin to drop their bags, Cassie asks, “So you guys just leave all of your stuff here unattended?” 

Annie is the first to reply, “No, silly! You don’t leave anything valuable like your phone or jewelry. Just like, your bag and the little stuff. Y’know: a bottle of water, condoms, emergency makeup, maybe a toothbrush…”

Cassie frowns, then reaches into her bag and pulls out a huge diamond necklace. “So what do I do with this?” I notice Becca’s eyebrows raise at the sight of the necklace. I can feel mine involuntarily do the same. Annie, who was still going through her bag, looks up and her jaw drops. Emily turns around and follows suit.

Annie is the first to overcome the initial shock. “O.M.G. Cassie! Why did you bring that?!” The the taller blonde immediately becomes self-conscious, looking down at her feet and lowering the necklace she had just held out to us. I instinctively look around the party to see if anyone else has noticed Cassie’s 'little' treasure. Fortunately, it seems our dark and isolated spot at the back of the yard has eluded everyone's notice. Looking over the party guests, I see Ronnie hand the boy’s phone to him and kiss him on the cheek. I guess they’re a thing now. What was his name again? Luke or something? As she makes her way toward us again, I turn around and return my attention to Cassie.

Avoiding eye contact, Cassie answers timidly, “It’s my mother’s necklace. My dad bought it for her with the money he made from licensing his first invention, which they actually worked on together." She brings it closer to her chest, as if suddenly concerned it will be snatched away from her. "I seldom leave home without it. It’s my closest connection to them.” This is deeply personal to Cassie, so I feel it’s best if Annie continues handling the talking. I’ll jump in if she starts to mess it up. 

Quickly scanning the group’s faces, it seems Emily and Becca have the same idea. Annie, never at a loss for words, continues: “Gee, Cass, I know how much it means to you, but this probably would have been an occasion to leave it at home! We can’t just leave it here and hope nobody takes it.” Annie looks around the group, asking, “Does anyone have a car or like a safe place to store it?” Cassie rubs her arm, looking embarrassed again. It doesn’t look like she wants to part with it.

Ronnie’s voice emerges from behind me. How long has she been standing there? “Hey, geniuses, I’ve got an idea. Why doesn’t she just wear the necklace?” Now everyone in the group looks a little embarrassed, having overlooked the rather obvious solution. Nobody speaks up, so Ronnie looks at Cassie and follows-up: “What, does that not work? Does it not fit around your giant giraffe neck or something?” Emily and Annie giggle, and Cassie’s face reddens a little as she smiles. 

“I’ve worn it before,” she says. “Not often, but it fits.” 

A triumphant Ronnie proclaims, “Problem solved. Let’s go.” 

As we all turn toward the house, Becca speaks up with the same lame joke she always makes. “Drinks are on me, girls.” Ronnie laughs, while Emily and Annie roll their eyes. Cassie, now having the necklace draped over her chest, seems to think this is a generous gesture, so Annie whispers to her, “Nobody in our group ever pays for drinks.” At this, Cassie tilts her head, thinking over the implications. Annie doesn’t elaborate, so I lean back and explain, “Pretty girls aren’t expected to pay for drinks. Either guys will buy them for us or the frat just gives them to us for free.” Cassie mouths an “O” as her eyebrows lower and the look of confusion on her face dissipates. 

As we enter the pool area, the noise from within the house becomes more audible, though it is still somewhat muffled by the closed door and walls. Emily asks aloud, “Have you seriously never been to a party before, Cassie?” Cassie shakes her head no. Emily seems surprised by the answer, though all of the senior members of the team knew this already. “Really? Not even to prom?”

Ronnie interjects before Cassie can answer, “You don’t buy alcohol at prom, dumb-dumb.”

Before Emily can retort, Cassie replies sadly, “Nobody asked me to prom.” The whole group stops and looks quizzically at Cassie. Well, the whole group except for Annie, who keeps walking a couple steps before realizing the rest of us have stopped. This is a new detail. Nobody speaks for a while so Cassie, clearly not wanting to dwell on the subject, asks, “Are we going in the house or what?” 

Everyone seems much more interested in talking to Cassie than drinking now. Everyone, that is, except Annie. I even surprise myself upon realizing that I am more interested in learning about Cassie than indulging in my favorite weekend ritual. Becca reads the room and says, “You know, honestly, Cassie, I think it’s better if we stay out here. It’s way too loud and crowded in the house and I think we’d all rather talk to you and get to know you better.” Cassie blushes at this, but Annie pipes up, “Maybe I can get us some beers in the house and bring them outside to everyone. I know all these stories anyway.” Subtle flex, Annie. Very subtle.

Becca nods. “Alright, where should we go, girls? I don’t see any open tables.” Indeed, the party is still packed. The few tables near the pool are all occupied by people and their belongings, jealously guarded for fear that the table will be swiftly repossessed if it is abandoned. My eyes settle on a long rectangular table that has a lone person sitting at it, though every chair is occupied by a bag. I recognized him as the guy I was talking to earlier in the night before Ronnie and Cassie’s confrontation. He’s still wearing the pair of sunglasses and the straw hat he was wearing before, but now he is shirtless. Mark. Mark is my mark.

“I’ll get us that table." I say, pointing squarely at Mark for the rest of the group to see. "Annie, meet us there." Annie accepts this without further questions and disappears into the house, but the other girls have skeptical looks on their faces. “Trust me, I’ve got this.” As I say this, I pull off my t-shirt and shimmy out of my shorts, revealing the green bikini underneath. The other girls’ faces turn from skepticism to understanding at the revelation of my body. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before. Our volleyball uniforms leave little to the imagination, but my new look and confidence seems to sell them on the idea.

As I sexily walk towards Mark’s table, I notice he isn’t looking in my direction. Feeling like a bit of an idiot, I continue my seductive advance on the off-chance he turns and sees me. I drag my toes slowly with each step, drawing semi-circles in the ground with them as I advance. Exaggerating the sway of my hips and shoulders, I synchronize the movement of my chest with my legs such that when one leg steps forward, the opposite breast follows. Lesser girls would look cringey doing this, but I know how to pull it off. I’ve done it many times before. Unfortunately, he still doesn’t notice, continuing to stare off to the right. My eyes follow the direction of his face, expecting to see some hot chick or one of his “bros” doing some stupid stunt, but I don’t see anything that would catch his attention. Is this guy just staring out into space?

I can use this to my advantage, though. Now I have the element of surprise. Reaching the table, I bend myself over it, sticking my butt out behind me and pressing my forearms on the table to let my breasts hang in front of him. There is no reaction. This idiot still hasn’t noticed me. Now I actually do feel embarrassed, but I continue to pursue the mission. Forcing a faint cough, he finally turns and faces me. His jaw lowers as he takes in the sight of me. Though I can’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, I can tell they’re wide-open based on his raised eyebrows. I use the cute, but seductive voice I’ve used on a hundred guys before to greet him.

“Hi, Mark.” 

Like a deer in headlights, he begins to stutter unintelligibly before he finds his tongue. “H-h-hi, uh, Sydney.” I lean in a little closer as I continue my sexy encroachment.

“I was wondering if you could do me a little favor?” I raise my index finger to my mouth and move my arm toward my center, pushing my boobs together.

Still failing to regain his composure, Mark stutters “Uhh… s-sure. I could do you a favor. I mean… uh… what’s the favor?” 

I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. I just have to deliver the final blow. “Well, my friend over there…” I gesture with my chin over my shoulder at Cassie, giving him a good view of my cleavage, “...she’s really going through a hard time. So my friends and I want to cheer her up with a little ‘girl time,’ y’know?” I wink at him, running my fingers through my light brown hair. I gently caress my hair around my shoulders, leaving a lock dangling in front of my breasts. I pout my lips, then say in my cute-sad voice, “The problem is, we can’t find a place to drink with her. I mean, it’s just so loud and crowded in that house, you know?” I tilt my head, again emphasizing my cleavage as I meet his eyes. Or at least where his eyes should be behind his stupid sunglasses. 

He resumes his broken stutter. “Uh… well… uh… gee… um… I…” Oh no, I’ve broken him.
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I extend my right hand and place it atop his left hand on the table. “Pleeeeeease? It would mean soooooo much to me.” Placing the emphasis on “so,” I shake my head forward a little, the recoil moving through my upper body and giving my boobs a jiggle. 

“I’m holding this table for my friends,” he manages to utter.

I was not expecting him to hold out any longer, but I know he's at his breaking point. I lean in, putting my mouth less than an inch from his ear and putting my tits right in front of his face. I whisper, “I’m sure they’ll understand.” I slowly pull away, noticing his eyes following my boobs. Open-mouthed, he nods and begins moving his friends’ bags. As he does so, I turn to the girls and wave them over. Cassie and Becca seem impressed. Ronnie gives a synchronized eye-and-head roll, but I can see the slight smile in the corner of her mouth. Emily just looks flabbergasted. I wonder if she swings both ways. It wouldn't be my first time turning a girl.

Emily Granger POV

What a show. I knew Sydney was sexy, but I didn’t know she was that sexy. Like all of the girls, Sydney has a great volleyball body. Long, strong legs, toned midriff, and she is probably the second-most endowed girl on the team with what I estimate to be C or borderline-D cup breasts. While she doesn’t have Cassie’s bazookas, she definitely knows how to use her body to get what she wants. Wow, what a show…

Watching this display made me briefly forget I was standing next to Cassie. Looking up at her face, I could tell she was impressed by Sydney’s performance. A slight smirk seemed to form with her mouth. Did she think she could do better? I would pay to see that. Taking my eyes off of Cassie’s face above me, I look down to walk toward Sydney’s new conquest.  As I do, my eyes lock on Cassie’s side boob. Though her top almost completely conceals her boobs from the side, I can still appreciate their mass and shape from this angle. They’re firm, yet plump. Each one seems to be roughly the size of my head, though admittedly I don’t have the best idea of my own head’s dimensions. As Cassie takes a breath, I watch them briefly rise and fall. Soon my view is interrupted, however, as she takes a step forward and I find myself staring at her back and shoulder blades. Though not as chiseled as Ronnie’s, I can tell she put some time in on the rowing machine. Her back muscles bulge slightly as she moves, but not nearly as much as the ones in her impressive butt. My eyes drift lower, seeing her powerful legs carry her toned-but-buxom caboose forward. With each step, I can see her cheeks straining her skirt as each leg extends forward. She definitely isn’t the seductress that Sydney is, but she’s got more than enough raw beauty to make up for it. Her movements are a little awkward, as if she isn’t used to her body. Walking with the other girls, she seems to constantly take half-steps to avoid walking into people. Her long legs certainly contribute to her long strides, but she is still a little clumsy. It’s a wonder she’s such a good athlete when she’s also such a clutz.

OH! I realize I’m falling behind, as the group is already halfway to Sydney’s table. I hurriedly run to catch up to them, though it’s awkward in my sandals as I have to watch my feet to avoid tripping over any towels or personal bags. Their long strides make it difficult to catch up to them without sprinting, but I manage to close the distance just as we arrive at the table. 

“Good work, Syd,” Becca says as she pulls out a chair. 

Following Becca’s lead, Ronnie sits down and adds, “Yeah, you played him like a fiddle.”

Cassie follows, shyly adding, “I don’t know what I’d do if you tried that on me.” She smiles down at the table, as if embarrassed by her comment. Was Cassie bi? Or was this just a joke among friends? I ponder this silently until recognizing that I am the only one still standing.

Quickly pulling out a chair, I chip in, “Hot stuff, Sydney. Very hot.” Did that sound stupid? I think it sounded stupid. An awkward silence sets in, though I don't know whether I have caused it or the conversation had simply run its course. Hoping to breach the silence in case it was the former, I pick up the conversation from earlier. “So, Cassie, you were never asked to prom?”

As usual, Cassie seems embarrassed by the question. “Yeah, I don’t really know why. I think boys are intimidated by my height, to be honest. If I could have chosen my height, I probably would have chosen a shorter one, in hindsight.” The other girls at the table seem surprised to hear this.

Ronnie volunteers, “Huh, I’ve always loved being tall. It makes me feel sexy and powerful.” Becca nods in agreement next to her.

“Well, I mean, I like being tall, but it’s hard to find guys when you’re this tall,” Cassie says as she gestures to herself with her hand, moving it up and down. “Like, no offense, Ronnie, but you look short to me. Our heights are almost half a foot apart.” I have never seen Cassie this assertive before. Combined with this conversation about her height, it's starting to seriously turn me on.

Sydney chimes in, “Well, Cassie, your height probably had something to do with it, but to be honest your looks don’t help.” Based on her furrowed brows and tilted head, Cassie seems as befuddled at this comment as I am. Sydney elaborates, “Look, Cass, in case you didn’t already gather this: you’re super hot. Like supermodel-level hot. Like, not to sound conceited, but I know I’m a solid nine or ten but you’re like a fifteen.” Cassie blushes at this and looks away from Sydney, down at me. Our eyes meet and I feel compelled to say something, but I struggle to find any words. Thinking quickly, I nod in agreement and try my best to give an encouraging smile that doesn’t betray my true feelings. Sydney continues, “When you’re that hot, you kinda have to make the first move. Again, not trying to sound conceited, but in my personal experience I often have to make the first move because guys assume I’m out of their league. The ones that don’t are usually obnoxious douchebags. And again…” she pauses, pointing at herself. “Nine.” She turns the finger and points at Cassie. “Fifteen.” 

Cassie is extremely bashful now. Her cheeks are bright red and she struggles to suppress a smile. “I wish I had your confidence, Sydney. That has to factor into your rating.” 

Ronnie smirks at this, then jokes, “Yeah, Cassie, you’re shit out of luck in the confidence department. I guess you’re only a twelve now.”  Becca and I laugh at this joke, while Sydney smiles and maintains eye contact with Cassie, who is still extremely red in the face. Ronnie grins, happy at her audience's reaction.

Sydney resumes, “Cassie, You’re a beautiful blonde goddess with a heart of gold. The only thing holding you back is yourself. The sooner you realize that and get out of your own way, the sooner you’ll find happiness.” Cassie’s face gets a little lighter at hearing this, but I can feel mine getting redder with arousal. Hearing someone else call Cassie a goddess has me excited again. Sitting next to her, taking in her enormity up-close, I’m starting to find it difficult to control my breathing again.

Just as my lust begins overtaking my mind, I’m snapped back to reality by Annie suddenly slamming a six-pack of beers on the table. She proclaims “drink up, bitches!” with a big grin on her face. Ronnie looks up at her and asks disappointedly, “That’s all you could forage? Six beers?” 

Annie, still holding one hand behind her back, replies matter-of-factly, “There’s six of us.” Ronnie looks down from the still-standing Annie towards the beers on the table, raising an eyebrow. Annie speaks again, “It’s just an appetizer for our virgin drinker here, silly.” Her right hand gestures at Cassie, while she pulls her left arm out from behind her back, revealing she is holding a large glass bottle full of clear fluid. “Once we get everyone warmed up, we’ll move on to shots!” The group cheers, except for Cassie, who is nervous as ever. 

A delighted Ronnie asks Annie, “How did you manage to get a whole bottle of tequila?” 

Annie winks at Sydney and says, “A girl has her charms.” 

She sets the bottle down on the table and then gestures for everyone to take a beer. Becca reaches for the box and pulls them out, one in each hand, using one bottle to open another and passing it down to the next person. Using the last two bottles to open each other, she passes one to Ronnie and keeps the last one for herself. Raising her drink, she initiates a toast with “Salud!” Everyone echoes “Salud” and clinks their bottles together.

Anna Rhodes POV

It’s finally going to happen! After clinking our bottles together, the girls begin drinking their beers in unison. With my glass upside-down pouring into my mouth, I see Cassie sniff her beer in the corner of my vision. Lowering my bottle, I lean forward in my chair to address her. “Hey, Cass, it probably won’t taste good to you on your first time. It’s kind of an acquired taste.” Cassie frowns at her bottle, still hesitating to drink it. I persist, “Look, Cassie, we don’t drink this cheap beer because it tastes good. We drink it because it makes us feel good.” She’s still not convinced, but I know she’s only a couple more gentle prods from indulging. “It will make you less anxious, Cass. Less… uh… what’s the word? Inhibited?” 

Not breaking eye contact with her glass, Cassie mutters “I’m familiar with the mechanics of alcohol.” Ok, nerd. 

“Just drink it, Cass. It will make you feel better and you won’t get drunk from one beer.” That does the trick. Her frown shifts to a shrug and she throws back the bottle, chugging it all without stopping to breathe. The group is shocked at this display and a hushed quiet falls over everyone. The brief silence is broken as Cassie starts coughing and wheezing and we all laugh at her as she struggles.

“Easy, killer,” Ronnie chuckles. “Like Annie said, this is just an appetizer.” Cassie looks around as she struggles to regain her composure.

“That didn’t feel good,” she says with a pained expression. 

Sydney smiles and says through her grin, “Yeah, Cass, we didn’t expect you to just chug it. Why’d you do that?” 

“I just wanted to get it over with,” Cassie replies. She looks around the table, then adds, “I don’t feel any different.” 'I understand the mechanics of alcohol,' my ass. 

Emily pipes up, “It doesn’t take effect immediately. The whole process moves at the speed of biology.”

Ronnie adds, “Plus, that’s one light beer and you’re like six-foot-six and, what, two hundred pounds?” Cassie blushes immediately, but doesn’t correct the estimate. “Anyway, you’re not exactly a ‘lightweight,’ even if you’ve never drank before.”

I pass Cassie what’s left of my bottle. “Try this, but drink it slower this time.” Having broken the seal on her abstinence, she seems much less reluctant to try another drink. She takes it, raises it to her lips, and takes small sips. 

“Fucking Goldilocks over here,” Ronnie mocks, gesturing to Cassie with her thumb. “First one’s too aggressive, second one’s too timid. Here, watch how it’s done, hun. I’ll show you what ‘just right’ looks like.” Ronnie raises her beer to her mouth, turning it up quickly to take a long sip, then lowering it again after approximately half a second. Cassie seems to study her technique intently, paying close attention to the timing of each sip. What a nerd.  Cassie does her best to imitate Ronnie’s technique and after a few sips, she finishes her second beer. The group cheers sarcastically, with Becca giving her a smug golf clap. Much to my surprise, Cassie seems a little proud of herself.

Seeing the opportunity to crush her newfound confidence (in a fun, 'best-friend' sort of way), I raise the stakes. “Time for shots!”

Cassie’s face shifts from pride to its usual anxious state, so I reassure her. “Don’t worry; it’s fun. We’ll play a drinking game to learn more about each other.” Surprising me again, Cassie seems reassured by this. She probably doesn’t understand what a drinking game is. She thinks that if she performs well, she won’t have to drink much. Silly Cassie, the game was rigged from the start. I know her better than anyone and know just what to do to get her good and plastered. I may have to pace her, though, or she’ll just puke or quit. 

Pulling the top off of the tequila bottle, I announce: “The name of the game is ‘never have I ever.’ We’ll go around the circle saying things we’ve never done before. If anyone else in the circle has done that thing, they have to take a shot.” I look at Cassie to make sure she understands the rules and she nods enthusiastically. She still seems pretty confident. “Remember, ladies, this is a bonding experience to get to know each other. So if you lie, you’ve gotta live with that lie for the rest of your life.” The rest of the girls nod.

Looking around for suitable shot glasses, I notice a stack of red solo cups on the table across from us. “Syd, would you be a dear and ask the gentlemen at that table if we could borrow six of their cups?” Sydney, sitting in her green bikini at the head of the table, smirks as she pushes out her chair to walk over to the other table. The other girls watch intently, seemingly expecting some kind of display, but Sydney just asks the guys for half a dozen cups and returns with another smirk and a stack of cups in hand.  As I begin pouring out the shots, I announce that as the host, I will go last and we’ll begin by starting from my left and continue rotating clockwise.

When I finish explaining the procedure, Cassie asks, “When does the game end?”

Before I can answer, Ronnie replies, “When we’re out of tequila.”

Cassie seems daunted by this, but Sydney elaborates: “If you throw up, you’re out.” Somehow Cassie finds this reassuring, as her nervous look fades into a more comfortable smile and she maneuvers to get comfortable in her seat. Is she buzzed already? Where is this confidence coming from?

Passing out the shots, I declare. “Let the games begin!” and gesture toward Sydney. 

Veronica Green POV

As with all competitions, I’m in it to win it. Socializing is nice and all, but if there’s a game to be had, then there is a game to be won. Judging by the size of the bottle Annie got, this is going to be a competition of “last woman standing.” Sometimes, it’s just a casual game of survivor in which only one or two people pass out. On other nights, however, it is simply the last to puke wins. It really depends on the drink of choice, but a bottle of tequila this large is surely going to test everyone.

Looking around the table, I like my chances. Emily is always the first out, owing to her small size and youthful inexperience. Annie is usually second out, though depending on the questions she could outlast Becca. It's been months since we'd played “never have I ever,” as the game can get stale with repetition and we’d run out of questions if we played it too frequently. The choice of game makes sense, though, considering we have new blood. Sizing up the blonde behemoth beside me, I wonder how her presence will affect the status quo. She has by far the least experience with alcohol of anyone at the table, but she is also the largest. She didn’t seem to handle those beers that well, but she may have a better tolerance than expected. Still, I’m betting my main competition will be Sydney, as usual. We stand at roughly the same height, though I’m heavier than her thanks to my greater muscle mass. Sydney compensates for this with experience, though. Nobody on the team drinks as frequently or as heavily as Sydney. If I want to win this, I’ll have my work cut out for me. Hopefully Sydney is more concerned with learning about Cassie than making me take shots. 

As I’m eying Sydney, my train of thought is interrupted as Annie makes a sudden announcement. “Let the games begin!” She raises her glass in the air, then extends it towards Sydney. Sydney puts her hand to her chin and stares at the table, then her eyes light up a little as she thinks of her question. As she opens her mouth, Cassie interrupts from beside me, “Wait, wait. I have a question.” The group stares at her expectantly, but it seems Cassie is waiting for permission to proceed.

Becca replies monotonously from the other side of me, “Which is…?”

Surprisingly, Cassie doesn’t blush and instead proceeds with her question. “Is anything off-limits?” 

The girls look around the table, unsure of how to answer. Recognizing this, Becca takes the opportunity to lay things out for everybody. “Ordinarily, we don’t allow repeat questions from previous games. However, seeing as how you’re new, I suppose you can ask anything you want.” She turns her attention from Cassie and looks around the table. “However, I think the rest of you should come up with new questions.” I nod in agreement, though I have my reservations. Seems like an unfair advantage to me.

Across the table from me, Emily objects, “If Cassie doesn’t know what happened in previous games, then she can only learn that stuff from us asking old questions.”

I feel the urge to back up Becca, so I reply matter-of-factly: “She could ask the questions herself.” 

Emily doesn’t appear satisfied at this and opens her mouth to protest again, but Sydney speaks first. “I’m open to wiping the slate clean.”

Becca shrugs and concedes, “Ok, nothing is off-limits.” Though I’m not entirely happy with the change of rules, I do think it’s probably the most fair. Of course, I'm also happy to use this development to my advantage. I’ll make you regret that, Sydney.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts again, Sydney resumes staring at the table before speaking again. “Never have I ever…” she pauses, inspecting the table, “…smoked weed.” We all look around the table, but nobody drinks. I guess Sydney is going to be asking new questions. Her mistake.

Seeing nobody drink, all eyes turn to Becca, who says nonchalantly, “I’m not gonna lie, Syd; the only person I expected to smoke at this table was you.” 

Sydney playfully tilts her head at hearing this and replies sarcastically, “My body is a temple, Becky.”

Becca snorts at this, but quickly moves on. “Never have I ever had sex in a car.” Sydney and Annie take a shot as Emily and Cassie feign shock at this scandalous news. Annie exhales heavily after her shot, as though she had just eaten a spicy pepper. Sydney doesn’t even flinch. This is going to be harder than I thought.

As Annie refills their cups, I remember it’s my turn and I have a decision to make. I know the answers from our previous games, but I have to decide how early I want to reveal my intentions. Stealth is probably the best strategy for victory, but if everyone gets trashed and nobody remembers it, then what’s the point? I think I have to send a message with this one. Looking directly at Sydney, I select a prompt for which only she will be compelled to drink. “Never have I ever slept with a black guy.” 

Sydney narrows her eyes at me. We both understand the game now. Raising her cup to her mouth, she says, “You’re all missing out,” and downs the shot effortlessly. Her eyes continue to rest on me as she passes her cup to Annie again without breaking eye contact. I meet her stare, but avoid becoming entangled in a standoff as I shift my body towards Cassie.

Cassie looks over the table before settling on her prompt. “Never have I ever…” she pauses, giddily taking in everybody’s faces, “...drank before tonight.” The group collectively groans as we all down a shot. It’s surprisingly smooth. No wonder Sydney’s been doing so well. 

“That’s not really the spirit of the game, Cassie,” I complain.

Cassie frowns a little, but Sydney chimes in, “She’s playing to win, Ronnie. You of all people should understand.” She’s got me there.

“Touché” I toast with my empty cup as I pass it to Annie for a refill.

As she pours another shot into Sydney's cup and begins refilling cups clockwise around the table, Annie says, “You know we’re going to have to get you back for that one, Cassie.” Cassie confidently smiles back at Annie with a playful toast of her still-filled solo cup.

Emily is the next-up and she keeps staring nervously at Cassie for some reason. As soon as her cup is refilled, she says, “Never have I ever…” she hesitates… “kissed a girl?” It sounds like a question, not a declaration. She looks at Cassie expectantly, but she doesn’t budge. Across the table, Sydney and Annie groan again and down their shots.

Cassie smiles smugly at Annie as she finishes her shot and performs her open-mouthed breathing routine. “Really, Annie? When?”

Setting her cup back on the table and regaining her composure, Annie replies, “Freshman year. I just wanted to try something new.”

Cassie seems extremely amused by this and persists, “Who?” but Annie wags her finger and says, “Nuh-uh, I don’t kiss-and-tell and that’s not how this game is played. I only have to admit I did it, not explain what I did. Now it’s time for payback, Miss Sobriety.” Cassie crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, as if to nonverbally challenge her to “hit me with your best shot.”  Annie smirks down at the bottle of tequila, which is still mostly full, then says “Never have I ever grown past six-five.”

Cassie frowns, clearly not expecting such a blunt, yet effective prompt. Looking down at her solo cup, she seems a little disappointed. Just as I start to question if she’ll actually drink it, resolve flashes across her face and she throws back the cup’s content with a single swig. Unsurprisingly, she immediately begins coughing. Hard. She closes her hand in a fist to try to cover her coughs, but eventually drops her concerns about germs and etiquette as the pain moves to her chest. With each cough, her boobs shake and jiggle violently, but her top restrains them in place. Moving the fist to her chest, she begins pounding it into the divot in her collar bone just above her cleavage, desperate for relief. Briefly scanning the table, I see the other girls are amused by the spectacle before us. As Cassie gets up from her chair to take a knee on the ground, Emily gets up and moves away from Cassie behind Annie.

Seeing the opportunity to poke fun at her, I tease, “What’s the matter, Emily? Afraid of Cassie’s germs? Or just looking for a better view?” She blushes at this, but doesn’t move from her spot.  Eventually, Cassie gets the coughing under control and looks up at us from her semi-kneeling position on the ground. Her eyes are red, as is most of her face. She looks like she had just finished puking. Pulling herself back up to her chair, she takes a few breaths before speaking again. “Point taken, Annie.” Annie grins at this, but doesn’t reply. Yeah, I like my odds tonight.

Rebecca Thomas POV

I seriously question how long Cassie can hang with us. Thinking back to my high school days, it seemed so long ago since alcohol compelled me to take a knee. Cassie is on square one and she’s been thrown to the wolves. Tequila is hardly the best way to expose a person to alcohol for the first time. Part of me wants to be gentle with her, knowing this is her first time. A more vindictive part of me wants to teach her a lesson for that dopey stunt she pulled. As I weigh these options, Sydney announces, “Never have I ever been arrested.” Once again, nobody drinks, but Cassie surprises everyone by asking, “Does being detained for questioning count?” Everyone appears shocked at the question, but Annie seems to come to a realization after a few seconds and silently mouths “Oh” and nods to herself.

Sydney thinks it over, then responds, “It depends. Did you commit a crime?”

Cassie goes silent, staring down at her cup. She appears deep in thought, as she focuses intently on the small plastic cup before her. We all stare at her in suspense, anticipating what she says next. Without speaking, Cassie throws back another shot and hands her cup to Annie to be refilled, stifling several coughs as she does so. That’s certainly an improvement from her first shot, I think to myself. The whole group seems surprised at this action, except for Annie who remorsefully accepts the cup from Cassie and refills it. She seems remorseful, anyway, though I can't quite place my finger on why.

Ronnie is the first to speak. “What did you do, Cass?” 

Cassie continues staring despondently at the table as Annie reaches across to return her cup. As she nudges Cassie with it, Annie teases again, but in a more somber voice, “Nuh-uh, that’s not how the game is played.” She winks at Cassie, then returns to the seated position in her chair. Looking across the table at me, she prompts, “Your turn, Becca.” 

At this sobering turn of events, I decide to walk the middle path on my earlier conundrum. I won’t go easy on Cassie, but I won’t target her, either. I’m going to play the game as it was meant to be played and try to learn more about her. If she drinks, she drinks. Thinking of a query, I stare into space for a while before I have an epiphany. “Never have I ever used an online dating site.” Once again, Cassie is the only one that drinks. Ronnie seems like she wants to say something, but appears to reconsider upon reflecting on how her last question went.

Emily has no such inhibition, however, and bluntly asks, “Really, Cassie? How’d it go?” 

Cassie seems less reluctant to answer this time, though I’m not sure if she’s more open about the answer or just less restrained as the alcohol works its way through her system. “Well, it’s how I met Derek, so I’d say my results were mixed,” she says as she extends her cup to Annie with a slight hiccup. Emily frowns at hearing this, but doesn’t press further. Still coughing slightly, Cassie retrieves her refilled cup and says, “I feel like I’m the only one drinking recently. Are you girlsss teaming up on me?” Her eyes look a little dazed and her smile is sloppy. Yeah, she’s drunk. That didn’t take long. 

Slurring her words a bit, Cassie proceeds, “I guessss it’ssss MY turn again. Hmmmm…” Annie looks back to give Sydney an amused grin, flashing her eyebrows at Sydney and jerking her head toward Cassie like a proud child showing her mom the mess she made. Sydney grins back at her, but her eyes show concern for Cassie. She clearly isn’t used to the effects of the alcohol and seems to wobble a bit as she thinks of what to say. I consider pointing out that it's actually Ronnie's turn, but one look at her indicates that she's more than happy to let Cassie go instead. “Neverrr have I everrr… had sex. With anybody.” Even Annie seems surprised at this revelation. Huh, Cassie's a virgin. I'm not shocked, but I would not have put money on it.

“Never-ever? Like, not even with Derek?” Annie asks inquisitively.

“Neverrr everrr,” Cassie repeats, wagging her finger at Annie. “Now drink up, bitches!” Annie smiles at the callback to her earlier line in the evening, then raises her cup to Cassie and downs her shot. Ronnie, Sydney, and I follow suit, but Emily doesn’t move to pick up her cup. Seeing Ronnie about to comment on this, I elbow her in the side and give her a slight shake of the head to tell her not to mention it. She meets my eyes and nods, leaning back in her chair as I pass her cup and mine to Annie. 

“You’re up, Emily,” I say as I retrieve our cups from Annie. She seems a little sad as she looks down at her sandals, running one hand through her dark brown hair. In a quiet voice, she begins the incantation” Never have I everrrr…” drawing out the ‘r’ sound as she considers how to complete the spell. She seems to find her confidence partway through, raising her voice excitedly “...earned a grade below an A in any class!” She got us there. The whole table takes a shot and this time it’s Annie’s turn to be smug to Cassie. “Wow, Cassie the brainiac. I never knew you got a B in school.” 

Cassie has a cough followed by a hiccup in close succession as she lazily pushes the cup towards Sydney across the table. “It’s a C, actuallyyyy. Derek and I had a fight the night before my last classss'ssss final exam…” her gaze drifts off toward the pool, before returning to Annie. “...I was so upset that I didn’t even take it. So my 96 became a 76.”

Annie frowns at hearing this, but reaches to retrieve Cassie’s cup regardless.

Sydney grabs her left arm and says, “I think she’s had enough.”

Annie looks at Sydney’s hand on her arm, then to Cassie, then back to Sydney and nods in agreement. “You’re out, Cassie.” 

Cassie furrows her eyebrows at this, pondering the meaning of what Annie has just said. “But I didn’t throw up yet.”

Ronnie laughs at this, then says, “Give it a minute; you’ll get there.”

Emily puts her hand on Cassie’s arm and adds, “The alcohol is still working its way through your system, Cassie. It’s better that you stop now.”

Defiance flashes across Cassie’s face, as she scrunches up her nose and frowns angrily. “No, I can handle it,” she growls, rising from her seat. As she looks down at the table from her full height, she appears like an angry giant from a fairy tale. The dazed look in her eyes is gone, replaced by a fierce determination. Is Cassie an angry drunk?

I can tell the girls are intimidated by the angry giantess before us. We have never seen this side of her before and don’t know how she will behave going forward. Even Ronnie, never one to back down from a fight, seems to shrink down into her seat a little. I worriedly look across the table at Annie, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but she seems as shocked and worried as I am. Cassie continues to stare down the collective group, then bends across the table to reach for the bottle of tequila. As her hand is inches from the bottle, a sudden ringing noise goes off. I realize it's a smartphone ringing after struggling to place the sound for a moment. A confused Cassie withdraws her hand from the bottle, as she begins to look around and pat herself down. Clearly disoriented, she reaches into her skirt pocket and pulls out her cell phone. 

"Excusshe me, I have a phone call," she manages to slur out, now seemingly calm and forgetting all about the prior confrontation. Cassie burps loudly then concentrates intensely on attempting to read the screen. Backing up as she does so, she tries moving the phone closer to her face. Having no luck, she then holds it away from her face, evidently trying to make the screen clearer as her eyes struggle to focus under the effects of the alcohol. Realizing she is getting dangerously close to the edge of the pool, I quickly shout “Cassie, watch your step!” but this startles her, causing her to take a big step back and tumble into the pool, clothes and all.

Cassidy Bell POV

One moment, I’m looking at my phone. The next moment, I’m in a new world. Looking around, I don’t see anything but white walls. It’s dark out, but just light enough to see around me. The light behaves strangely, as it shimmers sporadically. The air is cool and thick. It feels dense and seems to fight my movements. Continuing to look around, I notice I am getting closer to the floor of the strange room, but my necklace seems to sink slower than I do, floating in front of me as I continue my descent. The gravity is strange here. I feel light, but the air is so heavy. Where am I? 

I test my movements to adjust to the new gravity. I am disoriented, as there seems to be a delay in my body responding to my thoughts. I push my right arm forward in front of me, extending my fingers in a waving motion as I do so. I feel the oppressive air resist each maneuver. Looking past my hand, I observe my legs in the distance, reaching up toward the sky. Beyond my feet, I see a luminous ball in the sky, which I can only assume is this strange planet’s star. If my legs and arms are above me, I must be on my back. But I don’t feel the ground. Just as this realization kicks in, I feel my shoulders reach the planet’s surface. I had been falling, but am I moving in slow motion or is my mind overstimulated and slowing time again? I don’t feel panicked, but maybe I have some residual adrenaline from whatever brought me here. As I lay on my back, my head bumps the ground, too, but I barely register any pain. This place is so weird. 

My mother’s necklace now sinks back to my chest, resting atop my breasts as I continue to test my new environment. I try to reorient myself to stand upright, but the strange gravity on this world makes it difficult. I clumsily move from my back onto my side, then push against the ground with my arms to raise myself up. This process is clumsy, as my body still struggles to move in the dense air. My limbs react slowly to my commands, but I eventually find myself upright. My instincts tell me to stay low to the ground, so I remain crouched as I survey the world around me. Through the shimmers of light, I don’t see anything else in this white box, but notice one of the walls around me seems to extend a greater distance and is slanted like a ramp. Is that the way out? Is it safe?

Continuing my lethargic spin around the room, I briefly catch a glint of something to my left. Squinting to see it again, it’s hard to make out in the dim light of the area until another shimmer of light catches it. It appears to be a small metal structure attached to the wall. My depth perception is poor, so I can’t make out if it’s part of the wall or attached to it. What is it? A vent? A ladder? My thoughts are interrupted by a dull ringing in my ears, then it spreads to the top of my head. It feels like I’m suffocating. As the pain grows, I realize I AM SUFFOCATING. Panic sets in. I realize I have been holding my breath this entire time, as if by instinct. Can I even breathe the air here? There is only one way to find out. I open my mouth to inhale and it’s flooded by water. 

WATER! Adrenaline is now flooding my system as a thousand epiphanies strike at once. I’m underwater. The air is water. The gravity is normal, I’m just submerged. The star is the moon. But how did I get here? There’s no time to figure it out. I need air. I clumsily attempt to maneuver, but my motor skills are still lacking. I try to stand, but struggle to maintain my footing. Eventually fully-extending my legs, I find I can’t reach the surface. Extending my toes, I raise my arms toward the moon trying to break the surface of the water, but I’m still too short. The pain intensifies. My senses dull. 

I have to get out of here. 

I try to swim, but I can’t synchronize my movements and can feel myself getting weaker. I try to jump, but my legs are still fully-extended and barely touch the floor. 

I’m drowning. 

Suddenly, the surface of the water breaks above me, but I can’t see what fell in. The explosion from the object’s sudden entry is a few feet away from me, but it gives me an idea of how deep the water is. My depth perception is still hazy, but it seems like the explosion was only a few inches above my fingers. 

I have to do it. I have to grow out of this. 

I hesitate. I haven’t done this in years. After the accident, I vowed never to do it again. 

But I did do it again. 

The pain gets worse. The top of my head feels like it’s going to explode. My lungs burn. 

I’m so close. It’s only a few inches. It’s not like anyone’s around to see it. 

A warm, pleasurable sensation spreads throughout my body. My lungs and head still burn, but the pain is lessened by the sensual sensation of my powers activating. The surface of the water gets closer, then my fingers feel the cold air. 

Keep going.

My arms emerge next and I pull them down together, trying to pull myself up from the water, raising me a few inches but not getting enough lift to escape. 

Keep going. 

Feeling myself sink once more, I continue to will myself larger, desperate to get my mouth above the waterline. Inching up to it, I push my head back in anticipation so my nose and lips are the first to break the surface. 

Relief.

I gasp as the air fills my lungs, but immediately begin coughing as the water I swallowed follows the air down my windpipe. The coughing drives my face back into the water. Suddenly I feel something grab around me, seemingly trying to push me up. What is this? Worried it might change tactics and drag me under, I continue growing until my head completely clears the water. I manage to control my coughing enough to take a deep breath. Still gasping for air, I grow a little more until my neck and shoulders emerge, too. I cough up water, struggling to regain my composure and steady my breathing as the pleasurable warmth leaves my body. Turning my attention to the creature that had grabbed me, I look down slightly to see a brown-haired girl looking up at me as she treads water. Where did this little girl come from? My sight gradually improves as oxygen spreads through my body again. As my vision focuses, I recognize the little girl's face is Sydney's. But something isn't right. Was she always this small? 

Anna Rhodes POV

Maybe I had gone too far. I wanted to get Cassie loosened up, but I didn’t realize just how much she drank in such a short period of time. And was it my fault that everyone else kept saying things that made her drink? I only got one turn! Deep down, I know it’s my fault. I chose the game. I set her up with larger shots than we usually play with. Luckily nobody else seemed to notice I was giving her full-sized shots, but now I’m having regrets. 

Seeing Cassie get so angry was scary. I never knew she had it in her. She never got angry with anyone. Not strangers, not me, not even Derek. But seeing her tumble into the pool filled me with a new kind of fear. Would she drown? 

The girls and I get up from our seats and make our way to the pool. Looking down at the water, Ronnie asks, “Should we get her?” 

Becca put a hand on Ronnie’s shoulder. “She needs a minute to cool off. If she doesn’t come up soon, we’ll get her.” 

I consider jumping in immediately, but remember that my sundress will be ruined by the chlorine. Looking at Sydney in her bikini and Ronnie, who I presume is wearing her swimsuit underneath her shorts and t-shirt, I’m confident in them to rescue Cassie if it comes to it. Still, she’s taking her time resurfacing.

Looking down into the water, I realize that Cassie’s phone and one of her flip flops are sitting on the edge of the pool. She must have dropped them when she fell in. I reach down to pick up the phone. Immediately, I notice that the glass of her screen is now cracked. Wondering if any of the pixels underneath are also damaged, I turn it on. The screen lights up and I can see that one large crack and a few lesser cracks run through the glass, but nothing beneath the glass itself appears to be damaged. Before I turn it off, though, I read her most recent notification. “One Missed Call: Derek Hitchcock.”

What does this mean? Is he trying to get back together with her? I know nothing good can come from this, especially if Derek talks to Cassie in this state. I have to keep him from contacting her. I slide my finger across the screen to unlock it, but I’m stumped by her six-digit passcode. I back out, clearing the notification from her lock screen and switching the phone to silent. Looking back at the water, I wonder how much time has passed. Fifteen seconds, maybe?

I can do better.

I slide my finger once more. The keypad presents itself again. Six digits. What would Cassie use as a password with six digits? I tap the screen.

“1-2-3-4-5-6.”

It doesn’t work.

“0-0-0-0-0-0.”

Wrong again.

I pause. C-A-S-S-I-E. There’s no way Cassie would choose her own name as her password. I think about what else it could be. Friends? Family? Birthdates? "Annie" is too short, but maybe she used my last name? R-H-O-D-E-S. No, that’s too impersonal. Her birthday? No, Cassie wouldn’t use her own birthday. Maybe her parents’ birthdays… I look up and think. I don’t know her parents’ birthdays. Continuing down that train of thought, I think, it’s got to be her parents. She carries that necklace around with her everywhere apparently to connect her to them. I think back again. Madison and Roger Bell. The names don’t fit. I don’t know their anniversary. I don’t know their birthdays. The only day that comes to mind for me is Cassie’s birthday.

Screw it, let’s try it anyway.

“0-6-3-0-0-4.”

No luck.

Well, it was worth a shot. I look up from the phone back at the group. Everyone is a lot more worried now. How much time has passed? I look at Becca as she begins speaking, “Alright, Sydney, seeing as how you’re already in your swimsuit, you’re up. Ronnie, you’re on deck. Get changed.” 

Ronnie. I remember Cassie always liked Ronnie’s name for some reason. It struck me as odd, since Ronnie is usually a boy’s name. R-O-N-N-I-E. Six letters. Would she…?

No, that’s not it. Why did she like Ronnie’s name? Was it just the abbreviation? Maybe she liked that it sounded like my name. A-N-N-I-E. Five letters. It sounds like her name, too. C-A-S-S-I-E. Six letters. As I think of this, I hear a splash as Sydney dives into the water. I see Ronnie has removed her shirt and shorts, too, revealing a red two-piece swimsuit that is a bit more modest than Sydney’s bikini, but still shows off her muscled figure. 

I definitely forgot my ADHD meds today. Look at me, thinking of names while my best friend is drowning. Drowning because of me. I feel guilty and close the phone, but as I do another thought strikes me. I’m still protecting Cassie. Protecting her from her jerk of an ex-boyfriend that caused all of this. I was just trying to help. I can still help. Picking up on my train of thought from earlier, I think of the names. Then Cassie’s parents. Then the names. An epiphany comes to me. Madison. Maddie. M-A-D-D-I-E. Six letters.

I slide my finger across the phone screen again, moving feverishly. 

"6-2-3-3-4-3"

It works. 

I move to her phone app and scroll to Derek’s contact. I click on it and move to block him, but a splashing sound interrupts my thoughts. I have to hurry before Cassie sees me. Then another intrusive thought. Cassie will know if I block him. I just have to get her through the night. I quickly glance up at the water to see Cassie’s arms above the waterline, unsuccessfully pushing to raise her up. I’m running out of time.

What else can I do? I can’t let him contact her. Not in this state. A sober Cassie could be persuaded. She was reasonable. We’d made a lot of progress with her tonight and I think we’ve really boosted her confidence. But I’m not dealing with a sober Cassie right now. This is uncharted territory. And based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m not confident we can talk her out of seeing him. Thinking back to her looming over everyone at the table, I gulp. I don't think we could stop her from seeing him. We just have to get her through the night.

Another splash. Another epiphany.
Switching out of the phone app, I navigate to "settings" and then to "focus." At the top of the screen, a red button with a slider. I tap it, activating “do not disturb” for three hours. That should do the trick. 

I turn off the phone again and look ahead to see Cassie’s head sticking out above the waterline. She is coughing up water as she gasps for air. As she does so, I notice she seems to still be rising out of the water, just a little, as her neck and then her shoulders emerge from the waterline. I’m relieved to see she’s ok, but something seems off about her. Then Sydney’s head emerges from the water next to Cassie and I see what’s different. Sydney didn’t pull Cassie out of the water. And Cassie isn’t floating in the water. Cassie is bigger.

Emily Granger POV

Goddess. That’s the only word I can think of to describe the being before me. 

When I first saw Cassie rising out of the water, I was awed by her sudden emergence from the depths, but her majesty was undermined by her fits of coughing and desperate gasping for air. It humanized her. It made her vulnerable. Flawed. Mortal. As she sheepishly looked around the party from her low vantage point in the deep end of the pool, it was like a frightened mermaid had just popped out of the water and was just seeing people for the first time. But Sydney’s surfacing gave us perspective. Cassie is big. Really big.

Sydney is a fully-grown woman. Not just fully-grown, but a rather tall woman. Taller than most men, in fact. Next to Cassie, however, she looks like a toddler. Though I can only see their heads and shoulders, it’s apparent that Cassie is approximately twice Sydney’s height. And while Sydney’s head bobs as she treads water in the deep end of the pool, Cassie is a rock. Was she standing in the deep end? I nervously look at the sign along the waterline at the end of the pool.

“10 ft.” 

That’s not possible. No one is that tall. The surreality of the scene is broken as Cassie begins to move. She starts sluggishly as the water resists her with each effort. Yet she is determined to go forward, pushing her body through the water as she wills her arms and legs onward out of the deep end. Farther and farther she goes and as she does, her body rises higher and higher out of the water. With each step, more of her body emerges into the cool night air, as though she’s still growing. Is she still growing? 

Her beautiful breasts break the waterline, her wet pink top clinging tightly to their perfect forms as they rise out of the water. Disappointingly, I can only barely see the indentations of her nipples due to what appears to be a bra beneath her top, the outline of which is made more apparent by the wet top gripping her frame. Now free of the water but weighted down by the soaked clothing, her breasts shake and wobble with each of her awkward steps across the pool.

She is still rising. 

Her toned midriff breaks the surface next, highlighting her light abs as they cut their way through the water. With each step, they rotate ever so slightly on her fit torso. With each breath, they lightly expand, flex, and retreat. Her belly button, once covered by her skirt, has now made an appearance as her skirt seems to have sunk lower on her body due to the weight of the water. 

She is still rising.

At last, her glorious booty surfaces from the pool, hugged tightly by her white skirt that has become moderately translucent due to its recent saturation. Her perfect buns shake ever-so-slightly with each step as she presses forward with her journey to the other end of the pool. Through the skirt, I can see her thong - or is it a bikini bottom? - riding between her cheeks as her powerful legs push through the water. Her pink skin is barely visible in the places the skirt clasps most tightly, but the dark color of her undergarments stands in stark contrast to the rest of her buxom behind.

She is still rising.

Now reaching the shallow end of the pool, her ascent seems to stabilize, but her journey is not complete. Her thick muscular legs churn the pool beneath her as she continues to step forward. Clearly, the alcohol is having an effect on her as she sways a little and struggles to balance herself with the low water around her knees. As she stops before the stairs into the pool, I look out at her surroundings and begin to fully-appreciate the scale of the new Cassie. The tiki torches set up around the pool don’t even reach her shoulders, despite her standing on ground several feet below them. The other partygoers that had been standing near the edge of the pool to observe the spectacle begin to back up at Cassie’s approach. Few of them even remotely approach her height, even as she still stands in the watery hole below them. None can match it. 

