January/ 8/ 2006 :   Mount San Antonio State Penitentiary  

                “Attention all inmates, Please line up for mandatory cell inspection.” Screeched the intercom, and awaking inmate #2357, aka Gerome Tillman from his sleep.

               Gerome sighed, and wiped the crust and sweat from his eyes. This was the fifth night in a row that the guards had awakened him from his dreams; for cell inspection no less. In his mind it was starting to get a little annoying, and the worst part was that he had about 42 more years of his 50 year sentence left to serve.

               “ATTENTION ALL INMATES, PLEASE LINE UP FOR MANDATORY CELL INSPECTION!” demanded the man on the intercom to the wise guys who inevitably don’t get the message.

               Must be one of the new guys, thought Gerome as he took his place in line and stared into the dirty concrete wall on the other side; his thoughts no longer with the desperation and disrepair of this prison, but rather with his wife and two daughters back in Mississippi, who he will likely never see again.

               This time cell inspection was taking longer and was much more noisy than usual. He sighed as curiosity finally got to him. Looking to his left he saw a young man no older than 20 covered head to toe in gang tattoos trying to slit one of the smaller guard’s throats with a plastic shiv.

               He never did care for street punks like that. No respect, no proper goal; just mindless killing over cocaine and ‘turf’. At least he was professional about the crimes he committed; even if he did end up the same way as that sorry excuse for a man.

               “Back the fuck up. Fucking pigs!” shouted a man who he recognized as Taylor; a man who after 3 murders and numerous incidents of gang violence was finally caught, convicted, and sentenced for life.

               Gerome counted the seconds and wished the little idiot would just have some dignity and surrender. After all there’s no way he could win, and the sooner they completed inspection the sooner they all got to eat breakfast.

               “I’ll fuckin kill yall’s whole families. You here that! Imma rape your fucking daughters, you shit pigs.” Screamed Taylor as he held a very afraid looking guard captive.

               But as usual, as soon as it began it was over. Before Taylor could even react two of the other guards had already pinned him to the floor, “Get the fuck back! NOOO! NOOOOOO!” he screamed in rage and terror as the guards disarmed him and dragged him into the center of the cellblock by his arms.

               Taylor’s head smacked hard against the pavement as the guards callously dropped him onto the cold hard floor. Gerome had to admit, it was a harsh punishment, but not unheard of given the circumstances. What happed next made him realize that something was clearly wrong today.

               The younger looking guard who was held captive rushed over as quickly as he could, and with rage filled eyes as wide as marbles, began to repetitively kick and beat the young man over and over again with his baton. Meanwhile one of the older guards held a gun out to the rest of the prisoners, his hand firmly on the trigger.

               For the first time in a while Gerome was actually afraid of the guards, and as he looked at both the inmates and guards faces all he could see was fear; even from the veteran guards.

               This isn’t right, he thought and instinctively backed up into his cell.

               “You there, get back in line.” Screamed the younger guard through gritted teeth while waving a blood soaked baton.

               “That’s enough! We have bigger problems to worry about.” Commanded the head guards for this cell block, “Gerome you can get back in your cell.”

               “Whada about me, Huh?” shouted Gerome’s cellmate Ramiro.

               “Fine! You too, just get the fuck out of here.” Barked the head guard who was busy trying to suppress what was beginning to look like a full scale riot.

               There’s got to be something bigger going on here, thought Gerome as he backed into the rear of his cell and gripped a plastic fork he hid in his pillow with anticipation.

               He looked down at the ground towards the square of sunlight projected by the morning sun. It gave him comfort to know that no matter how fucked life got for him that the sun would still keep shining.

               “Dude. What’z with the guards, they crazy as shit, man.” Said his cellmate Ramiro who ran back into the cell and hide in his bed.

               “I have no idea Ramiro.” He said as a thundering shot was heard throughout the cellblock, followed by an ear-shattering scream that was not unlike a wounded animal.

               “Holy shit, man. They shot dat dude.” Yelled Ramiro hysterically.

               Gerome paid no attention to what was occurring outside, or to his boisterous cellmate; it was the probably only thing he could do to keep himself safe and sane throughout all this chaos.

               This incident is probably just a misunderstanding. A young guard went nuts, that’s all this is, he told himself as he stared at the sunlight on the ground, and gripped the photo of his youngest daughter and wife like his life depended on it.

               That’s when he realized that the amount of sun was different today. The shape of the window on the ground from where the sun enters the cell was usually longer, but on that day the splotch of sunlight appeared to have gotten shorter. It was as if the cell itself had somehow been moved.

               That was when he made the decision to look outside the window, and into… nothing; literally nothing. There were no trees, no grass, not a single speck of life or discernable landmark; just what looked like a completely flat brown field that carried on for miles, and even more distressing, two unrecognizable dark tan pillars that grew closer by the second.

****

               Maria Cruz hit the gas petal hard on her Ford Explorer as she raced angrily down the road towards what will likely be the most important source in her term paper; The Mount San Antonio State Penitentiary.

               A prison which holds over 6,000 of California’s most dangerous and deranged criminals both men and women, and whose prisoner run manufacturing facilities made the perfect topic for Maria’s paper on the economic benefits of prison labor.

               Unfortunately for her, they were not responding, “We’re sorry, but the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer available.” Chimed the automated message on Maria’s flip phone for the seventh time.

               It didn’t make any sense to her. How could one of the largest prisons on the west coast just casually fall of the grid? Of course she was only a few miles away and would find out soon enough.

               And she absolutely had to find out. As an Economics major at Caltech, this was not some simple book report; this took weeks of planning and grueling research, and this particular term paper was worth over 50% of this class’s grade. In other words, she would not be deterred by this prisons lack of a PR department.

               What she would be deterred by was her cars terrible mileage, “Half a tank? Are you serious right now? It’s only been a couple of days; I literally JUST filled you up.” She shouted at her car.

               Fortunately for her, according to her GPS there was a gas station up the road.

               Maria sighed when she rolled into worn down place, “This place is hella stupid” she muttered to herself as she looked at the dilapidated structure which was seemingly run by a single man who couldn’t even bother to look up.

               And so she filled up her car, texted a few of her classmates, and purchased several stacks of cardboard boxes for her sorority activities. Then without so much as a goodbye she paid the man and continued on her journey towards the prison, determined to get the information she needed.

               Finally after 30 more minutes of driving she made it to the gate, or rather where the gate would be as the only thing she saw was a big dirt field in the shape of a giant circle.

               “What! What is this?” Said Maria who in confusion checked the address to confirm that this was indeed the right place.

               Quickly she looked down at feet, “Good thing I’m rockin flip flops today. Wouldn’t want to get anything valuable dirty.” She said as encouragement to herself before leaping out of her car to investigate.

               The air was thinner and colder in the mountains than it was in the city and as Maria walked across the enormous dirt field she had to constantly push her jet black hair from her eyes, “All this way just for a bunch of criminals.” She said out of spite.

               Then about 1000 meters inward, around what must have been the center of this mysterious circle, was what looked like a series of boxes. Curious she walked closer and as she did she could make out even more detail.

               From her perspective it was a complete model of the prison. Everything from the fences, to the cellblocks, and even the front gate were there exactly as she had expected; only they appeared to be reduced by at least a factor of 100.

               As she grew closer, she forgot all about the term paper and her anger, as this phenomenon was practically asking to be investigated. Then as she grew even closer she began to see figures moving about the facility; undeniably human figures at that.

               Maria was absolutely dumbfounded by what she saw. There was no way what she was seeing could possibly make any conceivable sense.

               Then the questions began to arise in her mind. How did this happen? Did anyone else see this? Are these actual people? And most importantly, what the fuck do I do now?

               She stood at the edge of the prison, towering over it. She felt like a bird, as she could see everything as if she was in a plane. She even looked down at her body to confirm that she was in fact a giant relative to these buildings, and not just inside a plane tripping on acid or something similar.

               She saw a crowd of men walk towards her, they all appeared to be dressed in some kind of uniform. For Maria it felt unreal, in fact, they almost seemed like they weren’t even people at all. They were only about 2 inches in height, so they looked more like toys than anything else.

               She took a single step forward towards the crowd and was immediately greeted by the feeling of her foot sinking and the sound of cracking and crushing. When she looked down she realized that the sensation she barely even felt was one of the guard towers which now sat in a disorderly pile of rubble at her feet.

               She panicked. Someone had to have been in that, and now she faced the possibility that she had unintentionally killed someone with her foot. Shocked she looked down at her tan black painted toes, lifted her foot into the air and shook her foot at an angle in an attempt to dislodge anything, and just as she expected debris fell from both in between her toes and on the underside of her cheap pink foam sandals.

               One piece of debris on the underside of her second toe caught her attention. It appeared to be the lower half of a human body. Upon closer inspection she realized that the man’s upper half had been completely ripped from his lower, no doubt caused by her.

               She fell to her knees devastated, and in the process crushing the re-enforced chain link fence which to her felt like paper crumpling against her skin. It was just a step, that’s it was, that’s all it took to kill him. She thought to herself as she continued to stare at the man’s crushed body.

               Maria took a deep breath. She was a murderer now; there was nothing she could do about that. However, right now she needed to remain calm. She had to find a way to resolve this situation; to cover up her murder. But how? There were hundreds of witnesses, and Maria was not a cold-hearted girl, she couldn’t simple kill all of them.

               No, it seemed that the only humane solution to this fucked up situation was to hide these people. To keep them a secret from society, or else she would surely be charged with murder.

               Then in a stroke of brilliance and desperation an idea began to form.  

               “Boxes!” she exclaimed remembering the stacks of cardboard she acquired earlier, “I can take them all in boxes!” she shouted with excitement at her half-baked idea before leaping to her feet and running as fast as she could towards her car.

****

               Gerome watched as the two tan towers grew closer. As they did there was a rhythmic series of booms that followed one after the other every few seconds. These booms shook the ground within his cell and knocked dust and small objects loose from the shelves.

               From his perspective, they almost seemed alien. The gentle curves and tone substance reminded him of human muscle, but it also had a mechanical feel to it. He could see the individual parts that made up these enormous and no doubt powerful machines, quiver, stretch, and compress in perfect harmony with each fluid motion.

               The towers grew even closer, and it soon became difficult to stand. Inside the cellblock a small riot had erupted, and gunshots were being fired like crazy. It was incredible, but even the sounds of the war inside were muffled by overpowering rumble generated by these two terrific towers.

               Finally the towers stopped right in front of his cellblock, they were so tall he couldn’t even see where they ended up at, and so massive that the shadows cast from them covered his cell in darkness.

               The riot had ended no doubt because of the earthquakes caused by the leviathan creature. And through the silence he could hear the petrified voices of a small fleet of guards.

               “Who the fuck is that!” “It’s a girl, a god damn girl” “Jesus this can’t be happening.” They screamed and shouted at the creature.

               A girl? What do they mean by that?” thought Gerome as one of the titanic beings towers began to move again.

               It started to move up into the air and fold around the midpoint. That’s when he realized what they meant. At the end of what he now knew was a giant girls leg, was a petite looking foot easily the size of the bus that brought him into the prison. It was clad only with a filthy looking pink flip flop, the bottom of which was caked with clumps of dirt, enormous green stalks with he now recognized as grass, and a large whitish wad which was do doubt someone’s gum.

               He looked away from the foot, and towards its intended path. There was a guard tower staffed by a two men both in their mid-twenties, one firing his rifle into the fast approaching pink wall to no effect.

               When the foot came down, it smashed into the front part of the tower; crushing the concrete as if it was made of crackers, and generating a ghastly symphony of splitting rock and twisting metal. The poor guard, who even through all that continued to hold his ground and fire his weapon was thrown directly into her toes as the foot continued its destructive path through the tower. The other was smashed into paste underneath the foam wall; his internal organs exploding outward from his face like toothpaste from a plastic tube before getting stuck in the dirty folds of her footwear.

               Her foot appeared to hit the ground in slow motion, flatting out and adding pressure by factors of a hundred every millisecond. The sound of the foam flip flop compressing was added to the macabre musical that had proceeded before it.

               As the pressure finally moved up her foot and into her toes, the guard with a rifle had just enough time to look up from his unfortunate position on the worn insole of the sandal and see a massive pinkish tan slab of toe flesh descend upon him. His screams were cut out prematurely by her indomitable second toe first smothering then smashing his upper body into oblivion. Then as the step came to completion her toes squeezed together, ripping the man’s upper half from his lower half and leaving the rest of him stuck to the layer of grime and oils generated naturally by the human foot.

               Gerome had to hold his mouth and look away just to keep himself from vomiting. Not because of the blood, but because two men were killed by being stepped on by a cheap dollar store flip flop. And the fact more than anything sickened him

               He heard more noise, and against his better judgment he, along with Ramiro, decided to investigate further.

               The girl had collapsed to her knees, no doubt realizing the destruction she had caused and experiencing some form of guilt. Gerome strained his head and looked up to see the face of a beautiful young women, tear-stricken by her actions. Maybe it was the fact that for 6 years he had limited contact with women or the sheer size of her body, but from his perspective she was beyond voluptuous. In fact, he almost found it hard to believe that someone so cute and innocent could possibly be responsible for all this death.

               Sadly that was the reality of the situation, and she was by all means now an extremely dangerous being. He was only thankful that she showed remorse for her actions, so at the very least she valued human life somewhat.

               Then suddenly her building sized face lit up like the sun, as if coming to a compelling realization, “Boxes!”  Said the girl, “I can take them all in boxes!” she shouted to no one in particular before leaping hundreds of meters to her feet and sprinting back into the distance.

               “The hell women!” screamed Ramiro, “What da’fuck she mean by boxes?”

               “Ramiro we need to figure out what’s going on here” said Gerome, not wanting to take any chances.

               The sound of her thundering steps were becoming louder again, and he knew that if they didn’t find a way out of this that they would likely end up in those “boxes”.

               Gerome grabbed Ramiro and ran past the guards who were now all either cowering in the corners or pre-occupied with other prisoners. He found the young guard from earlier who had beaten Taylor, he was muttering to himself and denying that anything even happened at all.

               “Thanks, bro.” said Ramiro to the traumatized guard as he snatched the keys, “Gerome, I know the best way out. There’s a bridge that goes to the other cell blocks, if we get there I know we can escape this bitch.” Said Ramiro while motioning towards one of the doors on the third floor.

               The girl’s footsteps grew closer with every second, and out of desperation the two began to sprint up the stairs as quickly as possible. Then right as they reached the door, they were greeted with the sound of metal tearing, and the sight of 5 muscular fingers punching through the metallic roof of the cellblock like tissue paper.

               “Hurry up dammit! Hurry up!” Screamed Gerome at Ramiro who was desperately yanking on the door.

               “I’m trying man! I’m fucking trying. They put the whole cell on lockdown, this shit ain’t easy!” He shouted as the girl ripped the whole roof off in a single motion, causing a huge gust of wind to sweep through the cellblock. The interior of the building was now entirely exposed to sunlight which was only eclipsed by the living moving sky scraper that was the giant girl.

               “Hello.” She said enthusiastically right as Ramiro managed to undo the first lock, “My name is Maria” she said then paused right as Ramiro undid the second lock, “And I will be taking care of all of you from now on.” She said reaching in with her hand, which was easily larger than his entire cell to grab the screaming masses from inside the building.

               “Got it!” shouted Ramiro as he opened the door.

               “Yeah… No escaping,” sarcastically said the girl now known as Maria as she slammed her other hand into the bridge, sending Ramiro floundering to the ground below where he landed with a loud crack.

               “NO!” screamed Gerome in terror as two warm masses pinched him with more pressure than he had ever felt in his life, before lifting him up into the air with the speed of a roller coaster. When the wind finally stopped blinding him he was face to gigantic face with the girl.

