I suppose I should start with an introduction.

 My name is Scott Chelgren.

 I'm a twenty-two year old junior at the University of Minnesota.
Now, I know what you're thinking--I'm a slacker.  Well, you're right.
I've been in college for four years, and with any luck, I'll be in
college for another four.  I believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that
college is far better than the real world.  Even on a bad day.
 
 Which, I should note, I was having last Tuesday.

 Now, I don't mean to bitch--after all, I am still a college
student by choice--but sometimes, when you're in the middle of the run to
finals and you have three papers and two tests and a lab exam all in a
three day period, you can get sort of, well, grumpy.  And I was
definitely grumpy last Tuesday.

 It was a beautiful spring day.  One of the nice things about the
U is the fact that we get out in June, and are able to enjoy at least one
week of spring before we go home for the summer, and work ourselves to
death.  But I digress.

 The beauty of the spring day only heightened my misery.  I had a
test in Psych that I had to study for, and I hadn't even started my Poli
Sci paper that was due, oh, Wednesday.  So I sat on a bench outside of
Wilson Library, trying to decide what to do, and trying to spend as much
time deciding as possible.
 
 As I was trying to decide, I flipped through a book I had bought
the other day, one on "Magick."  I found the book humorous, and I was
having great fun with the spells listed therein.

 I came across a spell called, simply, "Change."  Its description
was short and sweet--"Creates a change in the life of the incanter."
Wow, pretty impressive.  And pretty hard to disprove.  Still, as I stared
at the spell, I found myself mumbling the words under my breath.  I
chuckled as I finished--a change would do me good, I thought.

* * *

 A few hours later I found myself sitting in Coffman Union,
forcing myself to read _Telling_Lies_ by Paul Ekman.  It was a good
enough book, and an interesting study, but I wouldn't have been reading
it, had I not had to for Psych.
 
 As I was reading, I noticed a pretty girl at the information
desk.  I say girl not because I mean to put her down, but because I mean
to be precise.  She was obviously a PSEO student--a high school student
who takes college classes free of charge.  She was probably a Junior,
with her brown hair done up in a pony tail, and a short little skirt that
showed off her legs nicely.  Pretty.

 Suddenly, the world seemed to drop into second gear.  I swear,
things slowed down dramatically.  I felt like I usually do after I've
been up 36 hours straight--only more so.  The comfortable chair I sat in
seemed to lift up, and smooth out.  It was a wonderful, relaxing, perfect
feeling.  Then, as abruptly as it hit me, it was gone.

 It took me three beats to come back to reality, then another
three to recognize that "reality" was not an exact term.

 First of all, I was lying down.  That's not a bad position to be
in, except for the fact that moments before I had been sitting down, and
they hadn't installed cots in Coffman anyhow.  (That would have required
spending some money on students.)

 Second, I was lying on some sort of odd, large, rubbery plain,
which curved off and upward to dizzying heights, in an oddly familiar way.

 Third, and probably most important, that pretty PSEO student was
heading right for me, but seemed not to notice me at all.  Of course,
that made some sense.  After all, she was about four hundred feet tall.

 One.  Two.  Three.  Oh my God.

 She walked with incredible grace, I thought.  Of course, that a
being of her size was able to walk with grace was, in and of itself,
incredible.  She stopped directly in front of the plain, just a few yards
from the edge.  I had a knee-level view.  She had lovely knees.  I looked
up at her.  Had she seen me?  No.  She was fumbling with her backpack,
undoubtedly looking for notes, or a book, or something.  I watched her
turn, and then, watched in horror, as she began to sit down.
 
 As I watched her actions, things were clicking into place.  I
realized that she wasn't a giant.  I had shrunk somehow, and I was still
on the soft, swayback chair I had been sitting in before.  This was good
in one respect--I hadn't gone anywhere, I was still right on campus.  But
it was bad in another, more immediate respect.  The seatback flowed
seamlessly into the seat itself.  I had nowhere to run.

 Nevertheless, I ran backwards, out of sheer instinct.  I reached
the back of the seat as her seat landed in front of me, shaking the chair
with the force of an earthquake.  She scooted back, her derierre closing
quickly, until I found myself pinned between the chair and the bottom of
a giant 17-year-old.  Not entirely an unpleasant situation, mind you, but
certainly, a cause for alarm.

 At first, I tried calling for help.  It seemed not an unreasonable
thing to do.  After all, the girl was settling in to the chair, and
while  she was not heavier than any other girl her age, she was a bit
bigger than I.
 
 "Hey," I said, not really knowing what to say.  "Hey, I'm down
he--ooof!"  The girl slid back a little bit further, knocking the wind
out of me.  "Hmm...maybe she doesn't like short guys," I thought to
myself, trying to figure out a way out of my predicament.  The thought
did cross my mind that, if I had to go, this was probably the way to do
it, but I resolved not to give up too quickly.

