Celia smiled as she looked at the two dozen or so refugees who stood at attention in the loading zone of the mall. They were a disheveled mix of people from all backgrounds, and in front of the group five tinies huddled together, three women and two men. Once the cheerleaders had shepherded their bus inside she’d ordered them off of it, eager to make a good first impression.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Celia began, strutting in front of the group with her best pep rally smile, “you’ve all made the perilous journey here to try out for the West State University Cheerleaders!”

One of the men blinked, “What are you talking about? Your radio message said you had food and shelter!”

“And we do!” Celia said, gesturing around, “but like any good pyramid we need to sort out who’s on top… and who’s on bottom.”

One of the men growled angrily, sauntering forward with a pistol in hand, “Listen here you little bitch-“

He was cut off by the sound of two dozen cheerleaders cocking their weapons behind their captain. Celia didn’t even have to turn around to see her squad sticking up for her, instead she just gave the man a smug smirk as he nervously put his hands up. She pointed down, the unspoken command clear to the man, who began lowering his pistol to the floor.

“I think it’s very important that everyone understands how we do things here,” Celia said, crossing her arms, “My mall, my guns, my squad, my rules. Anyone that has a problem with that can go right back out there with the zombies.” She let it sink in a moment, the clapped her hands, startling the crowd as her peppy smile returned, “Okay! So we’ll be evaluating you for spirit, teamwork, and marksmanship, extra points if you can come up with a good rhyming cheer! And don’t worry boys, we’re very progressive, we won’t be discriminating by gender!”

The crowd of survivors muttered amongst themselves, but as Celia gestured for the cheerleaders to lead them away, they obeyed. 

Celia giggled as she felt the passenger wedged in the crack of her panties squirm feebly. With a grin she walked over to the small group of tinies, standing over them in a way that she knew would let them look up her skirt.

God, it’s so fun to tease tinies, she thought, watching them blush and try not to look.

“As for all of you,” she said, a smirk coming over her features, “we have a wonderful nail salon where you’ll all be working.”

“Excuse me,” one of the tinies said, stepping forward, “I think you should rethink that…”

Ohmygosh he’s wearing a little police uniform! Celia giggled. Tinies had their own police of course, this one in particular was a serious looking black man with close cut hair, and a long tube across his back that gave her pause. One of those weapons they give the tiny cops, she thought. Celia hadn’t ever run afoul of the police at any size, but tiny cops had a number of options to level the playing field if a giant got too rowdy on their side of town. From the looks of the tube it was some kind of pressurized speargun, I’ll bet he knows how to use it too.  

“My name’s Rhames,” he said coolly, “and I’m not going to be working at any nail salon.”

“Well, aren’t you brave,” Celia giggled. The other tinies backed away from the officer, nervously looking at one another. She lifted her foot casually, letting it hover over him, “You know I’ve stepped on my share of zombie tinies, I kind of like the little crunch sound they make when they go flat…”

The tiny police officer just stared up at her, unblinking, “You’re not the first giant to threaten me,” he said neutrally, “If you really feel like crushing me, go for it, and we’ll see where the chips fall.” He tapped the tube on his back and grinned, “This thing’s brought more than a few deadheads your own size down…”

Celia gave him a wry smirk, but put her foot back down, squaring off in front of him so her legs stretched over him like marble columns.

“What’s your story officer Rhames?” she asked, finding herself intrigued.

“We were holed up in the police station on the tiny side of town,” Rhames growled, pointing to the other tinies, “we were doing okay until one of the giant-sized zombies got wind of us, about five of them tore our fortifications down and we went on the run. Luckily we were able to hook up with the big sized group you saw us come in with.”

“You don’t scare easily,” Celia said with a wicked grin.

“Regardless of our appearances, we need to insist others treat us the way we deserve,” Rhames said in a low voice, “I’m guessing that a girl who looks like you and yet is somehow running this operation understands the concept very well.”

“You’re damn fucking right,” Celia chuckled, “Fine, tiny cop? You’re not on salon duty, I guess you should check out some of the tiny sized maintenance areas and make sure they’re… uninhabited. Up until now we’ve only had one tiny in our group, and he’s… not the sort to send on that kind of job.”

“And where is he?” Rhames asked.

Celia smirked and gently padded her behind, “He’s somewhere safe.”

From the dark expression on the tiny cop’s face, he knew exactly where Peter was currently wedged, but if he had any other thoughts on it, he kept them to himself.