               Her facial muscles twitched, then Maria’s plump lips opened up and a thick cloud of hot stale air whooshed past him, this act was immediately followed by air being sucked back into the slimy darkness of her mouth.

               There was a pause for a moment as she examined him with perfect green eyes the size of manholes.

               Maria tilted her head and smiled, “I’ll admit,” she trailed off, “that was a hella good escape attempt.” She finished and lowered him into a long but short cardboard box.

               “Welcome to Maria’s prison.” She smiled and waved to the squealing roaring crowd of confused and enraged inmates and guards before shutting the box and concealing him in total blackness.

              Maria pulled out her phone to check the time. It has been 5 hours since she first found the prison in its current state, and it has taken her exactly that long to gather every last inmate, guard, social worker, doctor, prison psychologist, and janitor that had the misfortune of being in the prison at whatever time it shrunk.

               It helped that entire portions of the prison surrendered freely and consigned themselves to the boxes, but even still it has taken her the entire day to cover her mistake. She even dismantled each individual building, and boxed every last scrap of debris.

               Maria let out a heavy sigh as she began to walk back to her car, which was now completely crammed with people filled boxes. She had absolutely no idea what to do with them, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn them over to the authorities.

               She looked over at a small pile of dirt under a tree. There she buried what was left of the man who she accidentally crushed; it was the least she could do for him.

               I’m way too deep into this. If I back out now I’ll probably end up in prison as well, she thought to herself as she grasped the wheel of her car and looked beyond the mountain of boxes.

               “Oh my god the irony.” She said as she made a U-turn, took the long road back to the highway, and inconspicuously merged back into normal traffic.

               About halfway through the drive back to her sorority house she began to notice the screaming. It was subtle at first, but as she neared the interior of Los Angeles she was forced to make more and more stops. These stops probably scared the hell out of the people inside.

               “What have I gotten myself into.” She said gripping her hair out of frustration, and finally turning up the radio to drown out the thousands of howling voices in the background.

               The rest of the drive back to the sorority house was fairly uneventful, and Maria was simply thankful that it was 8:00 PM on a Sunday night; otherwise it’d be a lot harder to sneak the boxes inside the sorority house.

               ****

               Gerome had been covered in darkness for more than six and a half hours, when the sound of Maria’s car engine cutting finally snapped him from his catatonic state.

               There was now dead silence, other than the distant noise of Maria’s sandals slapping the pavement, and acting as a constant reminder that he was nothing but an insect to her; a pathetic object that can be completely destroyed without even conscious thought. Just like the two guards on the tower.

               Then he felt his tired body shift. Maria was now at where she lived, no doubt some kind of college dorm, and based on the sensation he could tell that he was now being moved inside. He shuttered at the thought of being in such a place at his height. The thought of not one, but 50, 60, or even 100 horny immature adolescents and young adults just waiting to inflict their own unique brand of cruelty on him and the others.

               As Maria walked up what he could only assume to be stairs, he began hearing the distant voices of multiple young girls; some playing, some watching television, others just sitting around discussing classes or personal matters. It was an unusual sensation; he felt like he was on a boat adrift at sea, but instead of deadly waves he was surrounded by deadly women.

               Finally his metaphorical boat ride ended, and a sudden stillness befell the entire box.

               ****

               It had taken Maria yet another hour, but she managed to finally empty her car of every last box. Thankfully she was an upperclassmen and a notoriously hard studier, so when her sisters saw her entering the house with boxes that she had cleverly labeled ‘School Supplies: Do not touch’, they didn’t even question it. For them it was just Maria being Maria.

               She was still at a loss as to what to actually DO with them. She didn’t have the heart to kill them, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to sell them either. Of course the biggest issue is that she has tons of ‘school supplies’ in the basement of her sorority house, and eventually people are going to get suspicious. This is LA after all, and all mysterious packages are immediately presumed to be drugs.

               She had to face facts. If she didn’t want to be charged with murder, and now also kidnapping, she had to tell someone.

               And so, Maria went looking for the only other girl she could trust with a secret this heavy; her friend Cynthia Baranski.

               Maria first checked the lounge, which was her usual hangout, and much to her relief she was there as expected, sitting and watching some fashion show with a few of the pledges. 

               “Maaarrriiiiaaaa.” Shouted Cynthia from the couch, “What’s going on? Did you hear the news, that prison you were going to visit just vanished right off the face of the earth.”

               “I did… hear the news, I mean.” Said Maria trying to sound casual, but failing.

               “OH MY GOD! You were supposed to go there today!” shouted the jittery blonde from the couch, apparently not noticing the distress Maria was in, “What the hell happened?”

               “I decided not to go. I had… other things to do.” Said Maria as the almost comically short blonde leaped from the couch, ran over to Maria, and embraced her in a warm hug.

               “Well I for one am happy you didn’t go. The FBI says they had absolutely no idea what happened. People are already calling it the greatest mystery of the 21st century.” Said Cynthia with an amused cock-eyed smile that would normally seem unladylike, but in Cynthia’s case it was just downright adorable.

               “Listen Cinni we have to talk.”

               “Ok then,” replied Cynthia, “Attention Pledges. You clean up the mess; we big sisters have… stuff to discuss.”

               “So what’s up?” Said Cynthia in her normal high pitched sugary voice.

               Maria looked around the house. Besides being in desperate need of a cleaning, there was now no chance of them being overheard or followed. “It’s about the prison.” Whispered Maria while motioning towards the basement.

               ****

               Gerome slammed his hands into the cardboard, desperate for some kind of sensation. It has been at least 7 hours since he has seen the light of day, and his sanity was slowly slipping. Many of the others had already gone insane; one man believed they were all in hell.

               You know I actually kind of miss the screaming! This silence is unbearable, he thought sarcastically to himself as he waited for something, anything to happen.

               Suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of two pairs of feet, one pair of which he knew for sure belonged to Maria.

               “I don’t understand what our getting at.” Said a thundering yet incredibly sweet voice.

               “That’s the truth Cinni, you have to believe Me.” said a distressed voice which he instantly recognized as Maria’s.

               The second Maria’s voice was heard, everyone in the box began to squirm and crawl around, no doubt so frightened that they couldn’t even realize that there was nowhere to go.

               The two pairs of feet grew closer until they were directly upon the boxes. Everyone grew silent and the only noise he could hear was the panicked breathes of his fellow captives.

               A scratching sound was heard and then the light brown cover was lifted from the container, revealing the entire interior and temporarily blinding the light depraved inhabitants inside.

               “Oh my god Maria! What the hell have you done.” squealed a high-pitched feminine voice from high above.

               Gerome covered his eyes and looked up into the heavens, and was once again flabbergasted by what he saw. It was Maria, as tall and voluptuous as ever; only this time she was accompanied by an equally attractive, but significantly shorter blonde.

               This was the first time he had the opportunity to truly take a good look at his captor, and he was not disappointed. Maria and her friend’s enormous bodies took up the entire skyline, to the point where they appeared almost distorted due to the limitations of human vision.

               Every breath taken by each girl was accompanied by a sudden swell in their chest, which stretched the now visible fibers of their clothing. For him every facial movement, every muscle twitch became as obvious as a fireworks show.

               Their enormous bodies, particularly Maria’s face, seemed to shine from the normally unnoticeable layer of sweat that covers most people bodies. Even their humble hands, which in any other circumstance would go unappreciated, now stood tall over Gerome as monuments to the infinite power they now held over his life.

               “Cynthia I need your help, I don’t know what to do with them.” Asked Maria while clasping herself for support, apparently so shaken up by her accidental killing that she could barely stand herself.

               Cynthia sighed and stared down into the container with cold unaffectionate blue eyes, “Maria, do you even know how many people you have here?”

               “Last time I checked the prison’s population was a little over 6,000 with at least another 2,000 guards.” Shuttered Maria who looked as if she was beginning to realize the scale of her mistake.

               “And that’s not even counting the janitors, staff, social workers, and families living in the prison.” added Cynthia with a childish smirk that caused a chill to crawl up Gerome’s spine, “Look Maria, I’ll help you, just not for free.”

               “What!” exclaimed Maria.

               “I want half of all these… people.” Said Cynthia while pointing to the open box.

               Maria was confused, but in no position to argue, “Ok I accept, but why?”

               Cynthia’s face turned to one of lust, and before any of the poor souls inside the box could react; she had already bent over and was now no more than 10 meters from the shivering cowering mass of people. “Because. I have unfinished business with them.” cooed Cynthia in a sweet playful voice that was a disturbing mix of childlike wonder and psychopathic maliciousness.

               Then without even consulting Maria, Cynthia reached in with her hand and grabbed several people at random, stuffing their fidgeting bodies into the front pocket of her hoodie.

               Maria looked once again as she was in no position to argue. She was clearly concerned for their lives, but she was far more concerned with herself, “Just take the entire box.” Said Maria dismissively before walking away.

               Cynthia’s baby blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and before Gerome could react he, along with most of the remaining people were swept up by Cynthia’s hand and thrown into her front pocket.

               Then she began to walk up the stairs, towards her room where Gerome was confident that many of the people he was currently crammed up against would not be making it out alive.

               “Hey Cynthia” said what sounded like a younger girls voice, perhaps a freshmen.

               Cynthia sighed, “You’re an Alpha Beta Omega now, Amanda.” She said to the nervous sounding girl as she walked towards her room, “So remember that until you’re a junior, you gotta call me ‘big sis’, kay?”

               “Yeah, ok.” Said the now dejected sounding girl before Cynthia shut the door in her face and locked it.

               “Typical pledge girls, I remember when I was that age.” She said to no one in particular, “Now! Onto more important things.”

               Light entered the pocket, blocked only by 5 thick branches reaching for them. It’s not like they could do anything and so Gerome along with everyone in her hoodie pockets was dumped unceremoniously on the cold hardwood floor.

               Gerome leapt to his feet instantly, adrenaline surging through him due to excessive stress. He looked around; it was the room of a college girl, presumably Cynthia’s. He could tell from the disorganized papers and discarded clothing that she was by no means a neat or organized girl.

               Looking up and into the distance he saw Cynthia roaming like Godzilla through a skyline of super-sized furniture, occasionally stepping on and altering the shape of little hills that turned out to just be articles of clothing.

               She looked directly at the frightened crowd, and then turned to face them. Then with the finesse of a dancer she spun around in a cutesy twirl while removing both her hoodie and shirt.

               Her pink socked foot landed with a dull thud right in front of them. Then, as if she didn’t even consider them a threat to her modesty she removed and tossed her parachute sized pants into the distance.

               Cynthia got on all fours, and wrapped her arms around the crowd, as if she was herding cattle, “Ok. I want all of the guards in this group to step aside please.” She commanded with a smile and pointed to an alcove created by a pile of clothing.

               There were only 3 guards who were still alive in this group; No doubt due to the prison riot. Upon closer inspection Gerome could see that one of them was the younger guard from the prison.

                Cynthia’s hand moved at them like a shifting wall of flesh. Gerome, who was busy inspecting his surroundings was unprepared and the hand hit him at full force, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him sprawling to the ground when he landed in a small pile of men.

               “I can only assume the rest of you are prisoners.” Said Cynthia’s judgmental voice from high above, “and let me tell you, I don’t like criminals.” She continued while pointing to a large scar across the left side of her ribcage.

               “It was one of YOUR kind that gave me this little reminder. So that every time I look in a mirror, I am constantly aware that there are men like you out there who want only to hurt, and kill, and… fuck everything in your sight.” yelled Cynthia in a venomous yet distressed sounding voice.

               She pulled out several objects from a small bag. A lighter, a condom, dental floss, a clay pot, a battery, a bottle of water, and a very over sharpened pencil. “Look how the tables have turned. Before I was too weak… too small, to do anything about it, but now…”

               The men in the crowd scattered as Cynthia’s hand moved towards them, with the exception of one man, Gerome; who was just too tired to move. Her hand grabbed Gerome along with several other men. Then she slapped the rest back into a neat little pile in front of her.

               “Tell me your name.” she demanded towards one of the prisoners.

               “Houston, bitch. Now put me down, Yo!” Said Houston, who Gerome recognized as a serial arsonist and kidnapper from the San Francisco area.

               Cynthia’s face lit up. It was as if he had said exactly what she wanted to hear, “Ok.” She said simply before pinching his head between two of her fingers.

               Houston screamed as the pressure from Cynthia’s nimble digits increased, and he was lifted by his head and neck into the air; his body twitching from the extreme pain of having one’s spine stretched. Then without hesitation she released her grip, dropping the hardened criminal to the ground where he landed with a hard slap.

               Next she put them all on the ground, and placed the blown up items in a circle equidistant from the group of men. “Pick something,” She commanded to the frightened and confused group of delinquents.

               The men looked at each other, as if to measure up their opponents. Then one man began to walk towards the lighter, followed by another towards the pencil; finally everyone was moving. Gerome was afraid, tired, and injured, but he had to keep going if he wanted to live.

               Gerome picked the water bottle, he was thirsty after all and maybe she’d let him drink. Of course he highly doubted that.

               Cynthia inspected her macabre pick and choose game and appeared satisfied with the results.

               “I want you to all know that every last one of you deserves this. You all made the decision to become who you are, and now… at last, there’s going to be REAL consequences for all the lives you’ve ruined.” She said with passion unlike anything Gerome had heard before.

               “Let’s start with you,” said Cynthia picking up the man and the lighter; her hand firmly on the flint and the lighter pointed directly at his body.

               Gerome watched as the man squirmed desperately against the petite blondes now elephant sized hands to no avail. He was basically just a toy to her, and the look on her face confirmed that. There was no malice or excitement in her eyes; that would imply that she even considered them human. Rather, the look on her face was one of preoccupation. It’s the same look one would have while making coffee or stacking papers; it was a face of total disregard.

               If Gerome didn’t know any better he’d think that she was lost in her own memories.

               “I promise I’ll be good, I swear! I won’t hurt anyone ever again. Have mercy.” Sputtered the mentally broken man restrained by her fingers as she jerked her thumb down and sparked the lighter.

               “Please!” he screamed, his voice cracking with pain as Cynthia jammed one of her now thick blade sized fingernails deep into his shoulder to silence him.

               Then with a click, the lighter was lit.

               Gerome almost vomited as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and the sound of a full grown man crying in agony overwhelmed his senses. There was nothing he could do, but watch as the man clawed and bit her brawny finger in desperation, all the while his legs, torso, and finally arms were slowly burned to a crisp.

               Cynthia’s eyes widened and Gerome had seen enough killers to tell that she was extremely satisfied with what she just did. She put the phone booth sized lighter down and immediately reached for another man; her lust for vengeance or perhaps just blood not yet satisfied.

               Her hand easily found the man and the pencil. Then without any buildup she grabbed him by his tiny legs, effortlessly twisted her wrist and slapped him on the ground, then jammed the enormous yellow streetlamp sized pillar hard up into his abdomen; the brittle graphite snapping upon impact and acting as shrapnel imbedded in his wound which was now black from the lead and red from the blood.

               Her face became crazed, filled with anger and pain. She hated them, every last one of them. To her they were insects on her floor just begging to be killed. The other prisoners realized this and ran as fast as they could in all directions. All except for Gerome, who still was too tired to run.

               Cynthia smiled. This was everything she expected it to be, and everything she wanted it to be.

               She grabbed the condom and the floss and stood up to her full magnificent height. Her shimmering blonde hair and beautiful face shinned radiantly from the sweat and heat released by what must have been a tremendous level of emotional and psychological satisfaction.

               The behemoth college girl looked down and grinned with pleasure. As it turns out there was a man hiding behind the clay bowl.

               There was no hesitation, and immediately after she found him Cynthia brought her socked foot down hard onto his legs. The musky scent of her well-worn socks filled the air as the man’s legs were methodically ripped from his body by her powerful toe muscles and ground into her thick damp socks, turning a select area beneath her first and second toes from light pink to dark red.