 Moving to the left or right was impossible.  Believe me, I tried
it, it wasn't going to happen.  Going forward was right out.  Out of
desparation, I tried to wiggle my way up--and to my suprise, succeeded.
By grasping and clawing and kicking, I managed to get to the waistband of
her skirt, and some small measure of breathing room.

 I was out of danger, at least for the moment, and could start to
deal with the situation.  I decided that, as long as my life wasn't in
imminent danger, I should avoid drawing attention to myself.  After all,
the last thing I needed was for this girl to see me, freak out, and stomp
me to death.  What I needed to do was get myself to safety, and try to
plot a course of action from there.  It was a good short-term plan, if I
do say so myself.
 
 With the extra room, I was able to slowly inch my way around her
waist, until I had reached her right leg.  Here, I was able to get a
good, long look at the giantess.
 
 I stared up her body, drinking in its sheer scope.  She wore one
of those light summer blouses, and a short, pleated skirt.  My gaze
wandered up her stomach, to her immense breasts (well, immense from my
perspective.  They were probably only B cups.)  Her face was partially
obscured by her breasts, and partially obscured by the book she read
(Plato's _Republic_, I noticed.), but those features that I could make
out were tremendously beautiful.  Slowly, I turned, and looked out over
her vast legs.  The dress ended eighteen feet before her knees, which
were crossed, right over left.  Cautiously, I crept to the edge of her
skirt.  I could see, far below me, her feet, which were bound in a nice
pair of sandals.  When I had seen her before, she had been pretty.  Now,
she was a goddess, far and away the most perfect being I had laid eyes on.

 My reverie was abruptly broken.  I heard a loud bang, like a gun
shot.  I wheeled, and noticed her tucking her book in her backpack.
Suddenly, the floor dropped out from in under me, as the girl uncrossed
her legs.  Then, the floor abruptly became a wall, as the girl stood up.
I slid to the hem of her dress, and reached, blindly.  Providence was on
my side, as I caught hold of a tiny length of loose string, not more than
two feet's worth.  I watched in fascinated horror as the legs I had been
admiring moments ago began to walk away at seemingly hundreds of miles an
hour.  With each step, I came within inches of being struck by her
powerful right leg.  I quickly came to a realization--wherever she was
going, I was going, too.

 We continued along in this fashion for some time--her, walking
normally; me, clinging for dear life to what was, in reality, a half inch
length of lose string.  I hoped that someone might spy me.  After all, I
was hanging from the edge of her skirt, and I had no doubt that more than
one male on campus had checked her legs out.  Still, nobody stopped her,
and we continued on until we reached her car.

 Let me say now, I have no clue what type of car it was.  I think
it was red.  As the girl stopped, and fumbled in her purse for her keys,
I pulled myself up to the hem of her skirt itself.  Quickly, she slid
into the driver's seat, and I leapt for freedom.  Fortunately, her car
had a bench seat.  I realized, later, that I could have been leaping to
my death.

 As it was, however, I inched slowly away from the girl, towards
her purse and backpack, which she had dropped on the passenger side.  I
decided again that my best bet was to stay hidden, and try to figure out
what had happened to me.  I decided that, if I could stay with this girl
for a day or two, I could return to campus when she went to her next
class, and with luck, get in touch with a friend, someone who I could
trust.  Of course, it would be a rough two days, but I decided I could
handle it.  I'd been shrunk for about forty-five minutes, what did I know?

 As we pulled out on to the open road, I decided to get some
information about my unwitting host.  Fortunately, her purse lay sideways
on the seat, its zipper slightly open.  I was easily able to slide in,
and have a look around.  It was crammed full of stuff--kleenex, makeup,
gum, and the item I was looking for, a wallet.  With some difficulty, I
slid myself inside the wallet, until I was looking at the girls' driver's
license.
 
 It may seem odd, but it was at that moment that it really hit
me.  The window for her picture was as big as I was.  Letters on the I.D.
were over a foot high.  It was incredibly real, more even than the girl
had been.

 With a bit of effort, I finally learned the girl's name: Sarah
Jeanne Kensington, of Apple Valley.  I discovered that I had guessed
wrong.  She wasn't seventeen.  She was sixteen.  But she was turning
seventeen the next day.  "And I haven't even gotten her a present yet," I
mused, extracating myself from the wallet.  I had almost reached the
zipper, when, with a violent jerk, the purse was launched into the air.

 "Stupid!" I cursed, as I tumbled to the bottom of the handbag,
along with everything else.  I was fortunate that I fell into a wad of
Kleenex, or else I may have been killed by an eighteen foot tall lipstick
container.  As it was, I was shaken, but not hurt.  I was getting
slightly seasick, however, as the purse slowly swayed in rhythm with
Sarah's steps.  I tried to figure out where I was, but muffled sounds
were all I got.  Then, abruptly, the zipper was pulled open, and I saw
Sarah's hand, dropping a huge set of keys at me.  Had she been slightly
more to the left, I would have been impaled.