Then she takes a deep breath and I take in her magnificence all at once. Her breasts rise and fall with her chest. Her shoulder blades flex and retreat. Her abs expand and contract. Her butt perks up a little. She hesitates momentarily, as if she’s unsure she that wants to leave some sanctuary that the pool provides her. Then she raises her right leg and ascends again. One step at a time, she mounts the stairs to the pool as she leans on the small railing bisecting the steps for support. She’s unsteady as she gradually pulls her legs, then her feet from the water. After ascending the last step out of the pool, she does a slow spin to observe her surroundings. I notice that few people even reach her crotch and only the tallest can hope to reach her hips. As I admire the gargantuan girl in her new environment, I hear a light splash behind me and turn to see Sydney pulling herself up the ladder out of the water. She seems to be holding something, but I can’t make out what it is yet in the low light and with her hand covering much of it. 

“I know Cassie’s tall, but she wasn’t that tall, right?” Sydney asks, somewhat rhetorically.

After a long pause with no answer, Becca confirms, “No, she’s definitely taller.” 

Somehow, Becca saying this aloud provides a strange comfort to me. I know I tend to idolize Cassie a bit in my head, but this seems like a fantasy. It’s simply too fantastical. Hearing someone else affirm what I was seeing at least confirms that I’m not hallucinating. 

Becca’s confirmation seems to have comforted Ronnie, too, as she regains her powers of speech. “But… how?” 

I think back to the word I thought when I first saw her rise out of the water. Goddess. Without further consideration, I blurt out, “It’s a miracle.” Annie turns to me, but before she can say anything, Cassie stumbles to the ground. I instinctively run to her and hear the sound of footsteps behind me as the girls follow. Whatever hesitation they may have had before was gone. We all rush to the aid of our enlarged friend, who is now laying face-down on the ground. 

“Cassie? Are you ok?” a concerned Annie asks timidly. 

A muffled “Mmm” comes from Cassie’s mouth, which is pushing into the ground. 

“I didn’t quite catch that, Cass.”

A louder “Mmm-hmm” comes from Cassie’s head, which moves slightly to its side to grunt more clearly.

Becca signals us to huddle up with the same hand signal we use in volleyball. She speaks quietly, but instead of proposing a strategy she asks the circle, “What should we do?”

Annie seems the most anxious now and pipes up quickly. “I think we should turn her over! She’s not breathing well with her face in the dirt!”

Sydney shakes her head. “If we put her on her back, she could throw up and choke herself. Besides, she's probably super heavy now.”

Ronnie nods her head in agreement. “I think we should leave her there. She seems comfortable to me.” She pauses. “Maybe we should call an ambulance?” 

Becca shakes her head. “If we call an ambulance, we can kiss goodbye to ever going to another party again. They’ll bring the police, the fire department, and soon the entire freaking town will be here.” 

This seems selfish to me. Whatever Cassie’s going through is not normal. It’s one thing for her to be drunk, but now she’s a literal giant. I can’t imagine the strain on her organs… the weight on her bones being this size. She collapsed as soon as the water wasn’t supporting her weight anymore. I look around the circle at  the group’s faces. It seems Becca’s argument has convinced them. I don’t want to be the party-crasher. It’s not like they’ll listen to me anyway. I need to think of another way to help Cassie in the short term. 

My thoughts are interrupted by Annie’s worried pleas. “We can’t just leave her like this.”

Ronnie retorts unhelpfully, “I’m all ears, Annabelle.” 

Suddenly I remember how you’re supposed to aid people having a stroke or an overdose and I get an idea. “How about we turn her on her side?”

The group collectively stares at me. At first, it doesn’t seem like anyone likes the idea, but their faces change one-by-one to being more receptive. Without another word, the team is persuaded. Finally, Becca nods.

“Alright, let’s do it. Ronnie, you take her shoulders because you’re the strongest. I’ll take her torso because I’m the tallest. Sydney, you handle the legs. Annie and Emily, you get on the other side of her and pull, but make sure we don’t flip her over.” As we assume our positions, Becca coordinates the effort. “Ok, on the count of three. One… two… three!”

I hear the grunts of the three girls on the other side of Cassie and feel the body budge a little as Annie and I pull from our side. I can sense she's moving, but just before we can make any real progress, the girls on the other side give out and Cassie resumes her prostrate position facing the ground. The other girls are breathing heavily, though Emily and I seem to be considerably less exhausted. 

After they catch their breaths, Becca speaks again. “I think we need more people pushing on this side. Annie, come over here. Emily, do your best to guide her as we push her over and let us know if we start to go too far.” Annie steps over the legs of her giant friend and assumes a position near Cassie’s waist as the girls space out again to resume pushing.

“One… two… three!”

Again, I feel Cassie’s body budging as I strain to pull her towards me. Just as I think we’re going to do it, the girls on the other side give out and Cassie’s body resumes its position on the ground once more.

“Damn, Cassie, what have you been eating?” Ronnie jokes as she catches her breath. The other girls laugh a little, still recovering their own breathing. 

Once everyone recovers again, Annie addresses the group. “Let’s bring Emily over. We’re so close.” The tired girls look reluctant, but nod in agreement. I step over one of Cassie’s legs, then the other as I navigate her behemoth body. Before I can assume a position to push Cassie’s body, Annie speaks again, “Cassie, are you awake?” She pauses a moment, then hears a grumble from Cassie that sounds like another “mmm-hmm.” She resumes, “Cassie, we’re trying to help you here. Help us help you. We’re going to turn you on your side now and if you can, try to lift yourself up.” Annie pauses again for a response, but gets none. 

Becca shrugs. “Alright, one more try. One… two… three!” This time I feel the strain as I push with all my might into the fleshy slab before me. I get lower to the ground, grasping for purchase with my sandaled feet. Why didn’t I think of taking off my shoes? Looking at the other girls’ feet, I notice Ronnie, Becca, and Sydney are all barefoot, but Annie is likewise still wearing her sandals. Cassie’s body keeps moving and I feel like we’re past the tipping point. We start to ease off of the monstrous woman, pulling her to a halt as she rests on her side. 

“Mission accomplished,” Sydney announces, putting her hand up for a high-five. Her body is still wet from the pool, giving it a slight shine in the dim moonlight and the light from the house and torches. Her skimpy bikini does little to conceal her sexy form, as her chest rises and falls with her labored breathing, along with her skinny torso and trim waistline.

Ronnie takes her up on the offer, slapping her hand hard with her own as a mini thunderclap bursts from their palms. Ronnie is drier than Sydney, but I can see sweat glisten over her body in the moonlight. Her powerful biceps bulge as she playfully flexes her muscles at us, then turns to the other partiers and repeats her strongwoman pose, this time giving me a full view of her powerful back muscles as they flex and turn her smooth back into an almost-rocky surface. 

The powerful display of muscular finesse is completed by Becca, who slaps her palms against her powerful thighs before completing a double high-five with both girls and then slapping them on their butts with each hand. Each girl retaliates in turn by slapping the nearest respective cheek of Becca’s butt, which slightly ripples with the impact of each palm. Her muscular legs barely yield to this dual spanking, however, as Becca grins down at both of her teammates. Becca stands a couple inches taller than both girls and it shows when she stands between them. Gosh, why did my friends have to be so hot? My amorous ruminations are interrupted as the stunned partiers snap out of their stupor and give us a round of applause. As much as I appreciate the acclamation, I can't help but feel a little miffed at their prior passivity. Did they seriously not offer to help us? I look down at the massive girl we just moved. Maybe they’re afraid of her. Cassie’s eyes open a little and look up at us in a daze. Maybe they’re right to be afraid of her. 

Annie does not join the celebration, as she is still looking down with concern on the semi-conscious Cassie. Becca notices this and straightens her face, restoring her usual stern countenance. She attempts to wave Annie over, but Annie fails to see the signal as she’s still looking down at Cassie. I walk over and take her hand in mine, feeling a slight tingle with the intimate touch of her skin. Suppressing my lust for the umpteenth time tonight, I gently pull her to the rest of the group and we form another huddle.

Becca leads again. “Now what?” The other girls look at me, apparently expecting another bright idea, but I just shrug.

Sydney remarks, “I hope we don’t have to move her again. I’m not even sure if we could. She weighs a ton.”

Ronnie quips, “Literally.” 

My mind races at the math. I don’t know exactly how much Cassie weighed before. And I don’t know exactly how tall she is now. I look over at her again, still laying on her side with her eyes half-open. It looks like her height has roughly doubled. Using Ronnie’s estimate from earlier, and doubling her height, she probably weighs sixteen hundred pounds now…

My calculations are cut short by Becca speaking again. “I’m not so sure that we did move her. Maybe we did, but it almost felt like she was resisting us before. I think Annie may have convinced her to help us. Or at least allowed us to move her.” She looks down at Annie and gives her a playful pat on the back. “Good job, kid.” 

Annie smiles at the compliment, but I can tell she’s still worried about Cassie. I sneak another glance at Cassie on the ground. She "allowed" us to move her?

Sydney picks up the conversation again. “So what now?”

Ronnie responds coolly, “She seems comfortable. She’s not at risk of choking. I think we should just leave her there.” 

Annie objects, angrily whispering, “We can’t just leave her there. She needs help! She can barely move!”

Ronnie shrugs, but Sydney interjects, “Based on my experience as a lifeguard, I think she’s actually ok, Annie. A lot of what’s happening here is strange, but she seemed to get out of the pool under her own power just fine. I’m guessing she’s just recuperating from almost drowning and is coming down from an adrenaline surge. Not to mention all of the alcohol in her system. It seems like a normal reaction.” 

I find Sydney’s explanation reassuring, but Annie angrily whispers again. “She’s over ten feet tall. That is not normal!” 

The girls collectively turn to the enlarged figure of Cassie resting on the ground behind us. Sydney nods. “Yeah, that’s not normal. But do you think it’s hurting her?”

Annie gets quiet as she seems to contemplate this. Should I mention the square-cube law? Would it be helpful or just freak her out? I decide on a vague middle course. “It’s possible, but I doubt it’s hurting her when she’s laying down.” The team looks at me with a mix of surprise and skepticism, so I elaborate a little. “Humans aren’t designed to be this tall,” I say, gesturing from Cassie’s feet to her head. “It can put pressure on the joints and bones.” I can tell this worries Annie, so I quickly add, “But I’m sure she’s fine in her current position.” A slight smile returns to her face and her eyes soften.

Ronnie and Becca look stunned at this explanation, but Becca quickly regains her composure and asks, “Alright, so what do you think we should do next to help her?” 

I stop to think. I don’t know what to do. I’m not a doctor. I’m a freshman with no major and a penchant for macrophilia. I begin going through the priorities in order. What can I do to help? Obviously, Cassie is big. That can’t be helped. Cassie is exhausted. That will be fixed with time, hopefully. And Cassie is drunk. That will also be fixed with time. 

Time. Time is the problem. Is there any way to speed up time? No, but perhaps we can accelerate Cassie’s recovery. My mind races with ideas, none of which are especially realistic. Well, we can at least hydrate her… “We need to rehydrate Cassie. It will help her body recover faster. The adrenal exhaustion, the lactic acid, the alcohol… she needs water. Or at least something non-alcoholic to drink.”

Annie’s eyes light up at hearing this. “I saw a punchbowl in the house… would that work?” She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. It’s not ideal, but I don’t have the heart to tell her “no.” Maybe I can search the house myself for something better.

“Sure, Annie. But you stay here and look after Cassie. I’ll get it.” She looks a little disappointed, but after taking another look at Cassie she nods her head. 

I turn around and run toward the house as Sydney and Becca pat Annie on the back and rub her shoulders. Moving through the crowd, which speaks in hushed whispers around me, I reach the door and swing it open. Walking through more people and reaching the kitchen, I begin to search for a sports drink or a clean cup to collect some tap water. How can this huge party not have any clean cups set out? 

As I survey the kitchen, I notice the three weird guys from earlier in the night standing over the punchbowl. Though it’s hard to see with all of the people moving between us, it looks like they slip something into the bowl before snickering and walking away. That can’t be good. I’m definitely not bringing Cassie any punch now. Moving out of the kitchen, I migrate to the living room in search of a clean empty cup, but again come up empty. This is ridiculous. Maybe I can ask the hosts of the party for one of their house’s dishes. Surveying the party, it hits me: I don’t know anyone in DTF. I start to get a faint feeling of anxiety in the back of my head.

This isn’t hopeless. I just have to ask somebody. But whom? Looking around again, I realize I don’t know anybody here. The failings of freshmen, I commiserate to myself. Then I get an idea. The bouncer! He must know them! I make my way to the front door, weaving my small body through people as I mosey through the crowd. Reaching the door, I grab the doorknob and pull it open to find a tall guy’s back facing me on the other side. He turns around to see who just opened the door behind him and I recognize it’s Ronnie’s friend Luke. Completing his turn to face me, he says, “Oh, hi, Emily. Have you met Derek?”

Of course I had met Derek. I hate Derek. Behind Luke, an aloof Derek raises his chin to acknowledge me and mouths “What’s up?” but I don’t hear him. I don’t hear anything. All of the noise in the world just stopped. The music from the house. The chatter of the guests. But it isn't silent. A dull ringing fills my ears. Behind my eyes, I feel a growing pain. It spreads to my throat and I realize that I’m going to cry. I have to get out of here. It was one thing to see Cassie hurting from a freak accident, but I can’t deal with this level of heartbreak again. I can’t see him take Cassie away from me. I can’t see him hurt her. With tears now streaming down my face, I push through Luke and Derek and begin running across the yard. He doesn’t deserve her. I set myself down by the tree where we were waiting for Cassie and Annie before the party. As the thoughts of the night come rushing back to me, I let myself cry freely.

Cassie bumping into me.

Cassie walking through the party with me. 

Cassie watching Sydney’s exhibition with me.

Cassie hinting at her potential bi-curiosity.

Cassie drinking and opening up to us.

Cassie falling into the pool.

Cassie walking out of the pool.

I think of Cassie’s enlarged form lying on the ground. So powerful, yet so helpless.

He doesn’t deserve her…

I look up at the moon through my blurry, tear-flooded eyes.

I hope she crushes him.

Sydney Elliot POV

Annie is on the verge of tears. It’s sweet how much she cares about Cassie, but we can only deal with one crisis at a time right now. Annie is Cassie’s rock. She’s her closest friend and she’s going to be essential if Cassie is going to get through… whatever she’s going through.

“Annie, it’s going to be ok.” I’m not sure if I believe myself, but it’s not like I’m consciously lying.

Annie suddenly hugs me, wrapping her arms around me as she squeezes me tightly to her. It feels a little strange, considering I’m only wearing a bikini, but I can tell she needs this. I squeeze her back and she leans her head against my shoulder. “How can you know that?”

I think fast. I need to think of something, anything to reassure her. What do people think of in times of crisis? I think back to my sociology courses. The three Fs. Friends, Family… and Faith. I've never been big on faith. Lust and debauchery are good friends of mine. But seeing as having her friends here right now isn’t cutting it, and not exactly eager to rope in any parents, I decide to try to come to Jesus. 

“Because God loves Cassie.” Over Emily’s shoulder, I can see Becca incredulously raise an eyebrow as Ronnie struggles mightily to suppress what I can tell would be a pretty violent laugh. Yeah, yeah, I’m not the best messenger for this. However, the same shock that so amuses Becca and Ronnie seems to make Annie take me more seriously. Her shaking lessens and her embrace softens as she pulls away to look me in the eyes.

“He does?” she asks with the innocence of a small child asking about Santa Claus.

“Umm.. yeah, of course He does! He loves everybody!”

Annie’s expression darkens as she looks down and says quietly, “Bad things happen to people all the time, even if He loves them…”

Well that didn’t work. But her words play over again in my head. “People don’t just become giants all the time.” Annie looks in my eyes again. Her hopeful pupils shake with anticipation, begging me to continue. What did Emily call it, again? “It was a miracle.” Annie’s eyes light up again, her pupils expanding as the shaking has extended to her irises. I guess I’ll keep going. 

“Of course it was a miracle, Annie. Cassie was drowning and God saved her by making her grow out of the water. Why else would she suddenly grow like that? Why would she stop growing as soon as she was out of danger?” Behind Annie, Ronnie and Becca’s expressions become more thoughtful. “I mean, think about it. Cassie is such a brilliant, beautiful girl who is gentle as a butterfly. She never drinks…" another epiphany strikes me mid-sentence. "...She’s even a virgin! God may love all of his children but surely he has favorites.” Am I convincing myself of this?

Annie seems to have calmed down now, but she hugs me again for good measure. Ronnie chimes in, “Yeah, plus she doesn’t have parents. The immaculate conception and all that.”

Annie pulls herself away from me, but doesn’t turn to face Ronnie. “I knew her parents.”

Ronnie seems to consider this for a second, then retorts, “Did you watch them have sex?”

I expect Annie to be mad at this, but she just laughs as she turns around and hugs Ronnie, too. “Thanks, girls. I feel a lot better now.” I'm not sure if she actually believes us or if she just appreciates the effort, but I'm glad she's mellowed out.

Releasing Annie from her hug, Ronnie then turns around and looks at the sprawled form of Cassie on the ground. “So when do you think ‘Jumbo Jesus’ will have her resurrection?”

As if on cue, Cassie stirs from her slumber and raises her hand to her head. Though she is still laying on the ground, we can see she’s now awake, albeit groggy. “Ugh, I have the worst headache. Is this what being hungover feels like?” Her speech is slightly slurred, though it’s hard to tell if this is due to the alcohol or generic drowsiness. 

Annie and Ronnie laugh a little at this as Annie rushes to hug her huge friend. Rather matter-of-factly, Becca responds, “There’s no way you’re hungover yet. The alcohol is probably still working its way through your system. Your headache is probably due to you almost drowning.” What a fine nurse you’d be, Rebecca Thomas. 

Cassie seems to take a moment to process what Becca said as her eyes narrow a little at the space in front of her, then sarcastically replies, “Yippee.” 

Now it’s Annie’s turn to ask questions. “Are you ok, Cassie? How do you feel?”

Again, Cassie seems to have a delay in processing what’s asked of her. After another moment of contemplation, she says, “I feel weird, but I guess I’m fine. Maybe if I just sit up a little…” As she says this, she leans back and pushes her elbows into the ground before pushing herself up. She appears dazed at the change in altitude as her head wobbles a little before looking around. Her eyes widen as she processes her surroundings and then I see a little flicker as they open wider for a brief moment, as if recalling a traumatic memory. She remembers…

I realize I’m staring up at Cassie’s head again. At first, I didn’t think anything of it since I'm used to looking up at her, but now I realize that she’s still sitting. And despite her seated posture, she’s still taller than usual. And much bigger. Her eyes dull again, as her eyelids seem to droop a little and her facial expression turns from shock to confusion. “Why is everything so small?” Ok, maybe she doesn’t remember…

Annie steps forward to answer and for a moment I worry she’s going to tell Cassie she’s the messiah. “Well, Cassie, we were playing a drinking game for some interpersonal bonding…” I look for any sign of realization in Cassie’s eyes, but they don’t react. “...and… uh… you had what we in the psychology department might call a… uh… ‘moment of personal growth.’” Cassie seems moderately amused by this joke. I’m just happy Annie isn’t freaking out anymore. 

Cassie’s small smile fades as she speaks again, “So you guys aren’t small. I’m big.” 

“Bingo!” Annie says with a thumbs-up.

Cassie looks around again, further absorbing her surroundings. “And this isn’t some drunk dream or hallucination?”

Ronnie chirps up this time. “Well, we were all drinking… but I think this is real.” 

All of the girls smile at this. Cassie moves to stand up again, but Annie squeaks out, “NOOOO!” before she can get her big butt off the ground.

Cassie stares quizzically at Annie and asks, “What?”  Annie quickly explains: “The last time you stood up out of the water, you collapsed from exhaustion. It may have just been from the drowning, but Emily mentioned that your bones might not be able to handle your new size.”

Cassie looks down skeptically at Annie, then says calmly, “I feel fine, Annie.” She raises her hand to her head. “Except for this stupid headache.”

Ronnie speaks up this time. “Speaking of Emily, where is she? She was supposed to bring back punch for you like five or ten minutes ago.” She looks up at Cassie again, then says, “On second thought, she probably has to get a lot of punch for you. We should go help her.”

Becca and I nod in agreement and move to enter the house as Annie stays outside with Cassie. I open the door to find the house is still full of people. Looking around, I don’t see any sign of the little libero. “Do you guys see Emily?” I ask loudly over the music. Becca shakes her head as Ronnie shouts back, “NO!”  I shrug a nonverbal “oh well” as I don’t want to shout over the music again. Spotting the punchbowl, I point it out to the others and they nod in acknowledgement as we push our way through the crowd to the spot. Looking around, I fail to spot any cups to serve it. The other girls seem to have the same idea and look around, too, but we find nothing.

“Fuck it,” Becca announces suddenly. “Let’s just take the bowl.”

I offer a look of bewilderment at Becca as her suggestion seems too bold, especially for her. In a rare moment of second-guessing Becca, Ronnie asks, “The whole thing? Are you sure?”

Becca affirms her prior suggestion with a nod, then elaborates, “Yeah, our gigantic friend out there needs more than a cup of fruit punch anyway. Let’s just take it. Sydney, you grab that end, I’ll grab this one. Ronnie, you’re the muscle. Clear a path.” Ronnie grins at this suggestion and takes the opportunity to flex one of her arms in a bodybuilding pose.  As I grab my end of the bowl and Becca grabs hers, she asks, “Ready?” I nod dumbly, still surprised we're doing this. She looks ahead at our escort. “Ready, Ronnie?”

Ronnie grins again and laughs. “I was born ready.”

Becca psyches herself up for a moment, then grabs the bowl with renewed vigor and says, “Let’s go!” I heave the bowl up in synchronized motion with Becca. It's somewhat heavy, but manageable enough for two people. As we begin moving, I realize that the real challenge is that with each stop, the liquid within shifts and the weight of the bowl moves along with it. Fortunately, Ronnie is doing a good job of pushing people out of the way...

Looking ahead, I can see Ronnie is in her element as she shoves people aside and bellows, “MAKE WAY! COMING THROUGH!” Nobody challenges her, though I can’t say if this is due to surprise or genuine intimidation. I’ll let Ronnie think it’s the latter. 

Soon enough we’re at the door, which Ronnie opens promptly for us. A few drops spill from the bowl as we get underway again, but now we are back outside and only a few yards away from the colossal Cassie. She and Annie stop their conversation to look at us as we place the bowl on the ground in front of her lap, as Cassie is now leaning upright on her side to face Annie again.

Cassie stares at the punchbowl for a few seconds before asking us, “There’s no more alcohol in this, is there?”

It occurs to me that we never actually asked, but Becca assures her, “No way! This is just fruit punch. Frats put this out for the underage people to drink at their parties.”

At this, Cassie picks up the bowl in her two hands and raises it to her face as she begins chugging it. The girls and I take a few steps back at this unwitting display of power. It took two of us to carry that thing out here and she just picked it up like it was nothing. Seeing the clear bowl empty more and more with each gulp, the three of us that brought the bowl out to Cassie exchange nervous glances at such potent thirst. Looking over at Annie, though, she seems impressed and even - a little proud? - at her giant friend’s performance. As soon as the punch bowl is now emptied, Cassie gently lowers the bowl to the ground and suppresses a small burp with her hand over her mouth. 

The other girls and I are too astonished to speak, so Annie asks, “How was that, big momma?”

Cassie looks down at her friend from her seated height and smiles. “Pretty good. I think I’m already starting to feel better.” She looks around at the yard and back at us and says, “I’d really like to try standing up now.” 

Cassidy Bell POV

How long will I have to put on this charade? I remember everything since my growth spurt. The drowning, the growing, using my sheer willpower and adrenaline to push myself to safety from the water. Ugh, I’m not thinking clearly. I know I can stand up. I’ve grown bigger than this before. Once. But everything is so off-balance and fuzzy to me now…

It will probably do me some good to stand up and clear my head. It feels like the right thing to do. “I’d really like to try standing up now.” 

Annie seems nervous and looks to the others for guidance. They likewise seem reluctant, but Becca speaks up. “If you feel like you’re up for it, Cassie…” 

I pivot my attention back to Annie, who nods reluctantly. Slowly, I pull my legs in from my protracted sitting position and place my feet flat on the ground beneath me. I place my hands on the ground for support as a light dizziness sets in. Is this the alcohol or am I just out of practice? I don’t remember it being this hard. Slowly, I extend my legs as I push myself up from the ground. My sincere dizziness probably helps me sell the act at this point. 

As I look around me, I realize that none of the girls even reach my waistline. They look like little kids from up here. As I take in my surroundings, I can discern the other party guests are likewise stupefied by my awesome new height. Many of them have their phones out taking pictures or videos. I guess I’ll have to think of an explanation for this eventually. In the meantime, I’ll just keep playing dumb. I really feel dumb, though. On one level, I feel stupid for letting things get so out of hand. I should have never agreed to drinking. My friends would have accepted that. I just felt so needy and vulnerable… I was stupid. Another wave of dizziness hits me, so I adjust my footing to avoid falling. On another level, I should have just been patient or realized I was underwater sooner. I’m smarter than that. And on yet another level, I actually feel dumb. This alcohol is making it hard to concentrate. It’s getting hard to remember things, too. Short-term things. Little stuff. 

Annie’s voice calls up from below me. “Hey, Cass, how’s the weather up there?” 

“Cold and windy… I think I can see my house from here.” Annie smiles at hearing this, but I feel like I still owe her a serious answer. “I’m feeling ok, everybody. Just a little dizzy.” My mind can overcome this poison, I think to myself. Mind over matter. I just have to apply myself. As I adjust my footing again, I find I’m getting the hang of stabilizing myself. Or at least I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. Now let’s test my memory. Can I remember what I was doing before I started drinking?

I remember picking out this super-cute outfit to try to pick up a new man tonight, on Annie’s suggestion. I remember Annie coming to my apartment to collect me for the party and running late trying to curl my hair just right. I remember meeting up with the girls outside and going into the party. I remember splitting off from the rest of the group with Emily and Annie as Annie showed me around the house and explained the “party scene” to me. I remember Annie bumping into a few guys in the garage and talking their ears off. I remember Ronnie finding us and introducing us to Derek’s frat brother…

That’s enough, I remember everything from before the drinking. But what about after drinking? My memory is hazier. I remember being anxious to try it. I remember we started playing a game… “Would you rather?” No… “Never have I ever!” Specific events start to get blurry and I start to only remember feelings. Anxiety gave way to comfort. Then… sadness. Then… shame. Then… pride. Then… more sadness. Then anger… Wasn’t this stuff supposed to make me feel better? 

I try to think back to anything else. Anything before the drowning. I remember being confused. A sudden sound… a ringing. I got a phone call! But thinking back… I can’t remember who called me. Suddenly, I start to feel woozy again. I reach down for the ground and sit down abruptly. Maybe too abruptly, as the girls flinch nervously as I thud onto the ground. This doesn’t feel good.

My thoughts begin to get more scattered as my vision gets increasingly blurry. I hear Annie ask me, “Cassie, are you alright?” Her voice has a slight echo to it. What was I thinking of? Her voice rings slightly in my ears… rings…rings. The phone call! 

“Annie, do you have my phone?” 

I turn my slightly blurry vision on her, as she sheepishly says, “Oh yeah, I forgot. I picked it up when you fell in the pool.” A pause. She's hesitating. “The glass is cracked a little from the fall.” I feel like she’s still holding back, but maybe it’s just an illusion of whatever influence I’m under. An impulsive urge strikes me. I struggle to control my thoughts, but this one nags me. It compels me. 

“Can I have it back?” This obsessive feeling starts to take over my mind. I can’t quite say why, but I chase my compulsion anyway. It’s as if the truth to all of the universe’s secrets are on my phone.

“Well, Cassie, your clothes are still wet and with the glass cracked, I wouldn’t want you to ruin it…”

Why is this child defying me? What secrets is she denying me? “Give it to me,” I say more forcefully, extending my open hand before her. She meekly drops it into my palm. “Good girl,” I say as I raise the small device to my face. It’s smaller than I remember it. Maybe half of the size it was before. I look at a frightened Annie next to me. She’s smaller, too. Why is everything so small?

My attention shifts back to my puny phone. What secrets does it contain? I clumsily maneuver my fingers to activate it, but find the lock screen is blank. Only the time, too small and hazy for me to read, and my default wallpaper stare back at me. Hmm… What was I looking for? What did I expect to find? I stare at my phone’s wallpaper once more. It wasn’t always like this… there was something there before… My mind reaches back, trying to extract some distant memory. I can picture my old phone. My old lock screen. A blonde girl and black-haired boy. They look familiar…

It hits me. I’m the blonde girl. But who was the boy? A thought, then a name begins to form in my mind, but I can’t quite finish it. Dick? Drake? Dirk? Then another epiphany. Derek. A strong feeling of happiness surges through me. I love Derek. But there is a nagging feeling. A new compulsion. A new obsession. Why isn’t he on my phone screen anymore? Sadness seeps into my mind. Derek broke up with me. I hear voices around me. Little voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I need to focus. I must solve this. Through forceful concentration, I block out the world around me and start to remember again. 

Derek broke up with me because I didn’t sleep with him or go out to parties with him. He lied to me, but I remember the truth. He didn’t understand I did it for his safety! For everyone’s safety! It’s very important that I don’t alter my brain chemistry! But… I struggle to remember why. I drank tonight and nothing bad happened. What’s the ‘big deal?’ I try to remember, but I can’t. All of this thinking has me exhausted. I need to lie down…

Lowering my phone from my face, a familiar figure stands in the doorway to the small house in front of me. As I squint at it, the figure comes into focus. He’s taller than the other party guests. Muscular, too. I try to see his face, but it’s difficult to see with my worsening vision. Black hair. 

Derek?

Veronica Green POV

Cassie’s losing it again. 

Just as it seemed like we were getting the old Cassie back, she took a turn for the worse. She hadn’t been as meek as usual, but she was still gentle and kind. It seemed like something just… came over her as she stood up. She started to get dizzy again and fell to the ground. When she spoke again her voice was different. It had deepened… not like a man’s, but it was flatter. Firmer. She started to speak slower, too, as though speaking were difficult for her. It sounded like she was possessed. Like a different person was controlling her.

“Give. It. To. Me.”

The command replays in my head. Her voice was biting. Her words were forceful. Annie gave in immediately, clearly intimidated but also… ashamed? She avoided eye contact with Cassie and hunched her shoulders, but there was something different about her submission. Her eyes seemed… sad.  I can’t blame her for being scared of our giant teammate that we had all just struggled so hard to move. But why would she be ashamed? Even Cassie's “good girl” didn’t seem to bring her any peace. She probably blames herself for what happened to Cassie. The drinking, the drowning, the growing…

My attention returns to the literal giant sitting before us. She stares intently at the tiny phone she holds to her face, as if it’s some crystal ball she’s trying to decipher. Her eyes are dull, but they seem to flicker as she thinks. Her eyebrows and lashes raise and lower as if she is solving one puzzle and then moving on to another. I can see her focus leaving her phone as she seemingly stares into empty space trying to solve some complicated math problem in her head. She appears to eventually get her answer as she lowers her phone and narrows her vision on something ahead of her. 

My eyes follow hers to the back door to the frat house. In the backlight of the house’s interior lighting, I can make out two tall male figures. I squint a little and raise my hand to my face in order to reduce the glare of the backlight. I recognize one of the figures as Luke fairly quickly. He’s wearing the same Hawaiian outfit he was wearing earlier in the night, although he seems to have acquired a lei since I last saw him. Though I can’t see his eyes well, I can tell from his slack-jawed face that he’s looking at the new and embiggened Cassie.

To his right is a slightly taller figure, maybe only an inch or two shorter than Cassie. Well, the old Cassie. He’s of a more muscular build, too, and shares Luke’s strong cheeks and jawline. He’s a good-looking guy, I think to myself, but I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen him before. Before I can pin down how I know him, Cassie provides the answer.

“Derek?” She says his name with a low, slow tone as though she has just awakened from a deep sleep. Returning my gaze up to her face, I can tell her vision is impaired by how she squints to make out his face.

Removing all doubt, Derek replies with a surprised, “H-hey, Cassie.” 

Cassie doesn’t seem to register his hesitation and her face breaks out in a big smile. “Oh, Derek!” she says, the grogginess now replaced by a girly excitement in her voice. She stands up quickly and all of the party guests anxiously step back at her sudden movement. As abruptly as she rose, the blonde juggernaut begins to advance on Derek, moving the fastest I have seen her move since she had grown. Derek seems to consider fleeing as Cassie approaches him, but he either abandons the idea or is paralyzed by fear as she overtakes him. She effortlessly picks him off the ground and raises him to her chest to embrace him for a hug, smothering his face into her boobs just below where her mother’s necklace is resting. As she clutches Derek to her chest like a child, she twists her body gently from side to side. The whole scene would be cute if Cassie weren’t holding a fully-grown man like a stuffed animal and Derek’s muffled yells weren’t audible to everyone in the backyard. 

Cassie seems to process her doll’s discomfort and eventually pulls him away from her breath-taking breasts to address him as he gasps for air. “Did you come to get back together with me?” 

Derek takes a few seconds to regain his composure before giving a hesitant, “Y-yeah! Of course I did, babe!” 

Cassie does a closed-mouth squeal as she clutches Derek to her chest again and resumes their “hug.” Still pressing Derek to her chest, she begins chattering excitedly. “Oh, I’m so happy! I promise I’ll be so much better than last time. We can do more of the things you want to do! We can go to parties, and go drinking, and… and…” She releases Derek from her smothering hug and places him on the ground. “I know what we can do!” Before Derek can get his bearings she excitedly takes his hand (more like his forearm, really) and drags him through the backyard to the side of the house. They turn the corner of the property and then they’re gone. 

“Oh, Cassie…” Annie sighs sadly. Sydney puts her hand on the distressed girl's shoulder as she silently commiserates, and Annie starts to sob. “I just wanted to have a fun night with her! I didn’t mean for all of… this to happen.” She gestures futilely in the direction Cassie took Derek. At this, Becca puts her hand on Annie’s other shoulder. “...this couldn’t have gone any worse.”

Both girls start to embrace Annie for our dozenth group hug of the night. As I move in to join them, Luke’s voice manifests behind me. “Is it just me, or has Cassie gotten taller?” All of these emotions I’ve felt over the last fifteen minutes or so overwhelm me and I and soon find myself embracing him with the hug I was going to give to Annie. 

Behind me, Becca replies, “Nope, she’s definitely had a growth spurt.” I release Luke and turn to face the rest of the group, which is no longer hugging.

Luke scratches his head a bit, now looking in the direction Cassie took her captive boyfriend. “Huh, it’s weird that her clothes grew with her.” Typical boys…

I playfully punch his arm, but the moment is interrupted by Sydney. “Not all of her clothes…” The group turns to face her. “When I dove in to rescue Cassie, I noticed her flip flop at the bottom of the pool when I dove down to get her. When I looked up, it seemed like she was rescuing herself, so I decided to do her a solid and pick it up.” She reaches down to pick up a lone flip-flop, then holds it up for us to see. “It’s the same size.”

I feel a little indignant at this assertion and retort, “How can you tell?” 

Sydney rolls her eyes at the question and says, “Because it can fit a human foot, dummy.” Hard to argue with that logic…

Annie mutters “oh!” and scampers back to our table. I notice the tequila bottle is still on it before returning my attention to Annie, who picks something off of the ground by the pool and runs back to us. Raising an identical flip flop to the one Sydney just showed us, Annie says, “This one is normal-sized, too.” 

The group contemplates this before Becca speaks. “Come to think of it, it didn’t look like her phone grew with her, either. It looked pretty small in her hands.” 

Sydney continues leading the group brainstorm. “So it seems like whatever caused Cassie to grow only grew the clothes she was wearing underwater…”

Recalling our earlier conversation, I elbow Luke and joke, “A blessing from the lord!” He laughs a little, but then it occurs to me he wasn’t there for Sydney’s little bible study. The other girls seem considerably less amused as they stare disapprovingly at me. Not the right time, I guess…

Luke breaks the ice. “So how did she… uh… grow?” 

The girls and I exchange looks before Annie says, “We don’t know. She fell in the pool and she was drowning. Then she just sorta… popped out of the water and she was bigger.” Luke raises an eyebrow at this, but I nod to confirm Annie’s story and he seems to accept it. “We think it may have been a miracle,” Annie continues. I look at Sydney, but she just gives me a slight shrug. 

Then Becca speaks up. “What’s Derek doing here?” 

Luke sheepishly looks down at his feet, before hesitantly offering, “I invited him…”

Annie looks angry as she processes this, then lunges at Luke. Instinctively, I step in front of him and grab her. Her momentum carries her forward a little and I’m surprised by her strength, but mine is superior and I manage to subdue her before she can reach him. “YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE?! WHY?!” Annie furiously struggles to escape my grip and grab Luke, but Becca and Sydney intervene and she mellows out. 

Luke recovers from his abrupt retreat and explains, “I was trying to make her feel better! You guys said she was feeling sad and I was there when she had her breakdown over him…” He trails off and looks down at his feet again. “I thought maybe if I got them back together it would cheer her up.” He raises his eyes reluctantly to see my reaction.

I’m flattered. But before I can say anything, Annie interjects again. “He’s terrible to her. He cheated on her! And when she confronted him about it, he dumped her!” 

Luke looks down at his feet again. “I know…” 

Tears well up in Annie’s eyes again as her rage yields to sadness once more. “He put her through hell just because she wouldn’t sleep with him…"

Luke suddenly looks up, as if surprised by this. “What? She didn’t sleep with him?” 

Annie seems to get angrier again, though not as intense as before. “Yeah, we learned tonight that they never had sex. What, did he tell you otherwise?” she asks indignantly.

Luke returns to minding his shoes. “He just told me she was a cock-block that wouldn’t go to parties with him…”
 

He seems to think that because these are Derek's words that Annie won't get mad at him, but she lunges at him again as the girls and I step in to restrain her once more. “Fucking piece of shit! He doesn’t deserve to sleep with her!” 

Luke still can’t meet Annie’s eyes as he concedes, “I know…”

Suddenly, a loud crash is heard from the other side of the house as Cassie’s moans become audible, growing louder and louder…

Unthinkingly, I murmur to myself… “I don’t think we can stop them anymore.”

Annie despairs a little. “She’s drunk! She can’t consent!”

Becca puts her hand on Annie’s shoulder as the moans continue escalating. “I think she can handle herself.”

Derek Hitchcock POV

“So she’s drunk?” I ask Luke as we walk through the party guests in the living room to the backyard.

“I don’t know,” Luke replies. “The last time I saw her, she had just agreed to drinking with the girls.” 

This is going to be so sweet. Maybe now that Cassie’s liquored up, she'll get off her high horse and we can finally do it together…

“Thanks for telling me about this, man.”

Luke smiles. “Hey man, you’re doing me a favor. If you can cheer up Cassie, it might sweeten up Ronnie for me…”

Ah, then I guess I don’t owe him one. 

“Win-win,” I say as we reach the door. A few of the people in the kitchen seem to be looking out the window, but the glare from the kitchen lights makes it impossible for me to see what they’re looking at in the darkness outside. 

“After you,” Luke offers, opening the door like a butler. 

Walking through it, my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness as the moonlight and a few tiki torches spread around the backyard provide light. Most of the people outside seem to be staring in the same direction as the people in the kitchen. Turning my head to look, I find Cassie looking hot as ever. And she’s wet. Bonus.

I take in every detail of her. Her gigantic tits glisten in the moonlight as her soaked top sticks to them, struggling to hold them in place. Sitting flat with her legs out, her fit midriff wrinkles slightly at her bellybutton as she hunches forward to examine something in her hand. I don’t dwell on her face, though, as her legs stretch out from her waist toward me and I can see up her skirt a bit. The good stuff is still covered by a bikini bottom, but I can just barely see the underside of her juicy ass cheeks pressed against the ground. Hot damn, she never dressed this slutty when we were together…

Still, something about this picture is off. She looks good, but everyone seems like they’re kind of afraid of her. Then it hits me. Cassie’s sitting down and she’s still taller than everybody. I can feel my jaw drop a little as I start comparing her to everyone around her. I was used to seeing people shoulder-level with Cassie, but now it seemed few people could even manage that. And she’s still sitting. 

I take a step back as Luke steps forward. From a quick glance at his face, I can tell he’s seeing what I’m seeing. I start to think of an exit strategy, but then I hear a voice address me from across the yard: “Derek?” 

I feel numb, like I’m stuck in a dream. I want to run, but I fear upsetting her. I manage to respond dumbly, “H-hey, Cassie.” Is she mad at me?

Her face breaks out in a smile as she abruptly pulls in her knees and plants her feet on the ground to stand up. “Oh Derek!” As she rises to her full height, I now fully appreciate her new size while I crane my neck back to see all of her. I feel like a little kid again as I stare up at her and notice that even her teammates fail to reach her waist. We’re all little kids to her. 

Then she advances on me. It looks like a few ungraceful steps, but it feels like a train is rushing toward me. I urge my legs to run, but they refuse to listen for fear of angering the monster bearing down on me. Within moments, she is standing in front of me and before I can utter another word she picks me up like a doll and shoves my body into her torso. Her breasts envelop my head as she squeezes me into her, choking the air out of me. I find the strength to scream and beg her to release me, but my muffled cries against her skin are unintelligible even to my ears. Just as I fear she’s going to suffocate me, she pulls me away and holds me out in front of her. 

I gasp for air as I struggle to recompose myself and through the ringing in my ears I hear, “Did you come to get back together with me?” Truthfully, I did, but at this moment I’m having second thoughts. Best not to anger her when she can crush me in her hands, though. 

“Y-y-yeah, of course I did, babe!” 

She begins to squeal with excitement. Then she resumes her squeeze of death as she shoves my head back into her chest again. Outside of my head’s fleshy cage, I can hear her talking. Hell, I can feel her talking with my face. But between my own screams and my frantic head movements to find air, I can’t make out what she’s saying. To think I would have loved to have had my head in these boobs just a few weeks ago…

Suddenly, I find I can breathe again as I’m released and placed back on the ground, staring at Cassie’s skirt-covered crotch. Above me, I hear, “I know what we can do!” Just as I inhale again, I can feel her hand wrap around my arm and yank me forward. Instinctively, I try to pull back, but she doesn’t budge an inch as she continues pulling me forward. Did she even feel that? I try calling for help, but fear has overcome my ability to speak. 

Where is she taking me? As we round the corner of the house, I see the last people’s faces disappear behind the wall as Cassie pulls me onwards. She stops when we get to the driveway, still holding my hand as she contemplates the garage door in front of us. Then she seems to make up her mind as she reaches for the aluminum door’s metal handle with her free hand. Seemingly effortlessly, she pulls the door open with her one hand to reveal several shocked people conversing inside, but no cars. I guess everyone street-parked…

She lowers herself to her hands and knees and begins to crawl into the garage, pulling me with her as she shoos the people in the garage back into the house. Laying herself down in the middle of the garage, she pulls the garage door down behind us with one hand again. “Alone at last.” 

I laugh nervously. “Uh… yeah… um… what do you have in mind?” She grabs me with both hands and pushes me to the ground.

She slides her body over me and whispers seductively, with a slightly slurred voice, “I’m going to give you what you always wanted.” 

Ordinarily, I would be into this. But after our last two motorboating sessions, I am terrified. 
I have to get out of this.

Cassie begins to maneuver her fingers to my pants, but she seems to lack the dexterity to unzip them. As she fumbles with my crotch, I can’t help but get erect from all of the stimulation from her fingers. 

I have to get out of this.

Finding the zipper between her massive fingers, Cassie unzips my pants and reaches for my waist to pull them off.

I have to get out of this. 

What was that thing we were taught in those freshman orientations? Connect? Concert? 

She begins pulling my pants down my legs, but I shove my legs apart in a “V” shape to stop her from getting past my mid-thigh. “Cassie, stop!” She pauses, raising an eyebrow at me from above. “I don’t consent to this!” I try to shout assertively. She seems to contemplate these words in her head. Would Cassie rape me? After a few more moments of hesitation, she releases her grip on my pants, but her form still looms over me. As I’m pulling my pants up, I manage a squeamish, “Thank you.” 

The blonde behemoth looks disappointed. “I thought you wanted this.” 

I DO! my mind screams, but my mouth remains stern. “I did.”

Cassie looks sadly away from me at the ground. “But not anymore,” she concludes.

Is she angry? What can I say to her? “I just don’t want us to move too fast, babe. We just got back together.” 

She looks back at me, her eyes glassy. “I just want to make you happy, Derek.”

Ok, she’s not mad at me. Now tread lightly… “You can make me happy, babe. But… some other way.” 

She gives me puppy eyes. “Like how? What’s your favorite part of me?” 

My instincts tell me to lie. “Your personality, babe!” 

She rolls her eyes and grins at me. “No, I mean what’s your favorite part of my body?” She runs her hands down her frame from her shoulders to her ankles in her ducked sitting position in the garage. 

I second-guess myself based on my earlier experience of the night, but decide to be truthful this time. “Your tits.” 

She leans forward, her voice returning to a whisper. “You can have them, baby. You want some of mommy’s milk?” 

I hesitate, remembering my recent smothering at the swell of her tits. And where is this “mommy” stuff coming from? She must have watched a video or something…

She seems to sense my hesitation and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle” with a wink. 

The head between my legs wins out over the head on my shoulders as I nod reluctantly. Cassie begins to lean back as I climb atop her belly and mount her like a horse. A giant, upside-down horse. 

My anxiety returns, fearing that she will suffocate me again. The pause is broken by her hand shoving me into her breast again, but it doesn’t squeeze me this time as she gently arches herself back and forth. “Ride ‘em, cowboy” she teases as her boobs rock my upper body back and forth. 

I’m enjoying the experience, but I don’t dare go beneath her clothes for fear of being trapped again. I just have to survive this. Then I can flee the country or something. Nothing fancy, Derek… 

Yet as she continues rocking me back and forth, I find I’m enjoying myself more and more and begin to overcome my hesitation. I begin reconsidering my position just as I hear Cassie’s voice above me ask, “You enjoying the ride, cowboy?” 

I really am. I look up at her face and decide to lay on the flattery. “You’ve got the best tits in the world, babe.”

She blushes at hearing this, but seems to hesitate for a second before speaking again. “Can I tell you a secret, baby?” 

Enthralled by the ecstasy of bouncing my face off of her boob, I mumble, “Anything, babe.” 

Another pause, but I don’t look up. “They can get bigger.” 

I consider this. Even bigger? How big are we talking? I imagine bouncing on her boobs like trampolines in my euphoria. The terrors of my earlier suffocation are long gone. All I can think of are bigger boobs. I always want bigger boobs. Pulling my face away from her glorious breast, I look up at her and deliver the line. “Bigger is better.” 

Looking back at the breast before me, I‘m delighted to see it is indeed getting bigger. Pressing my face into the gap in her shirt as they expand, I can feel the skin seemingly stretching to accommodate the new mass. Feeling her breast swell around me, I become incredibly aroused as I furiously begin humping her right boob. She begins to moan, which encourages me to double my efforts to stimulate her breast as much as possible. 

A sudden crash occurs above me, but in my bliss I ignore it. Another crash, louder, still can’t compel me to look up. Suddenly, a broken piece of wood hits me on the head and I finally pull away to investigate. Scratching my head as I look up, I see Cassie’s head growing through the ceiling of the garage. Dismayed, I look around to find I’m now several feet above the ground as Cassie’s bare feet push into the garage wall to the house. She’s not just growing her boobs bigger, all of her is getting bigger!