I’ll have to keep tabs on that one, she mused, my own killer tiny could prove useful if I can get him in line…

She turned to the other four tinies and waved one of the other cheerleaders forward, “Gabby will take you four to your new lodgings.” At her command one of the cheerleaders strutted forward with a basket, “Monroeville Mall Nail Salon” was stitched on the side, and she gently lowered it down for the new tiny staff members to climb in. She turned towards Rhames, “As for you-“

“I’ll find my own way around,” he growled. He turned and started walking towards a wall, where a demarcated “Tiny Path” was softly reflecting the overhead lights.

“God damn,” Gabby chuckled, lifting the basket of other tinies, “I thought you were going to stomp his ass for sure!”

“Remember what we used to tell the boys on the football team,” Celia said with a smirk, “it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” She clapped her hands, “Okay girls! Let’s go get those tryouts started!”

…

“I’m just saying, I think that if someone kidnapped the president’s daughter they’d send more than one guy,” John shouted, his voice carrying down the interior of the forklift’s tiny-sized maintenance compartment.

“Leon was a special agent,” Barb replied crossly, “and he’d already survived a zombie outbreak!”

“ We both survived a zombie outbreak,” John retorted, so far anyway, “and I don’t feel like special agent material!”

“Oh please,” Barb said, leaning on the equipment while her tiny partner worked on the insides, “we’re kicking all kinds of ass!” As if to confirm what she’d said, John’s efforts at hotwiring the forklift bore fruit, and the engine roared to life. John let it run for a moment before disconnecting it, walking back out of the tiny sized maintenance corridor. “Well look at you!” Barb grinned, “you can fix anything, can’t you?”

“Most tiny access stuff is pretty universal,” he said bashfully.

“No, if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in my apartment, slowly running out of Doritos,” Barb said, “just waiting to die…” She chuckled a moment, “Honestly? That’s what I was doing before the end of the world.”

John was quiet a moment, trying to decide whether to ask a question that had been bothering him since he’d met his giant protector. Finally he decided to just go for it.

“Barb,” he asked hesitantly, “You’re brave, you’re capable, you seem smart, how did-“

“How did I become a loser?” she asked with a sad smile.

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that-“ he started.

“Put it like that, that’s how it is,” she said with a shrug, “I’m a bit of a spaz, I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up… High school was hell, and I just wanted to get through it, but then when I did I didn’t have any plans for what to do next.” She smirked and looked around the warehouse, “the really messed up thing is, I think the apocalypse might be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’d have been your friend,” John said, smiling up at her, “if I ever got over to the giant side of town that is…”

“You’d never have met me, I didn’t leave the apartment much,” Barb shrugged, “and besides, what would a tiny be doing on our side of town anyways?”

“Well aside from fixing your electronics,” he jokingly tapped the towering forklift, “plenty of tiny guys used to joke about coming over here to try to ah…” he cleared his throat, “Never mind.”

“What?” Barb asked, a grin spreading over her face, “come on, tell me!”

“ Some tiny guys would go and try to hook up with giant girls,” he admitted.

“But not you though?” Barb teased.

“I was curious,” he admitted, “but also a little… scared .”

Barb snorted, “Please, I think you’ve been dreaming about us big girls for a long time! It sure didn’t take much convincing back at my apartment.”

John grinned, “I guess you’re not the only one who was pushed out of their shell a bit by the end of the world…” He chuckled and looked up at her, “So, you ready to take on a million zombies with a forklift?”

“In a minute,” Barb said, her voice going low. She knelt down, slowly unlacing her boot while John watched, confused. She slowly pulled her sock off next, making eye contact with him and grinning as she hooked her thumb around the white cotton, drawing it along her skin and exposing her bare foot like a stripper slowly unlacing a bra.

John gulped, “B-Barb?”

“I need a little confidence boost,” she giggled, “on the giant side of town we used to say getting kissed by a tiny was good luck.”

“Well uh, just pick me up and-“

“No,” Barb said, biting her lip to keep from giggling, “I want you to come over and kiss me right here .” She pointed down to her big toe, tapping the nail expectantly.

“Yeah,” John said, stumbling forward, slightly dazed, “okay…”

“I knew it!” Barb said excitedly, “you’re a footboy!”

He blinked, “W-Well that’s just sort of a stereotype about tinies who like giants and-“

“Oh right, fine, I’ll just put my sock back on-“ Barb teased, reaching for it.

“Wait!” John said, “fine, yes, I like feet, are you happy?”