 I was beginning to suspect that surviving for two days might not
be so easy after all.

* * *

 Not long thereafter, Sarah put the purse down, and left it there
for a few hours.

 I'm not going to bore you with a description of those hours.
Trust me, it was boring enough for me.  After being in near constant
peril, this relative safety was maddeningly dull.  Finally, out of sheer
despiration for something to do, I decided to climb out.

 This wasn't easy.  Fortunately, her hairbrush was leaning against
the side, giving me something I could climb on.  I made it to about eight
feet from the top, and then pulled myself up using the fabric that lined
her purse.  At last, I had made it to freedom, such as it was.

 I was on a nightstand, which I assumed was Sarah's.  I could tell
by the sixteen-foot tall clock that towered over me.  Otherwise, the room
was dark.  I looked to the bed, wondering if Sarah had gone to sleep yet,
but it was empty.

 Quickly, I decided that I had made something of a mistake by
escaping the purse.  Out on the nightstand, I could be easily spotted.  I
needed to find a place to hide--but where?  I realized instantly that I
should hide on the bed.

 Fortunately, the distance from nightstand to bed was only a
couple of feet.  I got a running start, and lept across the gap--and
almost halfway across the bed.  "Wow," I said, realizing I'd jumped an
incredible distance.  "Now I know how a grasshopper feels," I muttered,
looking for a place to hide.  Fortunately, the bed was unmade (God bless
teenagers!) and I quickly scurryed to a spot under the sheets and
blanket.  I laid down (after all, I was in bed), and quickly fell asleep
due to the exhaustion.

 I had rested for what seemed like only moments, when suddenly, a
bright light started shining.  I woke fitfully, and peered out from my
hiding place, only to see Sarah reaching under her pillow.

 I stepped out just a bit, to get a better view.  She was pulling
out her nightshirt, and getting ready for bed.  With her back to me, I saw
her undo the buttons on her skirt, and watched it fall to the floor.
Next, I watched her pull her blouse off, and turn towards me as she
removed her bra.

 She was like a statue of beauty.  Rodin couldn't have sculpted
anything finer, and I couldn't imagine anything more perfect, than this
sixteen, almost seventeen year old girl, wearing only her panties,
standing in splendor.  I was disappointed when she pulled the nightshirt
on, but I was caught by suprise when she suddenly grabbed the covers I
was hiding under, and swung her legs under them.

 Within moments, I was in complete darkness, far beneath the
covers of her bed.  I could feel her warmth, radiating in all
directions.  I could feel each move she made as she tried to get
comfortable.  But most amazing, I could smell her scent, a warm, inviting
fragrance, that I found made me want to have my way with her (ha!).  As
the moments passed, I could hear her breating slow, and I dared approach
her body.

 I found myself all the way down at the foot of the bed, and at
the feet of this creature.  I had never been a foot fetishist, but
something about her feet drew me near.  I touched her little toe, itself
a couple of feet long.  I realized, as I did this, that it was the first
time I had touched her.  I recoiled quickly, afraid that she'd notice
me.  Fortunately, nothing happened.  I began, slowly, to walk along the
length of her legs.  She was lying on her side, facing me,

 I realized immediately when I reached her midsection.  Her scent
had become powerful, and nearly irresistable.  I could feel the heat she
radiated, and I longed to move closer to it.  Instead, I consoled myself
by touching her panties, and imagining, briefly, what it would be like to
be inside them.

 I continued up for a ways, but it wasn't until I had almost
reached her breasts that I realized I had wandered inside her
nightshirt.  I hadn't meant to, honest, but there I was, and I decided it
was going to be easier to go out the top than the bottom.

 Her breasts stretched the nightshirt.  I caressed her right one,
not worrying about whether she would wake up.  Slowly, I eased myself
over to her nipple, and had just started to play with it, when she rolled
over on to her back.  I was thrown into the valley between her breasts.
I almost panicked, and made a run for it, but I stopped with the
realization that, if Sarah had awoken, and found me, there was nothing I
could do about it, and besides, it didn't seem she was awake.  I lay
there for a few minutes, feeling her chest rise and fall with each
breath.  Then, slowly and carefully, I walked out of her collar.

 I slid down her neck on the left side, and found myself sharing
Sarah's pillow.  I could see her features illuminated by moonlight, and I
was stunned at how beautiful her face was, how clear her skin, even up
close, even at my size.  Again, Sarah rolled over, this time on to her
left side, again, facing me.

 "Well, Sarah, it's been a long, hard day," I said, drinking in
her warm breath.  "I think I'm going to bed now.  Good night, and happy
birthday."  I was about to jump off the pillow, but abruptly ran instead
to her face.  Her lips were in reach; standing on tiptoe, I gave her a
quick good-night kiss.  Then, hurrying, I jumped from the pillow, and took
haven in the relatively safe corner of her bed.  As I dropped off to
sleep, I had a lot to think about.  I wasn't sure what had happened to
me, wasn't sure I could ever get back to my real size, but for the
moment, I didn't care.  This change had done me good so far.  I waited
anxiously for what tomorrow would bring.