Now in a full panic, I yell at her to get her attention. “Cassie! CASSIE!!” She doesn’t acknowledge me, as she continues to moan and expand. 

“UHHHhhhhhh…” manages to escape her lips as her moans fill the air.

Now recognizing my own peril as I’m about to be squished between her boobs and the garage ceiling, I quickly slide lower in her shirt to avoid being crushed. Again, I scream desperately to get her attention, “CASSIE!!!!” but she either can’t hear me or doesn’t care. 

Her breasts now break the garage ceiling as her upper body pushes itself into the second floor of the house. I can hear muffled screaming through the walls of the rest of the house as I assume Cassie’s feet bulldoze their way into the party. Looking up at her, I prepare to scream once more when I notice her head break through the roof, sending a chunk of it falling towards me. I try to maneuver to dodge it, but I’m trapped between the giant breasts on either side of me. Time seems to halt as I watch the wood and tile approach my face in slow motion. 

So this is how it ends. I always thought that one of my crazy exes would kill me. But never like this…

I feel something hit my face. Then nothing.

Cassidy Bell POV

I know how I can make Derek happy. We just need somewhere private. Pulling him around to the side of the house, my mind races for ideas. Maybe we should go back to my place. Taking another step forward, I quickly rule it out. No way, my place is a mess right now. I don’t want him to think I’ve been a mess without him! Another step forward. Maybe we can go to his place? Is it rude to invite myself over? Another step. No, we can’t. Derek has roommates and they’ll hear us. Another step. Besides, I don’t want to wait that long. I want him now…

With each step, my libido grows. Another step, another unsuitable idea. However, I find that as my lust grows, my selectivity wanes. As we reach the other end of the side yard, I’m still racking my brain for ideas as I reflect on the events of the night. Stepping onto the driveway, I find the answer is staring me in the face. The garage! I recall Annie leading me through it earlier in the night. “...and this is the garage. Nobody really hangs out here. It’s just a dark, quiet-ish place for drunk people to hook up.” 

It seems like the perfect place. The walls muffle the music from the party and can probably provide audio cover for our romantic escapade. The garage itself is empty and probably has enough space for me. And most importantly, it’s close. Reaching down for the garage door handle with my free hand, I pull it up to reveal a few small couples inside. That won’t do. They seem surprised, I assume because of the sudden raising of the door that had been serving as the fourth wall of the room. Still hunched over, I sink to my knees and crawl my way under the low ceiling and into the space, waving away the people inside as though I’m shooing away squirrels. They require little encouragement to leave as they scamper through the door back into the house.  

Pulling Derek behind me, I situate myself in the middle of the room and lay down slowly and seductively, trying to mimic how I imagine how Sydney would do it. As Derek follows behind me, I once again use my free hand to pull down the garage door behind him. The mechanism feels like it’s fighting me a little this time, but its resistance is so miniscule that I hardly register it. Turning my attention to the little man below me, I bring my voice to a low whisper. “Alone at last.” 

The miniature man looks up at me and laughs lightly. “Um… yeah… uh… what do you have in mind?” He feigns ignorance, but I know he wants this. I want this, too. Now fully absorbed by lust, I place my hands on his shoulders and playfully push him to the ground and begin to loom over him as I crawl over his miniscule body. A memory flickers in my mind. Ronnie’s words echo through my head. “I’ve always loved being tall. It makes me feel sexy and powerful.” Now I feel sexy. Now I am powerful.

It would be so easy to lay down right now and smother him with my body. He would like that, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he? I hesitate. Maybe Derek wants to be dominant. Maybe he wants to be on top. No, he knew what he was getting into when he dated a big girl like me. He wants this as much as I do. I reflect on our past relationship, my thoughts still cloudy from some nefarious influence. Pain, sadness, abandonment. He wants this even more than I do. Well today is his lucky day. “I’m going to give you what you’ve always wanted.” 

I maneuver my fingers to unzip his pants and free his member, but find they are slow to respond to my mental commands. They prove clumsy and lethargic as I struggle to manipulate the tiny zipper. Between the overlapping lining of his pants, my digits squirm to grasp the microscopic metal slit and I begin to feel embarrassed by the display. But my momentary embarrassment is overshadowed by lust and frustration. How long has it been? And how big could this little man possibly be? Would he even be able to satisfy me? At last, my fingers grip the troublesome metal and I begin to pull it towards me. With each miniscule vibration from the zipper’s teeth, my craving grows. Part of me wants to just rip the zipper down and pull him out of his tiny pants immediately. But I know that’s not sexy. The rational part of me prevails. For now.

At last, the zipper reaches the end of the line and I redeploy my fingers to his waist. He just lays there, leaving me to my work as I begin delicately removing the pants from my Derek doll. Sliding his trousers down his legs, I can feel the heat building in my loins as I gently bite down on my lower lip. I can tell he wants it, too, as I notice the tent of his underwear as I gradually remove the obstructive garments. Suddenly, Derek spreads his legs, making my task of removing his legwear considerably more difficult. What does this mean? Is this foreplay? I look up from my work to stare into his eyes, trying to discern the meaning of this. His eyes are dark in my shadow, making his hazel irises appear a dark brown, almost black color. Yet I see a faint twinkle in his eye from the garage lights and notice how wide they seem. His eyebrows are raised, his pupils dilated. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he looks scared.

“Cassie, stop!” Now I’m really confused, but I pause expectantly. No response is forthcoming, as Derek seems deep in thought. Again sensing the awkwardness of the moment, I raise my eyebrow at him to signal I’m waiting. “I don’t consent to this!” 

My libido is squashed immediately. My heart sinks. Didn’t he want this? Doesn’t he love me? Still frozen, I consider another possibility. Maybe I should just do it anyway? I could win him back! I know he’d enjoy it! The temptation is there. A final gambit to secure my love’s affection. Yet the rational part of my brain prevails again. I release his pants and observe as he feverishly pulls them back over his underwear and up to his waist. I retreat a little as he squeaks out a small “thank you.” 

I back away from the diminutive man as my head still spins around the implications of this sudden rejection. Was I too forceful? Should I have let him be on top? I have to know what I did wrong… While my brain is still lost in thought, I can feel my mouth opening to express what I’m feeling. I desperately don’t want to say anything, but I can feel it coming out regardless. “I thought you wanted this…” 

The cat’s out of the bag now. Derek looks up at me, seemingly contemplating his next words carefully with a tight-lipped stare. Is time moving slower or is my brain doing that? His reply interrupts my introspection. “I did.” 

"Did." Past-tense. He doesn’t love me anymore. I want to meditate on this. I want to work it out for myself. I’m smart. I’m tough. I can do it! But at this moment, I feel weak. Desperate. I want to save this. One last move. One last guilt trip. I force my gaze away from him and make the implication explicit. “But not anymore…”

My heart stops as I wait for his response. The world around me slows to a crawl. My breathing stops for fear of disrupting my careful listening. God, please let this work… please don’t let him leave me. The silence breaks and he speaks anew. “I just don’t want us to move too fast, babe. We just got back together.” 

We’re still together? He still loves me! Ok, ok, I just moved too fast. I can do this. I can do this. The relief is unbelievable. I was just too assertive before. Derek’s a strong guy. He likes to be in charge. Let him take the lead. I decide to cede the initiative to him, still playing the sad girl despite this being the happiest I’ve been all night. I can feel the tears of joy mixing with the tears of sadness in my eyes as I turn back to face him.  “I just want to make you happy, Derek.” 

He seems as relieved that we’re still together as I am. Good, he feels like he’s in control again. He still pauses for a moment, as though he’s feeling me out before speaking again. I try to welcome him in with a smile as my teary eyes beg him to embrace me. “You can make me happy, babe. But…” he pauses again. He’s still timid. I need to make him feel more comfortable. “...some other way,” he concludes. 

He’s not giving me a lot to work with here, but at least the door is open. I just have to invite him in. And he has to feel like it’s his decision. I do my best to give him an eager, but cute look. I put on my best begging face as I entreat him further. He has to feel like he’s in control. “Like how? What’s your favorite part of me?” 

That should do it. Open-ended. He can choose whatever he wants. His face is still reserved and his mouth guarded. Through his reserved affectation, I can see him becoming more assured of himself as his shoulders lower a little and his neck relaxes ever so slightly. “Your personality, babe!” he says slightly more confidently.

He’s adorable, but that’s not what I want to know. His growing confidence and the flattery usher the modest return of my libido as I try to coax him into more. He’s in control. Just keep inviting him in. Easy does it… I feign a playful eyeroll and a friendly grin at him. “No, I mean what’s your favorite part of my body?” I slowly slide my hands down the length of my body like I had seen in the movies, highlighting every curve of my fantastic figure.

He second-guesses himself again, but seems more assured now. He nods, as though psyching himself up before answering a teacher’s question in class. “Your tits,” he states bluntly.

Of course, I think to myself. It was so obvious. I’ve got him on the line again. Now it’s time to reel him in. Thinking back to a sitcom I watched with him on one of our dates, I proceed with my seduction hoping he appreciates the reference. “You can have them, baby. You want some of mommy’s milk?”

He seems taken aback by this. That was stupid. That line was played for awkward laughs in the show. I should have known it wouldn’t work without a studio audience. I know I have to reassure him again, so I change tactics. Encouraging him to overcome his hesitation, I follow-up with a wink: “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

He nods at this and begins to approach me. I lean back, inviting him to sit atop my torso and smother his head in my cleavage. He’s on top. He’s in charge. As he stretches to wrap his legs around my ribs and finds a comfortable spot on my stomach, I can see he’s still reluctant to get intimate with me. Seeing the little guy so afraid turns me on again as my lust grows once more. Calm down, Cassie. Let him feel in control. Still, he seems frozen atop my toned stomach. Ok, a little encouragement couldn’t hurt…

I reach around his body and gently push his head into my breasts. I’m careful to not put so much force on him that he can’t escape if he wants to, but just enough to guide him to where I want him to go. Where he wants to go, I correct myself. Still, he hardly moves, so I encourage him further by gently gyrating my body to stimulate him. Slowly, I can feel his form getting less rigid as he begins to allow himself to enjoy the experience. Seeing him rock back and forth on my body reminds me of when he rode the mechanical bull on our rodeo date. Hoping to jog his mind with another happy memory of the two of us, I invoke my acclamation from that night. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

He unwinds further upon hearing this. The rigidness in his body is completely gone as he’s now practically limp as I gently push him up and down against my soft chest. After a few moments of this, I start to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. He doesn’t seem to be doing anything as I continue manipulating his body with my movements. My curiosity gets the better of me as I teasingly inquire, “Are you enjoying the ride, cowboy?” 

This prompts him to pick up his head from my chest and look at me again. I can see his pupils are dilated, but his relaxed eyes tell me this is from ecstasy, not fear. “You’ve got the best tits in the world, babe.”

I’m pleased by his apparent enjoyment as the warmth spreads through my loins again. For all of my happiness at this compliment, part of me still craves more. Seeing this little person laying on me, completely mesmerized by my body makes me feel something I’ve never quite felt before. It’s a familiar feeling, but at the same time it feels… different. Happy? Titillated? Protective? Powerful. That’s it. I’ve felt powerful before, but I was always afraid of it. The bad memories, the fear… that’s gone now. Now I feel powerful. And it feels good. I want more. More stimulation. More admiration. More power. I consider turning the tables on Derek. He can’t stop me. He’d enjoy it. Again, my mind says no, for fear of spooking him again. No, not fear… I’m not afraid of anything now. I will restrain myself. I will choose not to exercise my power over him. Perhaps there is another way… I can coax him into it. He’ll enjoy it.

“Can I tell you a secret, baby?” I offer timidly, trying not to spook him, but I struggle to suppress my urges as desire begins overcoming me. The little man on my upper body mumbles in ecstasy, “Anything, babe,” as he surfaces for air before diving back into my ample bosom. 

Doubt resurfaces, but the alarm bells are no longer ringing in my head. He’ll enjoy this. I’ll enjoy this. Before I firmly set myself on a course of action, my mouth moves again on its own initiative. “They can get bigger,” I whisper above the head of the homunculus indulging himself with my breasts. 

He pauses at hearing this, as though contemplating my words like some great philosophical problem. I can feel myself biting my lip again in anticipation. I want to make him happier. I want to make myself happier. Do I even care what this little guy has to say about it? The placid thoughts interrupt me again, reminding me not to scare off my little boy toy. Just wait and see what he has to say. I don’t have to wait long.

“Bigger is better.”

I couldn’t agree more. The pleasurable warm sensation spreads through me for the second time tonight. As it does, I watch him shrink atop my body as lust overtakes me. The dwindling Derek begins to enthusiastically thrust himself into my breast. This feeling, compounded by the pleasant growing sensation, overloads my brain with sensual stimulation. I close my eyes as I hone into the pleasurable feelings teaming on my body, concentrating on controlling the pace of my expansion. I can’t get too big too quickly… but it feels so good. I have to slow it… savor it…

I can feel my head pushing against the ceiling, but I don’t want to stop. I slow my growth, trying to savor it for a little longer, but Derek begins to shout my name as I do.

“Cassie!”

He’s loving this. I’m loving this. We can’t stop. My growth picks up again, but I don’t dare open my eyes. Just enjoy this.

“Cassie!”

Yes, Derek. Scream my name. Worship your goddess. I moan to signal my own pleasure at his efforts to stimulate me, feeling him squirm in my cleavage as he shouts my name once more.

“Cassie!”

My head surges through another floor of the house, as I can feel my feet pushing through the wall. But I don’t think about that right now. I just continue focusing on my sensuous swelling. More. More! MORE!

After a few more moments, I notice Derek has stopped. I can’t feel him squirming on me anymore and he hasn’t shouted my name in a while. I should probably check on him. “Derek?” There is no response. “Derek?” I repeat. Nothing. Reluctantly, I stop my growth and open my eyes. A vaguely familiar sight greets me as debris from a destroyed house covers much of my body. What remains of the house’s roof rests atop my lap and breasts. My legs extend over the fence, with my feet venturing into the trees bordering the property. To my right, a crowd of tiny people stares up at me near a swimming pool that looks about twice as long as my hand. What I don’t see, however, is Derek. 

Did I crush him? Did I smother my only chance at love? Looking down to inspect my cleavage, I begin jostling my breasts to shake the rubble off for a better look. Where is he? Could he have fallen? Did he leave me? I thought we were having a good time. Anxiety floods my thoughts again. Did I scare him? Did I do something wrong? I move my legs to sit up again. As I do, the dollhouse's walls on either side of me collapse, along with the remaining structure of the house. This seems to snap the little people beside me out of their shock and they begin screaming and moving again, but I pay them no mind. I have other priorities. “Derek?” I call once more, now shifting to sit on my knees as my hands sift through the rubble of the house. 

Picking up chunks of the former home, I discover many tiny people among the debris. Raising them to my face to inspect them closer, I find them in various states of consciousness. Some scream, others stare, while others still don’t wake up at all. None of them are Derek, though. I continue this task for what feels like several minutes until I’m certain that nobody is left in the rubble of the former structure. Where is he?

Turning my attention to the little people scrambling around the puny property, I realize that he must be among the fleeing crowd. Leaning forward to inspect the tiny masses, I squint trying to make out people with Derek’s features. At this size, everyone looks to be of similar height and build. Noticing what appears to be a black-haired boy wearing clothes similar to Derek’s, I delicately reach into the crowd and pluck him from the ground into the air. Raising him to my face, I inspect him closer and disappointingly discover he isn’t my renegade boyfriend. He screams in terror and I can’t help but roll my eyes at the pathetic little “man” I hold between my fingers. Gently, I lower him to the ground and watch as he flees across the yard from me. My eyes follow the coward as he runs across the grass, past a tree, and into the street while attempting to dodge the cars driving frantically away from the scene of the party. 

The cars! I despair at the realization. If he wanted to flee, he could be anywhere by now. But why run? Why did he treat me this way? I only wanted to make him happy… My anxiety and sadness give way to the familiar feeling of anger that I had felt earlier in the night. There’s only one way I’m going to get answers. I have to find him. Standing up to my full height, I dust the miscellaneous rubble and debris from my clothes as my mind hardens with resolve. I’ve been a perfect girlfriend. I’m entitled to answers. I raise my foot, careful not to step on any of the tiny people scurrying below me. I feel off-balance once more, but I reason that it’s just the altitude and I will adjust eventually. With my foot hanging in the air, the panicked little people get the memo and stop running underneath the anointed area and I can step down. I can feel my sole sinking into the earth as it yields to my weight. Raising my other foot now, I again hold it above the ground until the people clear from the beneath it. It’s slow-going, but I don’t want to hurt anyone. Still, this delay will give Derek time to escape. With another step, the mites seem to see my intended path and steer clear so I can begin moving faster. To further discourage people from getting in my way, I spitefully stomp a small shrub in my path before entering the street. I barely even feel it.

The hunt is on.

Emily Granger POV

I don’t know how long I’ve been crying on this curb. Building up memories in my head, torturing myself with imaginary scenarios of Cassie and Derek, inventing ways to make myself miserable. I feel like an idiot. Maybe I should just leave. Wiping my eyes one last time, I take a deep breath and prepare myself to get up from my place of misery. Before I can stand, however, an unfamiliar voice emerges from behind me. 

“Are you ok?” I turn to see a girl I’m quite confident I’ve never seen before in my life. I can’t help but notice that she’s pretty in a “cutesy” sort of way. She's about my height, though it’s difficult to gauge from my seated position, and with a fairly modest figure; she’s hardly my usual type. But there’s something that draws me to her. Her face is beautiful; framed by dark brunette hair that has no right to complement her light blue eyes as well as it does. Each of her facial features are soft, delicate, and impossibly symmetrical. Her eyes take me in with a compassionate gaze as I continue to study her, trying in vain to recall if I had ever seen her before. I think I would remember a face like this.

“Are you ok?” she repeats herself and I realize I have been ogling. 

“I’m fine,” I manage to stammer out quickly, perhaps too eager to break the awkward silence. My response does little to change her expression, though I can barely discern her countenance softens from one of concern to one of sympathy. 

“Why are you crying?” Her head tilts slightly as her soft eyes seem to draw the answers from my very soul.

“I’m sad,” I reply bluntly, trying to defy the sorceress’ powers of interrogation.

She frowns at my ability to resist her charms, but begins anew. “Why are you sad?” 

My heart tears me in two directions. I want to let her in, but I also want to keep her away. One side of me desperately seeks the comfort her eyes offer me, the other part of me is guarded, wary of some trick. Am I protecting myself? Or do I just want to feel sorry for myself? I take a chance on hope, but stop short of committing to a full leap of faith. “My friend is making a big mistake.” Her face softens again as she approaches me, taking my hand in hers. Her touch stirs something in me, though I can’t quite place my finger on what it is. Hope? Optimism? The feeling elicits more from me, making me volunteer a little more. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.” 

Her gaze shifts downward to look at my hand in hers and without looking up she asks me, “Is it about a boy?” Damn, she’s good. I feel myself nodding and though she still doesn’t look up at me, I can tell somehow she can feel me nodding, too. “That’s the trouble with boys,” she continues. “It’s not that they want to hurt us. At least, I don’t think they do. But we make ourselves too vulnerable.” She looks up from our hands again to make eye contact with me and I can feel myself being sucked in by her mesmerizing visage. “That’s love…” she says as her eyes trail off from mine, as if remembering some deep memory. 

I want to ask this mysterious oracle any number of things, but her sad eyes continue to drift beyond mine. Trying to solicit her attention again, I ask my most pressing thought point-blank. “Does love always hurt? Or do boys make it hurt?” Hey eyes don’t reach mine, but they sharpen as she ponders my query. 

“I don’t know.” Her response snaps me back to reality. Of course she doesn’t know. This isn’t an oracle, this is a college student. I can feel my cheeks getting warmer as I blush with embarrassment, but she continues, “I’ve never been in love with a girl before…” 

Now I’m doubly-embarrassed. Does she know I’m attracted to her? Am I attracted to her? I can feel my cheeks getting redder and I’m desperate to break the silence between us. “Well I have…” My own admission startles me. I look away from her as I see her eyes widen. I’ve never told anyone that. Why now? 

I force myself to breathe as I dread her response, but none is forthcoming. What is she waiting for? Is she judging me? I hold my gaze on our clasped hands, waiting for her to withdraw hers, but she doesn’t. My curiosity gets the better of me as my face returns to meet her eyes. Seemingly waiting for this, she begins again. “Did it hurt?” 

Her follow-up gives me pause. It certainly hurts right now, but it’s not like I’m in a relationship with Cassie. Should I really explain this to a total stranger? She seems accepting and understanding… no. This poor girl is just being nice. She doesn’t want to know my problems. The guarded part of my personality wins out, but I concede to offering the truth. “Yes.”

In a flash, her hand retreats from mine as both arms suddenly reach around me. Her head moves past mine as she squeezes her body into me. She’s hugging me? Her embrace makes me feel warm, but not aroused like I initially feared. Instead, I feel safe. I can feel her diaphragm moving against mine as she speaks anew. “Then it seems you have your answer.” 

I’ve never felt such compassion before. Such unconditional acceptance and reassurance has me reconsidering my whole life. I squeeze her back, holding her in our mutual embrace just a little longer. As we grip each other, it occurs to me that I don’t even know this girl’s name, nor does she know mine, but at this moment that doesn’t matter. I’ve found someone that accepts me for who I am and through this, I feel I can accept myself more, too. Happy tears form in my eyes as a sort of feverish feeling overtakes me. Soaring from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs in such a short span of time is truly exhilarating. I’ve forgotten all about Cassie and Derek, the volleyball team, my upbringing. Right now, I’m holding this mystery girl and she’s holding me and that’s all I want. That’s all I need. Nothing can ruin this moment.

My bliss is interrupted by a loud crashing coming from the garage. My anonymous angel ceases our embrace to face the source of the noise. At first, there is nothing, but a grinding sound gradually emerges from the house. All of the background noise from the world seems to stop as if anticipating what happens next. No dogs bark. No crickets chirp. No cars honk. Then, as if on cue, the universe decides to test me. I hear Derek shout Cassie’s name as she unleashes a deep, pleasureful moan. Oh God, he’s fucking her.

My heart sinks at the thought of Derek taking Cassie’s virginity. And while she’s drunk, no less! I return to the emotional abyss as despair overtakes me once more. Is this hysteria? Have I gone mad? I just want to go back to a safe place where nothing will hurt me. I look at the comforting stranger in front of me again, longing for her to take me in her arms again. Her attention is still focused on the house, however, as the grinding noise continues to amplify, along with Derek’s yells and Cassie’s moans. Geez, are they trying to wake the whole neighborhood? 

A loud cracking noise erupts from the roof as tiles and wood give way to an object that seems to be rising from within the house. At first, I can’t make out what the object is, but as it rises higher I begin to see it’s made of a magnificent golden thread-like material that catches the moonlight as it continues pushing out of its timber cage. Yet as it keeps rising, the golden threads give way to fair sun-kissed skin, then perfectly-sculpted eyebrows. I know that face. 

“Goddess” I whisper to myself, not for the first time tonight. 

The girl in front of me takes an instinctive step back and I grab her hand to reassure her. She squeezes my hand to acknowledge me, but doesn’t dare take her eyes off of the growing goddess before us. Cassie’s perfect nose, now the size of a statue’s, emerges next, followed by her dimpled grin showing off her spotless perfectly-aligned teeth. Her moaning softens, but her ascent continues as her chin, then her neck, then her shoulders rise out of the doomed structure. At last, her monumental breasts emerge as her feet simultaneously push through the wall on the opposite side of the house. A crowd of people frantically flees from the front door into the yard, but I pay no heed to them as I continue to take in the spectacle of my colossal friend. As Cassie rises, I notice pieces of the building resting upon her breasts and shoulders, seemingly dwindling as she expands larger and larger, though curiously her clothes keep pace with her expansion. Now dwarfing the structure that once contained her, the goddess speaks. “DEREK?” The word echoes through the hushed neighborhood, as though the entire world awaits its answer. None arrives. “DEREK?” the goddess repeats as the neighborhood remains silent. No reply. 

The gigantic blonde’s expansion seems to halt as her eyelids raise to reveal her radiant aquamarine eyes. As she surveys her new body, I stare up at her vast visage, expecting to see shock or confusion, but she seems surprisingly unconcerned by her new dimensions. She inspects the area around her, then seems to narrow her focus on her breasts as if to investigate them. Placing her hands on either side of her impressive bust, she begins to shake them violently. As she jostles her fleshy orbs, wood, tile, and brick chunks fall several stories from atop her bosom. She doesn’t seem to find what she’s looking for. Now she seems worried.

Retracting her impressively long legs beneath her, the remaining structure collapses as the giant girl rises to her knees and leans over the site of the former building. I hear screams emerge from the other side of the house, but they are drowned out by a third "DEREK?" as the goddess seems to completely ignore them and begins sifting through the rubble. Seeing Cassie effortlessly push aside and pick apart massive piles of rubble with her fingers, I find myself reconsidering the moniker of “goddess.” If she was a goddess before… she’s something much greater now. I watch as Cassie picks a guy out of the rubble and raises him to her face, each of her fingers longer and thicker than his entire body by a good margin. What’s greater than a goddess? The giantess frowns, gently lowering and releasing her puny rescuee back to the ground. Of course, our school’s eponymous mascot! 

I must have inadvertently seized a little at the excitement from this epiphany, as the girl holding my hand looks at me expectantly. Slightly embarrassed by my ridiculous train of thought, I shake my head to indicate I don’t have anything to say. She frowns at this, then offers, “I think you’re right. She’s a goddess.” 

I can’t help but grin back at her. I’ve been through so much in the last fifteen minutes, I’m convinced I’ve lost my mind and suffered a mental break. The stress of everything has taken me to another plane of existence and I’m probably recuperating in a hospital room somewhere. I mean really, what are the odds? In the midst of my despair, this beautiful, accepting girl comforts me out of nowhere? Then, just as I become gleeful and accept my circumstances, the love of my life grows impossibly huge to satisfy my deepest, most unattainable fantasy? All the while she tortures me by calling out her ex-boyfriend’s name? Surely I’ve lost it. Turning to my new imaginary friend, I correct her. “No, she’s bigger than that. She’s a titaness.” 

She appreciates my meaning with a smile, then her eyes return to the comely colossus sifting through the remains of the structure we occupied just minutes ago. As time goes on, Cassie continues pulling out people and raising them to her face to inspect them. It occurs to me that she’s probably looking for Derek, whom I reasonably assume was crushed during her extensive enlargement. It’s funny how dreams come true sometimes. I guess that just confirms that this is a dream… the gears turn in my head. If this is a dream, then I can do whatever I want. And I really want to kiss this girl. I lean forward, extending my lips toward her cheek, but as I do she suddenly yanks my arm and pulls me under the tree behind us. The tree we waited near for Cassie and Annie, I recall. It’s funny how the subconscious evokes the weirdest little details. 

As we rest against the trunk of the tree, I see why my companion suddenly pulled me to cover. The lovely leviathan is now lowering her head, seemingly scanning the pedestrians fleeing all around her for Derek. Silly girl, Cassie isn’t looking for us. Still, it’s understandable that she was afraid. The beautiful face, now larger than most apartments, looms over the yard, casting its shadow over the moonlit grass as it hovers over the property. A giant hand descends from above, its origin blocked by the tree’s canopy but I can reasonably deduce it’s Cassie’s. It grabs a black-haired boy in jeans and a gray t-shirt, carefully grasping him between it fingers and raising him out of sight. I figure this is just Cassie inspecting another faux Derek, but my curiosity overcomes me and I begin to crawl out from under the tree to get a better look. The unknown girl grabs my ankle and I look back to see her terrified expression. “Relax, she’s not looking for us” I smirk as I pull my leg free from her grip. 

Looking up to the titaness’ perfect face again, I see her latest catch is a screamer. Not the first of the night, for sure, but perhaps the loudest. His colossal captor is not amused by this and rolls her eyes before gently lowering him to the ground. Before even reaching the ground, he squirms free and falls a few feet, still screaming as he regains his footing and sprints toward and then past us underneath the tree. Perhaps he was hoping to use the tree to break her line of sight with him, but I notice her eyes follow him nevertheless as he scrambles into the street and dodges frenzied traffic to the other side of the road. 

Suddenly, Cassie’s face flashes with anger. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen that look tonight. I’m unsure if the screaming man is in for the chase of his life or if something else is on the giant girl’s mind, but her expression is unmistakable, especially with all of her features magnified. Her brows furrow as her nose scrunches slightly at the bridge. Her eyes sharpen as they become laser-focused on some invisible goal ahead of her. She suddenly rises from the ground, standing at her towering full height that I must further crawl out from under the tree to appreciate. My view of her face is now obstructed by her terrific bust, but it’s not a total loss. Her muscular legs seem endless as my eyes follow them up to the fringe of her skirtline. Gazing up into the cavity of her skirt, I can’t help but think she made an egregious error in her fashion choice tonight. At least her bikini covers the important bits. As she casually dusts herself off, debris rains down all around her, impacting the ground with tremendous force and thudding loudly on contact. My eyes catch one particular piece resembling a person as it plummets toward earth. Landing in a dumpster near the house, I look away before impact and cringe at the thud that follows. That’s going to leave a mark. 

Her immense foot rises from the ground, then hovers over the front yard and several fleeing people. I hold my breath as I anticipate the terrible footfall, but it doesn’t come. The foot wobbles a little as it hangs over the rushing people, who continue their mad scramble to escape it. After a few seconds, the people farther back in the crowd recognize the doom that awaits anyone beneath its shadow and steer clear of its footfall, allowing Cassie to drop her foot on the open ground. A slight tremor rattles the earth upon its collision with the ground, which I curiously had not noticed with her earlier movements. Is this an effect of the dream? Now that I’m paying attention to her footsteps, is it adding details? Or is this just physics, with all of her weight pressing down on two points? The scenario is too outlandish for me to ponder further. 

I have more important pursuits on my mind. Crawling back beneath the tree’s umbrella, I approach the petrified girl beneath the tree’s trunk. Her worried eyes follow me as I reassume my earlier position at the base of the tree. Another tremor, this one slightly larger than the one before, rocks the ground as the branches above us shake violently. Looking at her face again, I can see she’s terrified, but doesn’t seem to make any effort to move. Perhaps she's unable to move. It must be that fear has rooted her to the spot. Looking to comfort her as she comforted me, I clasp her hand in mine and do my best to offer her a compassionate gaze. “It’s ok. Cassie’s a friend of mine.” 

Whether by my touch or my words, the paralysis is broken as the girl turns to face me, worry still covering her face. “We should get out of here!” 

Another tremor, the strongest yet, shakes the base of the tree. Pulling her hand in mine, I move my face closer to hers. I don’t share her concerns. This is just the end of the dream. “It’s ok. I’m going to wake up soon.” Her pupils shake as she seems to puzzle out my meaning, then hone in on my eyes conveying sudden understanding. I lean in to kiss her, but she suddenly breaks from me and makes an effort to sprint from the spot. A sudden gust of wind from above knocks us both down as the world suddenly gets darker. My ears register the sound of rustling leaves and cracking wood for a brief moment, and then nothing.

Rebecca Thomas POV

As we watch Cassie’s gigantic form lumber off into the distance, the silence of the now-empty yard sets in as nobody moves or says anything. The chirps of the crickets return as the world sets into an eerie sense of calm. 

“Jesus.” The group turns to Ronnie, the first who dares to speak since Cassie’s latest growth spurt. 

“Don’t say that!” Annie scolds. “You shouldn’t take the lord’s name in vain!” 

Ronnie smirks at this outburst. “No offense, Annie, but I’m not exactly the most ‘observant’ Christian and neither are you. So let’s cut the crap.”

Annie is visibly dismayed at this response. “You see two miracles in one night and your response is blasphemy?”

“No, I’m just expressing shock like any person would when her teammate crushes a house under her butt. And that’s not blasphemy anyway, Annie.” 

“Is too!”

“Alright!” Sydney interrupts, stepping between the two bickering girls. “We need to come up with a plan.”

Ronnie clearly isn’t done messing with Annie and smirks at her. “What do you expect us to do? I say we just go home and hope the army doesn’t destroy babezilla before we can have the best volleyball season ever with her.” 

I can tell Annie is about to have another outburst, so I put my hand on her shoulder and give Ronnie a sharp look to tell her to shut up. The audacious amazonian shrinks at my disapproving glare,  looking down at the ground as Luke puts his arm around her.

Annie despairs as she looks at Cassie’s discarded normal-sized sandal on the ground. “This is all my fault. I never should have gotten her drunk.”

Sydney tries to comfort her with a hug. “It’s not your fault, Annie. Nobody could have predicted this would happen.” 

Annie sniffles a little. “I just… I don’t know what happened. She seemed fine after she had recovered from the pool. Like… she was still big, but it seemed like we got the old Cassie back until Derek…” Her voice trails off as she looks at Luke.

Luke, who until this point had been standing between Ronnie and Annie, takes a step back as he turns from Ronnie to face Annie. “Look, I’m sorry. I was trying to do something nice for her.” 

Annie finds her fire again. “You were trying to score points with your new gal pal so she would sleep with you!”

Ronnie doesn’t appreciate this and speaks up again. “Actually, Annie, Cassie wasn’t ‘fine’ until Derek showed up. Remember she got angry at you before she even saw him. She demanded her phone back and started to seem sorta out of it.” 

I had forgotten about that. Maybe something else was going on…

Annie seems to realize Ronnie has a point, too. Her posture softens as she quietly admits, “You’re right. But if it wasn’t Derek, then…”

“The punch…” Sydney interrupts. 

Luke’s face turns white. “Oh no… you guys didn’t give her any punch, did you?”

Ronnie grabs him by his shirt, easily turning the taller boy to face her. “We gave her ALL the punch. Why?” Her words bite into him, as though she were a detective interrogating a suspect. 

Luke nervously looks between Ronnie and Annie’s faces. It’s not like either one is going to let him off the hook, so he might as well just say what he has to say. “Well, when we were walking through the house, we overheard some people talking about how the punch was spiked…”

Annie goes ballistic. “The punch was spiked?! With WHAT?!” Sydney squeezes her again, trying to calm her down as she makes another leap at the terrified boy.

“I don’t know!” Luke raises his hands as though Annie has a gun pointed at him. “We just heard some people say they saw some guys put something in the punch bowl.” 

“What guys? What stuff?!” Annie seems close to exploding, despite Sydney’s best efforts, so I try to grab her wrist. Her arm shakes free of my grip as she continues to try grabbing Luke, who is held firmly in place by the brawny Ronnie. 

Luke feebly tries to back up, still with his hands raised, but his dominatrix girlfriend seems to be enjoying his struggle as she effortlessly roots him to the spot. “I don’t know! I told you everything I know already! I swear!” 

Annie crumples to the ground as though she’s exhausted by hearing this. Putting her hands to her face to cover her eyes, it looks like she’s about to cry. But no tears are forthcoming. Instead, Ronnie speaks. “So in addition to being drunk, in emotional turmoil, and the size of a skyscraper, Cassie is also on drugs. Great.”

Preempting another outburst from Annie, I declare to the group, “We should go to the sheriff’s station.” Looking to separate the distraught Annie from the antagonistic Ronnie, I elaborate. “Annie, you and Sydney should check out Cassie’s apartment. See if you can find any clues about what’s happening to her. You know, why she’s acting out and why she’s so… big.”

Annie seems content with this, but Sydney raises an eyebrow. “What exactly do you expect us to find there? And why don’t you just call 9-1-1?” 

Truthfully, I just wanted to get Annie away from Ronnie, but I know I can’t just come out and say that so I improvise. “I don’t know. A journal, a growth potion, maybe a freaking pentagram. People - even really tall people - don’t just balloon up to the size of a building.” I see Annie looks sad at hearing this, so I soften my tone. “Look, Annie, you know Cassie better than anyone. If any of us can get to the bottom of this, it’s you. And as much as I would love to think Cassie is an angel and chalk this up to divine intervention, I don’t think we can just take that on faith right now.” 

Annie seems reassured by this, but Sydney is still skeptical. “And you? Why do you have to go to the sheriff?” 

Realizing I didn’t answer the second part of her question, I explain the one part of the plan I had actually premeditated: “Because I’m sure 9-1-1 is being swarmed with calls about our gigantic friend and they’re probably aware of the situation already, assuming they don’t dismiss everything as an elaborate prank. In the event that they do dismiss it as a prank, we need to convince them that it’s not. In the event that they take the reports seriously, we need to tell the police everything we know so they can resolve this.” 

Sydney nods in acknowledgement, but now Ronnie speaks up. “And… uh… what do we know, exactly?” 

I pause, realizing I hadn’t really taken stock of the situation yet. I don’t want to look indecisive, though, so I improvise again. “It’s like you said. We know she’s been drinking. We know she’s been drugged. We know she’s looking for Derek. And we know she’s huge.” 

Ronnie smiles at hearing this. “I think they can figure the last one out for themselves.” She nods and gestures behind her. “Lead the way, captain.” 

“Not so fast,” I say as I raise my hand. With my other hand, I gesture to the tree at the back of the yard. “Get your gear, girls.” The group begins walking to the tree, but I’m eager to get moving so I hustle them along with an announcement of “double time!” as we now jog to pick up our bags and purses. Each girl retrieves her respective property, with Annie grabbing Cassie’s bag. Looking down at the base of the tree, I notice one small sackpack remains. 

Ronnie seems to have followed my eyes and sees the bag, too. “Where’s pipsqueak?” she asks. The group looks around, wondering about our wayward libero for the first time since retrieving the punch. 

“Yeah, where did she go?” Sydney wonders aloud as she scans the surrounding area.

“I hope she wasn’t in the house for Cassie’s last growth spurt,” Ronnie says as she looks at the site of the former building. 

“Who are we talking about?” Luke asks as he scratches his head.

“Emily,” Annie says, mildly annoyed. She’s clearly still mad at him.

“Oh,” he responds. Well, I haven’t seen her recently, but she ran out of the house when Derek and I showed up. I think she was crying.”

“What a baby,” Ronnie unhelpfully chimes in, only to quickly shut up again as Sydney and I stare daggers at her. 

“At least she got out, then… “Annie’s voice trails off as though she’s deep in thought. Well at least Annie has calmed down a bit. 

The group falls into an awkward silence as we all seem to think the same thing. I remember the screams of the people inside, the crunching of the splintering house, the pleasurable moans of Cassie as she seemed to get off on the destruction. It was surreal watching one girl cause so much destruction without even moving. And then she started moving… the ground shook with each shift of her body. She lifted beams, wood, and whole people with just her hands, mostly her fingers. She made it look effortless; like she was playing with legos. So much power in one person’s literal hands… it was awesome. Yet I have to reckon with how terrifying it was in the moment.

I glance over at Ronnie, who is putting on her shorts and t-shirt over her bikini again. I get a final look at her muscular, well-toned body as the cloth shirt falls over it like a curtain. I have to admit that if this is some kind of miracle, the universe has chosen its subject well. Cassie was always kind and bashful. It’s hard to imagine her ever willfully hurting anyone. As much as I love Ronnie and all of the other girls here, I shuddered to think what they would do with such power. A mental image of a gigantic Ronnie delighting in stomping cars and houses intrudes into my thoughts. Her hulking muscular form flexes with each destructive movement as she boastfully laughs at each object that disappears underfoot. She wouldn’t do that, would she? I know Ronnie likes to flaunt her strength, but she was never abusive or cruel to anyone. 

My thoughts wander to what I would do with such power. I imagine myself standing over the suburban houses with my feet filling the roads. The cowering people flee before my towering form as the military futilely peppers my body with bullets and missiles. I step over several houses to crush a tank in front of me. I can feel a smile creep over my face as my foot completely covers its metal frame. It crumbles beneath my weight as I apply pressure on it, only releasing my foot when it’s flattened like a penny on the asphalt. It feels surprisingly satisfying. Turning my attention to the helicopters circling my upper body, I use one hand to swat a few from the air as they enter my reach. After slapping one helicopter flying above my eyeline, I observe the planes above me, flying well out of my swiping range. Suddenly I surge upward until my head is above the clouds and the once-large aircraft are reduced to gnats around me. One sweep of my hand obliterates dozens of planes and cleaves entire clouds from the sky. My footsteps shake the earth as my feet now cover entire neighborhoods, yet still I grow larger and larger, watching my shadow cover the town beneath me as I eclipse the setting sun of the dreamscape. Having such power is terrifying. Intoxicating. Arousing.

It’s too much to think about. I push the scenario from my mind as I return to reality, both frightened and a little turned on. It’s ludicrous anyway. Cassie isn’t bulletproof and she’s nowhere near that size. But as I push the dream from my mind, another thought pesters me. Why was I destroying everything? The invasive question gives me pause. It just… seemed like the thing to do. I chalk this up to watching too many giant monster movies. I wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, would I? I’m just grateful that such a gentle girl became our kaiju. Hopefully she stays that way. 

I lead the group back through the backyard. As we move past the pool, we take in the scene of the destruction up-close for the first time. The ground is condensed as the crater of Cassie’s buttprint occupies the space of the former garage. On the far side of the building, none of the structure is intact, but there is more visible detritus and piles of rubble as Cassie’s legs didn’t destroy the building as thoroughly as her hips and upper body. Debris from the house litters the yard, with most of it being concentrated around the site of the home itself, though some pieces are surprisingly spread out. I recall seeing bits of the house plummet to the earth as Cassie stood and dusted herself off before wandering away. Had all of this just fallen from her body? 

The scariest part of the scene is the bodies. A few stragglers check the wounded as people moan in pain on the ground. It’s hard to tell their condition from a distance. I saw Cassie pulling people out of the house, raising them up to her pristine face as though she were a jeweler inspecting gemstones before gently returning them to the ground. Evidently they didn’t all get up. But are they injured? Did they faint? Are they dead? Part of me knew it was unlikely everyone survived the collapse of the house. Or Cassie’s rain of shrapnel from when she brushed off the debris from her full height. I want to check to know for sure, but I know it will only be counterproductive. There’s nothing we can do for them now. EMS will arrive shortly and it’s not going to do anyone any good to find out if Cassie killed anyone, even if it was an accident. At the same time, it isn’t impossible that everyone is ok. We’ve certainly seen more miraculous things tonight. What’s one more?

I take Annie’s hand in mine and pull her across the driveway, tugging the group onward. We have to keep moving. When emergency services get here, the street will become a parking lot. Reaching the curb of the street, we come across a small crowd of people looking into a dumpster on the opposite side of the driveway from the garage. I catch a few whispers from the crowd, but can’t quite make out what they’re saying. “He…” “fell…” “dead.” I pull the group along to the right, trying to get them away from the dumpster and toward my car. The other girls seem reluctant to pass the bin without investigating, but they fall in line behind me. Luke breaks ranks, though, drawn to the container and its mysterious cargo. Ronnie reaches out to grab him, but Sydney grabs her in turn, allowing the curious boy to wander closer to the beckoning box. 

He parts the small crowd as he wanders closer and peers into the void. My mind wonders what he’ll find. My heart already knows. Wordlessly, he steps away from the morbid portal and returns to the group, which has stopped and now stares at him expectantly. His eyes are dull, staring aimlessly into space in front of him. With his face devoid of emotion, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Derek’s dead.” 

The hushed silence of the group returns. I feel like I should take the initiative, but truthfully I don’t know what to say. None of us liked Derek, to put it mildly. Yet none of us wanted him to die. He’s our age and whatever his personal shortcomings, certainly it didn’t warrant dying. But what now? I can’t do a eulogy when I don’t have anything nice to say about him. The stunned silence continues until it gives way to a new awkward silence. It’s strange how the different kinds of quiet have their own tones. At first, Luke’s morbid announcement rendered everyone mute with shock. Now after a few moments, it was clear from their wandering eyes and shifting faces that everybody had regained their powers of speech, but nobody wanted to say anything. If you don’t have anything nice to say… 

Annie breaks the seal. “It was an accident, right?” The question catches me off-guard. Of course it was an accident. Cassie was looking for him after all. Then it hits me.

“I believe so, but now we have a new dilemma.” The girls look up at me, while Luke still seems to be staring into space. “Cassie doesn’t know… what happened to Derek.” I shy away from stating his morbid fate outright at the last moment, though I’m not sure why. “She’s probably looking for him right now,” I continue. The girls’ expressions widen with understanding. 

Ronnie speaks up. “Dang, she might destroy the whole town looking for him…”

I can see Annie takes offense at this as she grabs Ronnie’s arm and twists her around. “Cassie’s not like you, Ronnie! She’s not a bully! She wouldn’t do that!” The earlier mental image of a gigantic Ronnie rampaging through Titanburg briefly reenters my mind, distracting me from interrupting the coming altercation. “She’s gentle and kind! She just doesn’t know her own strength!” 

The brawny girl refuses to back down, sticking her finger in Annie’s chest as she puffs out her own. “She’s intoxicated and larger than any building in town. She doesn’t have to ‘mean it’ to destroy stuff. And that’s assuming she doesn’t grow again…” 

Annie gets quiet at hearing this. The whole group returns to its hushed state from a few moments ago as the gravity of the situation washes over us. What if whatever is causing Cassie to grow doesn’t stop? Moments later, the wail or distant sirens snaps me to action. Not encouraged by the developing Annie-Ronnie dynamic, I opt to proceed with the original plan. “We need to move, guys.” 

At this, Luke seems to snap out of his trance. “I can drive,” he offers. I raise a skeptical eyebrow at this, but he persists. “I want to help. I’ve got a truck that can seat five. I can get us to the sheriff’s station and you can give Sydney and Annie whatever car you guys took here.” That’s my car. And I don’t want either of those two driving it. 

Annie pipes up, seemingly on my behalf. “Cassie and I walked here. It’s not that far…”

The look in Luke’s brown eyes speaks to me. They flash with determination and a desire for… something more. Revenge? Redemption? Whatever it is, he clearly needs this. “No, Annie, Luke’s right. It will be faster if you take my car. Ronnie and I will go with him to the Sheriff's station.” I toss her my keys and conclude, “If you find anything, call or text us and we’ll relay it to the police. And Annie…” I stare at her sternly and wag a finger at her. “…Don’t scratch my car.” She grins at me as she jingles the keys playfully.

I look to Luke to lead the way to his truck. He begins walking in the opposite direction from my car, so Ronnie and I tag along behind him. As we depart, I shout a reminder over my shoulder, “Not a scratch, Annie!” 

Anna Rhodes POV

“Not a scratch, Annie!”

I jangle the keys over my head without turning around as Becca’s words echo in the quiet evening air. Sydney and I walk deeper into the darkness as the sound of sirens grows louder at the approach of emergency vehicles. We’re both quiet as I follow her to Becca’s car. After a moment or two, I spot Becca’s dark blue sedan on the curb beside a non-functional street light. Looking farther down the street, I find that none of the other streetlights are on, though several houses appear to still have power. Examining the street itself, I see several large dents in the road that indicate where Cassie’s feet had stepped. I can’t place my finger on why, but this new dimension of her size particularly scares me. I knew she was big from seeing her hold people up to her face like toy soldiers. I knew she was heavy from how the ground shook with her footsteps. But to see her footprints in the asphalt somehow gives me a new perspective. Nothing would survive her footsteps. Looking back to the site of the former house one last time, I notice the tree where we first met up with the rest of the team is now gone, replaced by a deep imprint in the earth. I can’t see how deep from this position, as the dirt piled up around the edges and I’m too far away to stare into it, but it’s both impressive and intimidating that one footstep could smother a whole tree completely flat. 

Turning back to the car, I find Sydney leaning on the hood as she stares at me expectantly. “You’re driving?” I can’t tell if this is an instruction or a question, but I know we’ll be better off if I drive. After all, I haven’t had as much to drink as she has. 