                She scanned the room and found two more. One a Hispanic gangster, the other a deranged biker; both murderers. Cynthia was panting like a dog at this point, high on the feelings of power and vengeance that overtook her every time she killed another prisoner.

                Vengeance is one hell of an aphrodisiac, thought Gerome as he watched from a distance.

               Cynthia’s face twisted into a dark inspired smile, and with one hand she gripped the two men, and with the other she rubbed the scar across her side. “Let’s go someplace private, hmm?” she teased before stomping off to the bathroom across the room, her mighty explosive footfalls causing Gerome’s heart to leap with every ambitious vengeance driven step.

               The bathroom door slammed, and when it did Gerome took off running towards the 3 guards, who were motioning for him and the other prisoners to come over.

               A few moments later Cynthia returned, with a condom covered dildo and the biker now tightly tied up with dental floss and dangling from her hand.

               She placed the dildo on her bed and removed the Hispanic man from elastic waistband of her panties, which she then promptly discarded along with her bra.

               Despite feeling somewhat ashamed with himself, Gerome couldn’t help but get slightly aroused. She was beyond gorgeous, and her passion, even if it was driven by a lust for blood was admirable in its own way.

               Cynthia leapt onto her bed, her firm albeit somewhat small breasts jostling upon her body’s impact. She stretched her cute sculpted frame across the bed, scrunching her dainty toes as a shiver of satisfaction rushed up her sweat soaked body.

               It appeared as though vengeance and closure had turned to pleasure. And possibly without even realizing it, Cynthia had plunged the Hispanic man as well as two of her man-sized fingers into her hot wet cunt, fingering herself and smiling triumphantly as she used her other hand to hold the floss bound biker over her open mouth like some kind of living puppet.

               Her tongue folded out from her mouth like a beast, and began playing with the bound terrified criminal hovering just above her lips. The sticky flesh colored mass flicking him back and forth before flattening out to allow her hand to place him inside. The man cursed as loud as he could, but before he could finish, Cynthia had already brought her smooth thin lips down over him and was starting to suck  on his body like a piece of hard candy dangling from a string.

               Gerome looked on at the hedonistic display with fascination, as the deranged victimized college girl continued her half revenge half sex driven romp. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as he watched a girl whose height is measured in stories, and whose smallest body parts were larger than his entire body use two men like objects to satisfy both her need for sexual satisfaction and emotional closure.

               Cynthia was beginning to cry, never before had she felt this much contentment from life itself. Vengeance was hers, pleasure was hers, and the lives of these disgusting criminals were now also hers. This was what ran through her head as she finally deposited the bewildered shivering Hispanic man directly on her clit, before slamming the head of her dildo hard into his body, and up into hers.

               She could feel him moving around inside her, panicking and desperately punching the inner walls of her vagina as he choked on her viscous ejaculate; his ability to resist fading with every bone-crushing thrust of her dildo. This time it was the man who was the powerless one, not her.

               Cynthia closed her eyes, allowing herself to become lost in the moment. She bit down on the man inside her mouth, and imagined that she was biting the man who violated her. His blood began to fill her mouth and she found herself drooling at the thought of killing the bastard who raped her and gave her that scar those many years ago.

               Gerome meanwhile swore there was a demon at work as Cynthia’s hips bucked hard back and forth on her bed; her cute cheeks and lips stained by crimson ribbons of blood mixed with saliva, and her eyes red and puffy from tears.

                He watched her powerful thigh muscles convulse as she neared climax and her jaw shift back and forth as she gnawed on the poor man inside her mouth.

               At last it was done. Cynthia arched her spine high into the air, and began pleasuring herself faster than ever before. Her bulging voluminous musculature pulsing as she strained herself for every last ounce of pleasure, before finally collapsing onto her bed, exhausted, but satisfied at having finally gotten the closure she needed to end a very dark period in her life.

               The men huddled together in fear when she rose back to her feet, spat out the bikers now unrecognizable body from her mouth, and removed the limp man from between the moist folds of her twat and tossing his disfigured corpse what seemed like hundreds of feet to the garbage can.

               Cynthia wiped the tears from her eyes and then walked over the group of awe struck men, “I really needed that.” She said panting as she stood directly over them stretching her spine, and causing the caustic fluids of her sexual escapades to drip from in-between her thighs and down onto the petrified cluster of guards and prisoners that had gathered in a group for protection.

               Cynthia yawned and looked down at her gaggle of terrified men, completely indifferent to her nudeness; after all, it’s not like they’re going to tell anyone. She raised her foot over the crowd which immediately dispersed, much to her amusement. They were sort of adorable, in a pitiable kind of way.

               “Yeah… I’m keeping some of you.” She declared with a cock-eyed smile before reaching for a shoebox on the other side of the room.

               “These are Maria’s shoes anyways so I may as well send some of her other belongings back with them.” She reasoned and opened the box which contained a pair of old running shoes.

               Gerome felt warm flesh touch his once again as he was lifted and deposited in the shoebox along with about half of the prisoners, and the 3 guards who were positioned away from the prisoners by Cynthia for their own safety.

               Uniforms don’t really matter since we’re all prisoners now, thought Gerome as she placed the shoebox in the corner, texted Maria to come pick it up later, and then returned to her bed with 5 of the most dangerous looking criminals of the group in her hand.

               Gerome looked around the container. Four walls and no way out, “From one cell to another,” He whispered before lying on the tough scratchy ground, and closing his eyes to sleep. His peaceful slumber only occasionally interrupted by Cynthia’s distant moans of pleasure.

   January/ 8/ 2006 : California Institute of Technology            

               Maria sighed as she walked across her university’s campus, completely exhausted by today’s events.

               Unlike the other economics students who had already finished their term papers and were happily relaxing, Maria had to go out and find a whole new source for her report. At the very least, her professor was kind enough to extend the deadline given the fact that the most important component of her paper literally vanished into thin air.

               On top of that she was still responsible for organizing her sorority’s fundraiser which would have been easier if she didn’t have to take care of more than 8,000 people stuffed inside a pile of boxes in the basement.

               “I should have just killed them. Then at least this situation would be hella easier.” She moaned to herself as she walked back to the house after a long day.

               She checked the time on her flip phone; it was a little after 11:30 which meant that she had just enough time to pick up food for herself, plus a few thousand others.

               ****

               Gerome awoke to the sound of his fellow inmates sleeping on the cardboard floor. Cynthia’s room was now completely silent, her violent sexual antics having long ended. Now the only sound was that of her gentle breathing, which in a strange way reminded Gerome of the wind that once blew outside his cell. It surrounded him, shook the box, and kept him awake. It was inescapable; Just like Cynthia or Maria are to him now.

               He heard the door open. It was Maria; she looked absolutely exhausted and was carrying an oversized plastic bag overstuffed with canned food. Quickly and nimbly she tiptoed across the room and grabbed the shoebox and its cover before darting out of Cynthia’s room and shutting the door.

               Gerome shut his eyes as he awaited the inevitable, then opening them; he was smugly satisfied by the continuum of darkness in front of him. Why doesn’t she just kill us already? Thought Gerome as he heard another door open and shut, and a large heavy lock set into place.

               His box was set down and the lid removed. He was in the basement again, only this time he was on the floor and not on the table.

               Looking around, he saw that the others were only just regaining consciousness, and that Maria had walked away. This was the best opportunity for escape he had in a while, and he had to take it no matter the risk. Freedom was quite literally a foot away.

               He climbed up the front of the enormous sneakers and hid behind the knot of the empty shoes. Looking out he saw her lining up all the boxes that contained people into neat rows, and removing there lids.

               A chorus of screams cascaded across the room as one by one she removed the lids, exposing the hundreds of people inside to light; many of them having been without food, water, and a proper bathroom for more than 12 hours.

Maria’s attention turned back towards the only shoebox in the room. Gerome, realizing that if he stayed here he would be discovered, and so he made the only choice he had. He jumped into the shoe.

               Gerome landed softly on the insole and ran straight to the interior of the worn piece of footwear right as Maria’s shadow descended upon him.

               “The bitch is back!” “Run!” “Get us the hell out of here!” Screamed and howled his former cellmates and guards as Maria’s soft delicate looking fingers lifted the old adidas from the box without so much as an apology for their plight or any kind of remorse.

               At least tell us it’ll be alright; tell us you’re going to take care of us. Don’t just stand there and say nothing, he thought as Maria walked up and out of the basement, and to someplace else where the shoes along with Gerome were finally deposited.

               As the vibrations of Maria’s footsteps faded into the distance Gerome realized that for the first time in over 6 years he was free from anyone. Sure it may have been under the worst possible circumstances, but he had his freedom. Excited he ran out from the mouth of the shoe and into a world of possibilities.

               ****

               Cynthia yawned and stretched her body. Checking the time she realized that it was a little after 1:00 AM. She didn’t sleep for long, but it was the best sleep of her life.

               She laid back on her pillow, looked up at her hand, and thought hard about the things she had done; about the men she had killed and traumatized earlier. Why did she do it? Obviously it was out of vengeance, to take something away from people who only took from others. However, as she played back the pleasure and frustration filled events from yesterday, she couldn’t help but feel that it was for a different reason.

               Upon reflection it seemed like she did it out of instinct; a part of her must have saw how vulnerable such wicked men were, and the second she had the upper hand for once in her life that dark amoral part of her made sure such an advantage was not wasted. Or, perhaps she simply did it for the thrill of destroying something she despised; after all, she did hate criminals, especially male criminals. Either way Cynthia was both disturbed and relieved to find that she didn’t really feel anything other than satisfaction from what she did to those bastards.

               Cynthia looked over to the bedside table. It was covered in various objects a normal girl her age would have. Lipstick, tissue paper, some pocket change; you know, the average things. Only one item among this mundane collection stood out, a 2 inch tall man cowering underneath a wrinkled tissue paper; his uniform stained with his own blood and waterlogged from his earlier encounter with Cynthia.

               She turned on her side, lowered the blanket, and faced the man. Cynthia often slept in the nude, and she imagined that the sight of a living breathing wall of a person was something that would cause quite a bit of conflict for him; especially after what she did to him a few hours ago. If only she could hear his indecision, his thoughts of passion or fear as he gazed upon her voluminous form and all its deadly, yet tempting curves.

               Then her stomach growled causing the man to cower further into the tissue paper, apparently under the assumption that she planned on eating him.

               Cynthia got up and out of bed; feeling the need to eat. “Chill out boy, I’m not going to hurt you.” She said in a soft silvery voice to her whimpering voyeur.

               “Yet!” she spat with mocking indifference while putting on an extra-large T-shirt, which on her diminutive figure looked more like a nightgown, and then walked out of the room.

               It was late at night, and barely anyone was up. There were a few hardcore studiers and insomniacs, but other than them the Alpha Beta Omega sorority house was unoccupied. This meant that Cynthia didn’t have to worry about appearances since all of her sisters were fast asleep in their rooms; completely ignorant to the suffering of thousands of lives beneath their very feet.

               She picked up an egg salad sandwich and a bottle of Heineken out of the fridge, and was about to return to her room when she noticed the light was on in the basement.

               ****

               Maria looked out at the thousands of people who stood, sat, and cowered before her from their respective containers; her every move scrutinized and examined by hundreds of thinking feeling individuals.

               It was almost nauseating. To be the subject of so many people’s thoughts, to have her actions so carefully monitored and interpreted by every last person. In a way it was like being a celebrity, only the screaming masses were pleading for food and basic human dignities rather than entertainment.

               Stay calm. That’s the only way you’re going to resolve this crisis, she told herself as she turned away from the city of people behind her and took a deep breath.

               “Ok. Let’s think of this like a business,” she muttered to herself, relying on her knowledge of corporate management to get her through. “First Order. Then food.”

               She turned to face the people, and clapped her hands as loudly as she could; immediately silencing the crowd. “First things first. I want all the guards, doctors, and everyone who isn’t incarcerated separated into their own groups.” She ordered while putting on a strong face.

               Maria was unsure how to proceed from this point. She couldn’t just move the guards because chaos would surely arise, she couldn’t just move prisoners around because she had no idea how many of them were members of gangs that may or may not be friendly with each other, also many of them were women and there was a very obvious reason why she couldn’t move them into a container filled with men.

               Of course there was one option that continuously tempted her, and that was to kill them; every last one of them. After all, the entire world already considered them dead, and in their current state they might as well be; who is she to argue with destiny? It would also be humane, painless even; just a simple flick of the wrist or a single step would be enough to end their lives without any suffering. Afterwards Maria could return to her life, major in economics, and go on to change the corporate world just as she planned.

               But at what cost? Her humanity, her morality, Her sanity? Absolutely not. The cost to herself both emotionally and spiritually was far too great, and in Maria’s mind there was nothing in this world that is worth single handedly committing an act of genocide for.

               I hope they thank me for this. I hope…at least one day I hope… they realize how much I’ve had to undergo because of them, thought Maria as 3 distinct knocks were heard at the door.

               “Hey! It’s Cinni, is everything ok down there.” She said from behind the door.

               Maria sighed and pushed all thoughts of killing out of her mind. Finally someone I can rely on, she thought then walked up the stairs and opened the door.

               “What’s going on down here?” said Cynthia in a curious chipper tone as she walked down into the basement wearing nothing but a loose fitting shirt, and a pair of light blue panties.

               “I’m trying to figure out how to keep everyone alive.” Said Maria taking a seat on the stairs and holding her head in her arms.

               Cynthia looked out across the floor of the basement. Spreads out in rows was the collective population of the prison, more than 8,000 people; all of whom had their miserable eyes locked firmly on the two giants. It was possibly the saddest thing either of them had ever witnessed, and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were in a basement the sight before them would be indistinguishable from a concentration camp.

               “I kind of see the issue.” Said Cynthia walking down the stairs and right up to the boxes.

               Maria followed close behind, thinking that perhaps their combined minds could find a solution if they worked together.

               Unlike Maria, Cynthia felt like a rock star. She always loved being the center of attention, so for her the feeling of thousands of tiny eyes ogling her oversized body was that of excitement and lust.

               Of course she was still hesitant to do anything. The situation right now was extremely delicate, and Maria’s decision to separate them based on a prisoner/guard dynamic has only served to re-open old wounds. She had to admit it was a clever idea, but this was a prison not a corporation, and any attempt to alter the status quo would inevitably result in backlash.

               “So… who wants food, huh?” said Maria while holding an open can of baked beans.

               Within seconds the temporary peace Maria had created was destroyed, and the air was once again filled with the disorderly shouts of the disparaged prisoners and guards.

               That was not one of my better ideas, thought Maria as the people erupted into hungry mobs, some attempting and nearly succeeding in scaling the boxes that contained them.

               Gerome ducked behind a pair of green heels as two girls entered the sorority house and kicked their shoes off at the door, the distant sounds of their casual laughter and conversation almost mocking him.

               He had been trapped here ever since Maria unintentionally dropped him off, apparently not taking into account Maria’s preference to leave her shoes by the door rather than in her room; along with at least 20 other girls whose foul smelling shoes, heels, and boots burned his nose with their collective odor.

               He looked into the distance. Judging from the layout of the building Gerome concluded that he was in some kind of foyer. There were two large staircases on both sides, as well as several doors that led to various locations. From what he could tell the closest and largest door on the left led to the living room, and the equal sized door on the opposite side led to the kitchen.

               In other words he had no idea where he was, and was currently trapped in a pile of shoes; unable to make a move due to there being hundreds of meters of open space between him and the nearest door.

               “No No No… I love YOU.” said a silly sounding voice from inside the kitchen.

               Gerome ducked behind a pair of Doc Martins as the kitchen door blasted open, and 3 staggering girls walked into the foyer; the unmistakable pungent crisp scent of marijuana following them.