“I would be,” Barb said, a glint in her eye, “but I’m still waiting for that kiss…”

John nodded, walking across the concrete warehouse floor towards Barb’s waiting foot. He could smell the slightly vinegary aroma as he got close, the result of running around in her heavy combat boots. As always her sweat quickly sent his brain fuzzy, and by the time he reached her toe he had a powerful erection straining the front of his pants.

Barb giggled, even at her size she could see the evidence of his arousal, “Go on, I need the luck John!”

He nodded, licking his lips and then quickly bending down to plant a kiss on Barb’s toe. She couldn’t help but smirk. Who knew it would be so fun to mess with a tiny guy? A wicked idea crossed her mind, and she fought a laugh as she spoke next.

“Okay, now take your pants off,” she ordered.

His eyes went wide, “Do we really have time for-“

“The pants, drop them,” she said, her voice going stern. John practically groaned as he reached for his belt, obviously something about the new commanding attitude appealed to him, and Barb watched excitedly as his erection sprang free. She gently poked her foot forward, tapping his chest with the tip of her big toe, then more forcefully knocking him over, planting his back against the smooth concrete floor.

“B-BARB!” he gasped as she gently ran the pad of her toe over his crotch.

“Sorry John,” she said, grinning and looming her moon sized face over him, “but I need a lot of luck.”

Her foot rolled forward, sliding up and pinning his body while his erection slid into the gap between her big and index toes. She squeezed them together, gripping him with the soft flesh and slowly sliding up and down. The slight grime of her sweat lubricated her work, and as the intoxicating and hypnotizing scent wafted up to his nose John’s body spasmed with pleasure.

God, look at him! Barb thought, leaning over slightly to get a better view of her work. She couldn’t help but smirk at some of the faces her tiny victim was making as her toes slowly stroked him off, now this certainly does a girl’s ego good. Barb had never had a lot of success with men, tiny or otherwise, and having a cute one under her feet like this, writhing in pleasure from the smallest motion of her toes… it felt nice.

She’s a goddess, John thought in a daze. The pheromones in her sweat, combined with the intense sensations of her toes against his manhood, were rapidly driving conscious thoughts out of his head, leaving him with only adoring thoughts about Barb’s beauty. He let a goofy smile come over his face and looked up into hers, groaning as another wave of pleasure rocked his body.

“Okay John,” Barb said, her firm and commanding voice returning, “I’m going to count down from three, and you’re going to cum on my foot, she squeezed him, causing a gasp, “and when you cum you’re going to shout my name, got it?”

“G-Got it!” he wheezed, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back.

“Three,” she began, her eyes lighting up as she saw John’s face contort. She shifted her toes against him a little quicker, causing him to grit his teeth and clench his little fists as he fought not to finish early. “Two,” she said smugly, I wonder if he’s going to make it? From the way the tiny man’s body thrashed in response to the smallest of her own movements, he was summoning all of his willpower for her. In a way, it was flattering.

S-She’s too much, John thought pathetically as he inhaled, desperately trying to keep himself together. Every breath was an assault on his senses, the powerful pungent aroma of Barb’s feet smashing into the walls he was trying to build, all while her toes steadily worked him closer to an orgasm that she was about to finally let him have. Come on! He thought, looking at her pleadingly. She just grinned back at him, the smugness in that smile practically oozing down to the pathetic tiny pinned under her foot.

“One,” Barb said simply.

“BARB!” John shouted, bucking his hips as he sprayed his seed across the bottom of her toes. She hummed happily to herself, watching him squirm in the final throes of an orgasm she’d brought him to with the barest motions of her foot.

“You know I never understood why tiny chasers spoke so highly of this,” Barb giggled, “but now… seeing you like this, I think I get it.”

“Same,” John said dreamily.

Barb slowly pulled her foot off of him, standing up to her full height and letting him take her in. She put her hands on her hips, winking down at him as she let him enjoy the post orgasm glow. Finally she reached for her sock, pulling it back on in one smooth motion. She glanced at John, who was struggling to pull his pants back up, and smiled.

“So,” she sighed, “ready for another round of do or die?”

As if in response the pounding of rotting fists on the outside walls of the warehouse renewed. The zombies had quieted somewhat during the night, only occasionally bumping into the steel sides of the warehouse, but evidently their talking and activity had renewed the undead’s interest in finding a way inside.