 My alarm went off way, way too early.

 It was Wednesday, and I didn't have class until noon.  I never
got up for my noon class before 11:45.  And yet my alarm was going off,
and it felt very, very early.  I reached for the snooze button, and found
myself hitting the ground with my palm.

 Something was wrong.

 I heard a huge sigh from off to my right.

 That was significant, I thought.

 Slowly, slowly, as if downloading Netscape at 12:04 in the
afternoon,  my mind tried to make sense of its surroundings.  Suddenly, a
memory clicked.  Then another.  Then another.  And inside of a second, I
was standing bolt upright, looking with trepidation at the giantess who lay
next to me.

 Sarah was waking up slowly.  She lay on her back now, her eyes
closed.  I could read in her face the eternal debate: get up and face the
day, or hit snooze and get that extra five minutes of sleep?  She opted
for the latter, bringing her right arm down with a tremendous force on
the distant clock radio.  This cycle repeated itself twice more.

 No doubt about it, she was my kind of girl.  I've been known to
spend the better part of the day hitting the snooze alarm.

 I believe it was in Sarah's mind to sleep the whole day; it was
not to be, however.  A quick sequence of three sonic booms sounded,
followed by a heavily distorted voice, calling, "SARAH, GET UP!  YOU'LL
BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!"

 The giantess groaned, and then shouted (and boy, could she
shout!), "OKAY MOM MMMFFF."  The "mmmfff" was the sound she made when
completing her sentence.  With the energy of a sloth, she slowly got up.

 I, meanwhile, had hunkered down just inside her pillowcase.  I
didn't have a good view, but at least I was temporarily safe from being
discovered.  Presently, the lights snapped on, temporarily blinding me,
and from the sound of it, Sarah.  I heard and felt her get out of bed,
and cautiously peeked around the edge of the case.

 She was at her dresser, pulling out some clothes.  She grabbed
them, and walked out the door, leaving the room empty.

 I was glad of this opportunity, as I was, at that moment, aware
that I needed to take care of some personal business.

 I hadn't really thought about this eventuality; indeed, I had to
admit, I hadn't really thought much through about this whole situation.
I was embarrassed by my need, and thought briefly about trying to make it
to the restroom of the Kensington family, only to realize that, at my
size, it was probably at least a ten minute trek.  And even if I made it,
how would I reach the toilet?  And what if someone came in?  No, I'd have
to relieve myself here.

 I decided to go in the corner behind Sarah's bed, where
hopefully, I wouldn't be noticed.  I slid down covers buried next to the
wall, and found myself traveling very, very fast.  I needn't have
worried, however; I hit the ground hard, but bounced up fine.  I think my
lack of mass helped me.

 After attending to my needs, I set out towards open territory.
That was easier said than done, as the area beneath the bed was crammed
full of stuff, from shoes, to clothes, to books, to paper.  I found
Sarah's delicious scent permeated the area, and I hoped I would find my
way out in time to see her.

 I wasn't disappointed.  Just as I reached her bed ruffle, Sarah
returned.  And once more, it was my chance to be stunned.

 I had not yet seen her from floor level.  She stood hundreds of
feet tall, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.  Gods, she was beautiful.

 And I was hungry.  It had been over fourteen hours since I had
last eaten, and I was beginning to think a bowl of cereal sounded good.
However, I knew the kitchen was probably a good hour's walk, and even
were I to get there, the counter would tower over my head.  I was going
to need some help.

 Help arrived in the form of Sarah's backpack.  The hangar-sized
back sat on the floor, where I could easily reach it.  With luck, Sarah
would put it on before she grabbed breakfast.  Then, I could leap to the
kitchen counter, and make myself a meal.  It seemed like a good enough plan.

 Of course, my plans had been failing with awesome regularity.
Sarah did pick up her bag, just as I reached the first zipper.  But
rather than head for the kitchen, she headed out the front door, at warp
speed.  It looked like I was going to school.

* * *

 It was a warm day.  Had it been cool, I would have stayed in the
car.  After all, while it was boring, and offered no hope of food, it was
safe.  However, it was warm out, and for the same reason you don't leave
your dog in the car in the summer, I didn't want to stay in the car
myself.  So I rode with Sarah, into the school, hoping that I would be
safe, realizing that I would be facing thousands of skyscraper-size
teenagers.

 As Sarah walked towards the school, I saw other students walking
as well.  It was the first time I had really seen any other giants, and
it was amazing.  Sarah had been imposing and amazing, but to see hundreds
of people, all Sarah's size...it was overwhelming.  I realized quickly
that I had better stay close to Sarah, lest I get trampled.