               “I’m sooooo bored, anybody wanna watch some T.V?” Sputtered a different, but equally impaired girl.

                “Fuck yeahhh. That sounds like funnn.” Giggled another girl who then sat down in the center of the room.

               The linoleum creaked as the massive buttocks of the stoned girl slapped hard against the floor. Her body sitting in a strange wide leg stance, and giving Gerome a pleasant, but unwanted view of her crotch.

               Gerome’s spine shook as one of the girls, who appeared to be an African American women of large stature and muscle tone, stomped the floor hard with her black boots, “Ugh!” she grunted in frustration, “I can’t believe somebody took all the canned food.” She exclaimed turning towards her friends.

               The two other girls burst into laughter, “giiiirrrlll, That’s wat you get for eating at 2 o’clock.” giggled the wide legged girl who then fell over onto her side and slammed her head into the floor, apparently overwhelmed by how hilarious everything around her was.

               “Damn Chelsea. How fucked up are you?” asked the dark skinned girl who felt her friends head for head injury.

               “I don even know how many shotsss of Yeager Gre-Greg made me take, but… but I know it was a Laht.” She attempted to explain.

               “Wait? You were drinking? Was this before or after you smoked with us?” asked the girl sitting beside Chelsea looking quite concerned.

               “After silly.” Squealed Chelsea who in a fit of giggling smacked her head against the floor multiple times

               “Yep. That’s it, you’re done.” Said the black girl who then hoisted Chelsea to her feet, and motioning to the other girl to get her other side. “Come with us. You’re going to bed.”

               “What about the fooood. I don’t wanna sleep til’ I’ve eaten dammit.” She wailed and lightly struggled as her two friends escorted her to the living room.

               “I have some popcorn riiight here. You just get some rest and sober up.” said the tall black girl rolling her eyes at her intoxicated companion. One arm held open the door to the living room and with the other she dangled a steaming bag of popcorn in front of Chelsea like a bait on a hook.

               Gerome’s mouth watered at the sight of that popcorn bag; true, it wasn’t the most nutritious of meals and the thought of eating these girl’s scraps disgusted the hell out of him. However, any humiliation at this point was better than starving to death in a pile of discarded footwear.

               He rose to his legs which burned from exhaustion and began jogging towards the door on the left. It was risky, and the likelihood of getting caught was high, but his chances inside the poorly lit TV room were far better than his chances inside the kitchen, where Gerome was confident that he would be discovered by the first women that walked in there.

               As he approached he noticed that entering the room would be simple enough, the space between the door and the floor was such that it allowed him to crawl under with ease.

               Upon reaching the other side, he immediately ducked behind a large potted plant to his left and peeked out from the side like a soldier in a warzone. Directly ahead of him and around 50 meters away dwelled the couch which was at least 3 to 4 apartment complexes tall. Over the side hung a dainty looking foot and ankle; the underside of which appeared rough and covered in dirt. In other words, not something he cared to be the last thing he ever saw.

               Gerome inspected the rest of the room and saw no sign of either of her friends. His stomach growled again, and so without thinking he ran, or rather waded across the grimy carpet to the underside of the couch where he was confident that upon reaching the other side, he would be rewarded with food.

               Hunger and the desire to survive in this familiar but alien world drove him forward as he crawled on his knees through the dark underside of the couch, until finally he reached the other side. His eyes were blurry from fatigue and dehydration, and his body was begging him to give in and collapse, but he was so close that he could practically taste his goal.

               Looking out he saw an assortment of chips, popcorn, and bread scraps; all of which were conveniently spread out along the legs of a large glass and wood coffee table. The second his breath returned Gerome took off running towards the scraps with complete disregard for himself; at this point he didn’t care if he got caught, he just had to eat.

               With both arms he shoveled scraps into his mouth, most of it was soggy or well past it’s prime, but delicious all the same. For him it was a banquet of food; pieces of popcorn the size of rocks, chip shards the size of car doors, and even what looked like a slice of ham large enough to wrap around himself like a meat blanket. Then came his thirst, and if hindsight was a person it would have slapped him in the face.

               Water… I need water, he thought frantically while looking around the table for a bottle or cup of some kind. Finally he tried to look up at the couch and when he did, his eyes met hers.

               His whole body froze with fear, and his heart pounded so hard it hurt his chest. There, upon the couch was Chelsea, who now looked at him with wide curious bloodshot eyes.

               ****

               It had been about a minute since Chelsea’s so called “friends” left her on the couch to go party until dawn. She didn’t care though, to her they were just a couple of sycophants who used her for her drug connections; still, at the very least they made her nights interesting.

               From her pocket she pulled out a small zip lock bag of multi-colored tablets indented with smiley faces and a medical bottle labeled Lysergic acid diethylamide. These would be her tools of escape.

               She took a tablet from the bag and the pill from the bottle, and without hesitation downed them both in one gulp along with the last of her water.

               “I’m almost home.” She whispered to herself with a coy smile and closed her eyes, waiting for it to take effect.

               It starts with the little things, it always does. First went her perception of time, not like she cared though, she didn’t have class tomorrow anyways. Second went her body temperature, which shot through the roof as powerful rippling warmth raced up and down her skin. Lastly went her sense of reality; she opened her eyes into a world of pure color and sensation, a world where she could feel the sounds of the television shake her body as if they were waves on a beach, a world where the room around her spun and danced as if made of liquid before spiraling into a dynamic twisting maze of fractals, and a world where even the simplest of things were beautiful beyond her imagination.

               This was her home; this was where she felt alive, where she felt free. Reality and sobriety for her were synonyms for slavery. She hated the cruel monotonous world she lived in; a world where everybody lived to work and worked to live, and where everything, even the universe itself was governed by strict unbending rules. Plain and simple, for her there was no adversity in this twisted reality worth overcoming, nor any joy or passion worth pursuing. What others considered ‘life’ she considered glorified survival. The only thing that kept her going anymore was the knowledge that with a few simple chemicals she could escape it all and enter a boundless world of dreams where the idiotic troubles of reality could literally melt away.

               She looked over at the glass coffee table. It reminded her of sugar, the way it seemed to glisten like candy; she swore she could even taste it. The grain of the wood flowed up across the exterior of the wooden table legs, and the light grey carpet seemed to go down and up as if the floor was a slumbering beast.

               Then her eyes caught something small scamper across the carpet; its humanoid figure skipping across the wavy carpet and to the small flecks of food on the ground. It was like nothing she had ever seen, and it looked far too real to be a part of her trip.

               Her mind raced as she watched the creature indulge itself on the crumbs below. What was it, an illusion? A demon? Or perhaps it was simple a resident of this world, her world.

               She reached out for it, grabbing the small man by its torso before it could escape; its miniscule body struggling against the might of her clenched fist to no avail. Chelsea smiled; this creature was part of her world, he was made for her to do as she pleased.

               She lifted her new property high into the air, far above her head where what her eyes knew was real blurred in with the drug induced illusions. His face was indiscernible, to distorted to give her any clear indication of its emotions. However, regardless of its feelings, if it even had them, it now served her interests.

               Chelsea felt it struggle in her hand, its little arms brushing against her skin; fighting with everything it had to resist her. It was an incredible feeling for her, to control someone’s life so thoroughly that with just the flick of a wrist she could end it. That’s when she realized; just as she was enslaved by her own miserable life, he was enslaved by her.

               In a way, I’m his entire world right now. His god, thought Chelsea bringing her new toy up to her face and contemplating the amusing and unfortunate irony she found herself in.

               Just the thought of her being that important to anyone sent a shiver of pleasure up through her veins and across her entire body. The idea of having total control over someone working in tandem with the effects of the drugs to wear down her inhibitions, until finally; there was nothing left but lust.

               ****     

               Gerome gasped with pain as her fingers carelessly manipulated and violated him high above the ground. No area of his body was off limits for her, and she seemed to be endlessly fascinated with bending his spine to damn near the breaking point.

               The pain was intense, but the humiliation even more so. Before he was incarcerated, Gerome was a master criminal, an expert in thievery, assassination, and sabotage. And yet here he was dangling by his legs at the mercy of drugged out college girl. It was a depressing realization; to suddenly go from being feared by all to being feared less than the insects that he now shared a fate with.

               Chelsea meanwhile began to look increasingly agitated; her body shifting back and forth and her face flushed red from what he knew from years of experience to be arousal.

               Her eyes widened, her body stiffened slightly, and finally she began to lower him down towards her face.

               Is it over? What the hell is she doing, thought Gerome as he approached Chelsea’s ever expanding face.

               Her massive succulent lips opened up and from them came a thick moist breeze of salty stale air; the scent of alcohol surrounding him; burning his eyes. Strings of saliva hung between her vicious looking teeth, which stood at the ready to rip the flesh from his bones at any moment.

               Is she going to eat me? No…No there’s no way she’d do that, thought Gerome in an attempt to comfort himself; his body slowly entering the inside of her cavernous mouth.

               I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding, he thought closing his eyes as his body was slowly submerged into hers.

               Finally her fingers released him, and almost in slow motion Gerome felt himself fall towards her awaiting tongue; his head smacking hard against its gooey surface. The enormous pulsing muscle reacted immediately to his presence, and in and instant he was thrown forward and into her teeth and now closed lips; his nose breaking on impact before falling into a turbulent pool of bubbling spit.

                Gerome looked up from the slimy flesh floor and saw light, and for a second he thought this torture was over; but the only thing that escaped the dark depths of her mouth was a deep passionate moan with a volume so great it shook the very bones of his body.

               Her breathing became more intense; just by the sound of it Gerome could tell Chelsea was masturbating.

               She threw him forward towards the front of her mouth and bit down lightly on his torso. Gerome screamed in fear as Chelsea’s jaws clamped down and slightly into his exposed skin; painfully pinning him in-between her guillotine-like teeth that could at any moment split him in half as easily as a cracker.

               Her saliva flowed forward and accumulated around the front of lips which were we puckered together in a kissy face. Then in one single motion Gerome was expelled from her mouth, his legs hitting her chin on the way down causing him to spiral chaotically towards her supple chest.

               A whole two seconds passed before his body smacked against her chest; one of his right ribs snapping like a twig immediately upon impacting her collarbone. At this point his body was in shock, he could no longer take any more pain. In fact, he couldn’t even stand. Looking down at his leg, he realized that the fall from her lip had sprained his ankle. He had no choice but to wait for whatever fate Chelsea prescribed for him.

               At the very least he could see. He could see the face of the young women who decided for whatever reason to hurt him, to break him; her red flushed face towering over him in the horizon. Large glazed over hazel eyes the size of windows staring right at him with complete vacancy as she continued to libidinously grind her hand into her cunt; completely apathetic to the ungodly pain and terror she had forced, and continues to force him, to endure.

               Any normal man would have felt nothing but hate given the situation; Gerome however just couldn’t bring himself to despise her. In his eyes Chelsea wasn’t a monster, not like Cynthia. She was simply ignorant, too stoned and drunk to even properly understand what was going on around her. For Gerome that made this all the more humiliating; to be broken both mentally and physically by someone who may not even know he even exists as something other than a sex toy.

               He felt like an insect on a sidewalk; his life, his very existence governed by the mundane actions of simple people going about their lives. Even if he survived Chelsea, it was more than likely that somewhere along the line his life would be snuffed out by someone. His remains flushed down the toilet, or left to rot in-between the filthy dirt clogged treads of some sorority girl’s shoes.

               Gerome strained his head and looked up at his captors face; she had closed her eyes and was almost exclusively focused on her own pleasure. Her labored breathing swept across the lightly tanned landscape that was her body, the scent of cherry flavored lip balm and cheap booze surrounded him; and she truly did surround him in every sense of the word.

               Gerome could hear her heartbeat beneath him, and feel even the most miniscule of muscle contractions; even the slightest shift or adjustment in her position felt as if the entire universe had been displaced. He now understood why when Cynthia decided to kill them, all the other prisoners just watched; she, along with every other person on the planet, was now a force of nature. There was no way to fight them, there was no way to escape them; the only way to remain safe was to flee as fast as your legs could carry you.

               The area around Gerome was now burning hot, and he was struggling to breathe the steaming hot air; she was so absolutely gigantic that just her body heat alone was almost enough to give him a heat stroke. Suddenly a gust of cold air blew from behind as Chelsea carelessly removed her sweat soaked shirt and flung it across the room; a pair of bare breasts crowned by two erect nipples twice as thick as his head greeting him immediately upon being unbound from the tight confines of her clothes.

               Her massive voluptuous breasts, each one the size of a house, shivered elegantly as she struggled to control herself. Every powerful muscle in her neck and chest pulsing and writhing in exhaustion as she continued to pound away at herself; to full of lust and love to care about fatigue. Her breasts, face, and neck glowing with sexual passion as they shook side to side with every pleasure driven thrust of the hips. Perspiration dripped down the skin of her torso, forming small rivers of shimmering sweat down her ample chest and across her well-toned stomach like water flowing down the slope of a flesh colored mountain. The dim lamp light reflecting off of her body and bathing every inch of the seemingly boundless shapely landscape that was her chest in a radiant display of color.

               A soft moan escaped her, and before he could realize what was going on the hand in her crotch was already upon him; a layer of warm fresh ejaculate slathering and sticking to him as Chelsea’s fingers clumsily dragged him down and away from her chest.

               He would have ran, but his ankle was sprained. He would have crawled, but his shoulder was dislocated. Gerome would have screamed, but he didn’t have enough air to even speak. All he could do was sob silently through his now cum smothered mouth as Chelsea painfully slid him by his upper body down past her stomach, beyond her belly button towards what he was certain would be his tomb.

               ****

               Chelsea was in heaven, never before had she wanted to cum as badly as right now. The thought of this… thing serving her, possibly to its death filled her with a morbid, yet irresistible desire unlike any she had ever felt in her life. Chelsea honestly didn’t give a crap that she was on a couch in somebody else’s house; for her, this opportunity was well worth any humiliation she’d face tomorrow.

               She savored every second as she rubbed the creature across her sculpted body; a body she had worked on for years to be as appealing as was humanly possible for her. A twisted smile creeping across her face at the thought of this hopeless nothing getting to go where men hundreds of times better and larger than him could never do. He’d better be thankful too; Chelsea rarely let men go down on her like this.

               There was some resistance as she dragged him through her bush; its body somehow got tangled in her trimmed hair. Between the soiled tight clothing, her hand, and her sticky cum drenched crotch, there wasn’t much room for anything; even for something as small as he was. Forcing him through she felt one of its arms bend back in an unnatural fashion, not broken, just dislocated. If what she was holding in her hand was real and not just a hallucination, she had just caused some serious damage. It didn’t really matter to her though; maybe it was just the drugs, but at that moment Chelsea didn’t care if it was real or not. She was pretty damn horny; and unfortunately for him, he was just the right size for her.

               She was already near climax before she brought him inside her, and upon feeling its body breach her labia; Chelsea couldn’t help but orgasm instantly. A wave of fresh cum flooded down and out of her, completely covering her new found favorite toy and further destroying her already waterlogged panties.

               Whatever it was, it had stopped moving, either to exhausted or afraid to offer even the slightest hint of resistance. It was of no consequence to her; awake or not, Chelsea planned on fucking him for as long as she could.

               Chelsea’s eyes twitched open as the California sunrise flooded the room with light. Another night of fun was over, and with that came the knowledge that it would be at least another couple of weeks before her body could handle doing that much substance at once again.

               “Two weeks of hell, for a night of heaven sounds like a fair trade.” She said as she stretched her sore body, and flipped open her phone to check the time.

               “Ugh. Why didn’t I walk back to my dorm…” she trailed off, unable to get the image of whatever she had used last night out of her head.