“Yeah, I’ll drive. Becca gave me her keys and I know the fastest way to Cassie’s apartment anyway.” I decide it wouldn’t be helpful to point out her potential intoxication. She doesn’t seem drunk, anyway. Sydney shrugs at this explanation and pushes herself off from the hood as she moves across the vehicle to the passenger-side door. I press the unlock button twice on the key fob, hearing the doors click to announce the movement of the car’s locks. I walk up to the driver’s door as Sydney slides into the passenger seat and it dawns on me that she’s still wearing her bikini and hasn’t bothered to put on anything else over it. Isn’t she cold? It’s a warm night, but I still imagine a skinny girl like her would get chilly in a swimsuit. Opening the door and assuming my position in the driver’s seat, I instinctively pull my seatbelt across my chest and click it into place. I check to see if Sydney is wearing her seatbelt, too. Unsurprisingly, she’s not and I raise my eyebrows at her as I hold my hands in place over my own seatbelt.

She rolls her eyes at me and groans, “Fine, mom,” as she makes a big show of pulling the strap across her chest and buckling it into the holder. I can’t help but notice it’s threading through the gap between her breasts and her eyes widen as she catches me staring. “Wanna makeout?” she asks bluntly. I can’t tell if she’s serious or mocking me, but I dumbly shake my head sideways as I can feel my cheeks getting redder. “Then keep your eyes on the road,” she quips as she readjusts the seatbelt to go across her collarbone. I sheepishly turn the keys in the ignition as I redirect my eyes to stare out of the windshield. 

The car hums to life as the headlights come on automatically. I shift it into drive as we begin on our journey, still not saying a word after our awkward start to the trip. I now know Sydney was just teasing before, but I’ve gotten into my own head now. It’s not like I’m attracted to her or anything. It’s just instinct. Sydney rescues me from my thoughts by breaking the silence. “You were kind of hard on Ronnie, y’know.” My first instinct is to object, but my lingering embarrassment makes me pause and take a step back. 

Not taking my eyes off of the road, I respond, “I’ll admit, I could have handled it better. But sometimes she really pushes my buttons. Like, I know she thinks she’s trying to lighten the mood in her own unique way, but her little quips and sarcasm can be offensive in the heat of the moment.”

I can see Sydney shrug at my response in my peripheral vision, acknowledging that my point was reasonable, but she continues, “I know, Annie, but you’re also smarter than that. Let’s be real here; the two of us are probably the most emotionally-intelligent people in the group. And Becca just sent us away on a side quest to separate you and Ronnie.” I hadn’t thought about that before now. Still, I recognize that there’s merit in her words. 

“Do you really think that’s why she sent us to Cassie’s apartment?” I ask, more out of hopefulness than sincere skepticism. 

“I mean, she just split up the group and sent the two most charismatic people in the party away from the diplomatic mission. Becca isn’t stupid. She knew what she was doing. She may not have come out and said it, but I think her intentions are pretty clear.” 

I’m disheartened a little at hearing this. Did my emotions get the better of me and hurt the group? “So is this ‘mission’ we’re on is just a distraction?” I ask sadly.

“That depends on what we find,” Sydney says, looking out the passenger window at the passing landscape. “Though I suspect she was just being nice, Becca did have a point. Cassie is in an unnatural predicament and we should try to find out whatever is causing it. You know her best, so you’re probably the best shot we have at uncovering it.”

This response is very comforting, but it also leaves me confused. Is this a distraction or an important mission? “So we’re on an important mission, but we also only split up because Ronnie and I weren’t getting along? Sounds like I helped if anything.” 

Sydney sighs and looks away from the window back to me. “I wouldn’t go that far, Annie. If you and Ronnie were getting along, then you and Ronnie would ransack Cassie’s apartment and I would go with Becca to the sheriff’s station. That would make better use of both our skill sets.”

Though Sydney said this very calmly, the message still stings. I respond indignantly, “Ronnie wouldn’t want to leave Becca anyway. She’s such a lap-dog.” I avoid eye contact by continuing to focus on the road ahead, but I can tell Sydney frowns at this. 

“Be that as it may, Ronnie listens to Becca and goes where she’s told. And she’d be a lot more useful than me at tearing apart Cassie’s apartment. And a lot less useful for talking to the cops. I just hope Luke can help in that department.”

Now thoroughly ashamed, I make one last play for sympathy. “So this is all my fault? Ronnie doesn’t get any of the blame?” 

“Ronnie is Ronnie. She’s not trying to be mean and you should know that. She’s not the most… ‘tactful’ person in social situations. But she means well…” her voice trails off as if hesitating to say something else. “You called her a bully, Annie.” 

Honestly, I don’t remember calling her that, but I remember being angry with her. And is it really a stretch to call her a bully? She always picked on Emily and enjoyed flaunting her strength over smaller and weaker people than herself (which is most people). I know it’s unwise, but at this point I’m distracted by driving and so humiliated that I defensively deflect again. “Am I wrong?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d regret it. But rather than being angry or disappointed, Sydney persists in her candid lecture. “Yes, Annie, you’re wrong. Ronnie can be pushy and rude at times, but she’s never abusive. She never willfully hurts anyone. And though she puts on a ‘tough guy’ act, she’s actually pretty sensitive about this stuff.”

I know she’s right. Rather than digging myself in a deeper hole, I finally concede. “Alright, I’ll apologize the next time I see her. I just wanted to defend Cassie, you know? Seeing all of that destruction she caused…”

Sydney interrupts, apparently uncomfortable at the mention of what we saw in the yard. “I know, but like Becca said: it was an accident. And like you said-” she points at me, “she doesn’t know her own strength.”

Quiet retakes the car as I turn into Cassie’s development. Her strength. The memories of Cassie in the backyard intrude in my mind. Her growing through the house. Her effortlessly picking up huge debris and people. Her looming face above us as she looked down on the whole party. She really looked like a goddess. Now getting uneasy at the quiet, I take a turn breaking the silence. “Do you really think Cassie’s growth is a miracle?” 

Sydney thoughtfully sighs at my question. “I dunno, Annie. To tell you the truth, I was just trying to make you feel better when I said that.” I have conflicting emotions about this revelation. Deep down, I knew Sydney probably wasn’t sincere when she first suggested it. She’s hardly a paragon of Christianity, but I had never actually asked her about her spiritual beliefs before. Still, it's nice to know she cared enough to lie in an effort to comfort me. She elaborates, “I don’t know if I believe in God. But at the same time, it’s hard to explain how else this happened. Cassie only seemed to grow when she was in danger, first with the drowning, then with the rape… I don’t know. She does have a certain angelic quality to her…”

I desperately want to believe this, but I have to point out, “I don’t think Cassie was in any real danger with her second growth spurt. She manhandled Derek, pun not intended. And even if she did need some protection, that growth spurt was overkill.” I hesitate to finish my thought, but ultimately conclude, “And it killed him…”

Sydney nods in acknowledgement. “Yeah, but that could just be ‘old testament,’ y’know? ‘Woe unto the wicked’ or some such thing? I mean, did God really have to flood the whole Earth or destroy the whole town of Sodom? Derek was quite a sinner, after all.” I desperately want to believe her. Taking the consequences out of Cassie’s hands and placing them in God’s would be comforting, but I can’t help but feel like despite how much I hated him, Derek didn’t deserve death. It was hardly the act of a merciful God. “I mean, what are the odds, really?” Sydney’s extended monologue breaks my train of thought. “Of all the people in the world, the most gentle girl I’ve ever met becomes gigantic? We’re pretty lucky, all things considered. Can you imagine if a guy grew that big? Or a mean girl? Don’t get me wrong, I love the ladies, but we can be some real bitches sometimes.” I want to find comfort in her words, but my mind keeps betraying my optimism. I remember how Cassie snapped at me earlier in the night. First over the drinks, then over her phone. I remember seeing her face contort in anger before she stomped off into town. We’re not dealing with sober Cassie. 

As if reading my mind, Sydney elaborates, “Sure, Cassie’s a little tipsy right now, but she’ll sober up eventually and the girl we’ll be dealing with in the morning is probably the best-case scenario for everybody.” This comment is the first I find to be sincerely reassuring. We just have to get through tonight. 

“You’re right, Sydney. We’re lucky that Cassie is so gentle. But we still have to contend with whatever drugs and alcohol are in her system right now.”

“Aye, there’s the rub,” Sydney says in a mock pirate voice. The sudden turn catches me off-guard, as the conversation was so philosophical before. I guess she’s still a little buzzed. “Still, for my money, I’d rather have a drunk Cassie become a giant than anyone else. Can you imagine if one of those bitchy cheerleaders grew that big? And as much as I love Ronnie and Becca, they might enjoy the power too much and let it go to their head.” 

This seems to contradict her earlier lecture to me about Ronnie, but I let it slide because I figure there’s a slight difference between calling her a bully and calling her a megalomaniac. A very slight difference. Realizing that I missed my turn due to the distraction of the conversation, I start to make a u-turn in the street and ask Sydney, “What about you?”

Her face scrunches a little as she considers the question. “What about me?” she asks.

I can’t tell if she’s stalling for time or genuinely confused by the question, so I elaborate. “Do you think the power would get to your head? You know, like, if you were a giant?” 

She pauses a moment to contemplate. “I dunno, maybe. I think it would be pretty boring to be that big. You can’t drink, can’t fuck, can’t play sports… what else would you do all day? I guess when everything else is the size of a toy, all you can do is play with your toys.” 

I hadn’t thought about that. What would Cassie do if she doesn’t return to normal? Or worse… what if she gets bigger? As I pull up to Cassie’s apartment, I can’t help but ask, “Syd, what do you think we’ll find here? And, like… what do we do if we don’t find anything?” Unbuckling her seat belt, Sydney allows the retractable strap to fly back into its idle position, jostling her bikini-clad boobs and making them jiggle slightly. She seemed to anticipate my inadvertent ogling and catches me staring at her chest once again.

She seductively pulls herself out of the car as she winks at me. “I don’t know, Annie. I guess we’ll just have to pray.”

Veronica Green POV

I’m in toyland. None of the houses around me even reach my knees as my massive form dominates the local skyline. All around me, little people flee in every direction. This is a dream come true. Everyone is my plaything now. As I take my first steps, I can feel the ground shake with each movement. Looking around for a suitable test of my strength, I encounter a pickup truck almost as long as my foot on the street. Bending over to pick it up, I find it to be surprisingly light as my hand wraps around its chassis and I easily lift it from the ground. Steel and aluminum feel like weak plastic as they warp in my powerful hands. Now curious of my true power, I place my hands on both ends of the vehicle and smash them together. There is a little resistance at first, but I find it fairly easy to flatten between my palms. This is perfect! I was strong before, but there are no limits to my strength now.

Returning my attention to the tiny people at my feet, I can’t help but indulge myself in teasing them. I stomp the ground heavily as I lumber through the neighborhood, mockingly bellowing the syllables of “fee-fi-fo-fum” with each step. The little mites dive for cover from my enormous feet, cowering behind trees and ducking inside their adorable little dollhouses. Yet one especially illuminated girl catches my attention and I begin stomping after her. Her long blonde hair and white clothes distinguish her as they catch the moonlight to highlight each of her desperate movements. Though I could easily overtake her with my incredible size and speed, I prefer to toy with my prey and am careful to place my steps beside and behind her as she sprints away from me. Eventually she leads me to a small clearing with trees around it on the edge of the development. I lose sight of her beneath the leaves of the surrounding trees that only barely rise above my knees. Good. This is more fun. Hunching down to be closer to the ground, I feign confusion as though I have lost her. I want to give her hope. Then I reach forward and wrap my fingers around a nearby tree trunk and yank it from the earth, roots and all. Examining the huge oak that is merely a large stick in my fist, I then uproot another with my free hand. Now dropping both trees to the ground, I begin pulling up the nearby forest at a furious pace looking for the little damsel that I had allowed to elude me. 

After pulling up what felt like the tenth tree and adding it to my new log pile, the tiny girl emerges from the foliage and dashes between my legs as she makes a determined sprint back to the houses. I pretend to be disoriented by this maneuver and clumsily step on my stack of tree trunks, delighting as they splinter, crack, and shatter under the weight of my shoe. I resume the chase at a slow speed, careful to give my little mouse the illusion that she could escape me. Her evasive maneuvers carry her through the side yard between two houses. Perhaps she thought this would slow me down, as the thin yard strip is probably too narrow for my enormous feet. However, aside from the fact that I could easily smother either building, she must have failed to notice the nearby street running alongside the properties. I suppose she doesn’t have a bird’s eye view like me. I opt for a middle path and step over the houses to continue the pursuit. It feels surreal stretching over entire buildings while I stare down at their rooftops. I get momentarily distracted trying to angle my head to see if I can look down a chimney, but I spot my quarry ducking inside a small one-story house at the edge of my vision.

Surely she doesn’t think this puny structure will stop me, does she? As I plant my feet on either side of the building, I can’t help but wonder what her plan was. Did she think I had lost her? Did she think that just because I had avoided damaging buildings that I was unwilling to completely destroy them? I can’t say for sure, but I suppose I can just grab her and find out. Now straddling the diminutive domicile with my massive muscular legs from above, I decide to taunt her a little more before ending the chase. “Little pig, little pig, let me in.” Predictably, there is no response, so I make a faux struggle to get in by crouching to the ground again and using my fingers to push in the doors and windows. Of course, the whole house may as well be made of paper mache, but I like to think the terrified little girl has some delusions about her safety within the walls that seemingly hold me at bay. 

I let out an angry grunt, acting as if her defenses have foiled me. Withdrawing my hands from the ground floor, I then plant them on opposite sides of the roofing. “Fine,” I say through fake frustration. “Then I’ll huff…” I announce as I grip the sides of her ceiling. “...and I’ll puff…” I continue as my fingers dig into the walls for grip. “And I’ll pull your roof off!” I exclaim as I heave the house’s roof into the air. I’m momentarily surprised that it holds together in one piece, only to see it shatter like a sheet of glass upon impact with the ground. Now redirecting my gaze to the exposed structure below, I find my victim staring up helplessly at me from the center of the home. I imagine I must be quite the sight to behold in all of my hulking glory above her. But there’s no time for imagining right now; it’s time to finish this…

As I slowly reach down into the uncovered house, the tiny girl regains her senses and dashes to the door to escape. Having already decided to end this hunt to pursue new prey, I reveal my true speed as my hand rapidly descends to block her escape route. I’m pleased to see my palm alone blocks the whole doorway and is likely a couple feet taller than the mousey girl I’ve caught in my trap, though from my perspective the difference is a mere fraction of an inch. She pivots away from the door toward one of the destroyed windows, but my dexterous hand scoops her up. Now with my catch secured, I rise back to my full height and raise my loose fist to my face. I slowly peel away my fingers, each of which also appear to be longer than the girl I caught. Holding her level with my eyes for a closer look, I’m greeted with a familiar face. 

“Wow, my very own raggedy Annie doll.” My mouth breaks out in a toothy grin as I lean in closer to emphasize my awesome size. She can’t be more than a few inches tall.

“That’s not funny, Ronnie,” the tiny girl squeaks out. “You could have crushed me!” 

“I still can,” I tease in reply as I begin to close my fingers around her. 

“This is why I’m glad you didn’t become a giant!” she shouts. “You’re just a big bully!”

With that outburst, I jolt awake. Looking around me, I get my bearings and realize what had happened. I’m sitting in the back seat of Luke’s truck as he drives through town and Becca rides shotgun. She had insisted on it, I recall. I must have dozed off for a bit during the quiet, bumpy ride out of the suburbs. I felt a little exhausted from all of the excitement of the evening’s events and truth be told, I think I’m still a little woozy from the tequila. Nobody had said anything since we split off from Sydney and Annie. Frankly, we didn’t know what to say. Were Luke and Derek close? Did he blame us for what happened? Did he blame himself? I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know how to begin. It seemed like everything I’d said tonight was a mistake. The last thing I wanted to do was make someone else mad at me. Especially Luke. I felt that I had made enough gaffes already and decided to let Becca make the first move. True to her nature, though, Becca didn’t say anything. 

Sometimes I wonder if she’s really as stalwart as she acts. I remember looking up the word after Cassie used it to describe Becca once. It seemed like a good fit and it’s been my default adjective for her ever since. She always acts so calm and strong. She’s a natural leader. Yet I can’t help but feel like she is dropping the ball right now. Luke needs some support. We all do. Then it occurs to me that perhaps Becca needs some help, too. She was always so strong for us, it never crossed my mind that she might be hurting, too. 

I want to make them feel better, but I still don’t know how. A joke hardly seems appropriate given the circumstances, but I feel like we could all use a distraction. As the silence grows longer, I get more and more uneasy. What was once awkward now feels tense, as though we’re all trying to size each other up for a fight. But we’re not adversaries. We’re friends and we all care about each other. That’s it! Becca and Luke both care about me! I’ll be the distraction!

I feel the confidence welling up in me as I sit up to speak. But at the last moment, I chicken out and fail to find my voice. I don’t want to make myself vulnerable. What if they judge me? Will Becca think I’m weak? Will Luke think I’m insecure? I decide to feel them out first. Feigning a yawn and a stretch, I address the duo: “I must have dozed off for a bit. How long have we been driving?” 

Becca and Luke both look at the car’s clock, but they’re reluctant to speak. It’s as if they’re in a game of survivor and the first to speak loses. Luke caves first, unwittingly identifying himself as the more agreeable of the pair. “Less than ten minutes.” 

Not the most precise answer, but I figure that probably means “more than five minutes,” too. Then again, they may not have noticed when I fell asleep in the first place. I decide to follow-up with another dull question. “How far out are we?”

Seemingly content with winning the imaginary game, Becca replies this time. “Not far.” 

Geez, and I thought Luke’s answer was unhelpful. Still, these short answers at least seemed to relieve some of the tension. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that these brief responses weren’t great warm-ups for what I anticipated to be a very heated conversation with the police. If these parties have taught me anything, it’s that you shouldn’t go into social situations cold. It helps to have a warm-up. I guess it falls to me to get the ball rolling. Here goes nothing… 

“Do you guys think I’m a bully?”

Luke appears to hesitate as he opens his mouth and then closes it again. Is he rethinking saying “yes?” Or is he just waiting for Becca to start? I can’t tell if Becca noticed this reluctance, but she seems to recognize that she is the more qualified of the pair to respond and takes the initiative. “Annie was just upset. Don’t take it personally.” 

While this isn’t a definitive “yes.” she didn’t directly answer the question. Was she avoiding it? Do my friends think I’m a bully? Now I’m starting to regret asking as I overanalyze Becca’s non-answer. Maybe she just deduced I was asking about Annie’s outburst and assumed that I wasn’t speaking generally. 

Luke seems uncomfortable about Becca’s answer, too, and finally speaks up. “I don’t think you’re a bully. I mean, I haven’t really known you all that long, but you seem to really care about your friends and I can’t imagine you’re mean to them.” He pauses momentarily, but I desperately want him to continue. Not out of some sense of ego or neediness, but because I’m genuinely curious about an outsider’s perspective. “I mean, you’ve pushed me around a lot tonight…” he resumes, “but I recognize that you’ve always done it out of concern for your friends.” He pauses again before proceeding. Is he scared of me or just being thoughtful? “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re strong, pushy, and playful. But you mean well. That’s not a bully.” 

My potential new boyfriend’s words are relieving, but I can’t help but wonder if everyone else is as perceptive as he is. Still, he’s so sweet… and what are we, anyway? I lean forward from the back seats over the center console and kiss him on his right cheek. “Thanks,” I softly whisper in his ear before retreating to the backseat again. I can see his cheeks getting redder in the reflection of the mirror. He earned it.

The car returns to its dull silence as we wordlessly continue our journey to the police station. But the silence isn’t as uncomfortable as before. It’s softer now. In fact, it’s kind of nice.

Cassidy Bell POV

I’ve had dreams like this before. Walking through town as a giantess, it all feels so surreal. There are no cars on the road, no people out. Only the moon and stars keep me company whilst I walk through this miniature land. None of the suburban houses even reach my knees as I walk through the outskirts of Titanburg. Even the tallest trees look like they would barely brush them, but I don’t dare to take the time to stop and verify my estimate. I’m on a mission.

As I continue walking the sense of surreality increases. The parked cars look like toys, easily smaller than my feet with only the occasional pickup truck or van rivaling their size. The buildings look like the dollhouses I would play with as a kid, lined up in their semi-organized rows along the streets that serve as my footpaths. Everything looks like a toy. But with each step, the asphalt beneath me sinks a little to serve as a sobering reminder of reality. They’re not small. I’m big.

The thought had crossed my mind to shrink down to a normal size and confront Derek later. The old Cassie would have done that. She was always so meek and submissive. She let everyone walk over her. Now I’m walking over them. It would have been considerate of me to not crush their roads. It would be polite to not flaunt my power. But those are lesser considerations now. Now I only have one desire and after a lifetime of putting myself last, I’m finally putting my needs first. I know Derek is driving around town right now, probably speeding to get away from me as fast as possible. My size gives me speed. My size gives me power. 

I find my dizziness lessens as my journey progresses. I guess I really just needed a walk to clear my head. Yet my brain still feels foggy. The world still feels off-balance. When I was with Derek, everything felt so clear. I was excited, perhaps stimulated. Now I feel groggy. I want to sleep, but I can’t sleep with this on my mind. I need answers. Walking past another patch of trees, an old Robert Frost poem flickers in my mind. “I have miles to go before I sleep.” The thought is uncomfortable. Miles aren’t what they used to be for me, but I’m not eager for a long night. I resolve to pick up the pace and begin cutting corners. Literally. With each turn in the road, I cut my distance by a factor of radical two by stepping over the corner buildings. 

I’m careful to observe my foot placement the first time I step over a house. Though I’m in a hurry, I still don’t want to hurt anyone. The two-story structure only reaches halfway up my calf, but it’s considerably wider than it is tall. Despite this, I find I still have plenty of vertical and horizontal clearance as I easily stretch over it. Sure enough, the second and third houses are similarly manageable and I resume walking at my normal speed as I continue mounting corners.

I contemplate picking up the pace, but I still feel that I owe the little people some consideration. I figure my walking footsteps are already providing a bit of a rumble. No need to cause any earthquakes. Stepping over another house, I plant my foot in the ground as before and hear a horn honk from below me. Peering down at my foot, I see a car the size of my fist stopped right in front of my toes. My initial reaction is concern. Did they crash into me? Are they alright? Upon further inspection, I see it was merely a near-miss and my anxiety yields to anger.

Couldn’t they see me coming? They could have hit me! I doubt such a tiny little toy could have seriously injured me, but even a stubbed toe hurts. And the nerve to honk at me! I’m a pedestrian! I have the right of way! Now full of indignation, I reach down and pick up the audacious automobile with my fingers and find it to be light as a feather. Raising it to my face, I hold it inches (well, probably feet) from my eyes as I scowl at the insolent driver. 

His terrified expression takes me aback. Though he’s much smaller than a doll to me, I can see his eyes are wide with fear and his mouth is ajar as if to scream. Although if he is screaming, I can’t hear it. Maybe the car insulates the sound? Or maybe he can’t find his voice… His terror gives me pause. Maybe it was my fault. The house probably blocked his vision. It’s not like drivers look up that often, especially if the ground is rumbling. Despite my newfound tolerance, I still feel annoyed that he honked at me. But then my conscience interrupts me again. It could have just been instinct. We all do things in the heat of the moment. Heck, maybe he was just trying to tell me where he was. As I hold the miniature motorist in my craned hand, I start to feel the vehicle crumple against my fingers. There’s no way this flimsy car could have ever hurt me. 

Now I’m starting to feel embarrassed. My scornful expression softens as I hesitate about what to do next. Should I apologize? That feels like the right thing to do. That’s what the old Cassie would do. The insidious thought makes me stop. I’m done apologizing. I’ve spent a lifetime apologizing for things I didn’t even do wrong. It was an accident and we’re probably both at fault. Returning my attention from my internal monologue to the matter at hand, I squint intensely at him. “Watch where you’re going.” 

He nods vigorously in acknowledgement as I hold the puny car a little longer, savoring my power over him as I emphasize my point. Then I slowly lower the car back to the ground in front of my foot, noticing sizable dents in its frame where my fingers had grasped it. I stare down at it, expecting the tiny car to back up and drive away. But it doesn’t move. Maybe I broke it. Or maybe I broke him. I shrug indifferently as I swing my leg over paralyzed vehicle and continue my trek to Derek. No more delays. 

Continuing my journey closer to campus, I spot the high-rises where Derek’s apartment is located. I remember how proud he was of the view, paying top dollar for a suite on the top floor of the tallest building on campus. Now I’ll show him what a real view is. Continuing along the street, I meet the road that serves as the border between the town and the campus. It feels like this should be important. Like this is my Rubicon. Looking down at the intersection before me, I see the faint green glow of the tiny traffic light against the ground. Once again, I pause to take in the surreal circumstances of the world around me. 

It feels like a dream. How do I even know this is real? I stop to consider the situation. No police have confronted me. In fact, I’ve seldom seen anybody since leaving the party. Despite it being night-time, I can still see fine, though admittedly I could stand to have a little more light. My head is still cloudy and everything feels… distant. Maybe I’m still sleeping. Or maybe I drowned in the pool. 

The stoplight switches to red, snatching my doubts away. No, this is real. The world is still moving around me; it’s just a late night in a small town. I knew I had this power. I’ve just restrained myself from using it. A slight anger rises in me. I’m frustrated at the world for trying to deceive me. I’m frustrated at myself for falling for its tricks. I know this is real. I won’t let myself be tricked. And I certainly won’t let a tiny traffic light tell me what to do. 

Whereas before I had planned to step over the intersection, I make a conscious effort to stand squarely upon it, blocking three lanes of traffic with the length of my feet. It’s merely a symbolic gesture without any cars or people around to inconvenience, but it’s important to me. I’m asserting myself. Turning my attention to the tiny lights that hang below my mid-calf, I decide I can do better. I raise my foot over the traffic signals, preparing to crush them for daring to command me, but my conscience intrudes again. It’s an automated system, dummy. Nobody is telling you what to do. The momentary embarrassment from my earlier encounter with the driver returns, but it sits with me. I know I was being irrational. I’m just tired, I assure myself. The sooner I get this over with, the better.

Stepping harmlessly over the stoplights below, I make my entrance to campus. Though there is no wall or sign explicitly identifying the change from Titanburg to Titanburg Tech, it’s clear that I’ve entered a new domain. The buildings are taller, as faculty buildings and larger facilities mark the paths around me. Most of them are only moderately taller than the suburban homes I’ve been stepping around (and over), but several are tall enough to clear my knees and a few even reach my mid-thigh. As I continue navigating deeper into the campus toward the towers marking my ex-boyfriend’s location, I start to encounter people again. Not many, only small groups and the occasional nightwalker. It seems the campus is still awake. 

The tiny people scatter like roaches upon my approach. The term “ankle-biter” comes to mind as most of them appear as though they would only reach my ankles, though none dare get close enough for me to check. I don’t mind that they’re afraid of me. It’s an understandable reaction and it keeps my path clear. Truthfully, it’s kind of nice. My whole life, I’ve been under a microscope. I always caught people looking at me because of my looks, my height, my boobs. I felt like the whole world was watching me. Scrutinizing me. Judging me. It’s ironic. Now that I’m huge, nobody dares look back at me. Nobody can judge me now. I’m above them all.

As I get closer to my destination, a parked garbage truck catches my eye. It’s the first vehicle I’ve seen that’s actually larger than my foot, and by a good margin, too. I decide to indulge myself with this brief distraction. I can see his apartment from here. He’s not going anywhere. Reaching down, I’m surprised to find that I can’t wrap my hand around it and instead have to fully-extend my fingers to grasp the side of the vehicle along its vertical axis. Yet despite being much larger and heavier than the car I picked up earlier, I’m surprised to find it still barely weighs anything. Though it’s not featherweight like before, it can only weigh a few pounds in my hand at most. Now curious of my strength, I gently squeeze the teeny truck just to test its resistance. Though I barely put any pressure on it, I find its steel bed bends like a soda can at the slightest pressure. 

My accidental display of power surprises me as I now grasp my own true strength. Gingerly returning the freighter to the ground, I lift my hand away to reveal its imprint along the top and right side of the vehicle as I return to my full height. I really am a goddess to these twerps. To these people, my conscience scolds me. For all of my power, it’s a humbling reminder. These are still people down there. People like me. People like Annie. People like… I blot out the painful memory as I pinch my nose and squeeze my eyes shut to hold back tears. With my other hand, I touch my mother's necklace. Fragile little people…

I need to get this over with, I think to myself as I turn my attention to the apartment complexes a few steps away. Walking up to the short towers before me, I’m amused to find their top windows level with my crotch. Maybe that’s a view Derek will appreciate, I muse again. Yet as I gaze down at the structure beneath me, the realization that I have no plan sets in as I start to wonder what to do next. How am I going to get in there? Mulling over the possibilities, I consider shrinking. NO, my mind shouts at me. You don’t need to diminish yourself for him anymore. You like being big. You like being powerful. It’s time to show him what he’s lost. 

Reorienting myself with the buildings, I maneuver myself around the lot until the view out from the nearest building’s windows matches the one I’d seen dozens of times from the inside. Confident that I had found his apartment, I crouch down and gaze through the panes. The lights are out, but I see the curtains twitch at the last moment. He’s in there. Now having trapped my prey, I return to my standing height to decide upon how to extract him. I consider shrinking again but decide it's impractical. He could sneak out while I'm taking the elevator. He could run into another apartment. I can’t search the whole building. I have to act NOW.

But how? I know I can’t fit in there… The memory of the impacted garbage truck intrudes my brainstorming. These walls can’t stop me. As I raise my hand to reach into the apartment, my conscience interrupts me again. I could bring down the whole building! I hardly know my own strength, let alone that of a building. But another voice interrupts my mental dialogue. Sydney’s voice. “The only thing holding you back is yourself. The sooner you realize that and get out of your own way, the sooner you’ll find happiness.”

Screw it. Reasoning that the roof doesn't have any load-bearing walls, I dig my fingers into it and scoop up the section above Derek’s apartment with my right hand. Now peering into the exposed rooms level with my hips, I spot a diminutive figure cowering in my shadow. I’m probably a terrifying sight as I loom over him and I momentarily bask in his fear before scooping him up in my other hand. 

As I drop the debris in one hand to the ground below, I raise the other to my face to inspect my catch. His face is familiar, but it’s not the one I want. He cowers in the center of my palm as my fingers stretch outward from him, each of them longer than he is tall. Though he’s not the one I seek, he could still prove useful to me…

“Hello, Brian.” 

Brian Hutchinson POV

I’m awakened by a slight shaking. In my groggy state, I wonder if I had just imagined it. I get my answer in the form of a dull thud, followed by an aftershock. I consider pulling myself out of bed to seek cover, but my laziness wins out as I nuzzle deeper into my pillow. After a few more moments, another quake occurs. That’s odd, I think to myself. I’m not an expert on earthquakes, but I thought they only came in pairs. Can you have more than one aftershock? 

I numbly reach out to the dresser beside my bed to check my phone for news. A banner notification with a red exclamation mark appears on my lock screen above a text from Derek. Prioritizing the emergency order, I read “EMERGENCY INCIDENT: SHELTER IN PLACE.” It’s odd that they wouldn’t list a cause, but I don’t dwell on it as I proceed to read the text from Derek. “Going to TAL. Might not be back til morning.” Another thud and gentle rumble rattles my bed. It feels slightly stronger than the ones before. Is it… getting closer? 

Getting up from my bed, I make my way to the window without bothering to turn on the lights. The moonlight streaks through the gap in the curtains, revealing the night outside to be brighter than the shroud of my room. Though I don’t expect to see any damage from such gentle quakes, my curiosity compels me to pull away the blinds and stare out into the moonlit campus. As I yank them aside and survey the ground below, I’m greeted by a surreal sight. Across the lot in front of our apartment complex, two gigantic feet fill the road. A woman’s feet. My eyes stalk up her enormous calves, then ascend higher up her legs until reaching her mid-thigh, where they meet her white skirtline. Moving up her skirt, I find her belly button staring at me, indenting her toned abdomen. Now my masculine instincts giddily urge my eyes higher, hungry to behold the bust of this titanic colossus. They’re not disappointed. 

Barely contained by a loose pink crop top with a generous v-neck, I feast my eyes on the most magnificent breasts I’ve ever seen. Atop her glorious boobs sits a bejeweled necklace that I can only imagine is priceless at its current dimensions. I feel oddly grateful to be blessed by the sight of such a beautiful goddess, for what other being could be so monstrous and gorgeous? In my whole life, I’ve only ever seen one woman who could ever rival such beauty. And she had graced this place with her presence many times. 

Wrestling my wandering mind from my apartment’s apparent landmark status for giant beautiful women, I bend my head lower to gaze upon the divine being’s face. Yet it’s not Athena’s nor Aphrodite’s visage that greets me, but the same one I have seen on at least a dozen occasions before. It’s not possible… 

She seems to be concentrating on something in her hand, which I struggle to identify at first but soon recognize to be a sanitation truck. She is impossibly huge and impossibly strong. And impossibly sexy. My mind races with the possibilities. Am I dreaming? I pinch myself hard on my forearm as a test and am greeted by the sensation of light pain. Not entirely satisfied, I slap myself as hard as I can across my face. I can feel myself instinctively pull back a little, but the stinging sensation verifies to me that this is real. I'm awake.

Is Cassie a goddess? I can’t think of any Roman or Greek gods by that name, but maybe she’s something else. A new goddess perhaps? Or some other kind of celestial being? I linger on this word. “Celestial.” Is Cassie an alien? Before I can ponder this further, she bends down to the ground, giving me a perfect view of her cavernous cleavage as she daintily returns the truck to the earth. I can’t help but gawk as her gargantuan boobs swoop toward the ground, each rivaling the size of the garbage truck she had just discarded. Swing low, sweet chariots. The necklace dangles in front of the valley of her chest, swinging with her movements to enhance the experience. The sensual spectacle ends abruptly as she rises to her full standing height again. My greedy eyes follow her jumbo jugs into the sky, but as they follow her breasts’ ascent I catch a glimpse of her unshrouded face as she pulls her hand away from the bridge of her nose. Her pouty full lips are frowning as her dark eyes seem to stare directly at me. My view is distorted by the shadow of her head as she looks down at me, but it feels like the leviathan of a lady is staring right into my soul.

Had she caught me ogling her boobs? I wonder as her gaze continues to rest on me. As if to answer my question, she steps forward. Her foot’s collision with the ground tenderly shakes the building. Yet the building is not the only thing that shakes, as the behemoth’s bosom also wobbles upon impact. My instincts tell me to flee from the window, but my lust compels me to stay. I can’t escape her anyway. I may as well enjoy the show. Another step. Another thud. Another rumble. Another ripple of her immense fleshy orbs. Yet as she advances, I find myself losing sight of her glorious boobs as they soar above my window’s view. 

Eventually I’m face-to-face with her skirt, with the only skin I can see being that of her midriff above me. Still, her toned abs are kinda hot, and judging by the length of her skirt and my proximity to her abs, I judge that I’m probably staring right at her pussy. So close, yet so far away, I brood. Yet just as abruptly she appeared before my window, she turns and walks out of frame. It’s not a total loss, though, as I can see the curve of her plump ass' side profile as her skirt presses against it with her step. Wow, Derek, how did you let this one go…

As I sit alone in my apartment while the giant girl walks around nearby, I find my lust fading as my heart begins to fill with dread. With each step, I hear an ominous thud. With each step, I feel the building around me shake. What is she doing? I lose track of time as my body anticipates each thud, but they occur at irregular intervals. Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes feel like hours. I feel like I’m stranded in the ocean being circled by a shark. Is she playing with me? Just as I reconsider fleeing, she re-enters my window frame, her skirt once again filling my view. I freeze with anticipation of what she’ll do next. Suddenly, the skirt sinks to reveal more of her midriff, then her stomach, and then her massive mammaries. I instinctively press myself closer to the window to get a view as they, too, sink below the windowsill, but then they stop.

The dread returns as I realize my mistake. With her breasts below my window frame, she’s now eye-level with me. Daring to look up for the briefest of moments, I see her face staring intently at the suite next to mine. Derek’s suite. As she scans side to side, though, I briefly make eye contact with her massive green irises. Compared to the rest of her, they seem pretty small, but I estimate each one is the size of my head. And at that size, I can tell she’s seen me. 

I quickly shut the curtains as I back away from the window. Once again my mind screams at me to escape, but I have nowhere to go. Besides, what would she want with me? I barely talked to her. I figure it’s better to let her do what she wants. The last thing I want to do is piss her off. I gulp as I look up at the borders of the room around me. She can probably destroy this whole building if she wants to. The moonlight coming through the crack in the curtains flickers to indicate the giant’s movement. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her staring down at me. The air is still as she seemingly decides what to do next. Please let this be a bad dream…

My hopes are dashed as her fingers impact the ceiling and it crumbles above me. Terrified that the enormous girl’s hand or the collapsing rubble will crush me, I cower to the floor with my hands over my head. Yet nothing hits me. Peering out at the floor around me, I expect the bright moon and stars to lighten the area, but it’s about as dark as before. Fearfully gazing up at the sky above, I find Cassie’s monstrous form looming over me, disrupting the canvas of the starry sky. I realize the darkness of my closed room has been replaced by the darkness of her sweeping shadow as I take in the sight of her against the backdrop of the full moon.

And what an awesome sight it is. Up close, I can now fully appreciate her scale. Breasts the size of apartment units, a head the size of a house, it feels like the only appropriate measurements for her scale are units of real estate. The moonlight catches her luscious blonde hair, faintly illuminating the edges of her shrouded face. Looking up at her, I feel as though I’m at the base of a skyscraper staring up at the skyline, but I’m on top of the tallest building on campus and it looks like her upper body alone could dwarf it. It is dwarfing it, I correct myself. For a moment, neither of us move, as if wordlessly inspecting one another. But my stargazing is abruptly ended by her hand reaching into my apartment. My instincts tell me to flee, but my fear has paralyzed me. Desperately looking to my left and right, I find there is no escape as the humongous hand closes its fingers around me as if I were a pet mouse. 

As she raises me into the sky, her hand rotates and I’m reoriented from leaning against her fingers to sitting atop her palm. Her fingers are closed tightly above me, however they don’t touch me as she delicately lifts me upward. Though it’s clear that she’s trying to be gentle, the g-force makes me a little sick as we ascend the height of a building in mere seconds. Well, perhaps not “we.” Only her hand is moving, I correct myself again.

Now reaching my apparent destination, the fingers around me peel away to reveal the stars once more. As the fleshy pillars around me fan out, I suddenly long for them to entrap me again as I’m exposed to the cool night air atop Cassie’s manual platform. Although the human floor beneath me extends considerably in all directions, the prospect of being blown to my doom by a strong gust of wind compels me to hug the soft pink ground below. I dare not peer over the edge, for fear of becoming dizzy. 

High above me, Cassie speaks. “HELLO, BRIAN.” Her voice is thunderous and deep, shaking me to my core. I cover my ears, as much out of fear as the instinct to protect my hearing. Seemingly recognizing my discomfort, she lowers her voice to a whisper, though it’s still loud. “Let’s talk.”

I hesitantly raise my head to look up to her. Her immaculate face greets me with a likewise spotless smile. I feel like she’s trying to reassure me, but staring at teeth the size of my torso is hardly comforting. Then again, maybe that’s what she wants. A thinly-veiled threat. Her booming whisper returns. “Wow, little guy. You look startled. I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

As a matter of fact, she did, I remember. But I decide against mentioning it. I’m still dumbfounded by the enormous face looking down on me. I feel like she could easily raise me to eye-level with her, but she’s choosing to loom over me. From my view beneath her, though, I can see her entire face in great detail. And now her excitement is fading as her dimples recede and her cheekbones lower. Is she annoyed with me? I feel like I have to say something to her, but I’m speechless. I manage to dumbly utter “Cassie?” and see her eyes flicker a little with excitement.

“YEAH, IT’S ME,” she says, forgetting to whisper again in her elation. I dive for her palm again as I cover my ears before her whisper returns. “Sorry, I’m not used to this size yet.” I nod dumbly, pretending to understand like this problem is remotely relatable to me. The silence between us returns as she stares at me expectantly. Does she want me to ask her something? Or is she waiting to ask me something?

As a few more moments pass, I assume it’s the former and begin to ask the obvious question as competently as I can. “Cassie… how…” 

Her eagerness returns as she finishes the question for me. “How am I this big? I’m glad you asked. Well, Brian, I’m going on a bit of an ‘emotional journey’ right now.” She grins a little as she completes the sentence before continuing, “And with my path of self-discovery, I’ve had a lot of ‘personal growth,’ you see?” Her grin widens with her delivery of this pun. Did she rehearse this? “Which brings me to why I’m here…” her voice trails off as her grin fades again. “Is Derek home?”

I don’t know what to say. Of course I could tell her the truth, which is that he’s not, but I fear her reaction. Would she be disappointed? Would it make her mad? And at the same time, I know I can’t tell her “yes,” since lying to her would certainly be worse. The notification on my phone comes to mind, reminding me he’s at his frat house. But should I tell her that? Cassie was always a gentle girl, but tonight she seems… off. Seeing how easily she lifted that garbage truck makes me reluctant to betray Derek's location. Yet I fear what she’ll do to me if I don’t.

The blonde goddess seems to sense my hesitation and looks to reassure me. “You can tell me, Brian. We’re friends,” she delivers with a smile. The way she says it is unnerving. Her whispering makes it sound like she’s trying to seduce me, but the volume gives the statement the undertones of a threat. But was that intentional or does she not know how to control her voice at this size? I get my answer with her follow-up: “I promise I’ll return you to the ground when this conversation ends. Your truthfulness will decide the manner in which that happens.” 

Yup, that’s a threat. I know better than to look over the side of the enormous hand holding me. Any notions of loyalty or honor to my roommate go out the window at the prospect of plummeting to my death. I immediately spill my guts to her, frantic to convince her that despite my earlier reluctance, what I say is the truth. “Derek isn’t here right now! But I got a text from him saying he was at his frat house!” She raises an eyebrow at this, as if deciding whether or not she believes me. Desperate to convince her, I practically scream, “T-A-L. He’s there! I can show you the text on my phone!” I frantically pat myself down looking for my phone, but come up empty. In all of this excitement, I must have lost it. Hopefully it’s still in my apartment… 

The giant’s face softens, apparently persuaded by my pleas. Her sinister smile returns with her cheery demeanor that I now understand to be a charade. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? That’s all I wanted to know! Now to uphold my end of the bargain…” As her voice trails off, I realize that she never specified “the manner” in which she would release me. Is she going to drop me anyway? 

As her face grows more distant with her hand’s descent, I shout up to her in desperation, “Please lower me slower this time!” Her head turns a little at processing my request, then nods as my descent continues. Expecting her to place me back in my apartment, I’m mortified to see my window, then the windows of several other floors rise above me as she continues lowering me to the ground. Looking up at her face to discern her intentions, I see her smug grin above me as she crouches lower. Her necklace hangs ominously above me like a guillotine. Finally, the one-woman elevator ride halts and she whispers, “This is your stop. We know you don’t have much of a choice when it comes to your vertical commute, but we thank you for choosing Cassidy Bell for your vertical transportation needs.”

She eagerly stares down at me as I process her lame joke, then nods to encourage me along. Though her hand is presumably resting on the ground, the top of her palm still stands almost two feet above it. Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I gladly hop off of her soft hand to return to the earth. Looking back up at her, she lingers a moment, seemingly to make sure I landed ok. Now relieved to be back on the ground, I wave up at her and shout enthusiastically in the spirit of her earlier joke. “THANKS FOR THE LIFT, CASSIE!”

With that, her grin widens and she returns to her full standing height. From my vantage point beneath her, I can see up her skirt to behold the full extent of her lengthy legs for the first time, though the pussy I had lusted for just minutes ago is concealed by her underwear. It’s probably for the best. I’m not horny anymore. As she turns away from me, she calls over her shoulder, “THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR.” With her first steps, the thuds and quakes reappear. As I watch her lumber off into the distance, I sit with the guilt of the friend I had betrayed.

Good luck, Derek. That’s a lot of woman…

Sydney Elliott POV

I follow Annie up the stairs to Cassie’s apartment. I recall being here a few times before, but it was usually only to pick someone up or drop them off. I’ve never actually been inside before. I wonder what it’s like. As we ascend the second flight of stairs up to the building’s top floor, my excitement builds. A potent mixture of eagerness and anxiety rises within me with each step we climb until we finally complete our ascent. Standing in front of her apartment door, a conundrum occurs to me. How do we get in?

“Uh… Annie… you and Cassie didn’t happen to lock the door behind you when you left tonight, did you?”

She frowns at me, then at the door. “Oh… umm… yeah, I think so.”

“I don’t suppose you have a key, do you?”

“No, I don’t suppose I do,” she responds with a faint hint of mockery in her voice.

Well that makes things more difficult. I consider our options. Cassie’s apartment doesn’t have an accessible window from the stairwell, but perhaps we could get a ladder to scale up to one of the windows on the side? Were any of them left open? What if she locked them? I can’t imagine breaking a window would go well, considering all of the broken glass we’d have to get through to make entry. Then again, we’d probably have more luck breaking glass than a door. 

What about the neighbors? Whereas the ground floor and first floor had four apartments on each level, Cassie’s floor only has her own unit and a single neighboring unit across the way from it. There’s no way they can be connected, but perhaps Cassie gave them a key? 

“What are the odds that Cassie gave her neighbors a key to her apartment?”

Annie seems very amused by this, though I don’t know why. “Considering Cassie never gave me a key, I'd say zero. But maybe you can work some of that feminine charm of yours to convince a strapping young lad to break down the door for us? You’re certainly dressed for it.”

So that’s why she’s laughing. She wants me to seduce somebody to get in. I look at the locked door and the wooden paneled walls again in desperation, but no solution presents itself. She is definitely trying to get me back for messing with her earlier. I find myself feeling unusually reluctant to use my "feminine charms" again, though I can’t quite put my finger on why. I’ve used them to get better grades. I’ve used them to get out of speeding tickets. I’ve used them to get free drinks. Why is this time any different? Another look at Annie’s smug face helps me nail down the source of my reluctance. This isn’t for me. This is a performance for her amusement.

“Why don’t you do it, Annie?” I ask passive-aggressively.

Her smile widens. She’s actually enjoying this. “Oh, I’d love to, Syd, but I don’t think I’m as practiced in the arts of seduction as you are.”

Did she just call me a slut? A twinge of anger surfaces, but I push it down and decide to be the bigger person. “You’re right, Annie.” As I walk up to the neighbor’s door, though, I can’t resist one last dig at her. “I’m probably the prettier of the two of us anyway.” Big people can be petty, too. 

I look back at her one more time before knocking on the door and find her still wearing that smug look on her face. It’s as if she doesn’t even care; she knows she won this round. She’s just lucky I’m not Ronnie. I tap the door three times with my knuckles, then stand back a respectable distance so anyone within can get a good view of me through the peephole. Gotta give a little eye candy to convince them to open the door to a stranger in the middle of the night.

Yet the door doesn’t open. I wait a few moments, then approach the door again and repeat my knock, though this time I tap my knuckles against the door four times. Stepping back again, I repeat the waiting ritual, then shrug at Annie. “Maybe they’re not home.”

Annie retorts, “Maybe they’re not awake. Try being louder.”

I pause. I don’t want to wake anybody.
 

Annie picks up on my hesitation and persists. “Or we could just wait until morning because you want to be considerate. I’m sure the townsfolk will be really appreciative.”

We don’t even know if anyone’s in there. We don’t know if they have a key. We don’t know if there’s anything in Cassie’s apartment that will even help us. I continue brainstorming excuses, but I recognize that they’re just that: excuses. I guess it can’t hurt…

Stepping up to the door again, I begin pounding against it with the bottom of my closed fist. I count each thump in my head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The sound of a latch sliding comes through the door just above the knob. I instinctively take half of a step back in alarm, but quickly regain my composure as the door cracks open. 

“Hello?” a dainty girl’s voice asks through the opening. 

I wasn't ready for this. Admittedly, I had no basis for my assumption that Cassie’s neighbor was a guy. I had just assumed that Annie knew who lived here and was pushing me in the right direction. But a kid? Really? This scenario had never crossed my mind.