 Sarah went straight to her first class, without even stopping at
her locker.  She pulled some books out of the backpack, but luckily,
didn't spot me, as I hid under a flap of fabric.  The bag quickly went
under her desk.
 
 Hunger drove me on.  I watched giant after giant pile into the
room; one of them was bound to have something edible on them.  I waited
until people started to settle, and carefully crept away from Sarah's desk.
 
 My first stop was the desk behind Sarah.  I saw an enormous pair
of Nikes, bobby socks encasing perfect legs, which flowed into the
pleated skirt of a cheerleader.  She shifted, and I sighed.  She was
pretty, almost as pretty as Sarah, and I'd always had a thing for
cheerleaders...but I wasn't looking for that right now.

 I found what I was looking for moments later.  Sitting atop the
stack of books under her chair was a half-eaten Nutri-Grain bar.  Not my
favorite, but good enough for the moment.  I dug into the strawberry
filling and ate hungrily, knowing well that I might not eat for a while.
I was thinking that when, suddenly, a huge hand reached for the bar.  It
felt around blindly, knocking me down inadvertently.  I felt as if I had
been gang-tackled by sumo wrestlers, and wanted nothing more than to stay
down, and rest, and let the ringing in my ears subside....

 The ringing abruptly started again.  I sat up, and regretted
it--that is to say, my head regretted it.  I had been knocked out.  But
why was I moving?

 I realized why presently.  The pile of books I was sitting on had
been picked up by its owner, and I had no time to react, as she pressed
them to her ample bosom, while she tried to get organized.
 
 I was pinned between a History textbook and two enormous breasts,
bigger than Sarah's, certainly.  Aside from not being able to breathe, it
was a pleasant feeling.  But I knew right away I had made a critical error.

 I had lost track of Sarah.

* * *

 I clung to the front of a cheerleader's sweater, which was an
interesting way to view the world.  With every step, I was bounced to and
fro--and it was beginning to lose its novelty.  At least the girl had put
the books away in her locker, and I was no longer pinned.  Now, I waited
to see where we were bound for next.

 We entered a room that didn't look like a classroom.  Indeed, it
took me a few moments to figure out exactly what it was.  Titanic
structures stood in rows, with benches situated between them.

 A locker room.  Interesting.

 As I was pondering the significance of this latest development, I
suddenly found myself moving rapidly upward, as the cheerleader pulled
her sweater off, then rapidly downwards, as she carelessly dropped it on
the bench.

 I decided immediately that I did not want to get locked in a
girl's gym locker, even for an hour, so I did the logical thing--I ran.
Of course, I realized momentarily that running was only so useful.  Sure,
I got out from inside the sweater, but I was a good hundred and fifty
feet above the floor, and somehow, I didn't think jumping that would be a
good idea.  I sighed.  As usual, I was going to require assistance.  And
asking for it was right out.

 I turned to face the cheerleader.  She was pulling on a pair of
shorts.  I was considering whether to head back towards her and take my
chances, when suddenly, the world went dark.

 I groaned.  This was turning out to be an annoying day.

 It took me but a moment to realize I had been covered by some
sort of fabric, probably clothing of some sort or another.  I struggled
to free myself, but found myself more thoroughly lost than before.
Finally, I found my way to the edge of the clothing, and was just about
to step out, when I found myself being lifted up.  I got a brief glimpse
of the face of a young, red-hared girl, before I found myself lounging
between two breasts in the twilight of a sportbra.

 Now, don't get me wrong.  I am as awed by the sight of two
monstrous mammaries as the next guy, and I was awed at that moment, but I
couldn't help but think of one thing.

 Gym class was coming up.

* * *

 Perhaps the less said of the next hour the better.  Needless to
say, I will never look upon breasts the same, after spending an hour
between them during a heavy-duty athletic contest, which I think was
probably volleyball.

 When my accidental captor finally removed her bra, I was
jubilant.  When she set it on the bench, I felt like jumping for joy.  I
quickly exited stage left, and as I did, realized I had run into a very
large pair of jeans.  I was about to turn, when suddenly, the jeans were
picked up, wadded, and unceremoniously dumped in a gym locker.  I found
my way out, just in time to have a t-shirt, panties, socks, and a pair of
shoes dropped in as well.  Then, before I could escape, I watched in
horror as the door to the locker closed.  I could see, through the
lattice opening, a pretty girl, probably Korean, wearing a one-piece
black bathing suit.  I watched as she walked away from the locker.  And I
realized that I was stuck in the locker room for another hour.  Argh.

 I spent the next hour doing the only thing I really was able
do, namely, go through the girl's personal effects.  It was enough
exploring for hours, if I had had hours to spend.  I didn't really pay
attention to how much time I had, which, I suppose, is why I found myself
exploring the girl's panties when she returned.