“Let’s roll,” John said grimly, fastening his pants and climbing towards the forklift’s maintenance hatch. “Get anything else you want to take from here and I’ll start this thing up again. Remember, once we open those loading bay doors, there won’t be any going back.”

“Got it,” Barb said, patting the handle of the small pistol. They’d talked over the plan a few times. The forklift wasn’t a vehicle built for speed, and the .25 ACP revolver had little, if any, stopping power against the full sized zombies; they'd have little choice but to keep on the move.

Barb took a moment to run back to the security office, opening the last of the mountain dew in the dead fridge and taking a few quick gulps. The rush of caffeine and sugar gave her courage, and with a final determined growl she pulled her gas mask over her face, tossing the empty green bottle away defiantly.

She ran back into the main warehouse, “READY!” she shouted, and in response she heard the forklift engine roar to life, started by John connecting the two wires inside the maintenance hatch. She slammed her hand into the large “OPEN” button next to the loading bay doors, and sprinted back to the forklift, leaping onto it like it was a war mount.

The moans of the dead echoed in as the diesel fumes filled the air, lingering in her nose even behind her gas mask. The first of the shambling corpses noticed the new entrance, and she heard the shuffling of footsteps and hungry growls as the horde began to make it’s way towards her. She pressed down on the forklift’s accelerator, bringing it to its maximum speed. One of the corpses gripped the side as she sped by, hanging on defiantly and causing the engine to whine under the increased weight.

“Bye bye!” Barb said, drawing and cocking the small revolver in one smooth motion. There was a sharp *clack* and the zombie jolted back, falling off the forklift and causing several of their pursuers to trip over the twice dead corpse.

John leaned out the side of the maintenance hat, smiling and enjoying the wind in his hair. The forklift couldn’t have been going more than twenty miles an hour, but to the dead, or a tiny for that matter, it was blazingly fast. He couldn’t help but whoop in triumph as the chainlink fence snapped open as Barb rammed it, rattling behind them.

“REEEENNNTTTT” a hoarse voice rasped.

Barb did a double take, the corpse of Mrs. Smythe, her old landlady, was dead in front of her. The zombie’s hand was outstretched and that familiar sneer was on her face. Barb didn’t have time to think about the sudden sign of intelligence, instead just barely wheeling around the undead landlord and causing the left side of the forklift to lift just barely off the ground.

“WATCH IT!” John shouted, “these things tip on a dime!”

“S-Sorry,” Barb stammered, righting the vehicle as they sped down the street. She glanced back again, frowning behind her mask as she saw the zombie’s mouth twitching again, it almost looks like she’s mouthing… rent? She shook her head, They’re dead, they’re all messed up… Still, it haunted her.

“I see the mall!” John shouted, pointing excitedly.

Sure enough the building loomed large ahead of them, and there were even armed figures moving on the roof! Barb felt hope swell in her chest as she pressed down on the accelerator, but as the sound of the forklift echoed towards the fortified shopping center the horde of ghouls surrounding it began to turn towards them. Barb gulped, glancing back at the wave of the creatures that was even now following them from the warehouse, leaving them stuck between two armies of the dead.

Barb’s heart skipped a beat, and she pulled her handgun again, If someone from inside the mall doesn’t give us a hand, we’re fucked!

…

“The new cheerleaders are coming along nicely,” Celia said, walking the rooftop of the mall with her rifle across her back.

“Yeah, it’s too bad that not all of them were cut out for it,” Cassandra said, walking behind her.

“Mall workers,” Celia said dismissively, “every cheer pyramid needs a bottom after all.”

Peter glared at Cassandra, a mixed judging and pleading look as he dangled between Celia’s breasts, attached to a silver necklace she’d pilfered from the mall’s jewelry store. Cassie saw him, and sighed, shifting uncomfortably and looking around.

We’re alone, she decided, now would be the best time to… talk.

“Celia,” Cassandra began, “I’ve been thinking, maybe since we’re settled in we could… let Peter go back to…” she gulped, “normal?”

Celia turned to face her, an odd expression on her face, “Cass, this is normal for him,” she unconsciously reached up and touched the tiny man, running her fingers over his body like he was a precious gem. “He loves being my little pet, don’t you Petey?”

“Y-Yes Cheer Captain Rhodes,” he stammered.

“H-He doesn’t really feel like that,” Cassandra said, “Come on Celia, it was fun for a while but he’s our tutor, you know?”