Doing my best to affect a higher pitch to soften my tone of voice, I begin speaking slowly. “Hello. I’m Sydney…” I say as I gesture to myself. “...and this is Annie.” I extend my left arm toward the bubbly blonde still standing several feet behind me. As I look back at her, I can see she’s struggling to contain her laughter as she waves at the door’s peephole. Ha-ha, good one, Annie. Clearly she had planned to get me to seduce the kid’s father, but this is probably even more amusing for her. Turning back to the door in front of me, I continue explaining, “We’re friends of your neighbor, Cassie.” At the mention of Cassie, the door opens a little more and the girl peers through the crack to examine us. Through the dark narrow slit in the door, I fail to make out any of her features, but I can tell from the movement of the shadows that part of her head is looking at us through the thin opening. 

“Cassie?” she asks with childish wonderment.

“Yes, your neighbor, Cassie,” I repeat delicately. “She’s in a bit of trouble right now and we need to get into her apartment.” I look back at Annie for reassurance, but find she’s practically suffocating trying not to laugh. What’s so fucking funny? Turning back to the girl, I press on. “Are your parents home?”

The door opens wider, revealing the form of a short girl. She steps into the moonlight and angrily exclaims, “I’m not a little kid! Stop talking to me like that, you overgrown bitch!” 

It’s too much for Annie and she bursts out laughing behind me. I want to walk back and slap her, but my more immediate concern is appeasing the short young woman I had just offended. She really seemed like a kid, though. 

Now having a better view of her body, it’s clear that she’s more developed than any kid would be, but her height and voice never caught up to her curves. Is she even five feet tall? 

I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender as I step back. “Look, I’m sorry. It was an honest mistake. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Her stance softens upon hearing my apology, but I can tell I’m not yet off the hook. “It’s just that… I couldn't really see you. And your voice is kinda high, and you’re also kinda short…”  I see her eyes narrow as my voice trails off. Uh-oh. 

“And you’re ‘kinda’ freakishly tall, do you know that?” Her words drip with a biting sarcasm, but before I can acknowledge the merit of her point, she continues her verbal onslaught. “I’m five feet tall. How tall are you?” I begin to answer, but she interrupts again. “Six feet? Six-one?” I wait for her to continue, but now she pauses to allow an answer.

“Yes, I’m-”

“Do you know what the average height of an American woman is?” By now I’m familiar with her routine and don’t bother offering a guess. “Five feet and four inches. That means I'm four inches shorter than average, but you’re at least eight inches taller than average.”

That’s assuming you’re actually five feet tall, pipsqueak. I’m fairly annoyed at the moody midget lecturing me now, but I decide to wait until she’s done berating me before pressing on. I guess I started this, even if I didn’t mean to insult her. I stare at her expectantly, but she doesn’t speak again, as if she intends for me to stew over what she just said. Annie is still struggling to regain her composure and her laughs, decreasing in frequency and intensity, are all that disturb the cool night air between myself and my diminutive challenger.

An uneasy silent standoff ensues as Annie’s laughter dissipates. Locked in a battle of wills, neither one of us wants to be the first to flinch. As the standoff drags on, I can tell the quiet is unsettling her as I stare down at her miniature form. She stares up at me defiantly, but I can tell she’s losing resolve and the slight movements of her eyes suggests she’s looking for a way out. I know she’s wavering, but I don’t dare to move a single muscle so as to give her an excuse to reposition. My eyes lock on hers, pinning her down and making her sink in the aftermath of her outburst. The movements of her eyes increase in regularity and magnitude, as though she’s now looking up at some terrifying monster. Still, my eyes lock on her, refusing to look anywhere else. I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. I offer her no reprieve. 

I’m dominating her. With each moment that passes, I can feel her shrinking alongside her determination whereas I grow with my own. What was once a one-foot delta in our heights becomes two, then three. She dwindles in front of me as my eyes hold hers captive, not daring to gauge even my peripheral vision for a single moment as the gulf between us widens. All I see are her shaking irises and pupils, beholding my rising form as she diminishes to nothing before me. I could squash her like a bug. 

She breaks off eye contact, succumbing to the intensity of my gaze. It feels awesome to dominate someone with just a glare and sheer force of will. She was a worthy challenger, though. Most guys that tried to stare me down gave up far too easily. Though I suppose they were more interested in looking elsewhere. Basking in the glow of my victory, I am caught off-guard by my vanquished rival’s sudden verbal counter-attack.

“Why are you wearing a bikini?”

The question is surprising. With her submission, I expected to be asking the questions. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought about why I didn’t change back into my clothes. The thought had occurred to me as I watched Ronnie change, but I just didn’t feel like it. I look good in a bikini. I wish I could wear them all the time. Does it sound too vain if I say that? 

“I was at a pool party,” I explain curtly, hoping Annie doesn’t press the issue. I send a quick glare her way in case she was considering it. 

The little girl - er - young woman in front of us seems to accept this answer as she slightly nods in acknowledgement. “So what do you want?” Her tone is still hostile, but it rings more of annoyance than outrage. 

“Well, like I was saying, we’re friends of Cassie’s…” Does she even know Cassie? She’s always been such a recluse and I don’t even know all of my neighbors… “and she’s in a bit of a situation right now…”

She scoffs at me and interrupts again. “Yeah, I’ve seen her ‘situation’ and it seems like more than a ‘bit of a situation’ to me.” 

I’m a 'bit annoyed' at the unhelpful sarcastic interruption, but before I can continue Annie interrupts. “You’ve seen her? Where?”

The girl casually pulls out her phone and unlocks it. She wordlessly taps her screen to open an app, then turns it toward us. There’s a street-level video of a gigantic Cassie walking unsteadily down a road, dwarfing the surrounding houses. The girl thumbs her screen, moving to another video of Cassie as she awkwardly steps over a neighboring house. She thumbs the screen once more, showing a distant shot of Cassie as looms over the campus highrise apartment complexes. She seems to be staring down at them, but then she suddenly digs her hand into the roof of one of the buildings and the cameraman flinches. The camera refocuses on her as she continues standing over the building, then reaches her hand into the structure to extract something. The screen goes dark as the girl squeezes the phone’s power button.

“She’s all over local social media pages. Based on the comment sections, it seems like most people think the videos are fake. I got the alert to shelter in place, but I thought these videos may have been some kind of prank to coincide with it. Frankly, I wasn’t sure of their authenticity myself until you two showed up. Now I’m guessing they’re real?”

I shoot a glance over at Annie to confirm whether we should reveal our privileged information, but she seems despondent. Her eyes stare off into the distance as she absent-mindedly nibbles on one hand’s fingernails. I guess it’s my call, then. Looking back from the anxious Annie to the girl in front of me, I decide to confirm her suspicions. There’s no point in lying about it. 

“Yeah, I guess they’re real. We haven’t seen her since she first grew, but we did see her grow to that size and walk off.”

She’s surprisingly composed upon receiving my report and proceeds to ask another question. “Is she dangerous?” 

A predictable inquiry, but one for which I am entirely unprepared. I look back at Annie again to see if she’ll answer the question or lash out like she did with Ronnie, but she’s still chewing her fingernails. It looks like she may switch to her other hand soon. “Is she dangerous?” The question echoes in my head. 

For as long as I’ve known her, I had never been intimidated by Cassie. She was always a reserved, gentle spirit. But I saw another side of her tonight. Angry. Impulsive. Powerful. This last word lingers in my thoughts. “She doesn’t know her own strength,” Annie’s voice echoes. Ronnie’s voice follows, “She’s intoxicated and larger than any building in town. She doesn’t have to ‘mean it’ to destroy stuff.” The scenes from moments ago replay in my head. Her unbalanced walk. Her stepping over buildings. Her effortless demolition. I had been alarmed, even scared before. Seeing her face looming over us in the backyard was certainly eerie. But now, for the first time tonight, I recognize a sobering reality. Cassie is dangerous. 

“No, she’s not dangerous. Cassie has always been very considerate and careful.” The girl raises a skeptical eyebrow at this. She’s not buying it. Heck, I don’t even buy it. If Cassie were being careful, she would have just stayed put instead of strolling through town. So I elaborate on my lie. “She’s been a giant for most of her life. If anyone can get through this, it’s her.” 

I’m not sure if she believes me, but she seems to accept my explanation as she relaxes her brow. “So how can I help?”

I had completely forgotten why we came here. Looking around for a moment to remind myself, I see Cassie’s door and recall our mission. “We need to get into Cassie’s apartment. Do you have a key?”

She frowns at the question and responds bluntly. “No, I don’t.” She begins moving toward the locked door, walking past me and the now-sullen Annie. She approaches the barrier and twists the knob without further contemplation. Predictably, it doesn’t budge. She starts sliding her hands along the sides of the doorframe, as if looking for a secret compartment or a hidden button. Upon predictably finding nothing again, she points up to the top of the doorframe and asks, “Would you mind?” 

Understanding her meaning, I move forward and assume her place in front of the door, then slide my fingers along the top of the frame. I don’t feel anything on my first pass, so I double back in case I missed something. Not feeling anything as my fingers retrace their path, I turn to the girl beside me and find her staring at my boobs. Unlike Annie, though, she’s actually eye-level with them. 

“No luck,” I proclaim to the petite girl in front of me. She raises her head to make eye contact with me and I can’t help but appreciate the feeling of having somebody eye-level with my breasts. This must be how Cassie feels all the time. I’ve always favored taller guys, but there is something to this power I feel from dwarfing another person…

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be much help to you. I’m not a locksmith.” 

I nod in acknowledgement. I guess we’ll have to think of something else. “Thanks anyway, and I’m sorry about mistaking you for a kid earlier.”

“It was an honest mistake. I was just annoyed because I had just managed to fall asleep.”

I rub my neck out of embarrassment as she begins walking back to her apartment. “Well, I’m sorry about that, too. What was your name, again? I didn’t catch it.”

“It’s Stephanie, or ‘Steph’ if you want. Good luck helping your even more freakishly tall friend.” She looks between Annie and I as she says it, though Annie only manages a meek wave as Stephanie returns to her apartment and closes the door behind her.

“Thanks,” I mutter after her door closes, redirecting my attention to the one that presently blocks my entry. As I look around futilely hoping for a new idea, my gaze settles on the dejected girl beside me. “Hey,” I snap my fingers at her. “Annie, snap out of it.” 

“It’s my fault,” she says. “Everything would be fine right now if I didn’t get her drunk. If I hadn’t pushed her to go out, if I hadn’t pushed her to drink with us, if I hadn’t given her full shots…” She’s unraveling. I move in to comfort her as she continues. “She never would have fallen into the pool, she never would have run into Derek… she wouldn’t be roaming the streets like some beautiful blonde Godzilla.” 

“Shhhhh…” I hush her as I wrap my arms around her. She quiets in my embrace. “You couldn’t have predicted this. Nobody could have predicted this.”

She sniffles a little as she snuggles into me. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t wrong to do the things I did.” 

I gently hush her again. “We all make mistakes, Annie. The best we can hope to do is live with them and learn from them.”

She sniffles again. “I’m still making mistakes.”

I pull her away to look her in the eyes. The whites of her eyes are reddened from the attempts to hold back tears and her pupils look dilated. She breaks off eye contact with me to look down as she rummages through the bag in her hands. Eventually she seems to find what she’s looking for, as she stops her search and extracts her hand to reveal a key.

“Sorry, Syd. I just couldn’t resist getting you back.” 

I can’t help but smile at her. It was a good prank, at first, but it wasted precious time. Another look from the key to Annie’s face tells me that she knows that, though. No use in beating her up over it. She’s doing that to herself already. “Good one,” I reply as I swipe the key from her hand and push it into the doorknob. 

As I twist the key into place and prepare to open the door, Annie asks fearfully, “Do you think Cassie can forgive me? You know, when this is all over?”

“It’s not your fault,” I reply curtly as I push into the door. I turn to face her and we make eye contact again. “Look, Annie, the only person blaming you right now is yourself. The question you should be asking is if you can forgive yourself.” Her eyes retreat from mine as she looks down at her shoes. She’s not going to find reassurance from within right now. She needs external support right now. “Personally, I wouldn’t blame myself for doing the wrong thing for the right reason. You were just trying to help your friend, right?” 

With this, her face rises to meet mine again. “I guess so…”

That’s an improvement. “No use in dwelling on the past right now. We’ve got a town to save,” I joke.

Annie smiles a little at this, but then frowns and looks at the ground again. “Truthfully, I’ve always been more concerned for Cassie’s safety than the town’s. I mean, I know she’s huge and strong right now, but she’s not invincible. She’s very scary, but I worry that someone might try to hurt her out of fear.”

I hadn’t thought about that. All I’ve thought about since Cassie grew was the destruction she could cause. Her size, her speed, her strength. I hadn’t thought about her vulnerability. What if somebody shoots her? What will the police do? But the other part of Annie’s statement still rings in my mind. She’s not invincible. Her body grew through the house like it was made of paper. She drove her hand through that apartment roof on the video like it was nothing. What if she is invincible? 

Luke Thompson POV

The police station is surprisingly empty when we arrive. Only a few police cruisers are parked out front and nobody is outside. I’m not sure what I expected, but it was certainly a lot more than… this. 

Getting out of the car, I wonder aloud, “Where is everybody?”

Without skipping a beat, Ronnie quips, “Probably fighting babezilla.”

Becca is unfazed by the seemingly empty station and begins striding across the parking lot. Ronnie and I follow her and I can’t help but notice the shaking of Becca's butt as we trail behind. I try to keep my eyes up, lest Ronnie catch me gazing at her friend’s ass, but it is proving exceptionally difficult. The tall girl’s tight booty shorts leave little to the imagination and her legs rank among the finest I’ve ever seen. Keeping my eyes ahead of me, I notice for the first time that Becca actually appears to be slightly taller than me. No doubt thanks to her long, powerful legs…

I can’t help myself. Discreetly sneaking a peek, I behold the fit, yet bodacious booty of my girlfriend’s friend. With each stride, her shorts stretch and cling to her shifting muscles. With each foot’s impact with the ground, a slight jiggle and ripple disrupts the sea of her gluteus maximus. How long have I been staring? I quickly shift my focus to Ronnie, anxious to discern if she caught me ogling her leggy companion. Fortunately she appears to be gazing downwards, too. I sigh in relief. Is she looking at Becca's butt, too? She’s probably just lost in thought.

Eager to distract myself from the sensual spectacle before me, I start thinking of what to say when we get in there. How do we even explain this? Becca strides on confidently, seemingly unconcerned by the particulars. I really wish we’d talked about this on the drive over. On second thought, I wish we had talked about literally anything on the drive over.

It wasn’t a total waste of time, though… I think upon remembering the kiss Ronnie planted on my cheek. It was probably my fault. What happened to Derek was traumatic to see up-close, but I didn’t really know him all that well. It’s not like we were pledge brothers or anything. I took some time to process it at first, but I’m more concerned with the task at hand. I still have some lingering guilt about bringing him to the party in the first place, but there’s no point in dwelling on that now. Besides, who could have guessed what would happen to him? Who could have stopped it? I’ve moved on. What happened to him isn’t on me. I sigh. Whatever happens going forward is on me. I’m in a unique position to help. It’s time to step up.

Having psyched myself up a little, I interrupt Becca as she reaches for the door to the building. “Hold up a sec. Let’s take a moment to regroup.”

The amazonian woman turns around and stares me directly in the eyes. I stop abruptly, uncertain if she is upset by a perceived challenge to her authority or acquiescing to my request to stop. Her fierce glare suggests it’s a bit of both. After a brief moment of pause, her vision narrows as her eyelids lower, squinting at me as if I'm some petulant child. Though she doesn’t speak, her message couldn’t be more clear. “You called this meeting. You speak first.” 

I had an idea of what I wanted to say before, but her icy stare erases the words from my memory. This chick’s intense. As I fumble through my mind for something to say, I start thinking about my predicament and a pattern emerges in my head. Becca is an authority figure. She speaks few words, but people listen to her because they respect her. Or fear her. Somehow I don’t think this will play well with the cops. 

“I think I should do most of the talking.” She raises her eyebrows at this and blinks once. It feels good to catch her off-guard, but I know I have to back it up. Time to improvise. “The cops out here are old-school country guys. Lawmen like from the wild west, y’know? Small town, conservative state, and they spend most of their time cleaning up after rowdy out-of-town college kids.” 

She raises one eyebrow this time and looks me up and down as if to say, “You’re a rowdy college kid, too.” I know I can’t just come out and say she’s uncharismatic, so I continue improvising and hope she doesn’t catch on.

“I just think things would go better if I talk to them. Man-to-man.” I can tell she still isn’t convinced, so I reluctantly go on the offensive. Politely. “Look, Becca. I like and respect you. Really, I do. I haven’t known you that long, but I see all of the girls look up to you and you’ve been a great leader for them tonight. But…” I can see her expression softening as she seems to come to the conclusion before I deliver it. Do I actually have to say it at this point? “...talking isn’t your strong suit.” Better to stop short of saying more. 

She closes her eyes and looks down for a moment, as if contemplating my words, then meets my eyes again. “Fine.”

Relief washes over me as I feel my muscles immediately relax. I didn’t realize how tense I was. Looking around to subtly stretch my neck a little, I catch Ronnie’s eyes and it seems like she’s even more relieved than I am. Her eyes meet mine and her demeanor eases as her brow relaxes, cheekbones rest, and her anxious grimace transitions to a smile. As our eyes settle on each other, I notice her gently biting down on her lower lip.

“Ahem” Becca interrupts as she clears her throat. Ronnie blushes and looks away, clearly embarrassed by whatever amorous thoughts she was having. Did she like that I was assertive? I linger for a few moments in case she meets my eyes again, but the opportunity passes and I turn away from her to face the impatient Becca. “You wanted to take the lead on this, hotshot.” She gestures to the front door of the station. “Lead.” 

Despite her telling me to lead, I discern that she’s still in charge. Although she’s definitely cockblocking me, I can’t help but respect her commanding presence. She’s a natural leader; it’s too bad she isn’t more eloquent. I reluctantly step away from Ronnie and approach the door, placing my hand on its cold handle as I take a deep breath. I look back at the two girls to gauge their expressions, finding Becca to be moderately annoyed and Ronnie to be slightly anxious. Then I swing open the door and walk inside with the two girls flanking me from behind. 

The building is quiet at first. As the seconds tick by, a sense of eeriness sets in. Is this place abandoned? Where is everyone? Suddenly a muffled shout and a crash are heard down the hallway to our left. It sounded angry to me, like it was part of some sort of struggle, but as time passes there are no further noises. I silently begin moving in the direction of the commotion with my two statuesque shieldmaidens in formation behind me. As we approach the door, the muffled sound of talking becomes more noticeable. Reaching the door and placing my hand on it, I pause for a moment to listen.

“I told them to stand down. How fucking hard is that? Is that so hard to understand?”

I look back at the girls again. They’re listening intently, too. I shrug my shoulders to indicate my intention to open the door. Ronnie looks at Becca, who nods. As I squeeze the handle in anticipation of yanking it open, the voice comes through again.

“With any luck, we’ll make it through the rest of the night without any more casualties.”

"Casualties?" With that, I swing the door open and step into the doorway. Before I step further into the room, I see the grizzled sheriff standing at a desk with two other men in uniform, whom I assume to be his deputies. Against the wall to his left lies a smashed telephone, which I deduce to be the sound of the crash. Looking back up from the phone, the cowboy hat-wearing sheriff seems to be annoyed by my presence.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asks sarcastically.

“I… uh…” having the three law enforcement officers staring at me makes me lose my tongue again. My mind is blank as I stare at them, trying to think of something witty, or at least intelligible to say. Then a shove at my back pushes me into the cramped office as Becca and Ronnie force their way in behind me. I forgot I was blocking the doorway. 

The sheriff’s eyes widen as he beholds the two imposing women. Now that he’s not looking at me anymore, I realize that the sheriff is actually shorter than I am, though it didn’t feel that way a few seconds ago. He’s not a short man by any means, as he probably stands at 5’10” or so, but next to the forms of the brawny Ronnie and the towering Becca he looks much shorter than he actually is. Our tight surroundings certainly don’t correct the image. Why do tall girls always look so much taller than tall boys? 

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re growing, too,” the sheriff gripes. 

“I wish,” Ronnie quips back with a smile of dubious sincerity. Becca opens her mouth like she is going to say something, but seems to think better of it and closes it as she bites her bottom lip like Ronnie did earlier. Is she turned on right now? I think better of it and chalk it up to her biting her tongue before saying something regrettable. I admire her restraint. This guy seems like a piece of work. 

“So why are you here?” the sheriff asks impatiently. “I’ve got a bit of a situation at the moment so if it’s not an emergency…”

“It is an emergency!” I feel myself blurt out in anxiety. The sheriff  is clearly irritated by my interruption, but waits patiently for me to elaborate. “Our friend became a giant.” The words sound stupid leaving my mouth, but the sheriff’s face is surprisingly receptive to me. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he jokes as his deputies give a lighthearted chuckle. 

“You know?” Ronnie asks, clearly surprised by the sheriff’s remark.

“Yes, I know. She’s kind of hard to miss, actually,” the sheriff continues, clearly amused by his own wit. “Now, you’re telling me you’re her friends. Maybe you can help me out here, so I’ll repeat myself instead of throwing you out. Tell me. Something. I don’t. Know.”

“Her name is Cassie Bell,” I volunteer.

His angry expression shifts to one of surprise. “No shit? Really?” I glance at Ronnie and Becca and see slight smiles forming on their lips at the satisfaction of having pulled one over on the smug sheriff. He continues as he takes off his cowboy hat and rubs the top of his balding head. “Wow, I never would have figured that the giant girl roaming my town is its most famous celebrity. It’s really hard to identify her, especially now that she’s fifteen stories tall.”

I see the girls’ smiles turn to frowns as the sheriff finishes his mocking, but I’m still hung up on the last thing he said. Fifteen stories tall? It seems impossible...

“Why are you such a dick?” Becca interjects, interrupting my thoughts. Oh no…

The sheriff puts his hat back atop his head and frowns at her. He stares intently into her eyes as I anticipate another standoff, but I see his resolve weaken immediately. “I’m having a bad day. My dog died.” 

Becca is visibly taken aback by this. Her eyes lower from his face as she looks away sadly. Is she going to cry? “I-I’m… I’m sorry,” she manages to shakily offer him.

“I’m sorry, too,” the old grump offers. “I’m having a bad day and I’m taking it out on you kids unfairly.” I see Ronnie open her mouth to speak, but I shake my head at her and she closes it. “There’s just a lot going on right now. You know that old saying? ‘When it rains it pours?’ Well I’m in a fucking hurricane right now.” He takes a moment to compose himself as he leans on his desk, then stands up again. “Alright, let’s start over. So you’re friends of Cassidy, huh?”

It feels weird hearing her full name out loud, but I pick up the conversational ball and run with it. “Yes, we’re friends of… ‘Cassidy.’ We were there when she… uh… grew.” 

The sheriff looks on with interest. “Any idea what caused her to grow?” 

I look over to my companions. They saw her first growth spurt, maybe they know something I don’t. Ronnie seems to have the same idea, and looks across the room at Becca and me. Becca recognizes our indecision and volunteers, “Not really.”

The sheriff nods somberly in response. I consider telling the sheriff about Annie and Sydney’s mission, but I figure that Becca has her reasons for not mentioning it, though I can only guess at what they are. He looks across at his deputies for a moment, seemingly in deep thought when Ronnie asks, “Where is everybody?”

The sheriff tilts his head a little, as if pondering the answer to a profound question. Or maybe he’s just deciding how to answer it. “This is everybody,” he says as he makes a great show of gesturing to the people in the room with open arms. 

“This is it? This is everybody?” I utter in surprise. I know Titanburg has more police than this. I’ve seen them. 

“Pretty much,” the sheriff affirms dourly. 

“So who were you talking with on the phone?” Becca asks assertively. Though it’s an inquisitive question, her tone is authoritative. Please tell me she isn’t going to try to interrogate the police…

“The officers I sent with EMS to ground zero,” he replies chillingly. Ronnie raises her hand to cover her mouth as Becca steps back a little. The word “casualties” re-enters my mind. The sheriff lets the sentence sink in a little, then speaks again. “Relax, it’s not that bad.” We all collectively exhale a little. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. “When your friend first ‘grew,’ we got a series of 9-1-1 calls. At first we thought it was a prank because almost all of them were coming from students of the school, but then we started getting calls from the local residents and we moved fast. We dispatched all of the medical assets we had as well as every officer we could spare, then I set up a command center here.”

I want to ask him about the casualties, but Becca speaks first. “So all of the other cops are back at the DTF house?” 

The sheriff smirks a bit as if the question is amusing. “No, most of the other ‘cops’ are across the county line, as a matter of fact.” He looks at us as if he expects us to understand, but it’s clear from our confused faces that we don’t follow. “Big baseball game tonight. Titans versus Spartans…” He extends his arms out from his sides as he shows us his palms to express his disappointment at our blank faces. “I guess you’re not baseball folks,” he muses. 

“...so how does this affect the police department?” Ronnie asks impatiently.

“Right, well, the baseball stadium is pretty far removed from the campus… I’ll spare you the history lesson… and it technically falls into the jurisdiction of the neighboring county. Titan Tech is pretty close to the county line, in case you non-locals weren’t aware. However, seeing as how it’s our school and all, we always send officers to help staff the security at the baseball games as a form of professional courtesy. It’s not like much happens here anyway, so we help them out with the usual few drunk and disorderly students in the crowd and see them off. Worst-case scenario: we put them in our jail and hold them overnight so at least they’re close to home when they’re released.” 

“I’m still confused,” Ronnie interjects again. “So all of the police are either with the paramedics or at the baseball game?” The sheriff nods. “So who were you telling to stand down earlier?”

The sheriff’s expression sours. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, young lady.” 

Feeling a sudden urge to stand up for my girlfriend, I defensively explain, “You were kind of loud, sir.” I deliberately direct my gaze down at the smashed phone lying against the wall beside him.

His eyes follow mine to the phone and he reflects a moment. “I suppose I was. Fair enough,” he says as he shrugs. “But I already answered your question. I was talking to the officers at ground zero.” The girls and I lean back in common understanding. “They were distraught by what they found and wanted to go after your gigantic friend.”

“And you don’t want them to go after her?” I suggest.

“No, I don’t want them to go after her,” he confirms.

“Why?” asks my dumbfounded girlfriend. The sheriff turns away from me to face her, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he merely blinks at her like an astonished teacher who has just been asked a ridiculous question by the class clown. The apprehensive strongwoman rubs her arm out of discomfort. “I mean, isn’t that your job? To stop the giant monster and save the town?”

The sheriff’s expression shifts from astonishment to amusement again. “This ‘giant monster’ is your friend, right?” Ronnie blushes out of embarrassment. “No, young lady, my job is to keep the residents of this community safe. And that includes your big friend out there. I’ve known her for her entire life, you know.”

“You have?” Becca asks more out of amazement than incredulity. 

“Yup, I’m that old,” he says with a grin. “You wouldn’t know it from lookin’ at me, would ya?” Looking him up and down again, I figure the old coot had to be at least sixty based on his wrinkled skin and the condition of his bald scalp. It’s probably better that I don’t guess. “I knew her parents, too,” he elaborates. “Even before I was the sheriff of this town.”

An impatient Ronnie interrupts again. “That’s nice and all, but I still don’t understand. Don’t you think she’s dangerous? Why aren’t you trying to stop her?”

The sheriff sighs. “When I was a young buck, that would have been my instinct, too, so I don’t fault you for your youthful vigor. But over the years I’ve learned a thing or two. And one of the things I’ve learned is that force isn’t always the best solution to a problem. Do you think sending some very emotional, very scared officers with guns to confront a college student the size of Godzilla will hurt or help the safety of the residents of this town?”

“So your plan is to do nothing?” Ronnie challenges. I’m starting to regret not being more assertive earlier. Clearly the lawman’s wit has not deterred her.

“My ‘plan’ is to do everything I can as responsibly as I can with the resources at my disposal,” he retorts. “I have a small group of undertrained and frightened officers while my top lieutenant and most of my regular officers are in the next county over. Cassidy is a kind and gentle girl and I don’t want to risk her safety, my officers’ safety, or the safety of the good people of Titanburg with some wild cowboy bullshit!” His words are sharp and the whole room is made uncomfortable by his outburst. The deputies across from his desk seem especially uncomfortable, probably due to their own characterization, but they seem to know better than to object. Silence overtakes the room as the embattled sheriff stares down Ronnie, then scans the rest of the small office for his next challenger.

Perhaps too eager to take the heat off of my girlfriend, I speak meekly. “Sir… have you considered calling for backup?”

My tone seems to soften him as he realizes he’s been yelling at a bunch of ‘kids’ again. “I already have,” he explains defeatedly. “Nobody believed me. I imagine they will soon, once word gets out over the internet or whatever. When that happens, this situation is going to be out of my control, just like last time.” Last time? This has happened before? The sheriff keeps speaking, so I don’t interrupt. “The state troopers… the national guard… the feds… everybody’s gonna come soon enough. But that kind of mobilization takes time and it’s a late Friday night in a small town in the middle of nowhere. So for now, we’re on our own.” 

“Well, then we’ve got a problem, sir,” Becca offers respectfully. 

“A rather large one. I’m aware,” the sheriff replies despondently. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Becca persists. “That behemoth outside isn’t the same girl you’ve known for the last twenty years.”

The sheriff looks up at the tall girl with tired eyes. He clearly doesn’t want any more bad news, but his duty compels him to ask. “Why’s that?”

I raise my hands to my face as I realize Becca’s meaning. All this excitement… all this anxiety… it had completely slipped my mind. We had wasted crucial time. Pressing my palms against my temples, I let out an exasperated sigh as I complete Becca’s revelation for her.

“She’s drunk.”

Cassidy Bell POV

That was fun. Though I was never actually going to hurt Brian, it felt good to be in control for once. Now that I’m big, the little people of the world finally have to respect me. They have to obey me, an insidious voice elaborates. This time I don’t scold myself for the thought. I’ve been taller than just about everyone for my entire adult life, but it never seemed like anyone really looked up to me. They’re certainly looking up at me now.

As I continue my journey across the campus toward Derek’s frat house, the occasional little person flees from my titanic form. It’s not like I’m going to hurt them. Whereas before their flight made me feel powerful, now I feel isolated. Good, I console myself. They’ll stay out of my way. But this hardly helps me cope. Ever since my parents died, I’ve been an outcast. My own adoptive family didn’t even seem to want me. It’s not like they were cruel or anything, but I always seemed superfluous to them. They already had a family. They had a plan for their lives. And I was never part of it. They treated me nicely enough, I suppose, but I never felt welcome. They took me in out of a sense of obligation, not because they wanted to have me around. I wasn’t comfortable talking with them about the accident, my powers, my trauma. The closest things to heartfelt conversations we ever had were about my parents. I loved hearing stories about them, but they were always colored by my own guilt about what happened…

I take a moment to reorient myself. I’ve gone from Derek’s apartment to his frat house before and vice versa, but my new perspective is a little confounding. Everything looks so different from up here. So alien and so… small. The landscape is completely different. The usual landmarks don’t stick out to me. Surveying the area again, I recognize the distinctive dome of my lab building, though I’m seeing it for the first time from above. I’m still not quite used to looking down on rooftops yet. Looking back at the highrises and comparing their proximity to the laboratory, I attempt to get my bearings only to find my depth perception continues to fail me. It’s not like I’d be able to approximate the distances well at this size anyway. As I look down at my bare feet in the intersection to brainstorm for a moment, I notice the street sign beside them. Peering down from above, I can’t see its message, but I resolve this fairly easily by bending over and plucking it from the ground. The ease with which I extract it from the earth between my thumb and pointer finger reminds me of my incredible new strength. As I raise the puny placard to my face, my head spins a little. Rising to stand up straight again, I have to readjust my footing to support myself. Wow, I don’t remember my movements being this awkward last time I was this size. I squint at the tiny blue sign, trying to make out the text, but my vision is too blurry and the letters don’t come into focus. Does that say “Mason?” I can’t be on Mason street…

Maybe I should shrink a little, just to make it easier to read. I consider the idea, but soon find I’m becoming angry at the mere suggestion. That’s just what that little twerp would want me to do. Glancing over the diminutive world beneath me, a strong desire to preserve my dimensions overtakes me. Derek always wanted me to diminish myself. He always put me down; trying to make me feel like I needed him. He made me feel small. I drop the sign and watch it fall back to the ground so far below me. Well I’m not small. Now he’s going to see how big I really am.

With a renewed sense of determination, I stomp onto the largest street I can find, believing it to be Titan Avenue. It’s not my usual route, as it usually isn’t the fastest way to get through campus, but I reckon it’s a direct path with enough distinctive features to get me where I want to go. Besides, it might actually be the fastest route now. It’s not like there’s any traffic or pedestrians out here. As I angrily stomp through the campus, the ground becomes considerably more unsteady for me and I start to wobble slightly. I force myself to calm down and regain my composure before resuming my stroll, softening my footsteps as I make my way through the barren highway. It seems the campus is truly abandoned now. It’s hard to say how much time has passed since my last encounter with another person, but this is certainly the longest stretch since I first stepped onto campus.

A vague sense of melancholy accompanies this realization. Whereas before I was glad the puny people were staying out of my way, I now find that I kind of miss them and I can’t express why. Maybe I just miss having company. Maybe I feel guilty about scaring everyone off. Maybe I miss how powerful I felt watching them flee. I still can’t quite place my finger on it. Perhaps it’s none of these reasons. Perhaps it’s all of them. As I continue to think on it, my focus shifts from why I’m feeling sad in particular to why I’m having so many mood swings in general. I’m not normally like this, am I? What’s changed?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car being crushed under my foot. Oh my God! Did I just kill someone? I’m momentarily paralyzed by fear. Do I even dare look at what I’ve done? I have a strong desire to flee, like the little cowards have fled before me all night. They can’t catch me. They can’t stop me. But my guilt forces me to stop and inspect the damage. Peering past by bust to examine my foot, I find there’s nothing to see as my foot has completely eclipsed the vehicle, but I recognize that I’ve drifted from the center of the street. Now I recognize that I’m more than a mere pedestrian. My body is the biggest vehicle on the road. And I was driving distracted. Still looking down at my foot, I can’t observe the vehicle I inadvertently smothered, but I can feel it beneath me. It’s a good thing I stopped where I did. I was probably only a step or two away from walking right into the row of buildings lining the street.

Despite the near catastrophe, I find it comforting seeing my toes mere inches from demolishing the houses. Well, those inches are probably more like yards. Their proximity suggests that the car I just squished was parked, rather than driving. My anxiety subsides a little as I raise my foot to reveal the flattened wreckage. My relief is not complete, however, so I slowly bend over to get a closer look. Peeling the wreck from the street, I then raise it to my face to examine closer. It’s hard to be sure, but the hole where the windshield used to be has become a sort of sunroof and I don’t see anyone inside. Phew. Now assured that I haven’t killed anyone, I step back toward the center of the road and resume my journey more mindfully than before.

Focus, Cassie. With great power comes great responsibility. I’m not driving a petty car or a truck. I’m driving the biggest, fastest, sexiest thing to ever grace the streets of Titanburg. I can’t fall asleep at the wheel. I have to be a responsible driver. With that, I resume my hike through the campus with a new sense of conscientiousness. Yet despite my earlier concerns and newfound sense of care, I can’t shake another feeling I had experienced. A brief sensation I felt right before becoming awash with worry. The crunch of the car beneath my foot. The soft scraping as I picked it up from the asphalt. The way it crumbled to my touch. Now that the grief and anxiety is gone, I find it easier to hone in on that faint tingle I felt. It was exciting, perhaps even arousing. But was it really pleasurable, or am I just getting a kick out of the adrenaline that accompanied my panic?

I continue walking to the edge of the campus, but I can’t shake the thought from my mind. I become fixated on that imprecise phenomenon from moments before. I’m a scientist. Why not conduct an experiment to find out? I halt before exiting the campus to greater Titanburg. Two steps ahead of me, there is another parked car alongside the road. I could crush it so easily. Yet my conscience holds me back. Am I really going to destroy someone’s car just to scratch an itch in my brain? I sheepishly take a step forward, embarrassed by the thought. Yet as I get closer, my dad’s voice manifests in my conscience. “Come on, Cass. Where’s your sense of scientific curiosity?”

A tear runs down my cheek as I recall the happy memory. He had just completed a new invention, a device called “the shock block” that converted ambient radiation into useful energy. It was never practical for use on Earth, but dad was convinced that he was merely ahead of his time and the device would be foundational for space travel if it could be made to convert cosmic radiation into electricity. I didn’t want to touch it, recalling mom’s warnings to my father about the dangers of radiation. She never liked it when dad used me as a guinea pig for his inventions, but he assured both of us that he was always careful and would never let anything happen to me. When I protested the suggestion of touching the device, he mocked me with the same words. “Come on, Cass. Where’s your sense of scientific curiosity?” He knew I wanted to become a scientist like him and his goading worked. When I reached out and touched it, it gave me a static shock and I jumped backwards in surprise before my laughing father picked me up in his arms and swung me around the room. I miss him…

Without a second thought, I swing my foot atop the parked car and press firmly down on it. Crunch. This time, unmolested by anxiety and guilt, the pleasurable feeling is unmistakable. But why do I feel this way? It seems like more than a power trip. The sensation itself seems inherently sensuous. The sound, the touch, the whole phenomenon feels good to me. I have to know more. Continuing up the street, I start to concentrate on the feeling of the ground beneath my feet; how it yields to my weight and molds to my foot. It’s oddly pleasant in a way I hadn’t noticed before. Approaching another empty vehicle, I resolve to repeat the experiment again. What kind of scientist would I be without repeated trials? Introducing a new variable, I opt to crush the vehicle more slowly this time. The crunch from before is accompanied by a slight squeal as the car whines in protest at my weight. The sensation is different, too, though it’s still distinctly gratifying. It’s a slower burn, building up within me as my foot sinks lower into the car. Now placing all of my weight on the vehicle, its compression is complete and I get a final rush of endorphins. Reflecting on my results, I conclude it felt almost like a tickle before giving a final rush of a finale. One more. Sauntering up to a larger pick-up truck, I find my foot just barely eclipses its body as I delicately hover above it. Now inverting my previous test, I swiftly slam my foot down on it and the truck completely caves to my awesome mass. The sensuous sensation is much more abrupt, but perhaps even more satisfying than before. It’s as if each totaled vehicle has the same finite amount of dopamine, stretched across the duration of the destruction. The shortest crush was the most immediately satisfying, yet the longer one drew out my pleasure. I can’t decide which is my favorite.

As I seek more potential test subjects, I’m reminded of the wider world around me. I’m not in a lab, this is the real world. My momentary guilt at destroying somebody else’s property is quickly supplanted by the realization that I have allowed myself to become distracted from my objective. Stop playing around, Cassie. You’ve got a job to do. Returning to my prior mission, I set off once more out of the campus and return to the suburban sprawl of greater Titanburg.

The farther I get from campus, the more the toys around me seem to dwindle. The buildings get smaller, the vehicles become more sparse, and roads get narrower. Everything is so small. So cute. So… fragile. The ground beneath me continues to sink and yield slightly to each of my footsteps, but it feels more intimate than before. The squishy ground brings back memories of running through the cool damp mud on summer nights as a kid, though now the ground is completely dry. The air is tranquil as I continue my evening stroll through the adorable miniature land. Taking a brief moment to admire the sky above me, the moon and stars seem closer than ever before. Though I know that the distance I’ve closed with them is insignificant in the grand scale of things, they seem brighter and clearer to me now. Maybe this is just an illusion, but perhaps my new height reduces the effect of light pollution? Whatever the cause, my new environment is enchanting and I am euphoric. Derek was right. Bigger is better.

Derek! The familiar sense of anger returns as I can feel my face getting hotter. In my state of bliss, I had allowed myself to get distracted again. I’m mad at myself for willfully being sidetracked, but I also can’t help but resent the world more broadly. I know it’s not a sentient being, but it’s always felt like it was against me. How many times had I hit my head on a low doorway? How many times did I go clothes shopping with my friends only to find I had no options on account of my height and figure? How many times did I have to make myself uncomfortable because there wasn’t enough space for me on a car, bus, or plane seat? Now it feels like the universe is actively taking sides against me on behalf of my douchey ex-boyfriend. Not only is it helping him hide, but now it’s deliberately diverting me. I have half a mind to grow so big that I can stomp the entire town with one foot, but I quickly recognize this to be an overreaction. Is it even possible for me to get that big? Still, I feel that the tricky township deserves a punishment for distracting me. If it’s going to play games with me, then it’s only fair that I respond in kind. After all, what are toys for?

I pick up my pace, no longer allowing myself to relish in the sensation of the spongy ground beneath me, but I find a new way to secure my satisfaction. As I proceed in my pursuit of the puny prick, I go out of my way to smother every vehicle parked along my path. Scrunch. Pop. Boom. Each vehicle makes a unique sound as it disappears under my feet, with my last stomp on a particularly diminutive smart car overwhelming any audible protest from the puny compact. It’s really “compact” now, I smirk with amusement at my lame pun. By now I’m hardly surprised by my new strength as each automobile flattens with about as much resistance as a soda can. Yet I don’t allow myself to take too much enjoyment in my work, lest I become distracted again. I’m only standing up for myself and teaching the treacherous world a lesson. I can’t lose sight of my mission, no matter how much I’m enjoying myself.

But I am enjoying myself. Whatever justice I had sought to dish out before, I have certainly exceeded it by now. This is just too fun. After stomping the umpteenth car along my route to my wayward ex, I start to wonder at what else I could play with. All around me, there are dozens of dollhouses begging for my attention. I had always loved playing with my dollhouses as a kid and now I have the ultimate toy collection at my feet. Everything and everyone is mine to play with. My vision centers on a particularly nice house a few properties away. With its pristine white paint and Doric columns, it vaguely reminds me of a smaller version of the White House. I giggle a little. Way smaller.

Then I remember. I know that place. I had passed it on the way to Derek’s fraternity house many times. I had hardly recognized it at my new size. I begin looking around to reorient myself once more. I’m close. My gaze shifts away from the interior and toward the outskirts, knowing the fraternity house to be along the edge of the neighborhood. Peering over several rows of houses, I eventually spot my target. I can’t resist smiling as I recognize its distinctive portico over the front door, emblazoned with the titular letters of the Greek order. Though I can’t quite make out the characters from this distance, there is no mistaking the structure itself.

It’s playtime.


David Gage POV

A distant boom disturbs the otherwise-quiet night as I stare into the barren fridge, tired and absent-mindedly gazing into its bright white interior as if more food will appear if I stare long enough. My fatigued mind hardly registers it at first, thinking it to be a figment of my imagination. I don’t put further thought into it until a second boom manifests, still relatively quiet and distant. It sounds like fireworks from across town. That’s probably it. I yawn and lazily scratch my lower back as I close the door to the fridge, deciding to go to sleep for the night and get food in the morning. As I shuffle off to bed, another firework goes off, but this one is somewhat louder than the ones before. It still sounds far away, yet somehow it feels… closer? Probably just getting to the bigger stuff as the show nears its finale. I can’t think of anything that would call for fireworks, though. What are they celebrating?

Stepping into the bathroom to begin my nightly routine, I squeeze out some toothpaste onto my electric toothbrush and activate the appliance as I step into the small bathroom area to use the toilet. Brushing my teeth as I pee into the bowl, I notice the noise from my electric toothbrush in the confines of the small bathroom seems to drown out the ruckus of the rockets. Flushing the toilet and making my way to the sink to spit into it, I feel a slight vibration with my socked feet that’s out of harmony with the vibrations of my toothbrush. It’s so slight that I again suspect I imagined it, but after turning off my toothbrush and spitting into the sink I realize just how quiet the night is. It’s silent. I thought the atmosphere had been tranquil before, but now it seems all of the ambient noise of the night air is gone. No crickets. No birds. Nothing. It’s ominous; as if the entire world is waiting for something to happen. But what?

The universe answers with a tremor and a louder boom. It’s a mild quake, unlikely to even register on the Richter scale, but it’s noticeable. It feels like when a heavy piece of furniture hits the ground nearby and shakes the floor a little. Not enough to cause me to lose balance, but just noticeable enough to register its impact. I can feel myself waking up more as a slight anxiety mixes with my earlier drowsiness. Were those earlier booms explosions? Are we under attack?

The universe answers again with an even louder boom and a more forceful tremor. Now I’m wide awake. It sounds like each house in town is blowing up, one after the other in sequence. Judging by the sounds of the explosions, I figure it’s still fairly far away, but it’s closing fast. Is there a problem with the gas lines? What could be causing this? My instincts scream at me to flee the house as fast as possible, but my thoughts turn to my pledge brother in the bedroom across the hall. Sprinting to the door, I knock violently and shout to him. “Michael, get up! We have to get out of here now!”

I hear a groan come from somewhere behind the door, followed by the whispering of a girl’s voice. Emma. I had forgotten about her. Michael and Emma had slunk away to his bedroom hours ago when Derek left with Sarah. I was so wrapped up in my gaming that I had forgotten about his promiscuous lady friend.

“Uh… give us a minute, David.” The voice behind the door is groggy and marked by irritation. I know I need to get out of this combustible deathtrap as fast as possible, but my loyalty to my frat brother compels me to stay and insist upon his immediate evacuation.

“We might not have a minute! We need to get out of here now!” My voice is riddled with panic, but rather than try to conceal it, I use it to emphasize the gravity of the situation. As if to help me make my point, another boom gently rocks the house. This time it’s strong enough to rattle a few of the lighter household objects.

I hear movement behind the door, then it cracks open to reveal Michael’s face. “What the hell was that?” He looks surprisingly alert. Clearly I had unsettled him.

“I don’t know, but it sounds like it’s getting closer!” I consider telling him my gas line theory, but I figure it will only lead to more questions and wasted time.

Michael hurriedly opens the door, beckoning his foxy friend to follow him as he brushes past me into the hallway. Emma, clad in nothing but her white lingerie, dutifully trails him as we make our way out of the house. Following closely behind, I can’t help but admire her curvaceous form as we hurry out of the condemned structure. She’s clearly a devout observer of leg day, as her thighs and butt are much more well-developed than the rest of her, though her rack isn’t bad. I almost forget our perilous predicament as I observe the slight ripples and jiggles of her toned body as she saunters behind Michael. Another boom and rumble serves to remind me of the objective as we stack up against him on the door. He turns back to face me, as if to ask me “Are you sure about this?”

I don’t have time to second-guess myself, as his abrupt about-face has caused Emma to back her rotund rear into my crotch, sending my brain into a frenzy. Wow, that feels good. Wait, is this noticeable? Is my face getting red? What if I get a boner right now? Please don’t get a boner right now… I can already feel it stiffening, so I act fast. I manage a meek “go!” as I back up, trying to put some space between myself and the blonde shortstack. Upon receiving my encouragement, he swings open the door and we all madly dash outside across the porch onto the lawn. I trip and fall to the ground amidst all of the excitement , placing my hands in front of me to break my fall. Michael sees this and rushes back to pick me up and usher me to the street, farther from the doomed house. Looking forward, I notice Emma standing on the curb, but she’s not looking at us. Staring off to our right, she seems paralyzed with fear as she looks up to the night sky. Following her eyes, Michael and I both stare up to see what she’s gawking at and are greeted with an impossible sight.