 She must have been in an awfully big hurry to get to her next
class.  I say that because she never noticed me as she pulled her
unmentionables on, or as she pulled her jeans on over those, or as she
tucked her shirt in.  I noticed her, however.

 It was dark, humid.  The smell of chlorine lingered, but it was
secondary to the warm scent of this girl.  Strange, it was different from
Sarah's.  Not worse or better, just different.  I felt her hair rub
against me.

 I don't know what the girl was feeling, but I know she felt
something.  I felt her muscles move, subtly.  I felt her contract, and
release, slightly.  As she sat down, I was pushed hard against her.  I
struggled to breathe....

 Suddenly, a tidal wave gushed out of her, pushing me away.  It
was probably only a mini-orgasm, but it felt...incredible.  I sat there
for a while, unmoving, basking in the moment.  I touched her gently,
wondering if I should try for more, but decided against it.  I had to avoid
being found.  There was no way to know how this girl would react should she
find me in her panties, but I feared her reaction would not be pleasant.

 As it turned out, I didn't have long to wait.  The girl stood up,
and was on the move, probably to a rest room.  I knew I would have to
time things well, so I moved myself to the elastic border, and held on
tightly.

 The jeans came off, and then the panties.  I swung over the edge
of the elastic, and, when the panties reached knee-level, dropped the
rest of the way into the soft cushion of the jeans.  Quickly, I clambered
down the inside of one pant leg, down her right shoe, and away to
freedom.

 It was about a half-hour walk to the door of the girls'
restroom.  Before I even made it out of the stall, the girl was washing
up and leaving.  Then, I was alone for quite some time, moving steadily
along the institutional tile, heading for a five hundred foot tall door.

 I was tired, demoralized, and downhearted.  I had lost track of
Sarah, and with her, the only sure way of getting back to campus.  I had
been in intimate company with four women in the last twelve hours, none
of whom had even noticed me.  And now, here I was, one inch tall, trying
to leave the girls' bathroom for--where?  Where was I to go?

 It wasn't even lunch time yet.

 But in the darkest hour, there is usually a light.  As I trudged
despondently towards the door, a girl entered, wearing sandals, shorts,
and a white t-shirt.  She was checking herself in the mirror, and fixing
her make-up.  My path to the door took me right by her, and I tried to
hide as best I could.

 The girl was fumbling with her lipstick.  Then, suddenly, the
stick slipped from her fingers and fell towards me.  I had barely a
moment to throw myself out of the way, lest I be crushed.  I got up and
dusted myself off.  I wasn't hurt.  Then, I looked up.

 The girl was staring at me, mouth agape, eyes wide.  It was
Sarah.  She had found me.

 I have found that there is often a light at the end of the
tunnel, and that light is usually a train.  I needed to find Sarah, and I
had found her.  Unfortunately, she had also found me, and I trembled in
fear.  After all, she stood over four hundred feet tall, and could do
with me what she wanted.

 At the moment, she merely stared, incredulously, at me.  She
blinked her beautiful brown eyes more than once, trying to reconcile the
obvious impossibility of my existance.  Finally, she reacted.

 "WHO--WHAT ARE YOU?" she asked.  Her voice boomed, although I'm
sure she was speaking softly.

 "My name is Scott.  I've been shrunk," I replied,
matter-of-factly.  She appeared to catch about every third word I had
said, but her eyes grew wider as she realized I was speaking.

 She looked up, and seeing nobody, said simply, "HANG ON."
Deftly, she plucked me from the ground between her thumb and index
finger.  It was like a rocket taking off.  The next thing I knew, I was
hundreds of feet in the air, in the palm of Sarah's hand.

 She smiled, slightly.  "YOU'RE SO SMALL!  IT'S INCREDIBLE!"

 Just then, the door to the bathroom opened.  Sarah reacted
quicky, balling her hand into a fist, but being careful not to crush me.
I felt us move quickly, though where to I wasn't sure.  When finally I
saw daylight again, it was by an enormous locker.

 "I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND, I JUST DON'T WANT ANYONE TO FIND YOU,"
said Sarah seriously.  With that, she tucked me into the pocket of her
shorts.  I sat in that pocket for some time, not noticing the swaying, or
anything uncomfortable.  I was light as air.  Sarah had found me, and she
was trying to protect me.  At least, it seemed that way.  I felt her
thigh dust up against the pocket, and sighed.  I hoped this was a good
thing.  I really wanted it to be.

* * *

 I stayed in her pocket for about an hour at a time; Sarah would
take me out surreptitiously between classes, to chek my contition.  It
was for brief moments, just a visual check.  I would smile and wave, and
each time, she let out a sigh of relief.  Finally, I heard a car door
open, and was lifted once again from her pocket to her face.  She slid
into the driver's seat, and held me in her palm.  "I'M SORRY," she said,
seriously.  "I HOPE I DIDN'T SCARE YOU.  I WANT TO HELP YOU, SCOTT."
With that, she tousled my hair ever-so-gently with her left pinky.  "STAY
IN HERE FOR NOW, WE'LL TALK WHEN WE GET BACK TO MY HOUSE."  She carefully
set me in her cupholder.  It wasn't perfect, but compared to my previous
modes of transportation, it was incredibly safe.