               She looked down towards her pants, her imagination going wild as she slowly begun to remember what she did last night. I mean, it couldn’t have been real; it was probably one of those plastic dolls                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            college girls buy for shits and giggles. That would explain the prison outfit and the size.

               She could have lived with screwing a doll; then it moved, And Chelsea realized much to her horror that whatever it was that she decided to plaster her insides with last night was still alive.

               “Oh god. I think I’m gonna be sick.” She whispered to herself, almost in pain at the indignity of her situation, “Please tell me I didn’t fuck somebody’s gerbil or pet scorpion or… WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS THING.” She cringed in fear and disgust as the creature in her panties brushed against her clit.

               Enough was enough; 5:00 AM on a Monday morning was way too early for this shit. Reaching around her hands found the frail bendable object sandwiched beneath the tight fabric of her clothes and the skin of her right thigh. Without a moment’s hesitation she closed her hand around it, and removed the invasive creature from her crotch; all the while shamefully preoccupying herself with her flip phone; too disgusted with both herself and the slimy shivering beast in her palm to even look at it.

               Ok Chels, you got yourself into this mess. Now ya gotta get yourself out, thought Chelsea who steeled her nerves for the worst, and turned to face the ejaculate soaked mess in her hand.

               There in her palm unconscious, halfway curled up in a ball was the prisoner; exactly as she remembered seeing him last night, albeit with much less clothing than she remembered. He looked somewhat older than her, but given his condition it was hard to tell.

Hopefully he was still alive; she tended to lack self-control when it came to sex. After all, it’s not often that a girl has to be physically gentle with someone; in fact, with every partner Chelsea ever had she could pretty much get as wild as she pleased because she knew that they consented and could more than match her in intensity.

Speaking of consent, there never was any; he could have been trying to get her help, but instead of doing anything for him, she raped him. Worst still, was that she actually liked it. The idea of being able to squeeze her legs and pop someone’s body open like a grape, that kind of power, as it turned out was quite potent for her.

The sound of coughing brought her back to reality. Looking down at her hand, she could see that he was waking up. From her perspective he seemed so frail… so breakable, the way he clung against her skin like a child to its mother. Without her this miserable speck of humanity would be nothing but a smear on the floor.

“Umm. Hey?” she whispered casually.

The man fled to the back of her hand the second she spoke. Upon realizing where he was, the pathetic creature dropped to his knees and sat square in the middle of her hand like a trapped rat.

Normally she was awkward when it came to meeting new people, especially since this particular person’s first impression was formed when he waist deep inside her; however, for whatever reason she didn’t seem nervous. Maybe it was a power thing.

               There was an awkward silence for a while as the man struggled to gather his bearings and simultaneously come up with a response. “You’re actually… talking to me?” he said sounding slightly surprised.

               For Chelsea, His voice was very faint; not high pitched like one would expect, just soft. Looking around she spotted the water bottle she finished off last night. “You look terrible. Here drink this”. There was only a sliver of water left, but given his implausible size, she figured it would be enough.

               “Now when you’re done, I want you to tell me everything you know.” She commanded in a strong voice before pouring the water onto the table and placing him next to it.

               The second his feeble legs touched the table, he took off limping towards the droplets of water and damn near dived into them.

               “Alright.” He said between labored breaths, “I’d be more than happy to tell you all the shit that’s happened, on one condition.”

               Chelsea felt her blood simmer; there was something instinctively irritating about hearing someone, who in the back of her mind she still considered a sex toy, attempt to bargain with her.

               “I want you to promise, cross you heart and hope to die, scouts honor… whatever it takes. Just promise me that you’ll guarantee my freedom.” he said.

               A selfish request; still, she intended to keep her word, “Deal. Now tell me everything” Said Chelsea.

               ****

               “Wake up Cynthia! Wake up! WAKE UP!” sputtered Eric Payne to no avail.

               Little did he know that Cynthia had heard him just fine; she just wanted to test how far her new alarm clock would go to perform his duties. Of course, judging by the sound of his voice… not very far; she hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and she could tell by the tremble of his voice that he was late.

               “Hello? Umm… Mistress? Goddess?” spouted the obsequious little man on the bedside table, his pathetic attempts to quell her loathing for him with honorifics pissing her off even more.            

               He inhaled deeply. This time he would succeed. “WAKE UP!” shouted Eric at the top of his lungs, his arms swinging with frustration and fear at the monolithic monstrosity of a woman, who for the past several hours had tortured and killed several people.

               This time the response was immediate; a massive pale hand slammed into the wooden counter, throwing him off balance and filling the air with a disturbing aromatic mixture of fruity hand soap, dried blood, and Cynthia’s natural body odor.

               Before he could respond, the colossal shadow of her nude body had darkened the oak ground around him. “Poor little guy. You failed as a person, and now you’ve failed as my alarm clock.” She cooed and licked her plump little lips. Looking closely, he could see handprints on her lips from where her victims had smeared her lipstick in a desperate final struggle before having their lives cut short.

               “What the hell am I going to do with you?” she teased bitingly.

               “Probably kill me. I…I deserve it.” he replied, swallowing his pride.

               “Aww. I don’t want to cut what little time you have left short. Assuming there’s a god, you’ll have all of eternity to suffer for the crimes you committed.” Said Cynthia gleefully.

               She put her hands on her hips, and placed her twat right up against the edge of the desk, just to remind him how pathetically weak he was compared to her. “I think a day without food is punishment enough for failure. Since I’m merciful, I’ll at least let you drink.” Said Cynthia as she leaned over the table; unorganized ropes of golden blonde hair cascading across the immaculate curves of her enormous muscles, before puckering her lips and spitting out a large translucent glob of warm bubbling spit that hit the wooden table with a muffle smack.

               Eric cast his head towards the ground in shame, “Cynthia, I’m sorry I was late. Please let me eat.” A hint of despair entered his voice, “I won’t make another mistake, I swear.” Whimpered Eric.

               Cynthia turned around and posed against the table, this time she let her butt take up most of the room. “Well… Oh’kayyy.” She cooed “Only if you can explain to me why you’re sitting on that table.”

               Eric got on his hands and knees; his feeble voice was barely audible to her. “Bitch, I can’t hear you. Ya gotta be louder if you want to eat”. Cynthia pulled a person out from inside the desk, an obese man in his mid-forties adorned in neo-Nazi gang tattoos.

               She gaged the height with her eyes, then when she was sure she knew the right distance she released her hand, dropping the fat man to the floor. “How about this. You explain why you’re up on the table to this guy, and I’ll give you something to eat.” She said walking over to a pile of clothes.

                Eric looked down at the man on the floor, both his legs were broken and he was wide eyed with shock. This was his fault, if he had the strength to follow his orders properly, this man wouldn’t have to suffer. “The reason is simple.” He yelled, “I deserve to be up here because I am a…” he hesitated.

               Cynthia finished pulling up her track shorts, “Go on!” she said as she slipped a pair of badly worn pink running shoes over her long black athletic socks.

               “The reason I’m up here is because I am a disgusting evil human being.” He spat through gritted teeth, “I did terrible things, and the only reason I’m not dead is because my gracious master Cynthia allows me to live.” He finished.

               Cynthia walked over to the desk and angled the toe section of her shoe over the struggling skinhead on the floor. Super hardened Clumps of dirt, compressed by the raw power of the many thousands of footsteps she had taken in those shoes rained down onto her miserable target, knocked loose by Cynthia casually wiggling her foot in anticipation.

               She leaned her foot forward causing the leather of the shoe to creak and bend across the curvature of her dainty toes, “So close, but not quite.” She said, the sound of a grown man squealing filling the room.

               Eric looked away, not because he was afraid to see death, but because he knew that one day that would be him.

               “Eric” she beckoned in a silky gentle tone. “I want cha to see this. Look at my foot.”

               Without even thinking he immediately directed his attention to the screaming shaking man on the floor whose body was pinned beneath the incalculable weight of Cynthia’s body.

               Cynthia’s powerful calf twitched as she applied pressure, “Good. Now the real reason why you’re up there Eric is because I want you to suffer.” She said twisting the rubber sole of her shoe side to side; using friction to slowly grind the skin away from the feeble racist’s body. “I want you to feel as helpless as your victims felt Eric. I want you to understand what you took away from them.”

               His eyes widened, how could she possibly know what he did. He told her he was in for tax evasion.

               Enormous leg tendons, each one stronger than a fully grown elephant pulsed as she raised the bus sized shoe a good 50 feet above her target, streaks of red and ribbons of Caucasian lining the troughs of her shoes treads, “Aww, surprised your little lie didn’t work. You see I NEVER forget a face, and I specifically remember seeing you on television 2 years ago.

               “After you raped that poor girl in Sacramento.” She said, bringing her foot down hard; slamming the filthy shoe into the hardwood floor with all her might. A thunderous boom, cascading across the room, and creating a shockwave powerful enough to shake Eric to the bone.

               It seemed to happen in slow motion. The man looked up from the floor, and threw his arms up a vain attempt to protect himself from the fast approaching wall of worn grey and pink rubber. Realizing the situation was hopeless instinct took over, but before he could run Cynthia’s leg had already built up enough speed.

               A mere half a second later, his body flattened out as if he was made of gum, filling the treads of the shoes and staining both the dirt darkened leather and the floor with red.

               Cynthia pivoted on her heel, smearing what remained of the once proud man into indistinguishable brownish red grime. “I’ll see you later my little pet, I have to feed all the other worthless nothings in the basement.” said Cynthia before cheerfully jogging out the door making sure to step extra hard on her right shoe.

               The door slammed, and Eric vomited over the side of the table. That would be him someday, and there was nothing he could do about it. He deserved to die; the blood of every single one of Cynthia’s victims was on his hands. After all, he was the one who made her this way.

               Payback can be such a bitch.

               ****

               “Jesus Christ! Many people are in there?” said Chelsea as she stared at the enormous pile of boxes that sat in the corner of the basement.

               “Everyone.” Said Gerome clinging to the edge of Chelsea’s thumb; his badly bruised and exhausted body only remaining upright thanks to her vigilance.     

               Chelsea was in shock; Maria Cruz was one of the kindest girls she had ever met, And not in an artificial sorority sense of ‘nice’ either. She truly was the most generous, charitable, and all around approachable person in the entire damn chapter. Just the idea that a person who was so upstanding could inconsiderately commit such terrible crimes against humanity was enough to make Chelsea’s head spin.

               “Please tell me she at least had a good motive.” Asked Chelsea as she gently ran her hand across the top of one of the human packed containers; the faint sound of thousands of moaning screaming people cascading into her ears, overwhelming her sense of empathy with fear as she struggled to comprehend the horror these people had witnessed.

               Gerome looked up, “She had good intentions.”

               Chelsea could almost feel them, every last trapped soul. Each one a person with dreams, desires, and emotions just like her. Now, they exist as mere shadows of their former selves. Destined to die of humiliating brutal deaths in a world they were no longer fit to occupy.

               Chelsea had no choice, she had to call the police; these people need help, and Maria despite her good intentions deserved punishment for her crimes. “I’m ending this right now.” She said flipping open her Motorola RAZR and dialing 911.

               Then a thought occurred right as she was about to press call. Getting the police involved at this time would be a disaster. Despite her heroics, the fact that she was a drug user, and a pretty heavy user at that, would still land her with charges as well as get her expelled from the university. That is, if Caltech itself isn’t liquidated; there were more people suffering in those boxes than there were attending the school. This single incident could destroy her entire career.

               Gerome was getting impatient, her finger was right on the button; what possible reason could she have to hesitate. Maybe she figured out he didn’t really tell her everything, he never was very good at lying. Hopefully, she’d keep her promise and not hand him over to the police. “Well? What are you waiting for?” he said.

               “Shut up. I need to think about this.”

               If it wasn’t for the fact that she could kill him at any moment he would be cursing her out right now. He took an enormous risk escaping from Maria, and Chelsea swore that she would see this through. “What the hell do you mean by that? There’s nothing to think about, please Chelsea. Help them.” He pleaded.

               “No. I can’t do it.”

               And with those words Chelsea, an 18 year old drug abusing sorority brat had sealed the fate of over 8000 people on a whim. It was for the greater good. As much as she hated to do this, the fact that the prisoners of the Mount San Antonio prison were still alive needed to be kept a secret; not just for her own good, but also for Maria’s and everyone else involved.

                She needed only to check the news to justify her decision; it had only been a day since the prison disappeared and already there was talk of everything from a foreign conspiracy, to a sign that 2006 would mark the end of days. Several nations closed their borders to the US out of fear. The incident was so bad it even forced the recently re-elected president Bush to station a military presence in LA for fear of an impending attack. If these shrunken people were to ever find themselves in the hands of the media, the resulting confusion would cause a catastrophe on an international scale.

               It was a longshot; a secret this big is not easy to keep, and she knew that two girls couldn’t keep something like this a secret by themselves. They needed help.

               “Are you insane? Can you not hear these people? They. Are. Dying.” Screamed Gerome as loud as he could, his anger and outrage at Chelsea’s decision blinding it its ferocity.

               “I know your upset, but trust me. This is the right decision I know it is.” Said Chelsea who had nothing but empathy for her shrunken informant.

               He could feel her hand begin to close. “Fuck you, you stupid cocksucking whore! How the hell can you stand there and justify this!”

               “You really don’t understand do you?” said Chelsea disappointed while typing out a text message with her other hand.

               “Don’t worry Gerome. I didn’t forget about our promise. I’m going to keep you safe from now on.” Said Chelsea as she brought her thumb down onto her phone, sending out a mass text.

               [Attention everyone, Maria Cruz has a secret. Anyone who wants to know meet me in the kitchen one hour from now.] Read the message which she had sent out to every person on her contact list who was in the sorority.

               “Chelsea. Why?” he cried, his heart now completely broken. She had taken his hope, his future, and without even asking simply threw it away. He had nothing but hatred for her, fear was now the only thing that kept him obedient.

               “Don’t worry about why. Just know that I’m doing this for your own good.” She said before stuffing him into her left pocket, his sobbing muffled by the denim of her shorts.

               If there was one thing Maria hated about living in Los Angeles it was the damn commute. Everywhere she went; it was nothing but car fenders for miles. Fortunately, her furthest class was only a 30 minute drive.

               Slamming the car door shut, Maria instinctively flipped open her phone. Only to be faced with a barrage of missed calls and frantically thumbed messages.

               [What’s going on Girl?]

               [OMG! Chelseas talking sh1t about youuu]

               [So… I heard some rumors hun? Call me if you wanna talk.]

               Maria’s heart pounded like a jackhammer, fresh adrenaline flowing through her veins as her eyes darted back and forth between messages. Someone MUST have found the prisoners; it was the only reasonable explanation for this level of hype.

               Suddenly her phone buzzed, damn near giving her a heart attack in the process. It was Cynthia. [Go to the kitchen and act dumb. I have a plan to get us outta this.] Read the hastily typed message.

****

               Keiko Nakahara tapped her foot impatiently while she and the other girls who cared to show up waited for Maria. As the vice president of this chapter, it was her duty to handle personal disputes. Even if it was something as silly and overdramatic as this clearly was.

               “Where the eff is this bitch?” shouted Nora, one of Chelsea’s ‘friends’.

               I don’t see the need to have a temper, she thought as Nora trudged back and forth around the kitchen practically fuming with anger.

               “Will you cease your incessant stomping? I mean, Christ your annoying.” Squawked a short blonde girl named Charlotte, whose face and voice reminded Keiko of a cartoon mouse she once saw back when she lived in Japan.

               “Excuse me? Did you really just try an tell me to calm down?” hollered Nora, whose statuesque figure combined with her bronze skin and long wavy obsidian colored hair made for an intimidating sight.

               The young blonde leapt up from her chair, a loud clack echoing across the kitchen as she slammed her heels into the linoleum. “Yes I did. And you do need to calm down. Your misplaced anger is rather obnoxious.” Said Charlotte boldly despite being at least a foot and a half shorter.