Derek’s ex-girlfriend is impossibly huge. She had always been tall, but now she’s monumental. Her shapely silhouette scrapes against the starry sky as I look higher and higher to behold her massive form. My view of her feet is obstructed by the houses between us, but the rest of her is plainly visible. Her firm calves, her thick thighs, her tight torso, and her sumptuous breasts altogether are a lot to take in. It’s not helping me manage my erection. The sight is simply surreal. It’s otherworldly. It’s so utterly absurd. My vision narrows on an impossibly extravagant necklace draped over her bust. This must be a hallucination. Some kind of perverse trick…

I force myself to look past her bust to assess her demeanor. Her expression is neutral, with her lips parted horizontally and her cheeks relaxed. Higher above, her eyes seem focused, as though she’s looking for something in the distance. Her head drifts slightly with the movements of her eyes. She’s looking for something. Eventually her eyes meet mine. At least it looks like they’re meeting mine. They widen a little as her vision settles on me. Her brows ascend slightly on her forehead. Her cheeks rise, too, parting slightly to reveal a pair of dimples. The corners of her mouth climb her face as her lips shift into a smile and reveal her pearly white teeth. She’s looking for me.

Yet as the titanic woman smiles down at me, I notice her eyes seem to drift a little. They’re hard to see well in the dim light of the moon, but they appear somewhat glassy. She doesn’t move, frozen as she seems to contemplate what to do next. Her protracted stillness gives me momentary hope that she’s some kind of projection or a figment of my imagination. I haven’t seen her really move yet. Perhaps this is a trick…

The illusion shatters when she speaks. “HELLO, BOYS.”

 Her voice thunders over the neighborhood, deep and boisterous. She seems to linger on the final syllables of each word, emphasizing the “O” and “S” sounds. Her speech is lethargic, yet pointed and powerful. Despite her words ringing in my ears and my heart racing in my chest, I find I’m strangely still not compelled to action. My companions, too, seem paralyzed with indecision as we consider our options. It seems impossible that she hasn’t seen us, and yet it seems strangely rational to remain still. It’s not like we can outrun her anyway, right?

Her leg shifts and I realize her bare foot is rising into the air. Soaring over a row of homes between us, its impact with the ground is punctuated by a physical tremor and an audible thud. Turning to the rest of the party, I find Emma is still paralyzed staring up at the monstrous supermodel bearing down on us, but Michael moves into action.

 “Back in the house! Now!” he shouts as he ushers Emma back in the direction we just fled.

 This seems to snap her out of her trance and she bolts alongside us back into the relative safety of the house. Is it really safe, though? I dare to glance back at the gigantic being pursuing us and find her face arranged in an amused grin. Her other leg is now swinging over the house on the corner of the row she had just crossed, but she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to catch us. She knows we can’t escape. She’s playing with us.

Boom.

I catch myself and leap over the front steps to the house before they can trip me and scurry up to the front door, frantically trying to wrap my hand around its knob. As Emma and Michael run up the steps behind me, I finally get a grip on it and yank the door open. We all scurry inside like frightened mice and I slam the door shut behind us. Like that’ll do any good.

Boom.

She seems to be picking up her pace. Maybe she is worried about us getting away after all. As I lean back against the door, I breathe heavily as I look back at Michael and Emma. They appear to be just as terrified as I am, though Michael is trying to be brave. He cradles Emma’s head against his chest, partially to comfort her, but likely also to hide his anxious facial expression. His eyes are wide open as he seems to look at me for some kind of assurance. Assurance of what? That this is real? That everything will be alright?

Boom. 

The tremors are close enough now to rattle the structure itself. Whereas before the rumbles would shake a few things, now some of the lighter objects fall over upon the arrival of the giant’s footfalls. How can this be real? How can someone possibly be this big? And why is she so hot? I cease bracing the door as I instinctively lower my arms down to my crotch to cover my erection, only to find it’s gone now. My anxiety has completely supplanted lust in my mind.

Boom. 

The house shakes again. The cacophony of objects shaking exaggerates the forcefulness of the impact. Surprisingly, the impacts aren’t all that violent. Though I can feel the ground rumbling, I find it’s not remotely difficult to maintain my balance. Then again, I’m leaning against the door. Curiosity suddenly gets the better of me. I figure that I can’t hold the door against her, nor will she even fit through the entrance anyway. As I abandon my post at the doorway to look out the window, Michael appears to protest, but seemingly reconsiders and goes back to comforting his fearful friend.

As I approach the window, I wonder at what sight will greet me. How close could she be? Her proximity to us is certainly increasing, but how quickly is she closing the distance? Approaching the window sill, I lean against the wall and take a deep breath. After taking a moment to compose myself, I turn quickly to look outside.

There’s nothing there. The footsteps have stopped. The scene outside is marked by an uncanny sense of calm. The grass is still. The leaves of the trees settle into place after a light breeze. Emma’s open-roofed car sits idly on the curb by the driveway. She parked kind of close to the mailbox. Everything looks normal. But things aren’t normal. My mind wanders as I fret over the colossus’ whereabouts. How could something so huge just disappear? Where could she go? Is she standing over us right now? I dare to hope for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t looking for us.

BOOM. 

A giant foot falls from the sky on Emma’s car, completely flattening it and the nearby mailbox. My brain registers the sound before it processes the sight of impact, as the action is so fast and violent that my brain can’t process what I’m seeing at first. But I feel it. Instinctively, I throw myself away from the window and onto the floor behind me. Emma screams as Michael likewise pulls her to the ground, shielding her from any potential debris as the ceiling rattles above us. As I look around and see the structure and even many of the household objects atop shelves and tables remain unmoved, I reflect that the force of the stomp, though significant, probably was not enough to knock me over. The noise had simply startled us.

 As I turn my attention from Michael and Emma, I look up at the window with trepidation. The night itself seems to get darker as the moonlight no longer shines through the panes onto the floor below. Though I can’t physically see her from my current vantage point, I can sense her presence. Her size and power are so imposing that her aura radiates all around me. I can feel her looking down at me. Looking back to Michael and Emma again, I can see the terrified girl is closing her eyes and mumbling something to her patriarchal guardian as he tries to soothe her worries with soft shushing and running his hands along her back. We barely know Cassie. What does she want with us? 

“COME OUT AND PLAY!” she booms overhead, as if to answer my question.

 Returning my eyes from the ceiling, I shrug at Michael to communicate “Now what?” He simply stares back at me, eyes wide open as shakes his head slightly to communicate “I don’t know.” I point at the door, suggesting we comply with her command, but he shakes his head violently to say “no.” Emma, feeling the movements from him shaking her head, opens her eyes and looks at me, then up to my friend holding her. Her expression emits panic, but she is courageous enough to break the silence.

“We have to hide!”

Michael and I are both too stunned to react initially, but Emma hurriedly removes herself from Michael’s lap and picks herself off of the ground. This seems to spur him into action, which in turn motivates me to get off the floor and stand up.

As if she heard us, the voice booms overhead again. “VERY WELL. THE FIRST GAME SHALL BE HIDE AND SEEK.”

 All of our eyes widen at this announcement. Can she hear us? 

“YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS”

Again, we all wordlessly look around as we process her dictation.

“She’s toying with us!” Michael declares indignantly. I agree with his assessment, but it does little to comfort me. Who are we to defy her?

“ONE… TWO… THREE…” Cassie’s countdown begins above us.

Michael grabs Emma’s hand, but his formerly frightened friend seems to have found her nerve and shakes her wrist free of his grip. “We’ll have a better chance if we split up!” she explains as she dashes through the foyer toward the kitchen.

Michael looks a little hurt by this as he just looks at me defeated and sighs. “And what chance is that?” he mumbles as he begins despondently walking up the stairs behind him.

“NINE… TEN… ELEVEN…”

The countdown reminds me to take flight. But where to go? My instincts tell me to stay low, as the booming voice above reminds me that she can easily make her entry through the roof.

“FOURTEEN… FIFTEEN… SIXTEEN…”

I start to feel like the house surrounding me is a cage as I look around. She could come from any direction. Nowhere is safe.

“TWENTY! TWENTY-ONE! TWENTY TWO!”

Her enthusiasm increases as she gets to the final ten seconds of her countdown. I recognize that I’m running out of time, but I continue brainstorming regardless. If she can come from any direction, then the safest place is the middle of the house. Looking behind me, I see the door to the utility closet nearby. I dash to the door and swing it open, but find the interior is cramped and full of miscellaneous cleaning supplies and equipment. I hesitate to step in, questioning if I’ll even fit.

“TWENTY-FIVE! TWENTY-SIX! TWENTY-SEVEN!”

Beggars can’t be choosers. I duck inside, consoling myself that maybe the cramped conditions will help obscure my hiding spot. Or maybe they will crush me before she can.

“TWENTY NIIIINNEE!” She lingers a little on the final syllable as if she’s savoring our dread. “THIRTY!” READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!”

Upon hearing this, the most powerful impact thus far shakes the ground as the entire structure shakes and almost every object in the house falls to the floor. Lamps shatter against the ground, paintings and pictures fall off of the walls, and every mop, broom, and bottle in the closet falls on top of me. What the hell was that? Did she just do a cannonball or something? As I didn’t hear any walls collapse, I reckon that she’s still outside. For now. I brace for her entry into the house itself, but it isn’t forthcoming. Despite having significant time to plan her entry, it seems the giant girl hesitates to break in. Is it possible that she’s having second thoughts about this twisted game? Or is she still toying with us? 

Again, as if reading my mind, she speaks. “STAND CLEAR OF THE FRONT DOOR!”

Wait a minute. Am I too close to the front door? Seconds that feel like minutes pass and the anxiety pushes me to my breaking point. I crack the door to the closet open as I peer out to evaluate my proximity to the designated area. As I do so, an enormous hand with fingers larger than my body punches through the frame, obliterating the former passageway and much of the wall on both sides of it. The destructive digits rub one another to clear the dust and rubble from the house off of them before retreating back outside.

The giantess lowers her face to peep through the breach she had made. I desperately want to close the door, but I recognize that any movement would be counterproductive and just hope that between the door’s small crack, the darkness of the house, and my makeshift camouflage of cleaning supplies I won’t be detected. Her face fills the hole in the wall, with one of her vast green eyes inspecting the aperture created by her appendage. She seems to look right at me, but her glassy gaze passes right over me and she eventually raises her face from the ground.

“THAT’S NOT COMFORTABLE FOR ME. I THINK I PREFER HAVING A BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF THINGS.”

CRASH!

A loud crashing sound breaks over the house from upstairs. I fear for Michael, recalling his venture up the stairs just a minute prior. It wasn’t smart to go up there. She could easily crush him without knowing it. Yet the more I think of my friend’s peril, the more I find myself reflecting on my own from mere moments ago. Cassie was courteous enough to give a warning before busting the door down. It doesn’t seem like she’s trying to hurt us. 

CRASH!

Then again, would she have to be trying to hurt us? A massive rumbling continues above me as it sounds like she’s removing the entire roof of the house as she goes room to room. Suddenly, Michael yells out as Cassie lets out a deep laugh. Oh God, what is she doing to him?

His panicked yells escalate into screams as the deep voice above mocks him. “SILLY LITTLE BOY, I ALWAYS CHECK UNDER THE BEDS!”

This last sentence seems to silence him and I’m left to wonder at his fate as more of the house is destroyed in her pursuit of the remaining two players. More crashes, bangs, and booms shake the house as the humongous hunter continues pursuing her prey. 

CRASH!

The loudest one yet happens right behind me. I can hear the destruction through the wall as though it’s happening inches away from me. How close am I to being killed right now? I’m starting to wonder if it might just be safer for me to give myself up, but my considerations are interrupted by bellowing laughter above me.

“OF COURSE THE PANTRY IS HIDING THE SNACKS.”

Emma screams upon hearing this and persists in her screaming as the direction of her voice rises higher and higher above me. Then as abruptly as it began, it stops. I’m relieved that the shrieking has stopped, but I morbidly wonder if perhaps I shouldn’t be. Cassie did just call Emma a snack. Could it be that she ate her?

I’m more resolved than ever to not give myself up. Yet as I listen to the house around me being demolished, that resolution weakens with each explosion from outside of the broom closet. How am I going to get out of this? 

BOOM!

Can I get out of this?

CRASH!

How much worse can things get if I just give up?

WHAM! 

The wall to my right collapses with the impact of Cassie’s fist, yet surprisingly I am unharmed. Staring at certain death mere inches from my face, my morale plummets. Yet as her fist retreats, it appears that she still hasn’t noticed me. It’s a minor blessing, but one I don’t take for granted. If she can be that close to me and not see me, that calls into question how careful she’s being. 

“ALRIGHT, I GIVE UP. YOU CAN COME OUT NOW.”

It seems like a mirage. Or a trick, I muse.

 “YOU WIN. I DON’T THINK I CAN SAFELY SEARCH THE REST OF THE HOUSE FOR YOU.”

Just how thoroughly did she “search” the house if she didn’t find me? Looking at the exposed wall beside me, I question how “safely” she searched it, too. And what did she do with Michael and Emma? 

“LOOK, DUDE, I’M A GOOD SPORT. COME ON OUT. I WON’T HURT YOU.”

I’m not sure if I believe her, but I figure that I don’t have much of a choice as I slide out from under my pile of cleaning supplies and emerge from the partially-destroyed closet. Stepping out to the foyer area again, I see many of the walls are at least partially intact. However, when I look up to behold my titanic tormentor, I notice the roof of the house and apparently the entire second floor is gone. High above, her immense body looms over me as I take in her vast visage and tremendous tits, still sporting that priceless necklace. Each breast looks larger than any room in the house, and I wonder if the pair are sizable enough to flatten the building completely.

“DARNIT. I WAS SO CLOSE.” She smiles down at me from above like a kid might look down on their pet goldfish swimming around in its bowl.

Suddenly she begins to rise and I fear that she’s getting even bigger, but it becomes apparent that she’s just sitting up to kneel over me. As she rises to her knees, her hands come into frame and I notice that one is cupped as though she’s holding something. She seems to follow my gaze and her smile widens.

“THAT’S THE LOSER’S BRACKET.” Without warning, she reaches in with her other hand and scoops me up in her fingers, forming a cage around me and then craning me up to her face. Rotating her hand such that her palm is beneath me, she then releases me into her open hand.

“THE WINNERS GET THEIR OWN PARTY.” She uncups her other hand to reveal a frightened Emily and Michael, who seem thoroughly traumatized by their experience. They both adorn thousand-yard stares like I’d seen on the faces of combat veterans from first world war documentaries. Judging by the sound of Cassie’s voice, I’d be surprised if they weren’t deaf.

“Can you lower your voice?” I shout up to her.

“OOPS,” she exclaims before closing her mouth. “Sorry, little guys,” she whispers. I forget my own strength sometimes.”

I nod along. Seeing as she’s being reasonable and conciliatory, I decide to push my luck. “So what do I get for winning?”

The blonde behemoth smirks at the question, clearly amused by my audacity. I guess it’s amusing to have an inch-tall person make requests of you after destroying his house. 

“I suppose that’s a fair question,” she says. “But you see… I’ve also caught two of your companions. So what do I get?”

I’m not prepared for this. She clearly holds all of the power, but for some reason she’s willing to bargain with me. There must be some kind of restraints on her. What dark magic could make someone so big? What are its restrictions?

As I fail to produce an answer, she whispers again. “How about this: since you won the game, I’ll grant you one request. However, since I caught two of your friends, you have to answer two of my questions.” 

I’m not sure if I’m in a position to refuse. “Fine, but you go first,” I counter.

She smiles at my witty acceptance as she nods. “First question: where’s Derek?”

Her inquiry catches me off-guard. Derek? As I think about it, it starts to make more sense. Of course she wasn’t after me. She wants her ex-boyfriend. It’s actually relieving to know, but I still have to think of an answer.

As if reading my thoughts again, she elaborates, “As if I have to say it, our contract is only valid so long as you’re truthful with me.” 

So what happens if I lie? And how will she know if I’m lying? I figure it’s better to not find out. It feels like she's been reading my mind all night. Looking across the width of her immense body, I see Michael and Emma seem to stir a little now that the chaos has ceased. Emma! Suddenly I remember where Derek is. He went back to Emma’s apartment with her roommate Sarah. 

“He’s at Emma’s apartment with her roommate,” I volunteer. She frowns a little at hearing this, disrupting her otherwise flawless smile as unhappiness flashes across her face.

“And this little one is Emma?” the gargantuan woman asks as she shakes her other hand, much to the terror of its passengers. It’s a casual reminder of how much power she holds over us.

 “Yes, that’s Emma," I confirm.

“And who-” she cuts herself off before speaking again as she seems to reconsider her next question. She’s really taking this game seriously. I’ll have to be careful with my own responses. 

“Is anyone else in the house right now?”

Her question again catches me off-guard again. “Is there anyone else in the house?” I think it was just the three of us. But what if someone snuck in? What if one of the frat brothers came in while I was gaming and I didn’t notice? I think I know the answer, but I fear the consequences of being wrong. Best to word my response carefully… 

“Not to my knowledge,” I answer tactfully.

Cassie smiles as she recognizes my appreciation of the sincerity of the game. “Good,” she says as she suddenly rises to her feet, soaring dozens of feet higher into the air. “Because I was lying about being a good sport earlier. I’m actually quite a sore loser.”

As I fearfully ponder the meaning of her words, her attention shifts from me to her feet. Closing her fingers around me once more, her hands shake violently with her movements. Below me, the sounds of explosive destruction penetrate the fleshy walls on all sides.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. 

Seemingly as suddenly as it began, the demolition ends and Cassie, still standing, opens her hands again. Yet she doesn’t look at either party as she opens them, instead still gazing down at her feet. I reluctantly approach the edge of her palm to follow her eyes and peer over the edge. The frat house is completely leveled. Everything I brought with me to school is gone. 

“YOUR TURN.”

I nearly leap at the abrupt explosion of sonic energy. I cover my ears in pain as her voice returns to its original deafening volume. She giggles as I turn to face her, the adrenaline from nearly jumping to my death coursing through my body as I behold her cruel countenance above me.

“Choose carefully,” she whispers as she suppresses another giggle.

I contemplate how much power I really have here. Can I really wish for anything? Or can I only have what she’s willing to give me? I consider what I want most. Would it be too much to ask her to shrink back to normal size? Can she even control her size? Her malevolent face certainly suggests that even if she could shrink, she wouldn’t. This girl is having the time of her life right now. I think I’m going to have to think smaller. Yet at this point, I doubt I have much left to wish for. Looking across Cassie’s bust again to her other hand, I see the traumatized Michael and Emma. We just have to get out of this. 

“I want you to release all of us,” I declare, trying to sound brave. The massive she-devil raises an eyebrow at this, as if to say “That’s it?” Remembering my earlier resolution to be careful about my wish, I quickly elaborate: “Unharmed.”

She pauses for another moment, waiting to see if I add anything else. When I say nothing, her sinister smile returns and she responds, “OK.”

I’m relieved as she begins to lower her hands away from the face, but she stops abruptly, holding us below her mammoth boobs. I wait a moment to see if our descent will continue, but as her massive breasts begin to wobble above me I realize she's begun walking again. What is she doing? 

“Cassie! What are you doing?! Release us now!” I shout up to her.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I’ll release you and your little friends unharmed after you guide me to Emma’s house.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal, either!” I protest.

She shrugs. “I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”

Rebecca Thomas POV

“For future reference, that’s the kind of information you should lead with.” The sheriff rubs his shiny head with exasperation.

“Sorry,” Luke concedes meekly. “It slipped my mind in all of the excitement.”

The sheriff nods understandingly. “Alright, so what am I up against? What are we dealing with?”

The question doesn’t immediately make sense to me. Looking from Ronnie on my right to Luke on my left, it’s apparent that neither of them understands the sheriff’s meaning either.

“...a colossal coed?” Ronnie offers.

He smirks a little upon registering our misunderstanding. “I meant ‘what’s Cassie like when she’s been drinking?’ I’ve been policing a college town long enough to know most drunks have alter egos.”

The three of us exchange glances again. It’s clear from the expressions of the other two that they don’t know how to answer, so I take it upon myself. “We don’t know. Cassie’s never drank before.”

“Oh, goodie,” the old man replies sarcastically.

Ronnie pipes up a little, but then restrains herself from speaking. When I turn to face her, I find her eyes matching mine as if to ask for permission. I grant it with a nod, unsure of what she’s about to say but trusting in her to make it constructive. “Actually, uh… she’s not just drunk.”

The sheriff raises an eyebrow at this. “Just drunk?”

Ronnie swallows and nods before speaking again. “Yeah… umm… she might be high? Or…”

Luke interjects, “She may have drank some spiked punch.”

Oh, right. Everything has been moving so fast. Just as Luke had forgotten to mention Cassie’s inebriation, the detail of the punch had completely slipped my mind. Or maybe I was trying just to forget about it.

The lawman blinks a few times, dumbfounded. He stares at us for a few moments as he collects his thoughts. Eventually he speaks again. “May have? As in: you aren’t sure?”

I’m not sure. However the sheriff isn't looking at me. He's looking at the timid boy to my left. Although he’s clearly anxious, his resolve overcomes his trepidation as he inhales before speaking again. “Well, she definitely drank the punch,” he says as he looks to me for confirmation, which I return with a nod. “What we’re not sure about is whether the punch was spiked. I heard some gossip about it.”

The grizzled officer looks poised to yell again, but bites his tongue as if reconsidering his words. He strokes his chin for a moment before speaking again. “I have a lot of questions, but time is a factor so I’ll be curt. How was she behaving? Was she happy, sad, angry?”

“All of the above,” Ronnie responds succinctly. The sheriff blinks again at this answer. That might have been too curt.

“She was kind of a mess,” I elaborate. “She seemed to be going through the emotions pretty quickly. She was sad one moment, angry in the next. She seemed to be pretty out of it until her ex-boyfriend showed up.”

“Out of it?” the sheriff asks.

“She was disoriented. She moved slowly, struggled to maintain her balance; even speaking seemed difficult for her.” I glance at Ronnie and find her nodding along.

“But when her boyfriend showed up... that changed? She was different?”

I consider correcting him that he was her ex-boyfriend, but I recognize it would be a waste of time and needlessly confrontational. I suppose technically they got back together…

“Yeah,” Ronnie affirms. Did I hesitate too long? Or did she feel like I needed backup? “It was like she just ‘woke up’ all of a sudden.”

“She did seem to be in a good mood when I saw her,” Luke says as he nods along.

“And this ‘wake-up’ you’re describing… this happened after she drank the punch?” Where’s he going with this? What does he know?

“Yes,” I confirm.

The sheriff takes a long sigh as he looks at his two deputies, as if communicating some secret message to them. Then turning back to us, he asks, “So where is this boyfriend of hers now?”

“He’s dead,” Luke replies coldly. His expression is neutral and it’s hard to tell if he’s actually as emotionally detached as he sounds. He’s probably just trying to act tough. As I try to get a better read on his disposition, Ronnie grabs my hand and leans into me. I expect her to whisper something to me, but she says nothing.

“She killed him?” the lawman guesses.

“It was an accident,” I explain as Ronnie continues leaning into me. Is she trying to get past me to comfort Luke or is she hoping for me to comfort her? Suspecting the former, I take a step forward in case she wants to slip past me, but she just releases my arm and looks at her feet.

“Yeah, there were a lot of those tonight…” the old man replies bitterly as he stares off in the direction of the junior officers again.

“Uh, sir…” Luke interjects hesitantly again. “Umm… not that it’s any of my business… but, well, umm… did anyone else… you know?”

The sheriff returns to stroking his chin as he registers the question, pondering its meaning. He closes his eyes slowly and lingers a moment before answering, “As far as I know, there’s only been one fatality, which I assume to be the boyfriend. There’s a lot of injuries, but it sounds like everyone is going to be ok.”

Well that’s a miracle. It seems too good to be true. What if it isn’t true? The way he answered the question seemed weird to me. It was certainly a break from the mannerisms he had displayed in the rest of the conversation. Perhaps he was just confused by Luke’s imprecise question. Or perhaps Luke’s pronounced anxiety made him feel compelled to lie. Sneaking glances at both of my companions, it seems like they found comfort in the answer. They need this comfort right now. But he won’t make a fool of me. To communicate my skepticism, I squint slightly as I make eye contact with the cantankerous coot. For a brief instant, he seems to squint back at me to acknowledge my cleverness and tell me “Don’t spoil this for them.”

“But we’re not out of the woods yet,” he continues. “Your big friend out there is in danger. And so is everyone around her.”

It’s hard to imagine the giant girl who just demolished a house being in danger, but I remember my daydream from earlier; my unrealistic confrontation with the military. She’s just big. She’s not invincible.

“What kind of danger is she in?” Ronnie asks, interrupting my musings.

“I can’t say for sure,” the sheriff replies bluntly. “However, we’ve had a series of incidents recently at college parties. At first, it was younger college girls getting a little too excited and causing disturbances, but we found they usually didn’t have any alcohol in their systems. Then we had a pair of overdoses, which isn’t too crazy, but the victims’ friends insisted they weren’t doing any drugs. Our working theory at the moment is that someone has been spiking the punch bowls at these parties.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ronnie demands angrily.

He sighs. “We weren’t sure, frankly. In fact, we’re still not sure. It’s possible that the girls were lying about their drug habits. We’re still investigating.” He sighs again. “We didn’t want to create a panic. We… we don’t want parents to think our school isn’t safe. That our town isn’t safe…”

He lied to protect the school and this stupid little town? He let girls get taken advantage of for what? Optics? I can feel my face getting hotter. Glancing at Ronnie and Luke, I can tell they’re similarly mortified. Turning my head back to glare at the sheriff, I see the remorse written on his face. He knows what he did was wrong, even if he never expected things to go this badly. There’s no point in beating a dead horse just to feel self-righteous.

“You’re too cautious, sheriff,” I remark calmly, pacifying my outraged friends.

The guilty constable nods apologetically in acknowledgement of his own fault, relieved to avoid being berated by the indignant students. He seems to appreciate my downplaying of his mistakes, as this seemingly gets him off the hook with his deputies, too. Ronnie still seems a little peeved and steps forward to let him have it, but a quick glare at her puts her back in line. Hopefully that earned me some goodwill with him.

“I’m still confused, though,” Luke begins. “If someone is spiking the punch, then shouldn’t that… you know? Knock them out?”

I can tell the old man is annoyed by the question, but he reassesses his position and the irritation on his face yields to a sorrowful exasperation. “That’s one of the reasons we took so long to identify the problem. These weren’t roofies. They’re not date rape drugs. It’s actually pretty clever…” he pauses to reconsider his words as I flash the angry glare his way this time. “They’re not spiking the bowls with depressants. They’re using stimulants. ‘Uppers’ as the kids say.”

“What’s the point in that?” Luke queries, certainly coming across as douchier than he intended.

“Well, for one thing, they’re not spiking any specific girl’s drink,” the sheriff rationalizes with an almost clinical detachment. “They’re spiking everybody’s drinks. Mostly those of underage girls that don’t drink alcohol. If they used roofies, then people would start dropping like flies and it would be pretty unsettling. But with stimulants, everybody just becomes more… well, ‘stimulated.’ You see where I’m going with this?”

“Not really,” Luke admits. It’s sickening how detached they are about this. I resist the urge to interrupt, though, recognizing the importance of this information. Don’t be such a girl about it.

“The response to the stimulant varies from person to person. It depends on a variety of factors,” the sheriff persists in his indifferent analysis. “Height, weight, genetics, and so on. Some people, particularly men - which tend to be taller and heavier - they’ll just get buzzed and have a good time. But for smaller girls, they may have a stronger effect. They might do some wild stuff, like taking their clothes off or kissing strangers.”

“What a lame way to…” Luke starts before looking in my direction and immediately shutting up.

Did I cause that? I know I’m disgusted, but I’m trying to conceal it. Turning behind me, I find Ronnie staring daggers at the boy with an intensity I have never seen her display before. She’s usually pretty level-headed, no doubt trying to follow my example. Now she looks angry enough to bust down a wall or throw a car over her head. Shit, she’s even intimidating me right now and I’m not the target of her ire.

I take her hand in mine to calm her down. Upon making contact with her skin, she seems to immediately snap out of her angry trance and even appears a little flustered. Now somewhat embarrassed, she meekly deflects, “I guess it’s a good thing nobody has ever characterized Cassie as small.”

The old man hesitates to speak again, clearly wary of Ronnie’s wrath. Seeing the patriarchal authority figure intimidated by a look that wasn’t even directed his way is such a power move by the strongwoman, but one glimpse of her is all I need to discern how bashful she is. Funny, she usually gets off on this kind of stuff.

“Well… the danger is that she was already drunk. See, her body and mind are already, uh… ‘compromised’ by the alcohol. The stimulant will work against the depressants in the alcohol to mask her drunkenness to herself and others, but she is still very much intoxicated.” He looks around the room at each of us and his deputies to check our understanding.

“So…” Luke begins again. “What does that mean, exactly?”

The sheriff sighs. “Ordinarily, I would be worried about a potential overdose. However, seeing as how she’s so big… we have bigger problems.” He again looks around the room, though this time I’m not sure what he’s looking for. “Look, drunks are dangerous enough around firearms, vehicles, and heavy machinery. But when they’re fifteen stories tall, they are heavy machinery. And she’s roaming the streets of Titanburg right now for God knows why.”

I know why. “We think she’s looking for her ex-boyfriend,” I interject.

Confusion streaks across his face as his brows furrow. “I thought the boyfriend was dead.”

Ex-boyfriend. “He is,” I explain. “But it didn’t seem like she knew that.”

“She was calling out for him,” Luke elaborates on my answer, preempting the sheriff’s next potential question.

“And it’s her ex-boyfriend,” Ronnie corrects, resolving my unspoken grievance.

“So I take it she’s not happy with him,” the coot surmises.

She seemed pretty enthusiastic about seeing him. Then again, I’d also seen an angry side of her tonight I didn’t even know existed before. Who knows what’s going through her head? I just shrug at the question.

He nods at the response. “So I’ve got an emotionally volatile drunk girl the size of a skyscraper roaming my town looking for her deceased ex-boyfriend.”

“Yup,” I confirm dryly.

“Great,” he reacts bleakly. “And it’s only a matter of time before she crashes.”

The room falls silent. I want him to elaborate, but the elderly constable seems to be deep in thought. Peeking at the friends on my flanks, they don’t seem nearly as interested in what the sheriff says next. In fact, they both seem more interested in their nearest respective wall. Clearly they’re both embarrassed and ashamed of their recent silent altercation. I don’t think either of them really did anything wrong. Boys and girls just react differently to this stuff.

“Alright, you two come with me,” the sheriff declares. His deputies move to attention to follow their chief as he pushes himself up from his desk. “And you, too,” he says looking at me.

“To do what, exactly?” I ask more out of surprise than concern.

“To go get your big friend.”


Anna Rhodes POV

Cassie’s apartment is now much messier than we found it. Tearing through her living room and kitchen, methodically dumping out every single cabinet and drawer, it’s starting to feel like a fool’s errand. I don’t know what we’re looking for. At the same time, I don’t know what else we’re supposed to do. I try to focus on the task at hand to distract myself. I try to take comfort in the idea that we’re going to find something, anything to get Cassie back to normal or at least explain what’s happening to her. But I just feel hopeless. I mean really, what am I expecting to find with her silverware?

“Any luck?” Sydney calls out from the other side of the room.

“We ain’t found shit,” I call back to her in my best Tim Russ impression, trying to add a little levity to conceal my irritation.

She continues rummaging through some drawers before stopping. “Alright, screw it. Let’s just move some of the big furniture and then go to the bedroom.”

Fine by me. I drop the silverware in my hands and let it clatter against the other pieces in the drawer before slamming it shut and moving to the living room. What is Sydney thinking with this, anyway? Does she think Cassie just dropped her growth potion under the couch like a TV remote?

“Alright, let’s push this back here,” she directs me as she juts out her chin at the wall behind her.

I wordlessly assume my position at the opposite end of the couch as Sydney takes her place at the front of the couch. She looks me in the eyes before looking back at the couch, as if to say, “Get over here.” I sigh in exasperation as I move over to push next to her.

“On three, ok?” I just nod. “One… two… three!”

With our combined thrust into the relatively small couch, it slides across the floor quite readily, revealing nothing but a few discarded makeup containers and an empty snack bag lying beneath it. Sydney looks surprised and disappointed, as though she were expecting a floor safe or a secret passage of some sorts.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that to be so easy,” she remarks. “After how hard it was to push Cassie earlier…”

“Cassie wouldn’t have even fit on that couch!” I erupt with frustration. One look at Sydney reveals her shock and hurt at my outburst. I need to calm down. “I’m sorry, Syd. I’m just…” What am I feeling right now? Anger? Anxiety? “I’m just really worked up right now.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I know. Honestly, I was hoping this work would distract you. If anything, I’ve been stalling trying to make you feel better.”

Great, so now we’ve both wasted each other’s time. I guess that makes us even. “The only thing that’s going to make me feel better is helping Cassie. Don’t worry about me.”

She looks down at the floor where the couch used to be. “I don’t know if we can help here, Annie. Maybe we should just head over to the sheriff’s station…” her voice drifts off.

We should be at the sheriff’s station already. That’s the important mission. This is just a sidequest to keep me from butting heads with Becca’s pet. The sad look on Sydney’s face takes me aback. Shit. I did it again. If I can’t keep my cool around Sydney, then there’s no way I should be around Ronnie or the cops right now.

It’s a troublesome realization. Normally I’m the mediator. I’m the psych major. I’m the happy-go-lucky girl. I’m the one that keeps Ronnie and Emily from tearing each other’s heads off, makes Cassie feel welcome, and gives Becca a gentle nudge toward empathy when she’s being too much of a hardass. Sydney is the only girl in the group who is remotely as socially-intelligent and I’m lashing out at her. Because of my own problems. I’m the one that fucked-up tonight. I’m the problem. And I’m projecting my own guilt on her. Why am I smart enough to recognize this, but not smart enough to do anything about it?

“Annie?”

I had lost focus again. “What?” I instinctively respond with hostility, only for Sydney to recoil from me a bit and break off eye contact again. Damnit, what’s wrong with me?

“I was just wondering if you wanted to drive over to the sheriff’s station…” she explains with a soft, quiet voice.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else,” I apologize, doing my best to sound sincere.

But I have to consider her suggestion. Is it really a good idea to go to the sheriff’s station like this? I’ll probably only cause more problems. As much as I hate to admit it, Becca’s plan was probably appropriate. And Sydney’s unsuccessful attempt to distract me was soundly-reasoned, albeit poorly-executed. Whether consciously or unconsciously, all I’ve done since getting into Cassie’s apartment was silently stew on my own mistakes. It wasn’t a bad idea to bring me here; it just needs some tweaking.

.”We still have to check the bedroom,” I proclaim, implicitly acknowledging the merit in her plan to distract me. “Plus the bathroom,” I add as Sydney’s frown turns into a smile.

“Which one do you want?” she asks delicately.

“I’ll take the bedroom. But be thorough in there. That bathroom may be small, but there’s a lot of bottles and stuff in there. Medications, makeup, and so on. She spent a lot of time in there before we left tonight.”

Just talking to Sydney is already making me feel better. I’m starting to convince myself that there is something to find in this place, rather than it being a wild goose chase. Am I actually talking myself into this? My reasoning makes sense in the moment, but I know why I’m here. I know there’s no guarantee of finding anything. Part of me still thinks Cassie’s growth is miraculous, but as I’m farther removed from it, I start to rationalize that it had to be caused by something. Maybe there is something to be found here.

As I step into Cassie’s bedroom, I hear Sydney gasp as she opens the door to the bathroom behind me. I hadn’t looked in there tonight, but based on the state of the rest of the apartment and how long my buxom blonde friend had spent in there earlier this evening, I imagine it must be a pigsty.

“What a mess!” Sydney exclaims, confirming my hypothesis.

The bedroom isn’t much better. Clothing is strewn about the place, along with pillows, sheets, and books. It looks like she’s been robbed. Where do I even begin? Everything is everywhere. She must have been even more anxious about going out tonight than I thought.

Hearing Sydney rummaging through the bathroom spurs me into action. If she can do this, I can, too. I start by checking what I believe to be the most obvious hiding spot. Looking under the bed, I find a few pairs of shorts and some socks, but nothing out of the ordinary. Of course. Who hides anything under the bed? It’s too obvious. I push myself up from the floor and look over her clothing-covered nightstand. That’s too obvious, too.

If I had a secret growth potion, where would I put it? I had already checked the refrigerator and freezer when I combed through the kitchen, but I knew those were hardly the best hiding places. I don’t know why it would have to be chilled anyway. I move over to the closet and swing the doors open. Predictably, it’s a complete mess. Pushing outfits aside, I find nothing and move on to the nearby dressers.

“Found anything?” I shout to Sydney as I pull open a drawer.

“Not really, she calls back. I’m more surprised by what I’m not finding, if anything.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as I tear through Cassie’s lingerie.

“Doesn’t it seem like Cassie should be on some kind of medication to you?” she questions in her normal speaking voice as she steps out of the bathroom.

I’d never really thought about it before. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Well, she always seems so uncomfortable. Don’t you think she would have been on some anxiety medication or something?” She proceeds to start going through the nearest dresser.

This time I manage to suppress the urge to lash out. There’s nothing wrong with Cassie. She’s just a little shy. “I don’t know; if she were on anxiety medication then maybe she wouldn’t be so anxious,” I try to deflect. “So no, I’m not surprised she doesn’t take any anxiety meds.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think maybe she should?” Sydney insists. “I mean, she doesn’t drink, she doesn’t fuck, and she doesn’t medicate. It’s a wonder she gets through life at all.”

Isn’t that how normal people are supposed to go through life? “I’ll bring it up to her the next time I see her,” I declare dismissively, trying to conceal my irritation.

Having finished ransacking the dresser, I turn around and survey the room. Somehow it seems like the place has gotten even messier, despite my own efforts being practically indistinguishable from the preexisting clutter. How could one girl cause so much mayhem? I modify my earlier query. Where would I hide any of my secrets? Then I realize the flaw in my assumption. Why would Cassie hide anything in her own place? It’s not like she has many guests. Ever since she and Derek broke up, I imagine that I’m her only remotely frequent visitor. Maybe she’s not hiding anything. Maybe she’s just putting stuff where it would be convenient. I look around again. Where’s a "convenient" place for a growth potion?

As I walk around inspecting the room, I notice that Sydney seems to have taken my earlier hint and shut up. Now that some time has passed, I can’t help but feel guilty again. Guilt. Maybe that’s what’s making me act out so much. I knew she meant well. Heck, she was probably just trying to distract me again. But I didn’t appreciate the suggestion that there was something wrong with Cassie. But should I have even taken it that way? If I’m going into psychology, I probably shouldn’t assign such a negative stigma to medication. For all I know, Sydney was just trying to help Cassie.

“What else surprised you about the bathroom?” I blurt out, trying to restart the conversation.

“There was a lot of cosmetics stuff,” Sydney replies neutrally, probably trying to not offend me. “I didn’t realize Cassie put that much effort into her appearance. It doesn’t seem like she ever wears much makeup.”

“She doesn’t,” I explain with a similar air of neutrality. “She just likes to 'experiment' with stuff in her spare time.”

The noise coming from Sydney’s direction stops and I turn around to find her looking confused at me. “So she buys all of this stuff for… what? There must be thousands of dollars’ worth of makeup and accessories here.”

I have no idea. I’ve never thought about it before. “I don’t know. I just assumed it was a hobby or something. Maybe she has an interest in making her own beauty line or something.”

The brunette gets quiet again. She seems to be weighing her next words carefully in her mind. Is she worried about offending me again?

“Just say it, Syd.” I tack on, “I won’t be mad” as an afterthought.

A subtle tell flashes across her face to communicate her doubt, but she proceeds to speak anyway. “Maybe it’s for stress relief.”

“What, like a coping mechanism?” I ask incredulously. I have to admit it’s an intriguing hypothesis, but I never got that vibe from Cassie.

“Yeah,” she responds bluntly. Looking around the room at all of the empty makeup cases on the floor, she adds, “Medication would have been cheaper.”

Sydney is starting to get on my nerves again, but I have to admit she has a point. Cassie was clearly anxious about going out tonight and it shows. Based on the number of containers, I figure she could have hosted several runway shows out of her apartment. But who’s to say these were all from one day? It’s been over a week since I was last here.

“She’s had a rough week,” I mutter defensively.

Sydney motions as if she’s going to resume searching, but seems to reconsider and turns back to face me. “Annie, can I ask you something without you getting mad at me?”

“Based on the way you’re asking, I doubt it,” I quip at her. She’s visibly discouraged by my answer, so I suggest, “Try it anyway.”

She’s still reluctant, but I can see the determination behind her eyes as she contemplates her words. “Do you ever get the feeling that Cassie is insecure?”

I feel an immediate hostility to the accusation, but it passes quickly as I realize how plainly obvious the answer is. Somehow I find that makes the question less offensive. “Of course she’s insecure. Isn’t everybody?”

Sydney’s eyes widen at my candor. But is she surprised by the answer or by my reaction to the question? “Do you have any idea why Cassie in particular is so insecure?”

What does she mean by “so insecure?” Didn’t I just say everyone is insecure? While I still don’t like the line of questioning, I have to admit she has a point. It had always struck me that Cassie was a particularly insecure person. Of course, I have my theories as to why, but it feels silly to say them out loud.

“No, I don’t know ‘why’ she is ‘so’ insecure,” I answer passive-aggressively.

Sydney frowns as I shut her down, but her eyes betray a new strategy. “Well, what does she have to be insecure about? I mean, she’s famous, she’s beautiful, she’s rich, she’s smart; what more could she want?”

There’s more to life than that. I know Sydney is baiting me now, but I don’t care. “I don’t know, Syd, maybe her douchey ex-boyfriend manipulated and abused her and sapped out all of her self-confidence.”

Sydney clearly doesn’t buy into the female solidarity angle. “You knew her before college. Are you telling me she wasn’t always like this? That Derek fundamentally changed her?”

Invoking the deceased boy’s name slaps me out of my righteous indignation. No, Derek didn’t change Cassie. It feels wrong to profane the dead. I know that reply was motivated by anger and frustration, not reality. As much as I hated the douche, it feels wrong to slander him now.

“No, Derek didn’t change her. If he had that kind of power over her, she would have slept with him,” I admit. Her expression doesn’t change with this admission. “Where are you going with this, Syd?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I think I was just pissed at you for being so pissy and wanted to push your buttons. Truthfully, though, it was annoying me how much you put Cassie on a pedestal.”

So she really was just trying to piss me off? “I don’t think I have any illusions about my friend. I just feel an obligation to stick up for her. Especially when she can’t defend herself. And…” I pause as I remember my earlier broodings. “I think I still feel guilty about what happened to her.”

“Would you still feel guilty if you found out she did it to herself?” Sydney presses without skipping a beat.

“She didn’t get herself drunk,” I correct her, rejecting the suggestion out of pocket. “I pressured her to drink. I gave her the alcohol. I gave her the spiked punch. I’m the reason she came out tonight in the first place.” I can feel the tears building behind my eyes again. “I manipulated her. I’m no better than Derek.”

Sydney approaches me again and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “We all did those things, too, Annie. And you said it yourself: Derek didn’t control her. Neither did you.”

It’s a comforting sentiment, but I don’t accept it. I know what I did. “She didn’t want to go out tonight. She didn’t want to drink tonight. She didn’t want full shots during-”

Sydney interrupts: “Annie, you’ve got a serious case of ‘main character syndrome.’ You’re not a puppet master. Cassie made her own decisions.”

This feels like victim-blaming to make myself feel better, but I can’t fault her logic. Maybe I do have too high an opinion of myself. Am I a narcissist? Still, something else nags at my subconscious. Before I even know what I’m saying, I can feel words leaving my mouth.

“What about her growth? Did she decide to do that?”

She releases me from her embrace. “I can’t explain that. Nobody can. I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility, but I don’t see how she could cause such a thing. Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t come across a journal or something given how insecure she is. She seems like the type to keep one.”

A journal? As far as I know, Cassie never kept a journal or a diary of any kind. But if she did, there’s an obvious place for it. Shuffling across the room back to the bed, I return to the nightstand and begin removing the garments atop it. Sydney follows curiously behind me and leans to look over my shoulder as I finally open the top drawer. Peering inside, sure enough, there’s a notebook.

“You didn’t check the nightstand?” Sydney asks rhetorically.

“It seemed too obvious,” I retort as I pull out the mysterious notebook.

Leafing through the pages, it’s clear that it’s a diary based on the format of dates and notes, but there are probably hundreds of entries. We don’t have time to read all of this. Flipping to the end of the book, I find the pages are still blank. Now leafing my way backwards, I soon encounter text again. Looking at the most recent entry, I find yesterday’s date atop a single brief sentence.

“BIG experiment tomorrow!”

Sarah Marshall POV

It’s time to get the hell out of Dodge.

My phone’s screen turns to black as my finger presses against the power button, leaving only my face’s reflection in the glass looking back at me. I look scared. I feel scared. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I sit numbly on the couch for a moment. As I glance around the room, a vague, somewhat uncanny feeling colors my thoughts. Everything around me is certainly real, but it doesn’t feel real. It’s not the same feeling as a dream. It’s… different. Running my hand along the cushion beneath me, I can still feel its texture and resistance to my forceful touch. My subconscious battles my brain, riddling me with indecisiveness. I want to move, but I also want to sit. I know I can’t stay here, but a baser instinct takes comfort in the walls around me and the roof over my head. I know they can’t protect me. I had just seen her tear through a similar structure like it was made of paper. Yet I won’t move. I feel like I can move. But I don’t.

My mind is blank. I know what I should be doing, yet I have no idea how to go about doing it. I start thinking about thinking, since it seems to be the only thing I’m capable of contemplating. Am I under a spell? Why am I so numb? Considering the circumstances, it doesn’t seem impossible. Somehow that bimbo made herself huge. Magic doesn’t seem outside of the realm of possibility. I’ve never felt so powerless; so unable to control myself. But that doesn’t mean she’s controlling me. I realize my hand is still absent-mindedly running over the cushion beside me. Am I telling it to do that? I stare at it as it performs the bizarre repetitive ritual, gliding back and forth over the pillow. I don’t feel like I’m telling it to rub the pillow, but I’m not stopping it either. I resolve to stop it now, yet it persists regardless. Strangely, it doesn’t feel like it’s resisting me, either. Rather, another part of my brain wants it to keep going. I don’t want to lose the comfort it gives me. I don’t want to lose the calming sensation of the smooth pillow rubbing against my fingers.

This has to stop. I have to take control. More forcefully, I consciously will my hand to cease its movement. Sure enough, it stops. Why do I feel surprised by that? Testing myself further, I try to ball my hand into a fist. Again, it obeys. Deciding upon one more demonstration of free will, I punch the cushion I had just caressed moments earlier. The pillow yields readily to my fist, but I find the blow leaves no lasting mark. I expected this, yet it still annoys me. I punch again, harder. And again, the pillow repairs the momentary impression of my hand. Before I can even begin to rationalize my decision, I start thoroughly brutalizing the pad. I rain blows upon it, now with both hands. Each punch makes me feel better. Each of the pillow’s recoveries makes me feel worse. I punch faster, harder, even altering the angle of impact and the part of the fist I use to initiate contact. Nothing works. No matter how hard I try, there are no lasting signs of damage. Yet I keep going.

The strikes become unconscious. I stop thinking about it. I just keep punching. My mind drifts from my methodical and calculating assault on the couch cushion back to myself as I begin thinking about thinking once more. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? Am I even in control right now? The punching stops. I stop it. I recognize that I am in command of myself. My body. My mind. My actions. Everything around me comes into focus again. I remember where I am. I remember what I was doing. I remember why I have to leave.

Cassie Bell. It wasn’t enough to make her absolutely gorgeous. It wasn’t enough to make her rich and famous. The universe just had to give her superpowers, too. Some people have all the luck. Unfortunately, it seems that I have none. I’m the unluckiest girl in the world.

Everything was going so well tonight. I knew I looked good. But when Derek took an interest in me, I felt good. This was the guy that dumped Cassie Bell. The Cassie Bell. And he chose me. In some weird way, it made me feel like I was as pretty and desirable as she is. Maybe even more so? It was so validating.

Ugh, I was so stupid. Boys don’t work that way. Derek didn’t choose me because I was better. He chose me because I was available. He was just playing the field. As soon as he got another option, he ditched me.