 We arrived at her house, and she carried me directly to her
room.  Setting me on her desk, she leaned her head down right next to
me.  "NOW TELL ME, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?" she asked.

 So I told her--leaving out certain extraneous material, like
getting lost in her bed, or finding a few other giantesses at her
school.  When I finished, she seemed near tears.  "MY GOD...YOU REALLY
THINK I'M BEAUTIFUL?"
 
 Okay, I let that slip.  Well, sue me, she was beautiful--is
beautiful--will always be beautiful.  If I was going to lie about what
happened to me in the locker room, or how I got to the bathroom, I sure
wasn't going to lie about Sarah.  Sitting on her desk, watching her
perfect, titanic face react to my story with interest...I knew I loved
her.

 "You are beautiful!" I cried.  "If only you could see yourself
from my viewpoint!"  She blushed.  "FLATTERER.  YOU KNOW I'D HELP YOU
ANYHOW."

 "I know," I said.  "That's why you're beautiful."  No sooner had
I spoken those words than I was knocked flat on my back.  She was kissing
me, with incredible force, though it was only a peck.  "THANK YOU." she
said, quietly.  She seemed about to say something more, but thought
better of it.  "I'LL GO GET SOME FOOD, YOU MUST BE HUNGRY."

* * *

 The next few days are something of a blur.  Sarah was doing
everything she could and more to help me.  She fed me.  She clothed me
(as best she could--I was small even for doll clothes, but I was able to
make use out of the scraps of fabric she brought).  She even figured out
a way I could tend to personal matters, well, personally.  (You'll
forgive me if I don't go into detail--I don't have a Swiftian interest in
scatology).  As rough as my first day had been, the next were almost
boring--almost, save for Sarah.

 We decided early that there was no reason for me to return to
campus.  I had no idea what had shrunk me, and going back there wasn't
going to get me to safety.  Sarah asked me to stay with her, and I
happily accepted.

 It wasn't easy.  After all, she was hiding me from her parents,
and her two younger sisters (Karen, a cute 14-year-old with Sarah's dark
brown eyes; and Susi, a 6-year-old would probably inflict bodily harm on
me without thinking).  And that made for cramped quarters, if not
physically, than psychologically.  I slept in her Barbie dollhouse, which
was still twelve times too large for me (although it was much easier to
navigate a house designed for seventy foot tall people, as opposed to
four hundred foot tall people.)  That meant I had an unobstructed view of
Sarah whenever she was in the room--fine for me, but not so good for
her.  It came to a head one night.

 It was about two in the morning, and we had both gone to sleep
hours before.  I awoke, and heard a loud moaning coming from Sarah's
direction.  I looked out the window, and saw Sarah caressing herself.
Now, I've never gotten off on watching women masturbate.  Oh, it's fine
sport, and better than football any day, but it just never did the job
for me.  Of course, the women I'd seen do it weren't four hundred feet
tall.

 It was exquisite torture, watching her.  I wanted desperately to
tear my eyes away, to give her her privacy, but I couldn't bear to.
Then, disaster struck.  I was leaning against the plastic window, which
suddenly popped loose.  I fell forward, and just barely caught the edge
of the windowsill.  I found myself hanging from a window on the top floor
of Barbie's dream mansion.  Worse yet, the plastic pane had bounced off
the table below.  A small matter, to be sure, but it caught Sarah's
attention.

 That was not good.

 She was upon me in a second.  For the first time, I feared her.
Her eyes were filled with a blend of rage and embarrassment.  She held me
between her thumb and forefinger, and with a stage whisper loud enough to
ring my ears, said simply, "ENJOYING THE VIEW, LITTLE MAN?"

 I looked down in shame.  What was I doing?  I was peeping on a
seventeen year old who had done nothing more than relieve herself of some
tension in her own bedroom.  She deserved better.

 "I'm sorry," I said, trying, and failing, to say it loudly.  I
was near tears, and not in fear for my life or safety, but in anger and
frustration at what I had done.

 There was a long, deep pause.  Then, Sarah.  "I KNOW YOU ARE,
SCOTT.  IT'S OKAY.  I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT YOU, I SHOULDN'T HAVE
DONE THAT AROUND YOU."

 "No!" I cried.  "You did nothing wrong.  You deserve privacy.
You deserve to be able to live your life without worrying about me."

 "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?"

 "Maybe you should get rid of me.  I could go public.  Hell, I
could write a book, sell the rights.  With that money, I could hire a
caretaker...."

 "YOU DON'T WANT TO STAY WITH ME?"  Her eyes were filling with
tears.