               “Hold up now, I see her!” said Jayanti, the only other foreign-born person in the entire sorority. She also happened to be friends with both Chelsea and Maria, making her position particularly tenuous. “Yes that is her… I do see her. She is coming!” she said from the kitchen window.

               The whole group became silent as Maria walked through the front door then immediately to the kitchen, throwing her book bag down and knocking over the leftovers from last night’s popcorn party. Judging from the almost traumatized look in Maria’s eyes, Keiko could tell that whatever Chelsea found clearly wasn’t something minor.

               All eyes were now on Keiko; it was her duty to resolve this crisis. “Maria. I think Chelsea wants to talk to you.” She replied softly while pointed to the basement door, making sure to not inadvertently cause the present company to lose face with Maria.

               “Maria. I just want ya to know that even though I’m friends with Chelsea, I’m on your side.” Said Nora, who despite her ramblings appeared to genuinely care about Maria.

               “It don’t matter what Chel’ found down there. She had no right to tell everyone about it.”

               Maria was touched… sort of. These people gave up their time to help her defend herself against Chelsea’s accusations. It was just a shame those accusations were true. “Thanks girls. I could really use some backup.” Said Maria, trying to sound grateful but instead coming across as timid.

               As the girls walked towards the basement door, Maria quickly glanced down at her phone.

               [Who is there? I need to know.] Read a text message from Cynthia.

               [Nora, Keiko, Jayanti, and Charlotte. The nosy little bitch is in the basement.] Thumbed Maria anxiously.

               The five girls approached the door, and were surprised to find it unlocked. Chelsea had previously locked the door to prevent Keiko and the others from storming the basement.

               “Maria. Do you want to, you know, tell us about what this is about?” asked Jayanti. Her slight Indian accent cutting in and out whenever she spoke.

               “I wish I had any idea.” Replied Maria as the group reached the bottom of the stairs.

               “Hello everyone.” Said Chelsea, “Your probably all wondering wh…”

               “Cut the crap we all know you’re just doing this for attention.” Yelled Nora who much to everyone’s surprise was the first to scold her. “Damn druggie. I don’t even know how the hell you got into this school in the first place.”

               Chelsea backed up slightly, her resolve somewhat cracked. She never anticipated this level of retaliation, and was totally unprepared to respond. Reaching into her back pocket, she considered just showing them Gerome; however that would just lead to another overreaction. She needed a way to calm things down before revealing him.

****

               Cynthia smiled smugly as she gathered everything she needed to enact her plan, her lips curved into a devious contemplative smile. However, behind that smile was nothing but pure fear. Cynthia needed more than anything for this plan to work; if it didn’t, the police would be called and it would be the end for her.

               In the table in front of her was a freshly heated box of pizza, a camera, and a ceramic bowl. Although this assembly of random items seemed innocent, for Cynthia who personally studied her kidnapper’s methods, this was a toolbox with infinite possibilities.

               As much as she hated the idea of using his technique, there was no other way to keep everyone silent. There needed to be something holding their tongues, they needed to be blackmailed.              

****

               “Well? Are you going to show us Chelsea, or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” said Nora who was getting a little sick and tired of what was essentially a five-on-one tag team debate.

               “Hang on my friend.” Interrupted Jayanti, “We should consult Maria first.”

               Maria screamed on the inside as the focus of this entire fiasco shifted back to her again. She prayed that something… anything would happen to resolve this situation without that secret being revealed. She looked down at her hands, god would she have given anything just to strangle Chelsea right there and then.

               Maria’s phone vibrated; there was another message from Cynthia, [Don’t eat the pizza] read the almost cryptic text.

               There was a knock on the door, “Hey? I hear screaming down there, I thought initiation was a couple months ago.” Joked Cynthia awkwardly as she walked down the stairs, a full bottle of whiskey in a bowl in one hand, a box of pizza in the other, and an exaggerated smile plastered to her face.

               “I totally think that everyone should just chill out, ya know? Here. I was saving this for myself, but it looks like you guys need it more.” Said Cynthia whose almost heavenly kindness instantly cleared the room of tension. “You too Chels’. I don’t know what this is about, but I doubt it’s worth skipping pizza over.”

               The girls glanced around the room then back to Cynthia; there appeared to be a general consensus. “What about you Maria,” asked Cynthia suddenly focusing entirely on her, “Aren’t you having any?” she said as the gaggle of girls descended onto the food like a pack of wolves.

               Maria knew what this was; it was a test. “I’m a little pissed off at Chelsea right now. I don’t feel like eating.” She replied looking away from the group.

               “Oh well. More for me.” said Cynthia who folded a slice of pizza in half before taking a massive bite from it; completely contradicting her advice from earlier.

               “Charlotte! You ain’t even 18 yet. Get your hands off that whiskey.” Jokingly chided Nora, who then confiscated the bottle from the now glassy eyed 17 year old.

               “Oi Nora. Is she… drunk?” sputtered Keiko whose body seemed to sway awkwardly from side to side.

               “No.” said Chelsea realizing exactly what was happening, “Worse.”

               Maria watched in shock as over the course of 10 minutes the 6 girls degenerated into a pack of mumbling fools. It was obvious now what she meant by ‘don’t eat the pizza’. Cynthia had drugged it.

               Her phone vibrated again, it was a delayed text from Cynthia. [My plan is in your hands. All you have to do is press play.] Read the message, which at first she didn’t understand; until she noticed the conspicuously placed camera aimed directly at the group of girls.

               “Okay.” Squealed Cynthia, looking directly at Maria as she pulled out a bag full of prisoners from her back pocket, and dumped them into the ceramic bowl. “It’s time for the party to begin.”

               It was at that moment that Maria realized; much to her own disgust, both the nature of Cynthia’s plan and the horrible realization that if she didn’t comply, everything she fought for would be destroyed.

               There was no time to contemplate morality; this was officially a game of life and death, self-defense. And as she pushed the button there was only one thing that ran through her head, it’s either me or them.

****

               Gerome felt his blood boil. Every second he was forced to spend inside the moist denim chamber that was Chelsea’s pocket only served to inspire more fantasies of violence towards her and the confederation of over-privileged over-sized bitches that now held his life in their hands.

               Light shined into the pocket, blinding him. He would have thrown up his arms but before he could react, 5 fat stubby appendages squeezed around him, and dragged him out into the light.

               The wind rushed past his face, and for a second he felt his internal organs shift up into his chest. He would have screamed, but the pressure from what he could only describe as two fat lumps cut off his breathing entirely. Then without warning, the pressure was gone. Only to be replaced with the feeling of falling, followed by intense pain as he deflected off the side of a curved surface and rolled down to the center.

               “Get the fuck off me!” screamed a shrill sounding voice.

               Gerome looked around. He was inside a bowl the size of a swimming pool along with at least 20 other people.

               “Everyone! Keep calm dammit. We have no idea what they want yet.” Ordered a tall man in a torn guard uniform.

               “I don’t take orders from bitches.” Cried a man from across the bowl. “Fuckin government shill.”

               Within seconds the bowl exploded into violence. Some went after the guards, others after rival gang members; a few even attempted to climb out of their circular zoo, but were stopped by its slipperiness.

               Gerome felt someone grab him from behind and push him against the side of the bowl. “If I’m going to die I’m going to die happy dammit.” Screamed the man, who grabbed desperately at the waistline of his tattered uniform.

               “Leave me alone. Can’t you see that this is getting us nowhere!” said Gerome before elbowing the man in the face.

               He crawled away from the brawl and looked around. Chelsea, who swore that she’d keep him alive, was nowhere to be found. Not that it mattered, just the fact that he was in this mosh pit confirmed his suspicions that she had betrayed him; either that, or something had gone terribly wrong.

               Laughter shook the bowl, magnified to ear piercing intensity due to its concave shape. Within seconds, it appeared like someone had frozen everyone inside. Looking up, Gerome’s heart sank as he saw 6 smiling faces hovering over his head; judging by the vapid looks on their faces and the strong smell of whiskey, it was obvious that none of them were in any way sober.

               Cynthia and Chelsea were up there, and for a second he thought this was some kind of cruel nightmare. However, upon feeling his injuries he realized that this was in fact reality.

               Six pairs of hands descending into the bowl faster than any object that size ought to move. Immediately, everyone inside lost total control of themselves; a shrieking symphony of horror induced screams cascading across the room as the pack of hands pounced like lions on the wriggling mass of people inside the ceramic arena.

               “NOOOO. Not a nigg…” screamed a skinhead with a muscular build, only to be cut off by two long slender ebony fingers pinching his leg in two like a cracker before hoisting the man high into the sky; her voluptuous athletic body towering over the bowl as she placed the man directly onto her teeth.

               Gerome could only watch as Nora’s jaws chomped down on the panicking man, ripping him apart as if he was just common food. His entire body was smashed into saliva encrusted goo by her vicious teeth. Bits of bone sticking out of the frothy mass that laid on her tongue as she reopened her mouth; her dark plump lips slathered with a sticky layer of drool and blood as she licked them in preparation for her next victim.

               “You’re so small? Why?” Said Nora muttering incoherently as she dropped the guard from earlier into her awaiting mouth.

               His head smacked against her curved ample lips, sending him spiraling into her already gore stained teeth. Which then slammed down into his arm like a guillotine, cutting his flesh like butter and instantly shattering the bone in two. The man howled like a wild beast at the loss of his arm. Reaching out from a pool of blood and saliva he cried out for help, only to be silenced as Nora’s tongue flicked him into the back of her mouth. Her lips happily dancing in unison with her cheek as she chewed the man to death.

               Gerome was now also in full panic mode. Two men were just eaten in front of him; he needed to escape or he would certainly die.

               His heart stopped as a pair of pale pillars pinched for him. Her long flamboyantly decorated nails reaching for him multiple times before settling on a frail looking woman with Irish mafia tattoos.

               The young blonde giggled excitedly upon grabbing her first prey, which when trapped in her fist resembled a grasshopper trapped in a child’s grip. “These things are really cool.” Sputtered Charlotte who twisted her wrist back and forth, propelling the woman around like a ragdoll.

               This is your one and only chance!, Screamed Gerome’s conscious, a surge of adrenaline flooding into his system propelling him forward and up the side of the nearly frictionless surface of the polished white bowl.

               “YES!” cried Gerome, too happy to even describe as he leapt over the side of the bowl, rolling across the ground upon landing before immediately ducking into the shadow of the bowl for cover.

               Meanwhile in the distance; the young blonde toyed with the anorexic women by allowing her to try and run away, only to stop her with the palm of her hand.

               Picking the women up, Charlotte pressed her lips into her palm and kissed the women as hard as she could, practically sucking the Irish women into her mouth like a vacuum. The young women flailing in resistance, her stick-like arms desperately punching her thin pink lips which wrinkled around the contours of her victim’s body.

               Finally, she removed her mouth; a string of translucent drool as thick as an electric cable suspended between the Irish woman’s breasts up to the tip of Charlottes tongue. All the while a monstrous slimy pink member the size of her body hung over her, waiting to continue its merciless assault.

               “Thhis tastes goood. Like… reeeally good.” Said charlotte whose drugged body seemed to sway back and forth, completely independent from her, or any sense of compassion and reason she may or may not have had before.

               “PLEASE! I’m a person, stop doing this and help me!” she screamed as Charlotte French kissed her torso. The wet meaty tip of her comparatively titanic tongue pounding her over and over again into her hand, knocking the breath out of her skinny chest and forcing her to breathe the hot stale air in Charlotte’s mouth.

               The women gasped for air, her face coated in miniature spit bubbles and her entire body soaked in hot caustic juices. She was completely finished, and Charlotte despite her current mental state knew it. Turning her hand over she allowed the women to fall to the ground where she smacked into the concrete floor with a juicy sounding thud.

               “Thiiiisss is pretty cool.” Muttered Charlotte as she adjusted her position and kicked off one of her white high heels, sending it flying across the room where it landed in the distance with a thunderous clack.

               The women on the ground sniveled for her life as Charlotte raised her foot over the women; the towering filthy sole of her foot glittering slightly with sweat. Fat pillows of toe flesh wiggling back and forth in anticipation, as if they relished the opportunity to kill.

               “Please. I’ll do anything, I’ll be your bitch, I’ll be your slave, you can fuck me all you want, JUST PLEASE LET ME LIVE.” She screamed as the gigantic drug entranced teen smashed her dainty foot down onto her frail body with a loud sticky sounding smack.

               For a brief moment, it seemed like she was going to be alright. The slightly dirty undersides of Charlottes pink painted toes splayed out across the women’s body, burying her face in a soft grooved wall of pungent meat; it was a humiliating position to be in, but at the very least she was alive.

               Alive, but in terrible pain as the threateningly oversized toenails scratched back and forth gently across her body with every casual toe scrunch, the thick blade-like nail cutting into her skin slightly with every pass.

               Unfortunately, Charlotte was not by any stretch of the word sober; the drugs that Cynthia placed into the food made her both forgetful and completely irrational. She reached over across to the bowl for another slice of pizza, and accidentally put pressure on both her feet. Gerome could only watch in shame as Charlotte shifted her weight, causing the poor forgotten woman to burst open like a balloon before being literally ripped to shreds by her toenails.

               I HAVE to get out of here, NOW, thought Gerome who could only stare in pity at the greasy human shaped stain painted across the grubby ridges of Charlottes first and second toes.

               Screams could be heard all around him, and he swore that if there was a hell this was it. At the very least all the girls were preoccupied, “She died so you could stuff your spoiled face with pizza.” He whispered up at the gluttonous beast of a woman before sprinting across the room as fast as he could.

               The sheer amount of space inside the basement was absolutely incalculable. Looking in the distance, he could spot at least a thousand areas that would make for excellent hiding spots.

               An earth shifting rumble with the magnitude of an explosion could be felt beneath his feet, as one of the girls tumbled over onto her side, blocking his route of escape. Her large green eyes focused squarely on him.

               Maria sat silently and watched in the distance as the 6 girls tore the men and women in the bowl apart with the same glee of a child torturing an insect. It was an almost unbelievable sight, to see these people who she loved and respected suddenly become so cruel; more so then the very people they were killing.

               The worst part of this entire mess was that above all other emotions the one she had in abundance was relief. A part of her was genuinely happy to see these people who she had no personal grudge against die; it only made her position stronger. She glanced over at the conspicuously placed camera. That footage will be her shield, a guarantee that none of these girls will ever break their silence.

               Another man cried out for Maria’s help, his eyes wide with fear as he reached for her in vain only to be silenced by Cynthia’s teeth bursting his head open like a grape. “I’m sorry I’m such a coward.” She muttered to herself before sitting on the ground and tucking her head between her legs, all the while thinking about how she could never look at them the same way again.

****

               Gerome looked up the exotic face of the women who may very well kill him. Her mirror sized emerald eyes glittering like diamonds upon spotting him, a misplaced seductive mile-wide smile formed on her caramel colored face. She brushed the wavy ropes of inky hair over her ears, and leaned in get a closer look at her prey.

               Just looking at that empty gaze of hers, he could tell that she was drugged with something very strong. Whoever did this to her was clearly an expert with date rape drugs, a disturbing talent for a 20 something college girl.          He instinctively backed away, his body not willing to give in as easy as his sense of reason.

               That vicious smile widened at his modest resistance; in her current mindset defiance was nothing but a challenge, a part of the show really. Her teeth were slightly crooked with vermilion stained tips. Just the thought of those teeth being the last thing he’ll ever see made him nauseous.

               “Good things are best saved for later.” She muttered rancid alcohol infused breath settling around him.

               Gerome panicked, “I was so goddamn close.” he fell back on all fours, “Please just… GO AWAY.” He screamed as the girls stubby fingers clumsily gripped him with the force of a compressor, her plump thumb kneading his face into the side of her pointer finger.