I was so pathetic. I remember how I let him talk me into leaving my own bedroom. How I left the door cracked open and pressed my ear up to it to listen to the call. How I tried not to cry as I connected the dots of the conversation between his interjections. How I played dumb when he said he had to leave to help his frat brother. How I cried on this very couch when he left. How I started stalking his social media in a fit of jealousy and sadness afterward.

It was only when I went back to my home page to look up Cassie’s profile that I saw the videos. I didn’t even realize it was her at first. The first video didn’t even show her knee as she smashed a car parked on the street. The second video, too, only showed the lower portion of her legs as she stomped through the street crushing vehicles. It was only when I started opening the comments that I realized who the subject was. I didn’t believe them at first. Soon enough, though, the wide shots started to appear in my feed and the truth was undeniable. No one else had a body like that.

Reflecting on those first few videos, it was odd how calm I was. I wasn’t scared; I was jealous. Even when she was blown up to the size of King Kong, I couldn’t find a single flaw with her figure. Somehow even her ankles seemed perfect. What the hell makes an ankle perfect anyway? I couldn’t describe it. I couldn’t rationalize it. All I knew was that they were nicer than mine. I watched video after video, scrutinizing her looks more than her actions, desperately trying to detect some superficial imperfection. No such luck.

Eventually I encountered the clip that scared me straight. Through a window across the street, someone had managed to capture her destroying an entire house with just a few footsteps. At first, I didn’t care about the destruction. I was much more focused on her bare feet, looking for any scars, cuts, or hairs. Of course, there were none. Her deep voice rumbled throughout the video, but I paid it no mind, instead opting to inspect her legs as the camera rose higher up her formidable form. Of course, my legs couldn’t compare to hers, either. Volleyball players always have the best legs. But just as I began examining her butt, a snippet of the conversation stuck out to me.

“...Guide me to Emma’s house.”

I remember how sick it made me feel. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was talking about my housemate. My Emma. The next logical leap was immediate. My house. Somehow I was certain she was coming for me, but I didn’t want to be. Amid my jealous misery and self-loathing, I was strangely hopeful. Emma is a common name. She could be talking about anyone, I thought.

I turned my attention back to my phone, which had already begun replaying the video. As she again took her first step onto the ruined house, a small detail caught my eye. Above a gaping hole where the door should have been, some lettering grabbed my attention. The shaky camerawork prevented me from reading it and her next stomp obliterated it, so I quickly dragged my finger across the screen to rewind the video. Eventually the lettering reappeared and I paused it again. Zooming in carefully, it was still too blurry to make out, so I began moving frame-by-frame until it came into focus just enough for me to read.

“TAA”

The lettering hadn’t made sense to me at first. There was no organization by that name at the school. Yet it seemed familiar. I squinted and went back and forth a few frames. The horizontal line of the second “A” was missing.

“TAΛ”

That was when it hit me. I hadn’t recognized it in its ruinous state, but the house she had destroyed was the very same one I had visited earlier tonight. And she flattened it like it was nothing. I remember my heart started racing. My mind started wandering. The video kept playing, but I just stared at it numbly. Was anyone still inside? Was Emma ok? My manic spiral was only stopped by the intercession of Cassie’s booming voice through the phone again.

“I’ll release you and your little friends unharmed after you guide me to Emma’s house.”

I was briefly comforted by the notion that Emma was probably ok, but then my fears turned inward. Would I be ok? I look around the room again, then back down at the couch cushion. I had dealt with a couple angry ex-girlfriends before, but they had all been my size and there were always people around to break up things. This is different. This isn’t some bitch at a party. This is a force of nature. And no one is stopping her.

A slight vibration runs through my feet. Was that real or did I imagine it? I’m so anxious that it feels like my whole body is shaking. Just as I’m about to brush off the phantom tremor, I feel another. This time I hear it, too. The cadence is familiar. Almost like… footsteps?

I stand up immediately. The sense of comfort and security my house had given me is gone now, along with any sense of hesitation. I curse myself for not fleeing earlier, but I don’t have time to dwell on the past. Moving quickly across the room to the counter, I swipe my car keys from where I had left them earlier in the night. I momentarily recall how I had tossed them there when Derek and I first came here. How I slid them across the smooth surface as we embraced… It feels like it was so long ago, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour or two.

I waste no time in getting to the door, panic pushing me to leave everything behind. I don’t even grab my purse. All the while, the tremors grow in intensity and volume while maintaining the same tempo. It feels ominous; like the slow ticking of a clock counting down. I swing open the door and rush past it, not bothering to close it behind me. Rushing across the moonlit walkway from my door to my driveway, I feel totally exposed. Worse yet, I can feel myself being watched, but I don’t give in to the paranoid desire to scan my surroundings. I move with purpose, now fully determined to put as much distance between myself and the vindictive colossus as possible.

Pressing the unlock button twice on my key fob as I run, I then slide my fingers under the driver’s side door and yank it open. I practically dive into the seat as another tremor rumbles through the ground. Inserting my keys into the ignition and twisting violently, the engine hums to life as I hurriedly shift into reverse gear. It’s not like I’m worried about transmission damage at this point. Perhaps pushing the gas a little too enthusiastically, I shoot out of the driveway and twist the wheel to align the car with the street. Then I see her. Well, most of her.

Almost everything above her chest is obstructed by the roof of the car, but her identity is unmistakable. The flawless legs, the taut torso, and of course she’s wearing the same clothes from the videos. Not to mention she’s enormous. That’s a pretty big giveaway. None of the nearby buildings even reach her knees. I’m briefly tempted to lean forward to try to glimpse her face, but my determination to escape as fast as possible overrides my foolish curiosity. Turning the wheel as hard and as fast as I can, I attempt a U-turn in the narrow residential street. Though my car’s handling proves incapable of completing the maneuver on the road itself, I’m fortunate to encounter a driveway rather than a curb at the road’s edge and use the extra space to finish steering my car around. I’m forced to drive across a bit of the yard to complete the maneuver, but once I clear the grass and mount the curb I’m back on the asphalt and can speed away in earnest.

“A CHASE! THIS SHOULD BE FUN!”

The windows and walls of the car hardly muffle her booming voice. I risk a peek in the rearview window and see she’s picked up one of her feet before returning my attention to the road. A forceful thud and rumble confirms its impact. I increase the weight on the gas pedal to capitalize on the straightaway, but the shaking of the ground makes me reluctant to drive too fast. This car is the only chance I have to put some distance between me and her. One crash and I’m finished.

CRASH!

The sudden smashing noise behind me compels me to look up at the mirror again. Her lower calf is buried in the roof of my house, with her foot hidden within the structure.

“OOPS! I GUESS WE’RE BOTH ‘HOMEWRECKERS’ NOW.”

“Homewrecker?” Didn’t she and Derek break up? I make a hard right turn, trying not to lose too much speed as I weave into the opposite lane of traffic.

“I HOPE NO ONE ELSE WAS IN THERE.”

There wasn’t. But there could have been. I could have been, I realize. Instinctively shifting back into the proper lane of the road as I continue my flight from the malicious giant, I’m just now beginning to truly grasp the danger I’m in. Not only is this the most one-sided catfight in history, but the other girl is apparently perfectly willing to kill me because she thinks I stole her boyfriend. I bear down harder on the gas pedal.

Why is she so hung up on Derek anyway? I make a left turn, attempting to cross town to reach the highway so I can maximize my car’s speed. She can have any guy she wants. I glimpse her casually stepping over a building in her pursuit of me. She can take anything she wants. I accelerate in an attempt to increase the gap between us. What made him so special?

In hindsight, I think I only wanted to be with Derek because he was with Cassie. Somehow it was like being with him after he was with her made me her equal. Sure, he’s hot. Sure, he’s charming. And yeah, he’s tall, too. But compared to her? She could have been dating professional athletes, celebrities, pretty much anyone she wanted. I don’t think Derek is even as tall as she is. As tall as she was, that is.

Glancing back up to the mirror, the gigantic girl seems to be keeping pace with me easily. Though I can only see a portion of her in my mirrors, it doesn’t appear that she’s running. She might not even be speed walking. My best indication of this is the frequency of her steps, which continue to shake the ground slightly with each impact and don’t appear to have any change in their pace. She must be toying with me. It seems like she can catch me whenever she wants to, but she isn’t for some reason. Is she enjoying this?

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING, LITTLE ONE?”

I make another hard turn. Her thunderous taunt gets to me, though. Where am I going? I had planned to floor it as soon as I reached the highway, but that scheme seems foolish now. I’m already going more than double, maybe triple the speed limit of these roads. How much faster will I be able to go on the interstate? Would it even matter? She’s only walking and she’s easily keeping pace with me. But what choice do I have? If she catches me, she’ll surely kill me.

“IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, I’M BIGGER, STRONGER, AND FASTER THAN YOU ARE.”

It’s true. I knew she was bigger than me; that was obvious. I also knew she was stronger; that much was evident from the videos. But I had still hoped to be faster. I am in a car, after all. Yet that clearly isn’t proving to be the case. On the contrary, she actually seems to be gaining on me. I have to decelerate into each turn, but she effortlessly steps over anything in her way. The ease with which she does so is demoralizing, but her grace betrays another truth. She definitely stepped on my house on purpose.

“I BET I’M PRETTIER THAN YOU, TOO.”

There’s no doubt on that score, either. She’s better than me in every way. I can’t compete with her. But I’m not going to give up. I can’t give up. Seeing how easily she deliberately destroyed my house, I know what will happen to me if I give myself up. I just have to focus, I think as I try to psych myself up. She’s only chasing me because I already got one over on her. I got Derek. She lost Derek. It’s petty, but it’s true. My resolve grows stronger alongside my confidence as I make another turn. I’ve already beaten her once. I can do it again. Maybe she’ll trip or something. Maybe the police will stop her. Maybe -

BOOM


Cassidy Bell POV

That’s going to leave a mark.

The collision even caught me by surprise. From my vantage point, I can see almost everything. I knew they couldn’t escape my reach, let alone my vision. I was a little worried when I saw the puny girl get in her car at first, but once I saw it drive I knew my fears were unfounded. I had been so delicate with my steps before because of how soft the ground was and a sense of social courtesy for the tiny town around me; I didn’t know how fast I was until now. Now I do. Even at a casual stroll, I’m faster than most vehicles. And being so high up, it wasn’t like they could evade me, either. I can see everything from up here. Well, almost everything.

The car they ran into was actually in my blind spot. Nestled low to the ground in the shadow of a corner building, I couldn’t see it. Evidently, neither could she. She had taken the corner too aggressively, probably in an effort to preserve her speed. Ordinarily the maneuver would have probably been effective. Unfortunately for her, there was an obstruction in her way.

I hope they wore their seat belts. I would hate for Derek and his little lover to escape my wrath that easily. I ball up my right fist in a fit of anger, but then a flash of anxiety overcomes me. Oh no, did I just crush my cute little navigator? Quickly raising my hand to my face, I open it to find nothing. Well at least I didn’t crush him. But where did he go? I look around for a moment, finding the street behind me torn up by my footsteps.

“Cassie!” a weak, muffled voice calls out from below me.

I look around, trying to find the source of the shout.

“What happened?” it calls again.

This time I discern its origin and raise my other hand to my face, holding it outstretched below me. Carefully opening the loose ball my fingers had formed and making a platform of my hand, the digits part to reveal three small people who were clearly quite cramped in my palm. Oh, that’s right, I think to myself. I had moved them all into one hand when I was planning to pick up the tiny car. I guess it slipped my mind in the excitement of the chase. I normally have a pretty good mind for these things, but I feel like I’ve been particularly forgetful tonight.

“You guys ok?” I ask out of concern, but they cower and wince at my voice.

Oops, I forgot to whisper again. Come on, Cassie, you’re better than this. But I linger on the self-criticism. Is it really my fault that these wimps can’t handle my normal speaking voice? I resolve to do better as a polite courtesy, but I’m not going to chastise myself for their weakness.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I forgot.”

The group’s leader, “David” as I had learned he was called on the walk over, is the first to recover. Even though he’s puny in my hand, I have to admit he’s pretty attractive. Not many of these mites would be as courageous as he is in this situation. Even Derek seemed to cower at the sight of me after my first growth spurt, back when I could still fit in a building. And David is loyal, too. I appreciate that, in light of recent romantic betrayals. He could have pled for his own life, but he chose to bargain on behalf of his friends, too. I respect that, even if they weren’t in any real danger. Maybe when this is all over I should start dating him. The memory of crushing his house suddenly intrudes on my thoughts. Then again, maybe not…

“It wasn’t my most cramped travel experience,” he remarks.

I offer a friendly smile to the joke and he smiles back. Are we flirting right now? I decide to raise my hand to eye level so I’m no longer looming over him. Hopefully that makes me look friendlier. I hope he appreciates that.

“Sorry about that,” I whisper again. “When you ride ‘Cassie Air,’ your safety is our top priority. Comfort comes second, I’m afraid. You should try our first class package next time.”

He continues smiling and nods awkwardly. “So what happened?”

So serious, this one. I lower my hand again and look down at the wreckage of the car by my feet. The hood is crumpled pretty thoroughly, but the cabin appears intact, along with the rest of the chassis.

“There’s been an accident,” I announce as quietly as I can. He seems mortified by this and I realize that he probably thinks I caused it. I guess I sorta did cause it. “It wasn’t my fault,” I explain reflexively. “She was driving recklessly.”

He seems to contemplate what he says next very carefully. There’s a long pause as he looks down at his feet. Finally, he looks back up to my eyes. “Are they ok?”

Are they ok? The question annoys me more than it should. I know he’s just being considerate, but I feel like he shouldn’t even care. It’s their fault they crashed, not mine. And they deserved it, anyway. They were unfaithful. They hurt me.

“I’m not sure yet. Let me check,” I answer as I lean down to pick up the wreck.

I extend my fingers over the top of the car and lift it from the ground like a crane. Reaching down makes me slightly dizzy, but I manage to stand up straight again and the feeling passes. Raising the car to my face, I then reorient it so the windshield is facing me. Curiously, it seems that only the driver’s side airbag deployed. Where’s Derek?

My gaze turns back to the ground. Was he thrown from the vehicle? There’s no sign of him. Maybe he's in the back seats? I look back up at the car and find nothing. He wasn’t in the car this entire time? I can feel my face redden as the anger boils up in me again. Where is he?

As I brainstorm the possibilities, it occurs to me that I have a new lead. The unresponsive harlot in the front seat probably knows. She was the last person to see him. But her unconsciousness presents a problem. She can’t tell me where he is in this state. But what if she’s not unconscious? What if she’s just faking it? I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s probably faked all kinds of things.

The concept of a plan takes shape in my mind, but there is one problem. I’m not quite big enough for what I have in mind. My craned fingers can grasp the vehicle easily enough, but my hand isn’t quite large enough to wrap completely around the car. If I start shaking it, the brittle thing might just crumble and fall to the ground. There’s no telling how strong I am now compared to this pathetic little machine that shatters against the inertia of one little parked car. I need to be sure it won’t fall out of my hand. After all, safety is my top priority.

The familiar warm sensation begins to spread through me again as I will myself larger. I want to close my eyes and savor the sensuous feeling, but I don’t want to get carried away again like before. Instead, I draw pleasure from watching the car in my clutches shrink as my hand grows around it. Every part of my body is stimulated by the ecstasy of my expansion, unlike anything else I’ve experienced. Forget experience; it’s so much better than anything I’ve ever imagined. I can hardly suppress a pleasureful moan. This feels so good. I wish I could feel like this forever. The landscape around me dwindles as my head rises farther and farther from the ground. I can feel like this forever.

I have never tested the upper limit of my powers before. Growing feels so easy, so effortless. It seems to violate about a dozen laws of physics, and yet it happens regardless. The only theoretical limit on my size is the troposphere. At some point, I know I will run out of oxygen. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I grew to prevent myself from drowning, only to now grow so big that I suffocate. And at what point would that happen? I know mountain climbers on Everest need oxygen tanks for some portion of their journey, but I don’t know how long that portion is. Everest is approximately 29,000 feet high… could I grow five miles tall? I guess there’s only one way to find out. I shake in anticipation of another experiment.

I prepare to accelerate my growth into the stratosphere, but I stop myself. What’s the hurry? You’re enjoying yourself. Savor this. Looking over the shrinking landscape around me, I realize how irresponsible such a growth spurt would have been. Much of the town would have been smothered beneath my feet. The sentiment from earlier in the night creeps back into my conscience: "With great power comes great responsibility."

I begin looking for a better place to conduct my experiment. An open field, perhaps a remote forest. But the pleasurable feeling makes it hard to focus. This has to be better than drugs, right? Even better than sex? I turn to my cute little boy toy, dwindling in the palm of my hand. He looks terrified, but he does not speak.

“Don’t worry, little guy. You’re getting a free upgrade! Enjoy the extra leg room,” I joke as I grin down at him whilst he slowly shrinks in my hand.

This time he doesn’t return my smile. It’s a shame he can’t enjoy this like I do. Derek would have never cheated on me if he could experience this kind of pleasure with me.

I halt my growth as a realization dawns on me.

I’m acting like Derek. I’m putting my own selfish desires above my considerations for other people. This isn’t an experiment. I look at the car that I can now easily wrap against the palm of my hand with my fingers. I’m definitely big enough now. I look down at my feet and visually compare them against the nearby buildings to assess how much I’ve grown. Surprisingly, I haven’t even doubled in height yet. Is that really all I grew? I expected more than that…

I reckon it’s for the best, though. The bigger I get, the more of a disturbance I’ll be for the little people. Yet I can’t help but wonder just how big I am now. How tall am I? How much do I weigh? Everything was already below my knees, but the buildings are certainly even smaller now. Looking down at a single-story structure near my foot, it seems like the top of my ankle is just barely shy of the roof. Another impulse shoots through me, coercing me to grow just a bit more so my ankle is taller. This time I restrain myself.

I’m not an animal. And I’m not Derek. I’m a person. I won't allow myself to be controlled by such primitive urges. I’m bigger than that, I smirk to myself. My whole life has been governed by my own self-discipline. I know how dangerous it is if I lose control of my higher brain functions. I unconsciously reach for my mother’s necklace again with my free hand. Or it would be free if I weren’t holding three people on it.

My tiny passengers tumble off of my palm just as my fingers make contact with the pendant. Time slows as I watch them free fall for a brief moment before landing on my boobs. At least they had a soft landing. My concern shifts to amusement as I watch them struggle for purchase atop my chest. Like toddlers on trampolines, they have great difficulty in finding their footing and standing upright.

“Oops,” I offer with a mix of sincerity and mockery as I suppress a giggle, causing my chest to shake a little.

I watch on for a while as they flop and flounder atop my bosom, enjoying the stimulation of their touch about as much as the sight of their pathetic plight. Just as I’m about to pluck them from my body, David slips and falls into the canyon of my cleavage. He struggles the whole way down, kicking against my flesh as he screams. A faint moan escapes my lips as he finally settles at the bottom. I decide to leave him there for a moment as I collect his companions and deposit them into my other hand, now outstretched with the wrecked car lying flat atop it.

With only David remaining in my breasts, I grin down at the trapped boy between my mammaries. My gaze seems to make him uncomfortable and he resumes his struggle to escape the cavern of my cleavage. His fruitless efforts give me pleasure, though this time I hardly register his physical resistance. The pleasure I feel now is of a more psychological variety. The power I feel from holding a man at my mercy. If I wanted to, I could squish him like a bug.

“Cassie, help! I’m slipping!” he calls up to me.

He doesn’t seem so brave and courageous anymore. He’s actually being kind of a baby about it, really. Doesn’t he realize how lucky he is? How many men would kill to be where he is right now? I can feel my grin faltering, but I make a conscious effort to intensify it. I see the fear on his face likewise intensify in response.

“Don’t worry,” I tease in reply. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I begin shifting my shoulders forward, squeezing my breasts together. I watch as the fleshy walls close around him and his eyes widen with terror.

“Cassie, please!”

I’m tempted to keep going, but I restrain myself again. He did use the magic word, after all. With my free hand, I finally retrieve the voyeuristic voyager from my chest and raise him to my face.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I tease as I hold him before my eyes. He’s speechless. Wow, am I that good? “I’ve got one more present for you, lover-boy,” I say as I lean my head toward him. Plastering my lips against his head and most of his upper body, I can feel him struggle against me. I consider slipping him the tongue, but recognize my tongue is now likely considerably larger than his entire body.

Pulling my face away from him again, I look back expecting gratitude or euphoria on his countenance. Instead, he looks exhausted. Poor little thing. I wore him out already.

“You look like you could use a breather, little guy. How about you take a seat with your friends while I wrap up some unfinished business?”

With that, I transfer him to the palm of my other hand, then pluck the car from said hand, leaving the pedestrians behind. Having completed the swap, I turn my attention to the tiny tramp that started all of this.

“Wakey Wakey!” I announce loudly as I shake the car up and down.

After several shakes, I open my hand again to see if its puny occupant has regained consciousness. She hasn’t.

As I ball up my hand around the car again, David protests. “Cassie, stop it! You’re killing her!”

“I’m not even touching her,” I mockingly reply.

Of course, I know this is probably unpleasant for her. I’m counting on the g-force from the shaking to wake her up. Any physical discomfort to her is just an added bonus. Yet the more I think about it, the more I realize that shaking her up and down probably isn’t the most effective method. The downward g-force is what causes unconsciousness in pilots during climbs, after all. Changing tactics, I begin shaking the car side-to-side.

“Cassie, stop!” the bold boy persists in objecting.

This little twerp is starting to get on my nerves. Why does it seem like every guy on the planet cares more about this skank than me? I begin shaking the car more violently as I scowl at him, but he doesn’t back down.

“Cassie. Please,” he cries meekly.

There’s that magic word again. I stop thrashing the vehicle as I smile passive-aggressively at him. “All you had to do was ask nicely,” I say through a false smile. “Let’s check on sleeping beauty.”

Raising the car to my face again, I peer into the windshield and see she’s stirring. She raises her hand to her face and looks around slowly in confusion. Come to think of it, it probably wasn’t the best idea to shake a probable concussion patient like that. I pause a moment to contemplate the possible damage. Maybe she should go to a hospital? I’m not a neuroscientist, but I know traumatic brain damage is no joke. At least she’s awake now.

“Tag, you’re it,” I declare to the flustered girl in my palm. She shudders at the sound of my voice, but is otherwise unresponsive as she continues looking around in a daze. “That was quite an accident you had down there. You should really be more careful.” Again, nothing. “Have you been drinking tonight?” I tease once more. No response. Now this is getting annoying.  “Step out of the car, ma’am,” I command in my best police voice. She continues to not comply, so I drop the act and resort to threats. “Either you step out of there on your own, or I’ll drag you out.”

“Please don’t hurt her!” the rebellious pipsqueak in my other hand shouts.

What an odd thing to say. I have no intention of hurting anybody. I’m not a monster just because I’m so much bigger and stronger than everybody else. Yet as pure as my intentions are, I don’t want to concede anything to this bothersome little boy. I’m done letting boys like him control me.

“I’ll do whatever I want to her,” I declare as I stare scornfully at him. This time he backs down from my challenge as he fails to meet my gaze. Pathetic. I can’t believe I thought we could be something. He’s just another small little man. “In fact, I think it’s time I uphold my end of our deal. Besides, I need my other hand now.”

I begin to lower my open palm to the ground, setting it down such that it’s level with a nearby rooftop so my passengers can disembark comfortably. Yet they don’t leave. It seems the unhappy little couple is too scared to depart my hand. David, on the other hand, is too bold. He seems to have recovered his nerve just enough to stare back up at me defiantly. Is that defiance? It’s so hard for me to tell at this distance and this size. No matter, I resolve. He’s little more than a bug to me. I unceremoniously turn over my hand, watching them tumble out of my palm as I dump them onto the roof.

Upon returning to my standing height, I inspect my catch again and find my subject’s responsiveness seems to have improved. Maybe the adrenaline has finally started kicking in. She resembles a wounded baby bird as she frantically, but cautiously examines her surroundings. She’s actually kind of cute, in a helpless sort of way. “Let’s try this again,” I whisper as delicately as possible. “Would you please step out of the car so I can talk to you?”

She doesn’t respond at first, but I can tell from her startled movements that she can hear me. I could easily tear the door off with two fingers and pull her out of the car, but as I watch her uncoordinated, slothful movements my impatience gives way to pity. This poor girl has been through a lot. The least I can do is be patient with her.

“It’s alright. I promise I won’t hurt you,” I coax her.

She’s still reluctant, but I push down my frustration. I’m not even sure that she’s processing what I say to her. Holding her so close to my face, I barely perceive her face worriedly looking back and forth, likely following her eyes as they dart around in the same directions. She definitely has a head injury.

“Are you hurt?” I ask gently.

I can tell every time I speak frightens her, but this time she answers me. “I… I don’t know.”

Her ability to form a coherent sentence is encouraging, if nothing else. “Can you move?”

She takes her time moving each of her limbs, wincing in pain as she raises her right arm. “My shoulder hurts.”

I’m more concerned about her head, but her processing pain is also a good sign. “Ok, little one. I want to help you, but we’ve got to get you out of there first. Can you open the door for me?”

She nods and begins trying to push the door, but it doesn’t budge. “It’s stuck,” she pouts.

I didn’t see her try to unlock it, but I figure it’s possible that I missed such a subtle movement. Hopefully she’s not so concussed that she’s forgotten how car doors work. It seems reasonable that the door was damaged somehow in the crash. For all I know, I could have damaged it myself when I picked her up.

“Alright, do me a favor and lean away from the door. I’m going to get you out of there,” I explain.

I can tell my explanation scares her, but she seems to trust me and nods her head in understanding as she pushes herself over the center console. As gingerly as I can, I stick my index finger’s nail against the top of the door. Then, as if prying with a crowbar, I forcefully detach it, watching as the door plunges down to the earth, crashing against the street. Turning back to my miniature rescuee, I can see that she’s found my casual feat of strength far more alarming than reassuring.

“Come on, little one. Let’s have a look at you.”

She doesn’t move at first, seemingly contemplating her options. Or she’s just confused. I wait to see what she’ll do next, rather than forcing the issue. My patience is rewarded as she eventually begins sliding toward the newly-made hole in her vehicle. I can tell it isn’t easy for her, as she winces in pain with each effort. Yet she perseveres. She’s putting herself through this pain out of sheer trust in me, I recognize. Finally, she pulls herself out of the car and plops onto my open palm, using her left hand to cradle her wounded arm.

Now that she’s standing in my hand, I begin inspecting her closely for blood or signs of trauma. Fortunately, I don’t find anything too serious, though I question how well I can detect such things at this size. She’s clearly anxious about how intensely I’m scrutinizing her, so I try to think of something to comfort her. "You're really pretty," I offer, but this doesn't seem to have the reassuring effect I intended. If anything, it only makes her more anxious. “I’m just looking for serious injuries,” I explain calmly. “So far, so good,” I add as an afterthought.

Rather than asking her to turn around, I rotate my hand and move my head to check other angles of her. She doesn’t move, clearly trying to hold still, but she eventually loses her footing and stumbles backwards into the car wreck and cries out in pain.

“Sorry!” I blurt out, careful to control the volume of my voice but probably still coming across as louder than I intended. “Are you hurt? Did it cut you?”

“No, no… it’s just… my arm,” she says through gritted teeth. Her voice seems weaker.

“Sorry,” I repeat meekly. So much for not apologizing anymore. “Let me get this out of your way. I don’t want you to get hurt by it.”

She watches in awe as I crane my other hand over the wreck of the car and extract it from my open palm. Raising it away from her, I then drop it casually to the ground below. I take satisfaction in the sound it makes upon impact with the ground, but the girl still atop my palm is horrified. Oops. I forgot that was her car.

“Sorry,” I offer again sheepishly. It was an accident… sorta. Then I remember how I spitefully stepped on her house earlier, too. That wasn’t an accident. I recall how I had asked David and the other little one (Emma, was it?) all about it before I got there. How many roommates she had… if anyone else could be there… It was a premeditated home-icide.  I smile a little at my own joke, but I can tell she finds my grin unnerving. I don’t think sharing my joke with her would allay her concerns, either. “I’m sorry about your house, too.”

She looks down at her feet, then back up to my face. She appears deep in thought, like she’s trying to remember something or attempting to solve a complex math problem in her head. “I’m sorry about Derek,” she says with a twinge of melancholy.

Derek! I had forgotten about him! My placid demeanor is immediately upended by a torrent of emotions. Sadness, frustration, and anger come rushing over me. I’m immediately smitten with a desire to return to chasing him, but one glance back at the girl in my hand takes me aback. She’s started to sit down on my palm and leans back as if she’s planning to fall asleep. At first I think nothing of it, but then I recall her head injury. Is it safe for her to go to sleep?

“Hey, there… uh… little one…” I begin.

“My name is Sarah,” she interrupts drowsily.

“Ok… Sarah. Don’t go to sleep. Stay awake, ok?”

“But I’m sleepy,” she complains.

“I know you are. I’m sleepy, too,” I commiserate, feeling my own fatigue. “But you need to stay awake, ok?”

“Ok,” she innocently replies, but I can tell I’m losing her. I’ve got to keep her engaged until I can get her some help.

“Sarah, keep talking to me,” I instruct her.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks with the cadence and innocence of a sleepy child.

It doesn’t matter what you talk about, I think to myself, but I know that will be counterproductive to say aloud. Scanning the landscape for any signs of a hospital or a doctor’s office, I can hardly manage to do two things at once. Everything looks even more alien now that I’m bigger. I’m so disoriented now… how am I going to get this girl some medical care? I return my attention to my drowsy passenger, only to find her eyes closed as she lies prostrate atop my palm.

“Sarah, no!” I scold her like a naughty pet. Shaking my hand gently, I manage to bring her back from the brink of slumber. “Let’s talk about Derek!” I exclaim. My own suggestion catches me off-guard. I guess it must have been bothering me beneath the surface. I just hope I don’t regret this.

“What about Derek?” she again asks innocently. The trepidation in her voice is gone, replaced by a dazed indifference.

“What about Derek?” I’m trying to save her life and she’s asking me inane questions. “I don’t know; what did you think of him?” I reply vaguely as I continue scanning the nearby area for a hospital.

“I think you can do better,” she answers.

The response surprises me. “What do you mean?” I ask, now dividing my attention between the conversation and my meticulous search for help.

“I mean you’re so nice and pretty and perfect…” she yawns. “...And he’s a shallow jerk.”

I instinctively want to dismiss her attempt at flattery, but I realize that she probably lacks the cognitive capacity to lie right now. “I’m not perfect,” I reply. “Nobody is.”

“You’re perfecter than me,” she continues. “You’re super prettyyyyyyy,” she adds goofily.

It takes a bit of restraint on my part to not correct her for saying “perfecter,” but I recognize that I’m not dealing with Sarah at her best and decide to just humor her. “There’s a lot more to a person than their looks,” I respond.

“Not to guys like Derek,” she quips back with surprising speed.

I raise an eyebrow at the succinct retort. “So why did you sleep with him?”

She gets quiet again. A long pause follows and I begin to worry she's falling asleep again.

“Because I thought if I did, it would mean I was as pretty as you are.”

My heart sinks. “Oh, Sarah…” I begin. Looking over the wounded girl on the edge of consciousness in my hand, I can’t help but feel guilty about how I treated her. Perhaps the biggest irony of the situation is that she’s really beautiful. She’d kinda have to be for that douche to sleep with her, I think spitefully. As I look down at her with her messy chestnut hair and elegant, delicate figure, a profound shame washes over me. “I think you’re really pretty,” I manage to utter as I hold back my tears.

“Thanks,” she says weakly as the sleep begins to take her again. “I hope you find him and get the answers you’re looking for.” She sighs and exhales deeply.

This poor girl… wait a minute… is she sleeping? “Sarah?” She doesn’t respond. “Sarah?” Forget sleeping; she might be dying! Fortunately, she stirs from her slumber again.

“He… he went to the DTF party…” she manages weakly.

DTF party? I just came from there… The realization hits me like a load of bricks. I’ve been chasing my tail this entire night. Yet I don’t feel angry. I’m devastated. This entire time, I’ve been retracing Derek’s trail from before the party. I look back at the unconscious girl in my hand. I have to help her. But how?

“Sarah?” I begin again, to no response. This time I can’t hold the tears back. “Sarah?” I can barely speak with the lump in my throat. I poke her in desperation and she stirs again, but I can tell her strength is fading. In a panic move, I stoop down to the building at my feet. My three captives from earlier are still there, right where I left them.

I lower my hand to the side of the building again. “Hop on,” I command them. They comply immediately. I can see David crouching down and leaning over Sarah, but he doesn’t say anything. Further lowering my hand, I bring my fingers to the ground to create a nice slope for them to slide down. “Get her to a hospital,” I direct them. I think I see David nod at me.

I rise to my full height again and storm off in no particular direction. I know her chances aren’t good. In her condition, without a car for transportation, I doubt she’ll get the care she needs. But what can I do? I don’t know where the nearest hospital is. I try to comfort myself. I’m not a doctor. She’ll probably be fine. She was talking, right? And walking, too. But deep down, I know I’m responsible for what happened to her. And worse yet, I abandoned her because I didn’t want to face my mistake. I’m a coward.

Now I have no leads. No plan. Not even a solid objective. Maybe I should just shrink down to normal before I hurt anyone else. I feel tired. I yearn for sleep. Yet the notion of sleeping profoundly disturbs me. How can I sleep after what just happened? After what I just did? In spite of my recent memory lapses, somehow I doubt I’ll be able to forget this. I can’t stop now. I can’t let all of this be in vain.

Now stomping off in the direction she was driving earlier, I wipe some tears from my cheek. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Sydney Elliot POV

“Big experiment tomorrow?”

“That’s what it says,” Annie confirms.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she replies bluntly.

I detect a faint hint of irritation in her voice, so I decide against asking more questions. She flips through a few more pages and skims the entries. She appears deep in thought, clearly motivated and desperate to find anything to help our mutual friend. I try reading over her shoulder, but it proves difficult at a distance and I’m reluctant to get too close for fear of pissing her off. As much as I want to help, I recognize that the best thing I can do right now is give her space. She knows Cassie best, anyway. Looking around the room, I decide to keep poking around while Annie continues reading Cassie’s diary.

Strolling up to an untouched dresser, I begin opening the drawers and peering inside. Starting at the top, I find a bunch of photographs and handwritten notes. The first picture depicts a man with black hair and glasses, likely in his late twenties or early thirties. His blue eyes, framed by his square glasses, are certainly his best feature. He’s not ugly, but he’s certainly not handsome. Based on his age and nerdy appearance, I suspect this to be a friend or perhaps even a romantic interest of Cassie’s, but it’s hard to say without more information.

The subject of the next photograph is a woman. She’s closer to my age, probably in her early-to-mid twenties, and she is absolutely beautiful. Her eyes are a deep, almost emerald green and her long, wavy blonde hair seems luminous as the lighting around her face seems brighter than the rest of the portrait. Both photos have a vaguely antique quality about them, like the old photographs one might see in scrapbooks. I’m not an expert by any means, so it’s hard to say if the radiant face in the picture is actually brighter or if this is simply a consequence of editing or how the ink fades over time.

Now slightly more confused and a little curious, I pick up another photograph from the stack. This one is unmistakably a wedding photo, with the man from the first picture wearing a tuxedo and the woman from the latter wearing an exquisite white dress. Now the pieces are starting to fall into place for me. I linger on the picture for a few moments, focusing on the smiles of the happy couple before moving on to the next photograph in the pile.

The couple has a small blonde-haired baby. Though I can’t really be sure at this point, I can instinctively tell this baby is Cassie. I just know somehow. Why else would she have this picture? This added context brings a sudden clarity to the other photos. The man must have been Cassie’s father, with the woman being her mother. So that’s where she gets her good looks from. Now grabbing the stack of photographs, I begin flipping through them. Sure enough, there is a clear progression across the pictures. With each photo, the happy couple is smiling as the little girl grows older and taller. To my surprise, however, soon the girl disappears from the pictures.

Picture after picture shows the happy couple in various places, only now they look slightly younger. Some of the photographs have dates indicating they were taken before Cassie was born. It strikes me as odd that these photos would break the chronological order of the collection. Why would these be set apart from the others?

Without really contemplating it, I ask aloud, “How did Cassie’s parents die?”

Annie looks up from the journal, but doesn’t face me. “An accident,” she states briskly. I want her to elaborate, but her tone tells me it’s better to not press her any further. I look back to the drawer, hoping to find more clues within, when Annie suddenly speaks again. “It was one of her dad’s creations,” she says. “He was an inventor.”

I wait to see if she’ll continue or ask me why I asked, but she just stares ahead for a while before looking back down at the journal. Though I’m disappointed by the answer, it does connect some more dots for me. I wonder if Cassie’s dad was an inspiration for her scientific studies. It’s clear to me that she had a deep connection to her parents and that their deaths profoundly impacted her. It couldn’t have been easy for her. Growing up just long enough to get to know your parents, only to have them snatched away at such a young age.

Rummaging through the drawer again, I find some other little trinkets and mementos, but nothing I can interpret without more background knowledge. It seems that the whole drawer is just a commemoration of her deceased parents. Little notes from what I can only assume were a very young Cassie, drawings, and more pictures. It would be really cute if it weren’t so sad.

I decide to move on to the next drawer after delicately returning everything to its original place. This new drawer is full of papers and folders of varying colors and sizes. Opening one particular manila folder, I’m greeted by a mass of papers full of charts, numbers, and other data. I try to make sense of it, but it’s well above my knowledge base. I’ve always been more of a ‘humanities person.' Closing the folder and turning it over, I read a title that had been face-down before.

“Experiment 12A, Facts & Figures”

I can’t really make heads or tails of it, but at least it gives me more context for what I hold in my hands. Going through more of the manila folders from the stack, I’m met with similar complex calculations and miscellaneous loose data. Frustratingly, there don’t appear to be many or any paragraphs actually explaining what these experiments were studying or what anything means. Come on, Cassie. Give me words, not numbers. I look past the folders and encounter a stack of envelopes and a binder. Figuring the binder will be easier to flip through, I grab that first.

Within the binder, I find each item is some sort of award or certificate. “1st Place Titan High School Science Fair,” “National Merit Scholarship Finalist,” "National Science Foundation…” the list goes on and on. Each page is a new accolade and the binder is at least a few inches thick. How can someone so young achieve so much so quickly? It doesn’t seem possible…

“Whoah,” I gasp aloud, trying to bait Annie into asking me what I’ve found. Maybe if she starts the conversation, she won’t get as frustrated with me. Unfortunately, she doesn’t take the bait and flips through another page in the journal.

“Did you know how smart Cassie is?” I pry, gesturing to the binder in my hands.

“Yeah, she’s a freaking genius,” Annie replies without looking up.

Unhelpful. Still determined, though, I try again. “I mean, I always knew she was kind of a nerd, but this is seriously impressive…”

“She’s a real go-getter,” Annie repeats dismissively as she squints at the page.

Alright, now she’s just being a bitch. “Annie, what’s up? Have you found anything?”

“No,” she answers. “Not a fucking thing.”

Through her veil of anger and frustration, I can sense her despair. I approach her cautiously, then sit down beside her as I place the binder on the floor in front of me. “That’s ok, Annie,” I offer softly. “We didn’t really expect to find anything here.”

She frowns as she looks at the journal before her, then over at the binder. “I just don’t understand how someone so smart can be so stupid.”

Her response surprises me. “Well, she’s drunk…” I begin, only for her to cut me off.

“No!” she cries, nearly shouting. “I’m not talking about right now. I’m talking about before. With Derek.”

Hoping to avoid making another bad assumption, I hold back on a retort and opt to ask a vague clarifying question. “What do you mean?”

“This stupid journal,” she says, closing it and slamming it on top of the binder. “Every fucking entry is just her crying over that jerk and talking about how much she loved him.”

“Love makes fools of us all; big and little,” I quote her.

Annie actually looks at me now. I can’t tell if she’s sad or angry. Probably both. “But why? Why him? Why…” she pauses. “Couldn’t she see how selfish he was? How he manipulated her?”

“If she could see it, then it wouldn’t have been much of a manipulation,” I state matter-of-factly. I can see the cocktail of sadness and anger on her face is tilting toward anger again, so I attempt to preempt her next outburst. “Not everyone’s a psych major, Annie. Normal people - even brilliant people fall for this stuff all the time.”

She gets contemplative again as her eyes fall to the floor. “I just wish I had said something sooner,” she muses quietly.

An awkward silence sets in as we both stare at the books on the floor. Neither one of us wants to speak. I can tell Annie still isn’t letting go of her self-destructive guilt trip. It’s like she wants to be miserable. She’s blaming herself for everything.

“Annie…” I begin, trying to disrupt her one-woman blame game.

“What did you find over there?” she interrupts, nodding toward the dresser I was ransacking moments ago.

I wasn’t expecting her to ask me anything. Ironically, now that she’s actually engaging in the conversation, I struggle to find what to say. “Just some pictures of Cassie’s parents."

She nods again. “Cassie’s mom was really lucky.”

If her question caught me off-guard before, then this statement utterly baffles me. Without carefully considering it, I quip, “I think Cassie’s dad was the lucky one.”

Annie turns to face me, quickly understanding my meaning. “They were both lucky,” she explains. My puzzled expression must goad her into elaborating, because she continues, “Cassie’s mom was super pretty, I know. I just mean that she’s lucky that she found a man that really appreciated her and treated her right.”

I nod along, but I still don’t really follow. “I don’t think pretty girls inherently get taken advantage of…”

“Well it’s not like the shallow guys are going after the ugly girls,” she interjects.

I nod again. “Fair point, but there are plenty of good guys out there, too. It’s not like pretty girls are exclusively pursued by shallow men. Everybody wants them.”

“Let’s be real, here, Syd. You’re super hot. What portion of the guys you sleep with actually care about your personality? What portion of guys actually care…”

“Who says I care about their personality?” I interrupt. She becomes quiet after my outburst. “Not everyone is looking for the same things you are, Annie,” I suggest more delicately.

She sits quietly for a moment. Then a longer moment. Finally, she speaks in a whisper. “So… you’re just… using them?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m ‘using’ anybody. We both consent to it. Sometimes I have feelings for them, sometimes they have feelings for me.” I sigh. “And sometimes… there’s a mismatch,” I admit.

“A mismatch…” Annie repeats quietly.

“I didn’t realize you’re such a romantic,” I tease as I elbow her in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She seems to hang on my words, but soon a smile creeps onto her face. “I didn’t realize you’re such a slut,” Annie teases in turn.

“I prefer the term ‘man-eater,’ actually,” I reply playfully.

“Man-eater…” the suddenly bubbly girl echoes.

“Yeah… it’s more empowering that way,” I explain, though I’m hesitant to tolerate the equivalence of the two terms. Am I a slut?

“Whatever you say, ‘man-eater.’” She looks around the room again. “So is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. Between Cassie’s journal and her experiments, I think we’ve hit a…” my voice trails off as I process what I said. “Experiments.” I think back to Cassie’s journal and the final entry. “BIG experiment tomorrow.”

The sentence hangs in the air as Annie seems to connect the dots, too.

“The lab!” she shouts as she suddenly rises to her feet.

I stand up, too, though I’m not nearly as enthusiastic about it. “Annie, hold on!”

“What?” she demands impatiently.

“Let’s talk about this. What are we doing?”

“We’re going to Cassie’s lab to find out what made her grow!” She’s practically bouncing up and down now, like a golden retriever waiting by the door to run outside.

“Take a minute. Let’s think about this,” I instruct her calmly. “We don’t even know if she did grow herself. We might just be running into another dead end.”

“This wasn’t a dead end!” she protests excitedly. “This was what led us to Cassie’s lab where we can fix everything!” 

“I want to be optimistic, but I couldn’t even read what was in those files. Even if we get to the lab and even if we stumble across some growth ray or super serum, we won’t know what we’re doing. We might not be able to help. We might even make things worse.”

“How could things possibly get any worse?”

Such a pessimistic statement amidst such optimism is surprising. But she has a point. How could things get worse? “I don’t know, maybe we accidentally become giants ourselves?”

She tilts her head as if considering this, but then speaks again. “I’ll risk it. I’ve always wanted to be taller anyway. Being a giant could be fun!”

The prospect of becoming a giant monster doesn’t appeal to me, but seeing Annie in such a good mood moves me. Everything will probably be ok. It’s not like we’re even guaranteed to find anything. “Fine, I’m in.”

Annie jumps up and down again, then runs out the door saying, “Come on!” As I begin walking to follow her, she runs back into the room and picks up the journal. Rushing past me, she then tosses me the keys and declares, “You drive!”

I barely manage to catch them. Dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events, I stare at the doorway for a second before shouting, “I thought you wanted to drive!”

A distant Annie shouts from outside the apartment, “Now I want to read!”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I calmly walk out of the bedroom. Crossing the apartment and closing the front door behind me, I look out over the railing and see Annie waving at me from the curb.

“Come on, slowpoke!” she shouts up to me.

“Keep your pants on!” I shout back as I hurry down the stairs. Finally reaching the bottom, I dash to the car as Annie opens the passenger’s side door and slides in. I quickly open the door to the driver's seat and start up the engine. As I pull away from the sidewalk, Annie turns on the overhead light and the glare on the windshield immediately blinds me.

“Hey! I can’t see!” I shout at her as I angrily switch it off.

“Well now I can’t read!” she protests.

“Tough tits,” I mutter. “I’m driving.”

Annie huffs, but she doesn’t argue. As I navigate out of the development, I can tell she’s stewing a bit. She really wanted to read that journal. And now I’m driving and she can’t read anything. Feeling slightly bad for her, I try to think of something to keep her occupied. Passing the turn she had missed earlier, I recall our earlier conversation.

“You never told me what you would do if you were a giant.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her pouty frown shift as she ponders the scenario. “I’d like to think I would help people,” she finally says.

“Help people?” I ask, encouraging her to continue.

“Yeah, I’d like to help people,” she affirms. “Like a superhero or something.”

As childish as her answer sounds, it starts to make sense the more I think about it. Giant Cassie basically has superpowers. At the very least she’s superhuman. It’s hard to imagine anyone who would be more responsible with such power, too. The more I think about it, the more I come around to the idea. Maybe if we can’t fix her and she’s stuck this way forever, she’ll become a superhero.

“Use your phone’s flashlight,” I instruct Annie.

“What?”

“Use your phone’s flashlight to read,” I repeat.

“Oh. I didn’t think of that,” she says as she fumbles for her phone.

As she turns on the light, I ask another question: “Why are you so excited to read that diary anyway? You already said it didn’t have anything useful.”

“It might have something useful,” she protests.

“It might have something upsetting,” I retort.

“Can’t a girl just break into her bestie’s apartment, ransack her bedroom, and read her personal diary without being scrutinized anymore?”

“Fine,” I say with an amused grin. “What are you reading about?”

“Derek, mostly. I’m actually disappointed by how little I’m in here,” she admits.

“Are you still reading backwards?” I ask as I make a right turn.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Have you considered reading some of the earlier passages?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I dunno; to see what Cassie’s life was like when she was happy? Maybe to get a sense for what things were like with Derek before the breakup?”

“Hmmm…” she muses.

“Maybe he’s not all bad,” I pontificate.

“Maybe he’s worse.”

“Maybe, maybe… but I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“What about reading something upsetting?”

Stopping at a red light, I look over at Annie to see she’s staring back at me.

“Tell me something, Annie: what’s more upsetting? That Derek was actually a decent boyfriend who had his flaws like everyone else, or that he was a completely irredeemable piece of shit?”


Veronica Green POV

“You’re going to ‘get’ her?” I ask extremely incredulously.

“Affirmative,” the sheriff replies gruffly as he begins moving toward the door beside me.

“And how do you propose to do that?” I ask again, taking a step to the right to block him.

He sighs as he recognizes I’m not going to let him pass without answering. He looks over at Becca, but she also stares at him expecting an answer. He clearly resents being obstructed, but he’s also unwilling to escalate things over such a reasonable question.