 "Yes, I do!  More than anything, I want to stay here.  But not if
it will cause you pain.  Not if it will hurt you."

 Sarah sat down on her bed, and gathered her knees up.  She set me
on the right one, a little below eye level.  I could smell the scent of
her arousal.  It was powerful.  I struggled with my composure.

 "SCOTT, TAKING CARE OF YOU DOESN'T BOTHER ME.  NOT AT ALL.  AND
YOU DON'T CAUSE ME PAIN, SO STOP PLAYING THE MARTYR.  I LIKE YOU.  I WANT
YOU TO BE WITH ME."  She sighed, the air rushing by me, carrying the
sweet scent of her breath through me.  "YOU KNOW IF YOU EVER WENT PUBLIC,
THE DOCTORS WOULD GET YOU.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE TO LIVE ANYTHING LIKE A
NORMAL LIFE.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE TO HAVE FRIENDS.  YOU'D NEVER BE ABLE
TO LOVE."
 
 There was a grand pause; Sarah was right, I was playing the
martyr.  And as much as I said I should go, there was nowhere--shrunk or
grown--I would rather be.  "Sarah," I said, "...," I said.  Nothing came
out.  No words seemed big enough.

 "SCOTT, THERE'S SOMETHING I WANT TO ASK YOU.  WOULD YOU, UM...."

 She was blushing.  I could tell, even in the dark of the night,
by the heat that radiated from her face.  "What, Sarah?"

 "WOULD YOU LIKE TO, UM, DATE?  I MEAN...GO STEADY, SOMETHING LIKE
THAT?"  I could tell she was nervous.  She had no need to be.

 "Precious woman, I would like nothing more.  I...I love you.  And I
want to be your boyfriend, if you'll have me."

 And without warning, Sarah bent down and kissed me.  Not a quick
peck like before, either, but a long, lingering kiss which bathed me in
her breath and massaged me with her lips.  I tried my best to return it,
stroking her lips with my hands and legs.  When she was done, she backed
away--only slightly--and smiled.

 "SCOTT, I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WHERE I HAD
SOME CONTROL.  SO MANY GUYS, THEY USE THEIR SIZE AND STRENGTH TO
DOMINATE.  MY BEST FRIEND WAS RAPED LAST YEAR.  ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE
HAD TO CALL THE COPS ON HER 'BOYFRIEND.'  SO WHEN I FOUND YOU, I THOUGHT
OF YOU AS SOMEONE I COULD DOMINATE, SOMEONE WHO COULD NEVER BEAT ME UP.

 "BUT I'VE GOTTEN TO KNOW YOU, SCOTT, AND YOU WOULDN'T BEAT ME
UP--NOT IF YOU WERE SEVEN FEET TALL.  I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I WOULDN'T
HAVE ASKED YOU TO BE MY BOYFRIEND IF THAT WASN'T TRUE, AND I WOULDN'T
HAVE FORCED YOU HAD YOU SAID NO.  I LOVE YOU, AND IT'S BECAUSE OF WHO YOU
ARE.  NOT YOUR SIZE, OR ANYTHING ELSE, BUT YOU."

 Nothing she said could have made me feel better, nothing she
could have done could have warmed me more quickly to the core.  I started
to reply, but she simply put one finger to her lips.  "SHHH.  TIME FOR
SLEEP.  I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME, SCOTT.  I KNOW YOU FEEL LIKE I
DO."  She stretched out, and pulled the covers up.  Then, she set me down
next to her on the pillow, and looked over at me.  "GOOD NIGHT," she said.

 I got up, and ever-so-carefully kissed her on her cheek.  "Good
night, my love," I said, and went to sleep.
 

* * *

 Eliot said it best: "There will be time, there will be time."
What, you were expecting a wild, wet love scene?  Maybe someday.  But
neither of us are quite ready for that yet.

 It's been two months since I shrunk, and it has definitely been a
grand experience.  Sarah and I are dating, and I will say that it is fun
making out with her (a lot more work for me, though).  Still, I love her too
much to take advantage of her.  Oh, I still have my dreams, but those
will wait.

 For now, my life is simply fun.  No term papers, no finals, no
worrying what I'm going to do with my life.  My only concern is trying to
avoid being found by Sarah's parents, or her 14-year-old sister, or
worst  of all, her 6-year-old sister.  It should get interesting shorly--
I'm going along with Sarah on the family vacation, which this year takes
us all to L.A., for some sun and surf.

 Let me tell you, a four hundred foot tall girl in a string bikini
is a glorious sight to behold.

 So as I pack this evening, and watch the love of my life do the
same, don't ask me about regrets.  All I know is that, when I lie on her
shirt, and feel the beat of her heart and the rhytm of her breath, or
when I hide in her hair, right behind her ear, or when I watch her stride
majestically into a room, I know that this is the place I was destined to
arrive.  A good change for a 22-year-old loser, if I do say so myself.