               Fresh tears streamed down his face. He tried to plead with her, beg her to stop, but the pressure was overwhelming. He tried to move, at the very least end his own life before she could, but his body was trapped; every limb squeezed awkwardly in-between several layers of now rock solid skin and muscle folding around him.

                              From his far left he heard screaming and cursing. It seemed as though he wasn’t the only one facing death today.

               “I know I done some awful shit, but man I don’t deserve to die yet.” Screamed his fellow inmate and victim. “Who am I kiddin though. I can’t even protect myself like this, let alone my family.”

               Her other hand catapulted upward towards the distance face in the sky, an enormous thick fist rushing past Gerome like a rocket before settling right next to her thin pursed lips. Trapped in her other hand was an older African American man, his body was covered in scars and judging by his age he must have been a good 30 years older than him.

               For a brief moment, despite the cloud of chemicals infecting her brain, she acknowledged his existence; a pair of soulless iridescent eyes gleaming with hunger and excitement at the broken men in her hands.

               Finally her lips parted, and the air once again was filled with hot sticky air so thick that neither Gerome nor the man could breathe. Ghastly strings of saliva formed and snapped as her jaw widened to accompany the man, her tongue rolling back and forth across her cheeks, eager to receive him. Gerome tried to look away as that would be him soon, however despite the horror of it all he needed to know what happened next.

               The man smiled and started to laugh maniacally, did he even realize the reality of his situation? “I wonder if they’ll put this on my gravestone.” He shouted down to Gerome, a large toothy smile plastered across his tired bearded face to cover up the fear. “Bit to death by some dopey little hoe”

               Gerome was shocked; how could anyone face death so openly, and why would anyone want to talk to him before they die? It exasperated him; how could someone this bold possibly deserve to die.

               The man glanced back at Gerome and gave him a simple nod before closed his eyes, and holding out his hands. “I’m ready you drugged up little slut. Send me to hell.” He said before two rows of sharp red stained teeth smashed into his chest and back.

               His body shuttered in pain briefly as her front teeth rammed into his ribcage from both sides, splitting the thick bone truss like an assortment of toothpicks and tearing the skin and muscle apart like toilet paper. Looking at his face, Gerome could tell that the death came quick; his head was shattered like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, his face distorted and crushed by the force of the initial bite.

               Her powerful fingers wrapped themselves apathetically around the other half of his body, which hung like a lifeless doll out over her lower lip. Her cheeks swelled out like balloons, and the force from her lower jaw increased tenfold. Her pinkish tan upper lip settled over the man like a blood stained flesh veil.

               The beefy muscles of her massive arm: bicep, wrist, and all bulged and tensed as she pulled the other half of his body away from her mouth. The fibers of what was once a proud man audibly popping and ripping as she yanked the half that was outside her mouth away from the deadly wall of teeth.

               Finally the ghastly sound of chewing could be heard, followed by the slimy muffled sound of a swallow.

               The girl dropped what was left of the man on the ground, where he struck against the dirty concrete with a loud thump. Immediately she reached with her now empty hand towards the many other people still trapped in the bowl.

               Gerome watched helplessly from her hand as one by one the numbers in the bowl began to gradually dwindle. Each one spirited from the bowl only to be killed almost immediately afterwards. It was a soul-crushing sight that only served to remind him of just how pathetic his existence had become.

               How fucked am I when the only thing I want more than anything else is a painless death, he thought as the pressure around him released, causing him to suddenly drop.

               Gerome’s instinct told him to cry out in fear, but at this point he was experienced enough to know that any sound he made would just bring attention to him; and so he allowed himself to fall in silence, his body rolling off her breasts and down the steep curvature of her body with a dangerous amount of speed before finally settling right at the edge of her skirt. His body tilted off the edge of the fabric cliff; finally, gravity won and he fell back down to the cold hard floor. Unharmed, but still slightly in shock from having nearly died for the twentieth time this day.

               A strong sugary odor permeated the air, and on either side of him was a thick wall of warm skin bent inward slightly by a pair of tight denim shorts. He ducked underneath the curve of her thigh, and looked up; she was distracted by some other poor soul. An Asian woman covered in scars, probably a former member of the infamous Santa Monica Yakuza cell that got busted a couple years back.

               Gerome’s heart-rate spiked as she looked down in-between her legs, “where did the funny looking one go?” she sputtered incoherently. “Oh well, time to eat.” She said opening her mouth again.

               This was his golden opportunity; she and the other girls were distracted, and the drug’s effects were clearly intensifying. Judging from their behavior, Gerome knew that they’d be unconscious in about 10 to 15 minutes.

               The warm dark bronzed wall behind him lifted up slightly as the massive dark skinned girl teetered on her side; her right ass cheek hanging a good 10 feet in the air and creating an opening for him to escape.

               It was risky. At any moment, the enormous curved surface of her butt could come down, suffocating him beneath a sheet of denim. However, if being on the run from the police had taught him anything, it was that the risky way is sometimes the best way.

               Running out from his cover  next to her leg, he looked up to confirm that she was distracted before sprinting into the shadow of the glorious moving arch formed by her tender thigh and leg. The sweet, almost seductive smell of her young flesh intensified to a suffocating level as he began his journey underneath her.

               “Kono chīsana koto ga kawaīdesu.” Said the slender older looking Asian sitting next to her, who in her drug induced trance probably didn’t realize she was speaking another language.

               Long pale fingers slapped down into the ground near the thigh. Her long pointed nails were dripping in blood. He looked up at the colossal denim ceiling above him; the closer he got the more likely she would kill him. I’ll be happy if she crushes me. The last thing I want to be is found right now, he thought while moving inward towards her buttocks to avoid detection.

               On all fours he crawled across the ground, making sure to stay as silent as physically possible to avoid detection. His body burned and ached from days of untreated injuries, hunger and thirst induced from exhaustion gnawed at his insides.

               He looked over, both the dark skinned girl he was hiding under and the Asian were distracted; this was the time to escape. “C’mon legs, just give me a little more strength!” he said as encouragement before leaping onto two legs and running across the cold hard floor towards the distant shelves.

               The glorious feeling of victory began to wash over him as the symphony of screams faded into background noise. He had no idea where he was going, and he had no idea if he was being chased, but at this point any scenario anywhere was better than that circle of death.

               His victory was so assured that he ignored the ground quaking.

                A loud thud came from his left followed by a gust of air and dust. He stopped in his tracks and turned to react, but before he could move the rubber toe section of a worn out sneaker was already bearing on him. The last thing he saw was Cynthia’s face, “Maaaarrriiiaa? Won’t you join us.” Echoed her voice from high above as the rubber slammed into his chin at full force sending Gerome’s miniscule body skidding across the ground until he was finally stopped by something hard and smooth.

               Gerome’s head was spinning, and his entire body felt strange. His vision began to blur and darken, but through the haze he managed to see something. It was Maria’s face, looming directly over him, her soft affectionate eyes focused squarely on him, just like before.

               What was it that she said again, “Welcome to Maria’s prison.” He said meekly before his vision faded to black.

****

               Maria looked down at the pathetic specimen lying still by her feet. She remembered him well, the near escapee from the day she first found the prison.

               His once clean orange uniform was torn to shreds, and his body was red and cut up from having to endure who knows what kinds of punishments both from his fellow inmates and her friends, who at that very moment were still killing them by the literal handfuls.

               Maria’s heart hardened; she was sick and tired for feeling sorry for both herself and these people. She wasn’t responsible for making them the way they were, but she was responsible for what happens to them now. It was foolish of her to try and preserve her own integrity despite being at the center of this entire mess.

               In fact, it was precisely this misguided delusion of maintaining innocence that forced her friend Cynthia, who she could never look at the same way again after today, to take deliberate action for her. Enough was enough; her mind was made up, and it was time to face reality. She was and will forever be the caretaker of these people; the warden of Maria’s Prison.

January/12/2006

               A cool autumn breeze brushed past Maria’s face while she waited patiently for her now former friend Cynthia to arrive. It was Thursday which meant that it was time for their weekly talk, and for whatever reason Cynthia felt the need to come all the way out to a coffee shop in Santa Monica.

               Outside was a caravan of military vehicles, patrolling the road. In the past this was the type of thing you’d never see in good old Los Angeles, but ever since what had been dubbed by the media ‘The San Antonio Prison Incident’ the amount of security in the city had quadrupled. Their entire presence was just a placebo; a large show of force to maintain order and convince the hapless citizens that everything was alright. It was none-direct way of saying that the government had no clue what was going on.

               Of course Maria and Cynthia knew; the price for bearing this truth being their friendship. Cynthia was no longer the cute happy-go-lucky person Maria had come to know; she had become a monster. Every week someone from the prison went missing, and either didn’t return or came back so broken that for the sake of mercy they needed to be put to death.

               To protect them Maria made the decision to make use of the blackmail Cynthia provided to her. By splitting the prison into parts and distributing them amongst the other girls; this way, at the very least, the cost of managing them was less. It also kept the other girls in line.

               “You know hun, it’s not like you at all to look so sad.” Said Cynthia taking her seat at the opposite end of the table.

               Maria rolled her eyes. In the past that flippant cutesy attitude of hers was something she enjoyed; however ever since she got a glimpse of the real Cynthia it seemed artificial. It was a flawless mask, designed to hide just how devoid of feeling she was.

               “Awwww c’mon! We used to be such good friends, are you really going to let something so small… no pun intended, get in the way of our friendship?” she cooed  taking a large clumsy bite out of a bagel.

               Maria leaned forward and looked her dead in the eyes. People like her preyed on weakness, and this was one area she couldn’t afford to slack off in, “You killed them Cynthia, innocent people. You think I can just… let it go, pretend nothing happened?”

               Cynthia checked quickly to see if anyone was looking. Like always Santa Monica was a crowded place, but it was early in the morning, and like she expected not a single person so much as batted an eye, “Innocent? Oh my god you can’t be serious.”

               Out of a side pocket from her purse Cynthia pulled out a small burlap sack which squirmed, between her fingers while the unfortunate person trapped inside fought desperately to escape.

               “Why are you doing this?”

               She tilted the bag upside down and with a cock-eyed smile poured its minuscule contents onto the desk. Just as Maria expected, a small naked man smacked hard against the vast wooden plane that was for them merely a place to put their food. His body was covered in cuts and small burns, so much so that he couldn’t even stand; instead he curled up into a fetal ball and wept silently to himself.

               “To prove a point.” Said Cynthia plucking the frail man from the desk.

               He tried to scream, but the second he opened his mouth Cynthia’s attenuated fingers clenched deep into his chest with the force of a compressor; the enormous girth of her thumb pressed hard into his chin until his neck snapped upward with a muffled pop.

               “These people don’t deserve kindness…”

****

               Gerome awoke to the smell of perfume and chemicals; as with every day he questioned where he was before once again remembering that like countless others he was moved into Maria’s closet. His head pounded, although he couldn’t remember why.

               Did the cunt leave me anything to eat? He thought, walking blind across an assortment of lipstick bottles and jewelry, his legs aching like he’d been forced to run a thousand miles, before finally stumbling upon the block of wood that served as the food station.

               Cold stale beans again.

               “Mr. Tillman. You aren’t authorized to leave your bed.”

               His memory was clouded, he had no idea what was going on, “Who the hell are you? Maria! Maria!” Screamed Gerome, shouting the only name that seemed to hold actual authority these days.

               Somebody turned on a light, which was nothing more than a small dollar store flashlight. In front of him were two guards and a man in a torn prison doctor’s outfit, “Dammit son, calm down before ye give yourself another concussion.” He said stroking his thick beard.

               “What happened to me? What’s going on!”

               A crippling pain shot up through his spine; within seconds he was in shock, “I told ye not to git outta bed. Now you’ve done undone them stitches.” He said in a thick western accent. “And if it’ll shut you up, the spick herself decided it be best for ya to rest up.”

               Casual racism aside, he seemed harmless. At the very least he could get some answers, “Are we… the only people here?”

               The portly man smiled and waved off the guards, “Hell naw. Ye just happen to be in this here medical drawer. If the wood was thinner you’d hear everyone else beneath us. Poor bastards.”

               It hardly looked like a medical area. The beds were made of tissue paper and cotton balls, and instead of a stretcher all they had was a broken nail file. The only thing that looked remotely professional was the laboratory computers recovered from the prison, all of which were powered by a jury rigged system of comically oversized double-A batteries.

               Gerome smiled in self-pity, they were living like animals. Huddling in the corners of a drawer and waiting for food. Meanwhile Maria, Cynthia, and all the other good sorority sluts were living their lives; content to stuff them with the rest of their dirty laundry, “I can tell by yer face that you ain’t pleased.” Said the doctor, “Truth be told, closest thing you’re gonna get to antibiotics is nail polish remover. But it’s all we got.”

               With one arm the bearded doctor pulled Gerome up on his feet and sat him down on a lipstick tube. His eyes were sullen and tired, his hair white; so much for bedside manner, “Listen boy imma give it to ya straight.” He said grabbing Gerome by his still bandaged shoulder, “Ye got brain damage. Your cerebellum’s gotten a bit messed up, see?”

               Just the thing Gerome needed more bad news, “Am I going to recover? Not that it matters really.”

               The doctor sighed and wiped his brow with a small checkered cloth, “The lord Jesus musta kissed you on the cheek or somethin, cuz as far as I can tell the damage ain’t permanent.”

               Despite the terrible pain he was going through Gerome managed to smile. He would get to live another day. Although looking back on his life and the decisions he made, it was a damn shame that he’ll never spend them with anyone he cared for again.

               Suddenly the door opened, Maria was back.

****

               Light streamed into the container for the first time in 2 days, during which none of the 70 people trapped in the shoebox ate, drank, or had any form of relief. They were exhausted, “Hurry up Nora; we need to catalog these prisoners before Maria gets here.”

               Of course it could’ve been a year, and it wouldn’t have made a difference; years of drug use had damaged his mind to the point that he couldn’t really comprehend the flow of time; things just sort of happened for him. One moment he was the best drug runner on the west coast, the next he was serving time in prison, and now he’s some college girl’s dirty little secret. Seems legit.

               “Fuckin-A Chelsea I’m doing my fastest here.” Said the black girl, who despite being already gigantic in proportions clearly would have towered over them all with her natural height, “Did she say why she was coming?”

               The brunette’s face wrinkled in annoyance, “She probably wants to see if I’m using again or not. Little does she know that I DON’T have a drug problem.”

               “Chel imma be honest, you’re an addict.” Snapped Nora grabbing people by the handfuls and depositing them on a table where guards their size were waiting. “If you weren’t as smart as you are you’d be in that box right now.”

               A large dark hand enveloped them and before they could react every person who was picked up was dumped onto the table. On the opposite side of the table, next to a stack of magazines taller than his old cell was a young guard sitting at a makeshift desk beckoned him over; must have been his turn, “Please state your full name, I.D, and nature of your crime. If you are found to have falsified your records, you sentence will be extended.” Said the guard in a bored monotone voice, “Failure to comply will result in transfer of custody to Cynthia.

               He smirked, “Who the fuck is Cynthia, and why should I give a shit. ¡tú hijo de la chingada!” shouted the man at the bewildered guard. “I’m covered in my own shit and you expect me to answer questions? Go to hell!”

               All the eyes in the room descended on him, including the two pairs of giant ones. Of course he didn’t mind, in fact he loved it. After three days without food, water, or light he was more than happy to get some attention, “My name is Ramiro Espinoza, inmate 2354. As for my sentence, 25 to life!”

               Silence, complete and utter silence; nobody was expecting a starved man to suddenly burst into rage like that. Chelsea approached the table, ever since her first encounter with Gerome she became fascinated with the idea of keeping them. Even after the incident in the basement, which left her traumatized for days, she found her self-drawn to concept.