“We’re going to talk to her,” he explains.

“Talk to her?” Luke asks from across the office. That's what the man said, I think to myself.

“Yeah, that’s about ninety percent of my job. Talking to people.”

The room gets quiet again, but this time Becca breaks the stalemate. “I think you’re in over your head on this one, sheriff.” She steps forward, looking down at the man half a foot shorter than her to emphasize her point. He turns to face her, craning his neck upward to make eye contact. She smiles playfully as she towers over him. “My ‘big friend’ is a lot bigger than me.”

The older man seems to concede as he appreciates her point. Still looking up at her face, he explains, “I know. That’s why we’re going to take the helicopter.”

Helicopter? “Since when does this tiny town have a helicopter?” I blurt out.

“And… why?” Luke asks feebly. His questions are starting to annoy me. It’s undermining. I don’t need backup.

The lawman seizes on the opportunity to stop looking up at Becca and turns to face me, only to become uncomfortable again and turn to Luke. “Since about three years ago when the department bought one.” He smiles as he seems to reflect on the purchase. “As for ‘why’ I bought one: they’re cool. It was a bargain and you never know when you’ll need one.”

“So…” I begin as I process this new information. “Your plan is for us to fly up to Cassie, tell her that she accidentally killed her ex-boyfriend, and just hope she mellows out?”

“No,” the sheriff corrects her. “My plan is for them to fly your friend and I up to Cassie…” he says as he gestures to the deputies behind him, “...explain that she’s dangerous, and convince her to stop stomping around the town.”

“And what if she doesn’t feel like talking?” Becca asks.

“And what if she feels like crushing the annoying little flying machine buzzing around her face?” I add.

“She’ll talk,” he says as he casually backs up. “And unlike you two, I have no intention of getting in anyone’s face.”

“So how are you going to get her attention?” Luke intercedes.

“The way I drew it up in my head, we’ll use the searchlight. The helicopter has a speaker, too.”

It seems like a good plan. Even with Cassie being gigantic, the helicopter should still be able to stay well out of her reach. There is still one thing bothering me, though…

“Why are you so sure she’ll talk to you?” Becca voices my concern aloud.

“I’ve known her a long time. She may be shy, but I know how to get her to open up.” He turns his attention back to my taller friend. “Besides, she won’t just be talking to me. She’ll be talking to you, too.”

For once, Becca looks a little intimidated. It’s a subtle tell, but I can discern from her slightly slouched posture and her hand rubbing her wrist that she’s uncomfortable. Maybe even scared.

“I’m not really the ‘talkative’ type,” she offers sheepishly.

The sheriff seems pleased by Becca’s discomfort. Or maybe just relieved he’s not on the back foot anymore. “Well, you’re her friend, right?”

“Yeah…” she admits shyly.

“I can go,” I offer. Luke seems to open his mouth to object, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Fine,” the old coot says as he makes his way toward the door again.

“No.” Becca interjects. “I’ll do it.”

“For the love of God,” the sheriff sighs, exasperated. “Clock’s ticking. Let’s move.”

I stand my ground at the door, but turn my attention to Becca. Before I can say another word, she interrupts me. “I can do this. You stay with Luke.”

But I don’t want to stay with Luke. I nod and step aside, unwilling to contradict her in front of the whole room. Turning to the policemen, I gesture toward the open doorway to indicate they can leave. As they file past me, I grab Becca’s arm again before she follows the men out. As Luke walks up to the door, he pauses and looks at me without saying anything. He looks embarrassed. He should be embarrassed.

“Go,” I instruct him. “I want to talk to Becca alone for a minute.”

He nods gloomily and walks past us. Watching him go until I judge he’s out of earshot, I turn back towards Becca. I try to read her face, but she’s defaulted back to her typical enigmatic stare. I hesitate for a moment, hoping she’ll ask me what’s up, but I know that’s not her way.

“I don’t want to be left alone with Luke,” I confess.

“Are you scared of him?” she asks. Is that a joke? I can’t tell whether she’s trying to be sincere or funny.

“No!” I respond quickly, perhaps sounding a little too defensive. “It’s just… awkward. And I’m not sure he is who I thought he was.”

She nods with understanding. “Who do you think he is?”

Does it sound too stupid if I say “prince charming?” I suddenly become uncomfortable meeting her eyes, feeling as if she can read my thoughts. I look down shyly at the floor. “I don’t know. I know he’s in TAL and those guys tend to be douchebags.” That’s actually how I perceived him at first, I recall. “But then he started to seem so sweet and caring… I thought he might be my prince charming,” I admit.

“And now you don’t?” Becca asks. I look up at her again to find she never broke eye contact with me.

“No, I don’t,” I confirm.

She nods at this, too. “Why?”

Why? I start replaying the thoughts that went through my head while he was talking to the sheriff about the punch-spiking scheme. “Well, he was putting the moves on me back at the party. He brought back Cassie’s toxic ex in an attempt to sleep with me. He seems way too knowledgeable and indifferent about spiking women’s drinks…”

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a girl, Ronnie.”

The statement takes me completely by surprise. I am a girl. And so is she. Despite the statement being factual on the surface, somehow it makes me feel stupid and demeaned. I’m starting to have serious doubts about Becca being our ambassador to the emotionally-unstable drunken behemoth. Who is also a girl.

“Luke’s a boy,” she continues, as if that somehow explains anything.

“Becca, no offense, but can you drop the ‘tough guy’ act and just get to the point?”

My own outburst shocks me. Judging by Becca’s face, it surprises her, too. At least I said “no offense,” right?

“Boys and girls just see the world differently. Guys are a lot more casual about this stuff than girls. They’re not as romantic as we are,” she explains. “Your ‘perfect prince’ probably isn’t going to be a perfect gentleman.”

I contemplate her words, recognizing that they probably have some truth to them. Maybe Luke isn’t such a bad guy. He’s just… a guy.

“You’re a romantic?” I ask with a mix of skepticism and amusement.

“I’m definitely not into casual hookups,” she states plainly.

The more I think about it, the more it actually makes sense. But strangely I’ve never seen her that way. In my mind, she’s always just… stoic. It doesn’t seem like she lets anyone in.

“So… what do you think of Luke?” I ask.

“I’m not your dad,” she dismisses. I can faintly feel tears building behind my eyes. I look down at the floor again, trying to conceal just how much the remark hurt me. Suddenly, I feel her hand on my shoulder and I look up at her again. “I’m sorry,” she begins. “I’m just not… comfortable with emotions.”

“I get it,” I sigh. “But you know, Becca…” I hesitate to say what I’m thinking out loud, but her dilated pupils call out to me. Is she about to cry? “...you’re a girl, too. And it’s not a weakness for girls to show emotions to each other.”

Now it’s her turn to look away as she removes her hand from my shoulder. “I think Luke’s a good guy,” she deflects. “He’s kind and considerate and I hope you won’t begrudge me for saying this: he’s really cute.”

I blush at the compliment as though it had been intended for me. “I won’t hold it against you.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder again. “I also think he really needs you right now.”

Suddenly I’m uncomfortable again. He needs me? “He seems fine to me.”

“Sometimes people act like they’re fine to reassure the people around them.” The way she says it makes me think she’s talking about more than just Luke. “I don’t know how well he knew Derek, but at the very least he just saw a close acquaintance die. And for all we know, they could have been friends.”

“I don’t know what I can do for him,”

“You can be there for him. Sometimes that’s enough.”

Looking up into her eyes again, I can definitely see some tears forming. Looking at her tearing up makes me tear up, but neither of us looks away.

“Let’s go!” the grumpy sheriff shouts at us from the hallway.

“You don’t want to miss your flight,” I say, somewhat choked-up.

She just nods as she blinks back a tear. As I pull away from her to walk outside, I find her arms wrapping around me from behind. I twist around in her grip to return the hug as we hold each other for a few more precious moments.

“You be safe out there,” she says.

“You too,” I manage meekly as she pulls away.

As the two of us walk out of the office and into the hallway, I see Luke hanging back with the two deputies in the parking lot. Upon seeing me, he seems to say something to them and give a parting handshake before walking back to his truck.

“Finally,” the sheriff sighs loudly.

“Check the attitude or you’ll have two angry giantesses on your hands,” Becca quips as she walks up to him.

“Giantess?” the lawman asks in confusion.

“I’m a girl,” she explains. “Female giants are called ‘giantesses.’”

The old man just shrugs as he walks back with her to the cruiser that the two deputies are leaning against. I hold off on walking up to Luke, just watching as Becca waves back to me and gets in the back seat with him. I wave back as the lights atop the cruiser come to life, then the vehicle pulls out of the lot and speeds away. My gaze lingers as the red and blue lights move farther away, shrinking into the distance.

Eventually losing sight of them, I turn my attention to Luke in the now-empty parking lot. He makes no effort to approach me, instead leaning back on the hood of his truck as he tries to look disinterested in me. This is where things get awkward. I take comfort in the idea that he’s probably even more uncomfortable than I am, but it’s little consolation right now. As I approach him, he becomes twitchier as his discomfort builds.

“What were the three of you talking about?” I ask as I continue to casually close the distance.

He rubs the back of his head before replying. “The sheriff.”

“Yeah, that guy seems like a real ballbreaker,” I suggest as I try to sound friendly.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he says with a faint smile. An awkward pause sets in as we both consider how to proceed. “How about you two?” he asks. “What were you talking about?”

“Girl stuff,” I say humorously, though I can see the joke doesn’t land. I guess he had to be there. “You know: our emotions, gossip… cute boys.”

He picks up his head at hearing this. “Did my name come up?”

I grin at him as I walk closer. “As a matter of fact, it did.”

“Only good things, I hope?” he suggests with a mix of hopefulness and anxiety.

“It was a mixed bag,” I reply cryptically. He frowns at this. “Becca thinks you’re cute.”

He raises an eyebrow at this and I’m momentarily concerned that he’s interested in her. “I think Becca’s cute, too. In an intimidating, off-putting sort of way.”

I don’t know how to take that. A twinge of jealousy sparks in me, but I try to play it cool to conceal how insecure the comment makes me feel.

“But I don’t want to date Becca,” he continues before I can speak again. “I’ve got my eye on her intimidating, off-putting friend.”

I can’t help but smile at this. He’s good. “I’m afraid I’m not all that intimidating once you get to know me…”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says as he pushes himself off the truck and looks me in the eyes.

I really want to kiss him right now. I lean my head closer to his only inches away from his face. Our foreheads touch, but just as I’m about to kiss him, I pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I say reflexively. “I just… I don’t think I know you well enough.”

He appears disappointed as he looks away, running his hand through his hair. “It’s about the stuff I said in the sheriff’s office, right?”

That certainly didn’t help. “It’s about a lot of stuff.”

“Look,” he sighs. “I never did any of that stuff, alright? I never spiked anyone’s drinks or cheated on them.” I turn around to meet his eyes, trying to discern whether he’s telling the truth. “I’ve been around that stuff, ok? I’ve seen it and I’ve looked the other way before.” He doesn’t break eye contact, desperate to convince me of the truth of his words. “I guess I just slipped into ‘locker room talk’ when I was talking with the old guy, alright?”

He seems sincere, but I can’t quite bring my guard down yet. “I want to believe you…”

“You can believe me,” he says. “Look into my eyes: I’d never hurt you.”

He seems genuine, but I still don’t know. Was Becca right? Am I just being a girl about this? Then a funny thought enters my mind. “You can’t hurt me.”

“What?”

“You can’t hurt me,” I repeat. “I’m stronger than you.”

He seems utterly baffled by the turn in the conversation. “I meant emotionally and physically…”

“You can’t hurt me physically.”

“What are you talking about, Ronnie?”

“I’m serious.” I grin at him. “I pulled you around the party earlier easily. I held you in place when you wanted to flee from Annie. I’m just saying: I’m stronger than you are.”

He squints at me as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I let you do those things.”

“Sure you did,” I tease. “It’s not a problem for me, Lukey. I like a boy I can push around a little.”

He seems emboldened by my taunting. “The only times you’re going to push me around are when I let you push me around.”

I like how he’s getting so assertive. Maybe I’ve been going about my relationships all wrong. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Ronnie, I’m serious. I’m a guy; you’re a girl. Plus I’m taller than you.”

Do I detect a bit of anger in his voice? A little indignation, perhaps? “You know it’s the twenty-first century. It’s ok to admit you’re weaker than a girl.”

“I would admit it if it were true. But it isn’t.”

“Prove it,” I challenge.

“Prove it?” he asks, flummoxed once again.

“Yeah, prove it.”

“What, you want to know how much I bench or something?”

Anyone can lie about how much they bench. “No, I want you to wrestle me.”

“You want me to wrestle you? Just a minute ago you didn’t even want to kiss me!”

He makes a good point. Wrestling is rather… intimate. As confident as I am that I could pin him, I recognize the absurdity of my suggestion. But I don’t have to admit that. How else do guys measure their strength? I hesitate for a moment as he stares expectantly, but a sudden epiphany saves me at the last moment.

“No, stupid. I want to arm wrestle you.”

The discomfort returns to his face again. “I don’t want to arm wrestle you.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

“No, I just… don’t want to.” He rubs his arm nervously.

I guess I’ll just have to make this interesting. “If you win, I’ll kiss you.”

I think I see a twinkle in his eye as he suddenly takes a keen interest in the conversation again. “And what do you get if you win?”

Good question. “If I win, you kiss your truck.”

He grins at this. “Fine. I love my truck. But I’m going to win.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say as I walk back toward the sheriff’s station.

“Wait! Where are you going?” he calls out to me.

I just smirk as I keep walking away. “We need a table!”

Cassidy Bell POV

This is a mess.

The more I dwell on my situation, the more pessimistic I become. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I’m doing. As I try to walk delicately through the even smaller town around me, it becomes ever more apparent just how hopeless my situation is. There are dozens, probably hundreds of buildings in every direction. Titanburg may look small at this size, but there are literally thousands of potential hiding places. I can’t possibly search them all. Derek could be anywhere.

I sigh as I look up at the starry night sky. The full moon hangs overhead, casting a spotlight on my titanic form. Looking down at myself, I raise my arms to my face and observe how the moonlight illuminates my fair skin. The light seems to dance around me, highlighting the top of my arms while casting the lower portions in black. Looking past my arms to my feet, I can see my body’s silhouette on the ground. Even at night, I cast a big shadow.

I can feel myself getting more tired. I want to go to sleep. I just want to shrink down and let this nightmare be over. But I can’t. Or to put it more accurately: I won’t. This nightmare won’t end when I wake up tomorrow. My secret’s out. I could try playing dumb. I could pretend I don’t know how this happened to me. But it’s only a matter of time before somebody connects the dots. And what then? Do I become a lab experiment? Do I go to prison? I’m sure I’ve committed dozens of crimes. I look behind me, observing the deep impressions of my feet on the road.

Maybe I’ll just disappear. People are always so quick to destroy anything that scares them. Anything that they feel threatens them. Especially if they don’t understand it. I take another step, feeling my foot sink into the earth as my immense weight pushes into the ground. I can't blame them. I don’t even understand myself. I don’t know where my powers came from or what the limits of my abilities are. Maybe they’re right to be afraid of me. Based on my own observations about my powers, it seems like I only get stronger, tougher, and faster the bigger I grow. And growing is so easy.

I resume walking in the direction I was moving earlier. It doesn’t make any scientific sense. The square-cube law dictates that I should be crushed under my own body weight right now. Yet the bigger I grow, the more powerful I become with seemingly no negative repercussions. And then there’s the growth itself. It’s as if I’m just generating mass at will, but that’s impossible. The law of conservation of mass won’t allow for it. And why do my clothes grow with me? I pause a moment to inspect my outfit. That’s also weird. I know other objects don’t grow with me. Houses, cars, and other people all seem to shrink as I enlarge myself, even when they’re touching my body. Why are my clothes different?

I take a few more steps. Maybe becoming a lab rat would be a good thing. Maybe I can finally get some answers to these questions. But another thought nags at me. What would be done with this information? If anyone can discover what causes my powers, perhaps they can replicate them. But would that be a good thing? For all I know, I can grow larger than mountains. I could make entire cities disappear under my feet. Perhaps even entire countries. Not everyone is as responsible as I am. Not everyone is as kind as I am. Maybe it’s for the best that I keep this power to myself. Humanity probably isn’t ready for it.

I contemplate these questions for a few more moments, but I recognize that I’m probably not going to find any answers tonight. None of this helps me find Derek. That puny little bug could be anywhere by now. I figure my size is probably still an advantage. When looking for a needle in a haystack, it helps to have some extra speed and strength to sift through the grass. Sure, the needle is smaller, but at least I can move the obstructing vegetation with ease. I stop to loom over the buildings at my feet. They’re just grass to me. I could sweep them aside like they’re nothing.

As I continue strolling through the diminutive neighborhood, I find myself enjoying the feeling of the ground yielding to my feet again. I start to take pleasure in my grand scale as I imagine the scared little people cowering in their homes from me. So this is living large. I grin to myself. It’s strangely liberating. For so long, I hid my powers. I just wanted to live a normal life. But why? Now that my secret is out, I realize that I have the world at my feet. Literally.

It’s not like I ever wanted to rule the world. I have no desire to control everything, nor any illusions about being able to do so. But being big has its perks. I recognized that early in adolescence. Height commands attention, strength commands respect. I was always scared of my power, yet I found the perks of my size extremely titillating. Even when attention was the last thing I wanted, I couldn’t resist the allure. As my peers and I inched higher and higher, I added a few extra inches here and there. Nobody noticed. Not my teachers, not my friends, certainly not my adoptive family. I was always worried about overdoing it. I held myself back, trying to blend in. I found camouflage in being around other tall girls, going out of my way to join the volleyball team from a young age. But I never let anyone be taller than me.

Six-foot-six. That was the height I landed on. I figured it was an inconspicuous figure. I certainly wasn’t breaking any world records with it, yet I had never met any girls taller than me. Until last year. I remember it perfectly. The first time I met a girl who was taller than me. It was the regional tournament and GSU’s middle blocker stood a whole two inches above me. It felt so strange. And then it became humiliating. She dominated me. For years, I had been compensating for my awkwardness in my enlarged body with my sheer stature. But coming up against someone who was naturally taller than me and a gifted athlete was infuriating. She blocked me easily. She outmaneuvered me on the net effortlessly. She made me feel small. I remember how frustrated I was. I fantasized about crushing the entire arena under my shoe on the bus ride back. I raise my bare foot over a nearby house, observing how much of the building is covered by the extremity. It would have been so easy.

Yet I didn’t. Of course. I always held myself back. I never wanted to hurt anyone, despite momentary lapses of anger. In fact, I’m so disciplined that people seldom see me get angry at all. I knew there was no going back from such a stunt. I always restrained myself. Yet here I am. Unrestrained. Free. Gigantic. So why am I still holding back? I lower my foot over the home, mere inches above its tiled roof. I’m probably going to jail anyway. Or worse. But then I start to think further ahead. No jail can contain me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to. They can’t control me. I slowly lower my foot deeper into the house, watching as the roof caves to my touch.

Suddenly a small corridor of light flashes into the yard. Three small silhouettes disrupt its glow, fleeing for their lives through the front door. I instinctively stop my foot and remove it from the partially destroyed structure, then bend lower to inspect the trio. I imagine my hulking form must be quite terrifying, but I relish in my power rather than being afraid of it. As I lean closer to observe them, I notice the ground seems to get even darker at my face’s approach. The man has fallen to his knees in an apparent plea for mercy, whilst the woman (mother?) hugs a small child. My enjoyment quickly gives way to guilt as I realize what I almost just did.

Not again. The memories come flooding back to me. The last time I lost control. The last time I grew too big for my britches. I stand up straight again and quickly turn around, stomping away from the little family and their shattered home. Now I remember why I always refused to embrace my powers. Now I remember why I spent my whole life hiding from who I was. How could I ever forget? The tears well up behind my eyes again as I touch my hand to my mother’s necklace. It was an accident.

My thoughts turn to Sarah. Was that an accident, too? I don’t know. I didn’t mean to kill her, but I definitely wanted to hurt her. I look at my huge hands as my rather obvious mistake dawns on me. I’m literally thousands of times her size. Of course hurting her would kill her. But I didn’t mean to! I spin around, feeling the whole world judging me. I should have known better. I’m smarter than that.

I can’t hold back the tears anymore. How could I be so stupid? It’s not a rhetorical question. I know I have a genius intellect. So why do I keep making such poor decisions? Is it a lack of wisdom? A lack of experience? Or do I just lack common sense? My friends always told me I was “book smart.” I guess the “street dumb” was implied. I’ve been making bad decisions all night. Getting back with Derek. Growing through the house. Tearing up the town looking for him. And now I’ve killed someone. And how did I forget that so easily?

My crying gradually ceases as I linger on the last question. I hardly ever forget anything. I have a fantastic memory. No, I didn’t forget. I was distracted. My mind feels foggy, but with some concentration I remember. I was trying to distract myself. I was trying to forget. So I started thinking of ways to catch Derek. He’s the one that’s responsible for all of this. If he had just stayed and faced me like a man, none of this would have happened.

Why did he always do this? Even when we were together, it felt like he was always gaslighting me. I always felt so insecure with him. I was constantly worried he would leave me for some other girl. And then he did. And then he blamed me for it. My hands ball into fists in frustration. And then I shared my deepest, most intimate secret with him and his reaction was to run away? He practically begged me to grow bigger.

I figured he’d be into it. I was taller than him when we started dating. I figured he just liked taller women. That pig probably didn’t even notice my head was higher than his. He was always staring at my chest. So then I tried to be a nice girlfriend and give him more of what he likes. Didn’t he say bigger was better? But he ran away like the little man he is. I’m a big girl. A very big girl. I could have taken it if he told me it was too much. I would have changed for him.

Now look at me. I spitefully stomp a tree by my feet as I continue wandering aimlessly. My life is over now. My secret is out. I’m immensely huge. I’m a murderer. And it’s all his fault. One thing is certain: before the night is out, I’m going to find Derek and make him answer for what he’s done. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll know when the time comes.

I look around and realize I have strayed from the path I was walking earlier. Does it even matter? I don’t have any concrete objective. I recall why I was traveling that way. I was following Sarah’s lead. Of course, I now know that Sarah didn’t know where Derek went. But I followed her anyway. It isn’t rational, but I believe she will somehow lead me to him. I’m probably just coping, trying to make her death have some kind of meaning to me. As if somehow following her trail and stumbling upon Derek will ensure that she didn’t die in vain.

I correct my course to follow the direction Sarah had been driving. Take me to Derek, Sarah. Help me avenge both of us. With renewed vigor, the cloud over my head is lessened and my body gets a brief resurgence in strength. The fatigue that has been slowly overtaking me all night momentarily dissipates as my enthusiasm rebounds. Still careful to mind my steps, I recognize how quickly I am overtaking the buildings along the street with my strides. I knew I was faster than a car before, but I must be reaching supercar speeds now. It’s a peculiar thing. I don’t perceive myself to be moving particularly quickly, but I recognize how rapidly I pass entire neighborhoods when I concentrate on the ground below me. Derek may have a head start, but I’m the fastest person in the world.

I refuse to let myself be distracted again. No more games. No more thought experiments. Just me, Derek, and this tiny town between us. This fragile, tiny town. As my legs carry me through the settlement with ease, I do my best to mitigate the force of my footfalls. Though I don’t know exactly how large I am, I figure I have to weigh in the thousands of tons and reckon that the force of my footsteps is probably measured in TNT equivalents rather than joules now. I can feel the ground cave into each step, see the imprint of each foot as they press into the asphalt. I know shrinking would be the considerate thing to do, but I need the extra speed that comes with my size. Derek has a considerable lead on me already and for all I know, I’m chasing a dead end. I may have to grow even bigger before the night is out.

After a brief stroll, I finally reach the edge of town. Before me lies only the barren highway, marked by its substantially wider, more abundant lanes and the occasional passing car. They seem to accelerate as they approach me, as if they could possibly escape me if I wanted to stop them. I could block the whole road with just my feet lined up heel-to-toe, let alone my much longer legs. Even if they could somehow get past me, they would never be able to outrun me. At a casual stroll that is considerate of the surrounding neighborhood, I’m still much faster than them. Imagine if I ran. The tremors from my footsteps alone would probably destroy their suspensions. Not to mention the rest of the town.

As awesome as my power is, the realization only makes my present circumstances that much more frustrating. The one person I’m actually looking for is beyond my immense reach. And then a second realization punches me in the gut. Sarah wasn’t leading me to Derek. Sarah was running from me. As I stare out at the freeway before me, I recognize that this road was likely the means of Derek’s conveyance, too. They were both running from me. And now he could be anywhere.

My earlier pessimism returns. I thought I was looking for a needle in a haystack. Now I realize that I'm looking for a needle in a hayfield. What am I supposed to do now? Follow him? I don’t know which direction he went. Grow bigger? I probably wouldn’t even be able to see him if I grew large enough to cover the potential search area. Finally I sit down, defeated.

Derek got the better of me. Again. For all of my strength, all of my intelligence, all of my power… he still manages to triumph. I frown as I look around despondently. I guess I’m just a big loser. I have every advantage and I still fail. Glancing to my side, a billboard catches my eye. The text is actually large enough for my blurred vision to read: “Titanburg Tech, home of the Titans!” Beside the text is a picture of me posing in my volleyball uniform, pointing my two thumbs back at myself and smirking out at any drivers taking the exit toward the school.

Without really thinking about it, I reach out and grab the signboard. Wary of destroying the placard, I opt to yank the pole from the ground, which complies surprisingly easily. I don’t know why my strength still surprises me at this point. Delicately, I then extract the board from the pole itself, discarding the post on the ground beside me. As I release the rod from my grip, I notice the impression of my hand on the deformed metal where I had grasped it. Again, I’m somewhat surprised by my ability to accidentally bend metal with my fingers, but I don’t dwell on it as I turn my attention to the sign itself.

What happened to the girl on this poster? I had everything. Friends, fame, fortune… a future. That’s all gone now. And for what? Some spiteful revenge plot? Some ill-conceived hissy fit? I sigh as I turn the book-sized card over in my hands. Why couldn’t you just be a normal girl, Cassie? I mean, really, what kind of girl rampages through her hometown and college over a breakup? The question sticks with me. The longer I sit with it, the more it bothers me. I’m not a normal girl. And this wasn’t a normal breakup.

Why do I always do this? Why do I always beat myself up? I glare at a passing car as it desperately speeds by me. I’m not normal. And the world is lucky I’m not normal. I can feel myself rising to my feet once more. What would a normal person do with this godlike power? I imagine they’d start to see themselves as a god. And to gods, people are just playthings. Another car passes by and I can’t help but feel that it certainly looks like a toy. I went another way. I know how human I am. And I’ve spent my entire life trying to act like a normal human being.

To err is human. I made a mistake. I’ll likely make more. Accidents happen and when a person is as big as I am, the accidents tend to be pretty big, too. But I don’t need to hide my true power anymore. Now that the secret’s out, I don’t have to keep pretending. I don’t have to hide who I really am. I’m free. No more being a pushover. No more meek little Cassie. This is a moment of personal growth. And if the world can’t handle the bigger and bolder Cassie, then that’s not my problem.

I look down at the poster in my hands, reading it again. “Home of the Titans!” And there I am, pointing to myself with the kind of moxie I could only muster in front of a camera and never with real people. That’s what I am. I’m a titan. No… a titaness. Like Atlas before me, I can put the world on my back or hold it in the palm of my hand. But whatever I do: I’ll decide for myself. I won’t let any diminutive men derail my life again. I won’t let lesser women take advantage of my restraint to dominate me. No puny human will ever push me around again.

I survey my surroundings once more, relishing in my newfound freedom, and notice a vehicle has stopped on the highway in front of me. What are they doing? Why did they stop? Rather than passively pondering the question like the old Cassie would have, I decide to take the initiative and confront them. It’s a new day. It’s time for the world to meet the new Cassie.

I close the distance in three steps. The jeep makes an attempt to reverse, but I’m too quick and easily pluck it from the road and raise it to my face. “Nuh-uh,” I tease. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The sole occupant, a young brunette woman, looks upon me with terror. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place it. She seems to try to speak, but I can’t hear her. Unsure if this is a symptom of her anxiety or a consequence of the vehicle’s closed cabin, I command her, “Lower your windows and speak up, little one.”

She winces at my booming voice, but I’m done playing humans’ tiny games. They will suffer my strength. Yet no response is forthcoming. Is this defiance? I squint at her face, scanning it for any signs of rebelliousness. No, she isn’t so bold. Her countenance is that of a deer staring at the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. There is no willful disobedience. Just confusion and fear.

“Why did you stop?” I prompt her.

She’s startled by my speech again, but it seems to disrupt her paralysis. She gazes fearfully for a few moments longer, then musters a quiet “I don’t know.” I raise an eyebrow at this answer, which seems to encourage her to elaborate. “It just seemed like what I should do.”

As imprecise as her answer is, I do take some satisfaction in it. For once in my life, people are submitting to me. And it feels good. I grin at my petite captive. “I appreciate the courtesy.”

She nods nervously, only breaking eye contact for a momentary glance out her side window. Afraid of heights, little one? I raise her higher to my level, enjoying her visible discomfort as I lift her so easily.

“What are you?” she dares to ask.

It’s a most unexpected question. “What am I?” I echo with a degree of confusion that I try to conceal with an air of imperiousness.

This rattles the girl. “I mean… um… who…” I narrow my eyes at her, motivating her to get to the point. “...Are you a goddess?” she blurts out.

An amusing question. From her vantage point, I imagine I must certainly look that way. So big, so powerful, so beautiful. “No,” I reply bluntly. “I’m a titaness.” I raise the billboard in my other hand to my face to punctuate the joke.

“Oh,” she responds meekly. She stews on this for a little before asking, “So you’re human?”

“Do I look human?” I ask sarcastically. This is too fun.

The girl goes back to stuttering, unsure if my offense is sincere. “No! Well, I mean, yes! But…” I smile smugly at her desperation. “You’re very pretty!” she eeks out.

“I’m glad you think so,” I grin, showing off my tremendous teeth.

She seems to breathe easier at my response. “Umm…” she begins, perhaps somewhat encouraged by my reception to the last compliment. “You’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Person?” I tease, instantly sapping away any confidence she had managed to build.

“No!” I feign offense at this dehumanization. “I mean yes!” I raise an eyebrow again. “I mean…” she gulps. “How did you get so big?”

A good question. The answer to which even I don’t fully understand. My powers are a mystery even to myself, but my dimensions are a consequence of my choices. My new, bold choices. “Personal growth.”

Her face contorts in confusion as she tries to puzzle out my cryptic answer. She seems to be deep in thought as she stares at her dashboard. As the seconds tick by, I start getting bored, so I give the car a slight shake to nudge her attention back towards me. She gazes up at me with abject terror on her face, unsure of what I’ll do next.

“It’s rather rude to call a lady ‘big,’ you know?”

Her eyes widen at my scolding. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“In fact, I think your exact words were ‘so big,’ weren’t they?”

“No! I mean yes! But I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” she pleads.

“How did you mean it?” I ask, scowling as I struggle to suppress a smile.

“I… uh…” she glances at her window again. Don’t you dare, I think in my head. “Your size looks good on you! It really… um… magnifies your best features.”

I finally relent to the smile I had been struggling to hold back for most of the exchange. “Really? You like it? Because I could grow bigger…”

She’s clearly mortified by the suggestion, but I can tell she’s reluctant to discourage me. “How much bigger?” she asks hesitantly.

Another good question. “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Maybe bigger than the planet. You know, Atlas held up the whole world.” I know that’s impossible, but she doesn’t. I imagine anything seems possible to her right now.

“I think your current size is perfect,” she offers meekly.

Flattery will get you everywhere, little one. “Aw, you think so? I don’t know… didn’t you just say it magnifies my best features? Wouldn’t bigger be better?”

She glances at the window again. You can’t seriously think jumping out of your car at this height is a good idea. Just in case, I press my thumb against the door, giving her quite a start. “Please just let me go,” she whimpers.

Ah the magic word. “Fine,” I sigh.

She looks up from her lap, her eyes filled with hope. “Really?” she asks. “You’ll let me go?”

“Of course!” I reply chipperly. “You did say ‘please,’ after all. I respect a girl with manners.”

A rush of emotions floods her countenance. Too many to identify: happiness, relief, confusion, reluctance, and many more.  “Thank you.”

Ah, so polite. I begin lowering the vehicle to the ground, but one thing still nags at me. Why do I think I know her? Raising her to my eyes again, I can see the terror sap away the relief in her face.

“Ah, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Cassie. Cassie Bell.” I raise the billboard to my face once more, allowing her to compare myself to the downscaled version in the advertisement. “I know, I’m a little bigger in real life.”

Now it’s her turn to raise her eyebrow at me. “I’m Sarah. Sarah Madison.”

Sarah. That’s whom she reminded me of. I look at her more closely. The chestnut hair. The petite figure. The nervous smile. They’re definitely not the same person, but there is a superficial resemblance. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by guilt, wanting to get as far away from this girl as possible and return her to the ground before the same mortal fate befalls her. I can feel that my smile is faltering and despite my best attempt to recover it, I know it likely comes across as forced and insincere. Only managing an acknowledging nod, I return the jeep to the road. I stare at it, expecting it to stall like every other vehicle I’ve picked up to night, but to my immense relief it starts driving away. “Goodbye, Sarah,” I mumble under my breath.

I take up my seat by the highway exit again, burying my face in my hands. My fatigue has worsened. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so tired before. I look around me for a suitable place to rest my head, but instead find myself staring at my fingers’ impressions on the metal pole I had discarded earlier. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize how strong I was. How strong I am, I correct myself. I look at the sign again, studying the confident version of myself in the picture.

I’m still the girl on this billboard. Sure, I can psyche myself up for media day and pretend to be a cocky allstar. I can get hyped for a game and even physically dominate people in those games. But this isn’t a game. Deep down, I’m still a gentle girl that doesn’t want to hurt anybody. And that’s not a weakness. It’s a virtue. My humility in the face of my own strength is what has defined me for my whole life. If I abandon that, then who am I? What do I become?

“Monster” is the first term that comes to mind. But as I continue to look at the picture of myself, the word doesn’t seem appropriate. Aren’t monsters ugly? For all of my self-esteem issues, body image was never one of them. I know I’m pretty; it’s my height that people find off putting. And ironically, that’s part of my appearance that I can control.

I know it’s a superficial distinction in more ways than one. Monstrous people are defined by their monstrous actions, not a hideous appearance. But it’s a metaphor, Cassie. I huff as I continue staring. So what is a beautiful monster? I can feel myself getting more bored as I hold the sign in my hand.

“Home of the titans,” I read aloud as I drop it to the ground. I yawn as I prepare to stand up when I have another epiphany. Titans. What are titans? I only have a vague idea. While I have always been a bit of a geek, the pre-Olympian gods are admittedly a blind spot in my knowledge of Greek mythology. As I recall, they ruled the world before Zeus and the Olympians. Beyond that, all I can really recall is that they were big. Really big. They’re the etymological origin of the word “titanic,” after all. Kronos swallowed the gods and Atlas held up the world, so it seems like an apt descriptor. I vaguely recall that they were tyrannical, too, but it’s not like the Olympians that succeeded them were all that benevolent.

It’s funny. I had been joking with Sarah before, but the more I think about it, the more I come around to the moniker of “Titaness.” Maybe it’s destiny that I was born here. Can such a thing really be a coincidence? The gargantuan girl with unrivaled power just happens to be born in a small town named after her mythological progenitors. It’s a small world, I guess. As I look over the tiny structures around me, my mind suddenly returns to the task at hand. And it’s about to get even smaller.

The warm feeling returns as I gradually enlarge myself. I don’t have a plan. I hardly even registered that I was growing at first. I just knew I wanted to be bigger. And now I can have whatever I want. Yet I am disciplined. I don’t deny myself the sensual pleasure of growth, but I also take care to not grow too quickly without some kind of scheme. I expand slowly, deliberately, allowing the sensation of my ascension to jog my weary mind as I plot to capture the puny mortal that stole my fire.

I know I shouldn’t get too big. As much as I enjoy my size and appreciate its ability to extend my reach, I recognize that I can have too much of a good thing. Even if I were the size of Atlas, it wouldn’t actually help me find Derek. He would be nanoscopic to me. Yet I know being bigger can help, too. I see farther, move faster… forget Superman. I can step over tall buildings without a single bound. But that’s not why I’m growing.

As I stand up and look at the dwindling landscape, I reckon with the true motivation for my actions. I’m not growing as part of a grand strategic plan. I’m not growing because I thought it would help me find Derek. I’m growing because I feel like it. I’m growing because it feels good. My muscles feel rested, the fatigue behind my eyes wanes, and my brain thinks clearly. All of the grogginess that has sabotaged me all night seems to lessen, if not entirely disappear. I can use this lucidity to my advantage.

Though I know having a bigger brain is not actually a boon to my cognitive ability, I do take some pride in the notion that I now have the biggest brain on earth. Thanks to the lucidity of my euphoric growth, the ideas come to me quickly and a plan rapidly takes shape in my mind. What I have on my hands is a manhunt. And unfortunately for Derek, I know just how to conduct one.

The first thing to do is establish a perimeter. Seeing as I am only one person, that requires sealing off the exits and trapping him. As another car speeds past my growing form, I know I have to act fast. It’s a good thing my size grants me speed. I take a step forward, feeling my foot sink deeper into the ground. I can put this weight to use, too. I step onto the highway, observing as my footsteps pulverize the asphalt below me. I walk back and forth, digging my heels into the earth to destroy the roadway. In a matter of seconds, I’ve dug out a trench. I step back, admiring my work. Based on the size of the cars I have been seeing, I can’t imagine any of them would be able to get past such an obstruction. In fact, most vehicles would probably fit comfortably inside it. That’s one roadblock down. Now for the others.

With my plan in motion and being content with my speed and strength, I decide to halt my growth. For now. As the pleasurable tingle ceases, I can feel myself coming down from what I can only imagine was the equivalent of a fantastic high. This power is so intoxicating. I yearn for more, but I must control myself. I’m not only doing this out of consideration for the little people, but also myself. I can’t get too big. Not only will it actually make Derek harder to see and thus harder to catch, but it would destroy the core of my identity; the foundational principle upon which I have anchored my entire life. I can’t lose control of myself. There is a part of me that just wants to push this to its limits and grow big enough to scoop up the whole town in my hand. It’s not like anyone could stop me. But I know better.

Ever-conscious of the tale of Icarus and wary of flying too close to the sun, I know there is likely still a ceiling on my power. If I grow too much, I could suffocate or freeze to death. I always have the option to shrink down again, but I should be cautious about crossing some unknown point of no return. I hardly understand the mechanics of my abilities and I’m learning new things all the time. This is an experiment, Cassie. Take it slow.

Of course picking up the whole town would also be catastrophic for the little people. They’re so far beneath me now that they’re almost a secondary consideration. As cool as it would be to hold an entire settlement in one hand, I know it would be apocalyptic for the inhabitants. Even if the ground held together, which is not a certainty, most of the buildings would certainly collapse. The power lines would fall, the change in atmospheric pressure would be immense, and my breathing alone could probably sap the entire town of breathable air. Imagining such power is awesome, but the consequences of such a display would be terrible.

I look up at the sky, imagining my titanic face filling the starry canvas as I loom over the world around me. As I glance over the miniature realm at my feet, I begin contemplating how big I am already. I’m fairly certain that my last growth spurt saw me at least double in size. Combined with my earlier growth spurt, I’ve probably nearly quadrupled in height from when Derek first abandoned me. Which means I’m absolutely enormous compared to my true height. The phrase lingers in my mind. “My true height.” Who’s to say what my “true height” is? For all I know, I should be 5’2”. Yet everyone knows me for being tall. It’s a fundamental part of my identity.

So what does that make me? A fraud? My life has been built upon and around secrets. It always made me uncomfortable. I felt like I couldn’t be around people because they would see through me. My past, my powers, my facade… and then what would everyone think of me? I liked being taller than everyone, but I also wanted to be invisible. Unfortunately, the universe didn’t see fit to grant me that particular superpower. If anything, it burdened me with the opposite affliction. I constantly caught people staring at me. Complete strangers would sneak glances at me all the time. And I probably only noticed a minority of them. I now know it’s because I’m pretty, but from very early in adolescence it felt like they were scrutinizing me. Did they pick up on my imposter height? Could they tell something was off about me? I felt trapped all the time and retreated from the world.

None of that matters now. My secret is out. And I’m finally free. I don’t have to worry about the world finding out about me. Now I meet it on my terms. I raise my foot and stomp it into the ground, relishing in its acquiescence to my prodigious mass. I don’t have to hide anymore. Let them look up at me. Why should I care? I’m big. They’re small. I’m strong. They’re weak. I’m beautiful. They’re hardly noticeable. I don’t have to cover up who I am any more.

A funny idea strikes me. Before I really contemplate the decision, I pull off my top over head, revealing my bikini-clad chest. I stare at the pink garment in my hand for a moment as I consider its meaning. I really liked this outfit, but I didn’t wear it for me. I wore it for them. I frown as I recall my ill-conceived plan to get a new boyfriend tonight. It wasn’t even my idea. It was Annie’s. I know she meant well. She just wanted to help me move past the jerk that hurt me so much. But I have moved on. Not in the way I expected, but I reckon this outfit has served its purpose. Now it’s just a reminder of the old Cassie. A smaller, weaker Cassie.

I spitefully ball up the shirt in my hands and toss it away, watching as it lands on a distant home and buries it beneath the pink fabric. That felt good. Continuing my fashion transformation, I begin pulling my legs up through my skirt, exposing my formidable thighs and well-toned butt. Picking up the white article from the ground, it strangely feels like an improvement in my modesty. Though I know my bikini bottom is much more revealing than the skirt itself, it felt strangely perverse wearing such an item at such a great height. All of these mites were staring up my skirt, I think scornfully. As I ball up my skirt to toss it away like my shirt, my hands encounter a solid obstruction. Reaching around the mass of cloth, I extract a thin metal box from my pocket. I’m surprised to find my phone grew with me, though it’s noticeably smaller than I remember.

It’s a curious thing, seeing this device at my size. It’s larger than the billboard now. I turn it on, surprised to find that it still works and even has a cell signal. Perhaps even more surprisingly, it doesn’t bend, break, or shatter to my touch. Like myself, it seems that the machine has grown more durable with size. Stranger still, I don’t have any messages. No calls, no texts, nothing. My secret is exposed, my power laid bare to the world, and nobody cares.

It’s cathartic. All of my insecurities, all of my inhibitions: gone. I’ve outgrown them, I think as I suppress a snicker. Who knew a growth spurt early in adulthood was all I needed to escape a lifetime of trauma? As I snap my phone against my waist with my bikini bottom, I come to see how small my problems really were. I begin walking around Titanburg again, taking care to destroy any roads leading out of town. I realize how grateful I am for the life I have. What was I hiding from? Fame? Power? I’m a genius supermodel with superpowers. I spin around in my blissful catharsis, but suddenly lose my balance.

At the last moment, I notice the houses on one side of my body and lean in the opposite direction. I fall hard to the ground, the resulting impact creating enough force that even I feel the ensuing earthquake. I nervously inspect the ground beneath me as I push myself up and am relieved to find only the remains of trees and other insignificant natural features caked into the earth. I didn’t even feel them. Resting on my knees with my palms still on the ground, my mother’s necklace dangles below me in front of my chest.

Right. That’s what I was afraid of. I push myself off the ground and rest on my knees, looking at the houses I nearly crushed beneath my behemoth body. With great power comes great responsibility. I’m not going to beat myself up over an honest mistake. It was a harmless slip up. Nobody got hurt. I’ll just have to be more careful.

Rising to my feet again, I dust off my hands as I take in a deep breath. Turning over my palms to inspect their cleanliness, I’m struck by the mental image of Sarah lying atop my open hand. There’s already blood on these hands. Grief overcomes me again.

No, I didn’t kill her. She got to a hospital. She’s fine. I don’t actually believe that, do I? It was Derek’s fault. I was looking for him and she got in the way. If that coward hadn’t… an even less convincing argument. I sigh as I sink to the ground again, my knees rocking the earth on impact. You can’t argue your way out of this one, Cassie. Sarah’s gone. You saw it. She practically went into shock in your hand, closing her eyes to the world forever.

The waterworks are starting. This always happens. You said it yourself: humanity isn’t ready for this power. The truth is, deep down, I am human. No matter how athletic, no matter how smart, no matter how kind I am: I am still human. I’m not a titaness. I’m not a divine being. I’m not God. I’m just a human being with godlike power. Humans make mistakes; we’re fallible. The only way to ensure nobody is hurt by this power ever again is to never exercise it.

I look out at the half-dozen or so homes that I nearly just destroyed in my clumsiness. At least it would have been painless, I bargain with myself, perhaps the least persuasive argument yet. At this point, I know I’m just tormenting myself. Why shouldn’t I? Maybe it’s the only way my stupid brain will learn this lesson. Maybe it’s what I have to do. Just sit here and really think about what I’ve done. At least then some good will come from all of this.

You killed her, Cassie. You shook the car out of spite. You knew she was probably injured already and you hurt her anyway. I didn’t mean to… you knew better. You wanted to hurt her. I thought she - it doesn’t matter. Whatever she did to you, it wasn’t a capital offense. And who made you judge, jury, and executioner anyway? I was nice to her after - like that matters. Capital punishment would have been more humane than what you did to her. You sent her into shock, practically suffocating her and starving her brain and organs of oxygen. And what did you do when you recognized your mistake? You ran away, like a little bitch.

I know I’m basically hysterical right now, but I don’t care. It’s hard to argue with myself when I’m making such good points. Maybe I should just shrink down to whatever height I’m supposed to be and face the music. It’s what I deserve. I’m not above anyone. If anything, I should be held to a higher standard than other people. I begin contemplating what sort of punishment I should face. At best, I figure manslaughter and millions of dollars in property damage will land me a long prison sentence. At worst, murder and being a general danger to society might just place me on death row. But maybe that's too good for me. Maybe our modern justice system is too soft. The code of Hammurabi suggests fairness lies in reciprocity. An eye for an eye. So what would be the appropriate remedy? I die of shock? I get drained of blood and just left to die as my organs fail from insufficient blood flow?

Wait a minute… my memory jogs through my interactions with Sarah. She wasn’t bleeding. I checked her. My eyes dry as they open wider and my excitement builds. Sarah had a concussion; she wasn’t bleeding out. Now I see my mistake. Amidst my panic and guilt, I had been so preoccupied with keeping her awake that I didn’t stop to think about why I wanted her to stay awake. Sarah didn’t have a gunshot wound; there was no reason to keep her from sleeping. In fact, sleep is good for recovering from traumatic brain injuries.

The relief is immediate. Sarah is going to be ok. I jump to my feet excitedly, shaking the neighborhood below me for the umpteenth time. A massive weight is lifted from my mind. Sure, I hurt her, but it’s not like I’ve killed anybody. She can forgive me; she can heal. I haven’t done anything that isn’t fixable yet. I exhale calmly, then inhale as I’m filled with optimistic air once again. I can do this. I can still get what I want.

I resume my mission to stomp all of the streets out of town, hoping to restrict Derek’s ability to flee if he’s still hiding within the city limits. As I dig yet another trench with my heel through a two lane road, a distant train whistle sounds in the distance. At first, I think nothing of it. The far-off signal only adds to the nighttime ambience. Yet the more I think about it, the more it nags at me. There’s more than one way out of Titanburg. What if Derek isn’t planning to drive out of town? I gasp. What if he’s on that train?

I hurriedly bound in the direction of the whistle, determined to prevent his escape. I take great care to avoid stepping on anything but the open ground, even if it does slow me down. The ground caves considerably to each step, making it difficult to maintain my balance. Fortunately, I’m still on the outskirts of town and there are relatively few obstacles to my pursuit. I grin as I catch sight of the train tracks, easily covering the width of the rail line with just my big toe.

“I’ve got you now, cowboy.”