               The reason why was simple, she could relate.

               “Anybody know where the fuck we are? My guess is Sacramento; that would explain the crappy apartment.”

               Well… sort of.

               Chelsea approached the table, and stood there smiling at the screaming little speck in front of her. In many ways she was no different from them, and not in the obvious mutual humanity type of way. For her, the similarities came from an understanding that she was as much a prisoner as they were; after all, at the end of the day we’re all trapped by the lives we lead.

               For the first time Ramiro had the chance to appreciate the severity of his situation. Back at the prison before he was knocked out he only saw a pair of legs. Now he could understand why everyone was so afraid.

               Her body dominated the room, taking up almost the entirety of his vision. Adding to that she was gorgeous, modest, and sweet-looking; however at his scale everything from the subtle curvature of her flushed cheeks to the noble glow of her pale skin seemed magnificent. To the recently freed Ramiro she was a triumvirate of raw physical power, sexual energy, and youthful curiosity.

               Ramiro was afraid, but unfortunately he was never a very smart man, “You gonna stand there looking at me all day? Huh, bitch!” he blurted out, his eyes widening the second his brain caught up with him.

               Surely if ONE of them went missing, Maria wouldn’t notice, right? Besides, who would miss this guy, “Either kill him or put him on ice, chels’.” Said Nora, “We ain’t got time for this crap.” 

               And just like that, an opportunity appeared. Nora was distracted cataloging the other prisoners, and everyone else below was scheduled to go to Keiko anyways. It was the perfect crime, and man did it give her a rush just thinking about it.

               She would have own sentient pet; someone who would love her unconditionally, and rely on her for everything.

               “I’m so sorry, but my friend is right.” Said Chelsea slamming her foot into the table, bringing everyone to their knees, “You’re too much trouble.”

                Ramiro could feel the force rush up his spine and into his head which shook so hard his vision was temporary blurred. The second he saw those plump thighs of hers raise he thought it was over, and he was very nearly right.

               Directly in front of him, so close that he could lean forward and kiss it was the polished leather tip of Chelsea’s red ballet flat; which was wrapped around a foot so large you could paint it yellow and call it a bus. The shoe was warm. Heat radiated out from the seams which were warped around the outline of each toe.

               He instinctively looked up, past the smooth patch of skin covered partially by a massive black and red buckle strap, past the gentle outward bulge of her calf and thighs, and past that voluptuous torso all the way up to her smirking face.  Did she miss?

               The black girl from across the room briefly glanced over, “H-He’s dead, right?” she said trying to put on a tough girl act.

               That’s exactly what Ramiro wanted to know, “Yeah, and he left a mess.”

               Her foot shifted past him, then turned sideways so that the top of her foot was horizontal. The other prisoners fled the scene, screaming as the gigantic shoe barreled forward like an angry elephant. Ramiro, who was still stunned, watched helplessly as she popped her heel out the back end of the shoe, and then shifted her leg backward. Scooping him inside her shoe, which righted itself just before he could make his escape.

               Once again he was trapped. Hovering above was a dry pale wall of grooved skin, covered in valley like creases and mountainous folds around the joints, below was a scratchy moist fabric insole surrounded by tall folded walls, and all around him was the slight smell of dirt and grass. Most people would have contemplated their own mortality, but again Ramiro was not a clever man, so instead he cursed and screamed in confusion as the world around him grew darker and smaller by the second.

               The closet doors burst open, and a wave of fresh cool air flooded into the hot stale closet. Gerome had expected everyone to start screaming again, but at this point they were so used to Maria’s presence it didn’t really phase them anymore.

               The floor beneath him shunted to his right, and the darkness of the drawers interior was replaced with the artificial light from Maria’s ceiling fan. Her face hovered over the shivering mass of wounded men and overworked doctors; it was beautiful, her naturally tan skin glimmered in the light, and her hair which was fashionably tousled flowed gently down across her face.

               For Gerome this was the second time he got a close look of her, and needless to say he was impressed. Although not perfect, Maria was a voluptuous Hispanic darling full and through; the type of girl he used to dream of getting back when he was 20 years younger. College girls were so different back then, or perhaps it was all in his head; having been confined for so long, his view on woman was somewhat idealized.

               What was of greater interest to him was not her beauty, but the disparity it represented. Every man and woman with him was as silent and still as a rock, their faces slathered in dirt and oil. They were disheveled, unshaven; some of them covered in dried blood. He almost wanted to be in darkness again, so he wouldn’t have to see anyone like this.

               “Howdy there.” Said the bearded doctor, “Can our fine lil establishment help ye with something?”

               She breathed in. Cute lips parting slightly to reveal a massive row of neat white teeth, “Yes actually. I’m looking for Gerome Tillman.”

               The doctor fidgeted nervously, “Now hold up now. He ain’t in any shape to be movin about, you hear?”

               “Chill doc, I’ll return him when I’m done. I just need him for leverage. But hey, if it’ll help motivate you I brought some supplies.”

               The doctor looked around, “Gerome. You better not be dead.”

               After all the injuries he’d suffered it seemed that more were likely to come. It didn’t faze him in the slightest, all he needed was one sufficient mistake, and he could escape again. From there, who the fuck knows, maybe he’d convince some little girl he’s was a fairy or some bullshit.

               “I’m over here doc.” He said  

               Maria’s face twitched slightly with disgust. The man known as Gerome was almost beyond recognition. The part of his hairline near his temple had been ripped off by the force of Cynthia’s shoe. His arm was dislocated from Chelsea, and both of his bruised legs shook from strain.

               She remembered the first time she saw him; he was the very first prisoner she ever touched. Back then, which was only a couple of days ago, he was healthy; possibly even happy. Now he was a miserable wreck; meanwhile it was like nothing had changed for her.

               She wrapped both hands carefully around his delicate body, and lifted him from the container. Poor thing was no bigger than her middle finger, just squeezing to hard would kill him. She didn’t have anywhere to put him, so without further delay she placed him gently in her pocket, picked up her things, and walked out of her room.

****

               Cynthia peeked out from the crack in her door. Maria was off on another morality quest, in other words, time for her to play. Today’s victim, Keiko, the so called ‘Samurai Queen’ of Alpha-Beta-Omega; whose foreign-born eccentricities, and lackluster English skills, had only served to isolate her following the slaughter in the basement.

               It also didn’t help that out of all the girls there that day; she was the only one who attempted to contact the police. In a way, Cynthia felt bad; she never intended for anyone innocent to get hurt.

               Walking down into the foyer, it seemed like the house was quite active today, with pledges coming and going; the perfect opportunity to have some cheap quick fun. And speak of the devil, directly to her right was Keiko, overseeing the whole operation with a stiff upper lip.

               Just one look told the whole story, “Hmmm, that’s not a happy face…”

               Immediately Keiko turned to face her with a glare, which is expected considering Cynthia had helped frame her for murder, “You have serious nerve to come face me. You should know I will never forgive you.”

               Cynthia smiled; it was at least a reaction, “OH MY GOD, that’s sooooo great… nobody cares Kiki.”

               Her scowl continued, oblivious to the sarcasm, “That’s not my name.”

               “Whatever. Point is… I feel like you and I should be friends, right?”

               “What? NO!”

               “Ugh. fine,” Scoffed Cynthia, circling around her like an imp, “Go perform your Shinto rituals until god, like, strikes me down or whatev’s. Or you can listen, and then maybe you and I can have some fun for once.”

               That last sentence stopped Keiko dead in her tracks; perhaps it was just false hope, but she was dying to get rid of this guilt, and although Cynthia was a bitch, something seems to have been working in her favour, “You have one chance.”

               The moment Keiko said those words, Cynthia’s tiny hands clasped around hers, “Good. I just need you to agree to one thing…”

****

               Gerome clawed desperately at the denim as Maria’s powerful thighs pushed and pulled against her tight designer jeans, slamming him repetitively into the rock hard surface of her muscular leg; loose pieces of lint and the stitching of the pocket scratching at his skin as he struggled to maintain a sense of orientation. The sheer force was undefeatable, despite a wall of thick fabric he could feel the muscles tightening and contracting; vibrating in perfect harmony with her body.

               She must have been moving through a crowd as all around him people spoke; their voices echoing, as if a hundred broadcasts were being held in the endless void just outside her pocket. Once again he found his entire existence revolving entirely around Maria, whom after ripping him from the peace of the medical drawer had become his entire world.

               He heard a car door open and moments later Maria’s index finger and thumb pinch him by the arm and slowly worked him out from the tight fabric. Just as he anticipated he was in Maria’s car, which appeared to him like an untidy alien world of discarded personal belongings overshadowed by the towering walls and upholstery.

               “I’m not going to lie; this is going to be hella unpleasant for you.” Said Maria in an unsympathetic tone, as if a decent imitation of concern was somehow not worth her time, “Fortunately, I don’t drive with my left foot.”

               Before he could speak, the long sloping surface of her left leg folded into her lap, a golden bronzed athletic foot, naturally tanned from days in the sun, suddenly slapping into the large flat chair beneath him. Its surface littered with small bits of dust that shined like glitter. On the floor was a pair of flip flops which he recognized from that day at the prison. He could even make out where that guard died, although what was left had long since faded into a warped opaque stain covered by an even larger imprint of Maria’s toes.

               The sheer inhumanity was almost enough to make him vomit, but like all hardened men Gerome snapped instead, “Just kill us already.”

               Her eyes widened with shock, then quickly faded back into apathy, having become immune to even the most horror-stricken pleas for mercy, “The fact that you’re asking is all the more reason for me to keep you alive.”

               “I-I had a death sentence! You know… you’d be doing the world a huge justice by just getting rid of us.”

               Even now, Cynthia’s twisted values kept chasing her; it was annoying, “Relax, we’ll be at Chelsea’s in a bit.”

               “But why do I have to go down there?”

               Normally he’d have a point, but with the military in full crackdown mode, body and car searches were not uncommon. The last thing she needed was some feely ace private getting a lucky grab at her ass, “Just stay quiet…” admittedly it was also because she couldn’t allow herself to go soft, even for a second. When you have a genocide slowly unfolding in your closet, it’s a lot easier to just not consider them human, “… and suck it up, or this ride’s gonna be hella long.”

               He tried to resist, all the way down to the floor, but Maria was just too strong; a single finger overpowered both his arms, and she was using all five to put him in his place. Which for him was the insole; somewhere she could easily retrieve or dispose of him.

               She planted him against the hard grimy surface, and replaced the gentleness of her hand with the raw force of her entire leg, “Stop squirming, you’re just going to get hurt.” She said, lowering her tanned foot until his body was completely immobilized; powerless to resist even the tiniest muscles in her elongated toes, which flattened and folded around him like hot dough.

****

               Keiko couldn’t believe what she was seeing, a literal wall of prisoners, hidden behind a wood panel in her dresser. The set-up was beyond intricate, with little tubes running up along the walls, delivering food, water, and waste to their respective areas; she even made a recreation area that folded out when you removed the panel. It raised the question, “How… and why did you do this?”

               “Umm, you do know I’m an engineer, right?”

               That wasn’t the point. It was the fact that none of them were talking. These tough looking men, many of whom embody the literal worst of human nature, were all silent in the face of Cynthia; a five foot tall valley girl who could pass for a high school student, “Even still…” replied Keiko desperately trying to lighten the awkward mood.

               “Even nothing, sweetie. I gotta keep em hidden away, and just barely alive.”

               From the looks of it, only the last part was true. There was no face left unscarred, no body unmarked, and no hope for any of them. Especially the ones nearest to the top, “W-What did the ones in the cages do?”

               Her lips curled into an expression of pure disgust, “Rapists.”

               So this was the real Cynthia, “You needed me for something. What was it?”

               In a split-second, her indiscriminate rage was replaced by a cheerful smile. It was hopelessly artificial, like a bad stage performance, “Wow, straight to business. You don’t fuck around kiki.”

               Cynthia reached up into her wall of inmates, and grabbed two screaming sobbing men; snatching them off the shelf like knick-knacks, “Well here’s the thing. You and I made an agreement, Buuuut… I don’t know if I can trust you.”

               “Not my problem.”

               She held out her hand, and presented the two men, “I want you to kill both of them.”

               “You’re insane!”

               Cynthia rolled her eyes, “Do you want to live your life guilt free or not?”

               It was as though a knife had stabbed Keiko through the heart. She couldn’t take the stress anymore; the guilt of knowing what she did was too much for her to bear. More than anything she wanted to turn herself in, but she was afraid, and honestly a bit selfish. Why should she have to suffer because of Maria’s mistake, for a group of people nobody gives a damn about?

               “I-I’ll do it! For myself and for all of us… even you.”

               Instead of a reply, Cynthia turned her palm over and handed Keiko the two wriggling men, who rolled softly down her fingers. The weight of their bodies was almost nothing, but the responsibility, the idea of two lives in her hand, was the heaviest burden Keiko had ever held.

****

               People say the expression “Between a rock and a hard place” when they have two equally unpleasant choices to face. In that moment, Gerome had decided to hate those people, because at least they got a choice. Until you’ve spent an hour trapped under a college girl’s foot, in tropical weather, you don’t know the definition of suffering.

               Granted it wasn’t summer, but Maria liked to keep her car warm, and unfortunately just clean enough for her to use; which meant that during the few times that gigantic mass of soft wrinkled skin wasn’t pressing him into a dusty rubber insole, he was forced to stare out at a trash ridden wasteland being terrorized by her other foot. The pressure was incredible, he could barely breathe, and whenever she allowed him the air was tepid and salty. His already injured face hurt the most, held down by a plump slab of muscle the size of his torso, he could almost feel his skull yielding beneath her. He felt humiliated, but above all that, Gerome was afraid for his life; in this position, Maria could flex her ankle, and splatter him.

               Just like the guard, whose faded stain was right next to him, “Alright, I’m about five-ish minutes away, how you doing down there?” said Maria, in a blank tone.

               He couldn’t speak, not enough air. The only thing he could do was struggle, with all his might, to resist the enormous pressure balanced on top of him, “Ok you’re alive, that’s good! Just… try hold out a little bit longer, ok.”

               And to think, somewhere in Mississippi he had a daughter around her age.

               “So… I was pretty hungry and got some fast food. You want some?”

               Her indomitable ped retreated into the sky; it’s slightly sticky surface peeling off his skin, leaving behind large swirly red marks, roughly in the shape of her footprint.

               “You little brat,” he said, wiping dust off of his torn shirt, “I have half the mind too…”

               Before Gerome could finish, Maria tapped the brakes; sending him sprawling to his hands and knees, then off the platform of her sandal. His still injured head smacked the ground, a jolt of pain shooting through his body.

               “So am I to interpret that as a no?”

               It felt like someone had stabbed him in the brain with a knife, “Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.” He cried, trying to rub the pain from his forehead.

               She rolled her eyes, “You know Gerome, I honestly feel bad for you sometimes. After all you had to go through...”

               He managed to stand on both legs, but the world was spinning, “Then why are you being such a goddamn bitch. Please, educate me.”

               “I really don’t know.” She replied, like it was easiest thing in the world to say, “I mean, fuckin-A I used to cry for you guys! Now, I hear the daily death toll, and hardly get sad at all.”

                For a brief moment Maria stared down at him longingly, as though she expected him to have the answers. Truthfully he did, it was quite obvious what was happening to her; she was becoming more like him, one heart-wrenching event at a time.

               Soon she won’t even be able to recognize herself, “I don’t really understand, but I’m a lot older than you. So if you need someone to talk too…” when that happens, it’ll pay to be on her good side, “I’m never more than a few steps away.”

               She smirked, probably misinterpreting it as flirtation, “For now, just promise me you’ll be good.”

               “Only if I don’t have to ride in your shoe.”