“He was Cassandra,” Celia growled, her voice going low, “but what he is now?” She giggled, the pep rally smile returning, “We can do whatever we want, everyone’s going to be whatever we want!”

“But-“

“Look how far we’ve gotten,” Celia said, gesturing at the mob of dead below them, “We’re probably the last people left alive in this city! Call it fate, or God, or the universe, but that’s a sign! ”

Cassandra didn’t reply, just looking nervously between Peter and Celia. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, and with every passing second the frown on Celia’s face deepened.

“Cassie,” Celia growled finally, “I get that this is a lot of change, but I need your head on straight, so get with the program or-“

They were interrupted by the sound of gunshots outside the mall. Both of them ran to the edge of the mall. Celia pulled her rifle free, looking down at a forklift in the mall’s parking lot. Hordes of undead were starting to converge on it. The occupant, a slightly chubby girl in gas mask, was waving frantically.

“Holy shit,” Celia laughed, looking through the scope, “I know that girl!”

“You do?” Cassandra asked, looking through her own rifle scope. As she watched the girl pulled her gas mask free, waving it over her head in a panic before cocking her small pistol and shooting one of the zombies that was approaching her. On her shoulder a Tiny was balanced, gripping her sweat soaked hair for balance.

“That’s Big Butt Barb,” Celia chuckled, “a total loser I went to high school with.”

“I’ll get some girls together and go out for her,” Cassandra said.

“Don’t bother,” Celia said, dismissively, “she’s not the kind of person we need in the new world.”

Cassandra lowered her rifle scope, looking at Celia, wide eyed. She looked down to Peter, still dangling between the head cheerleader’s breasts like a trophy. They exchanged a look and this time she couldn’t break his gaze.

“Celia, we can’t just leave her out there…”

Celia just huffed, “Yeah we can, besides she’s not going to last another two minutes anyway.”

Cassandra felt her heart sink. The girl below fired off another two shots from the tiny handgun, her distant cries for help just barely reaching them. Cassandra bit her lip, then raised her rifle.

*CRACK*

One of the zombies nearest to Barb snapped backwards, tumbling to the concrete. The girl looked up at Cassandra and smiled.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Celia snarled.

Cassandra didn’t answer, instead turning to run for the roof access stairs.

From his spot dangling on Celia’s necklace Peter smirked, Glad she finally remembered she was human.

…

“Someone up there saw us!” Barb shouted excitedly.

“Great,” John muttered, looking around at the carpet of tiny sized zombies closing in on them, “I uh… don’t suppose you’ve got any weapons for the little ones?”

“I’m doing my best keeping the big ones back,” Barb replied, struggling to reload the tiny revolver. “SHIT!” she fumbled, and several bullets fell to the ground around her. “R-Revolver Ocelot is full of shit!” Barb stammered, panic starting to eat at her as her shaking fingers jammed new rounds into the revolver, “reloading during combat isn’t fun at all!”

*POPPOPOP*

The sound of automatic gunfire rang out, and zombies fell in front of them as the shooter cleared a path. A golf cart with a badge on the front and “MALL SECURITY” written across it raced towards them, the electric motor whining as it climbed the felled corpses.

“This way!” the driver, a black girl in a cheerleading outfit, shouted at them.

As Barb leaped off the forklift the girl produced a can of hairspray and a lighter, leaning over and sending jets of flame down at the dozens of tiny sized zombies that tried to clamber onto her vehicle.

“Thanks for the save!” Barb shouted excitedly, causing the golf cart to rock as she leapt into it. “I’m Barb, this guy’s John!”

“Pleased to meet you!” he shouted, hugging Barb’s hair for dear life.

“Name’s Cassandra, Cassie to friends,” the cheerleader shouted, putting the golf cart in reverse. She scowled as the sea of zombies had closed the opening she’d managed, but Barb leaned over the back seat, cocking the small gun and squeezing off three skilled shots, forcing the way clear again. Still, it was a close fit, and rotten hands brushed their shoulders as they sped back toward the mall.

Suddenly one of those greyed mottled hands found purchase, and the golf cart lurched as the small electric motor fought the thing’s grip. Others joined, and Cassie’s heart raced as she pressed her foot into the accelerator.

“SHIT!” She fumbled for her rifle, working the bolt as Barb fired her own weapon into the crowd.

“I’ve got you idiots,” Celia’s voice called. There was another burst of gunfire, and like hewn grass the dead fell around them. They turned to see the head cheerleader, along with a dozen of her girls in their cheer uniforms, and all with rifles leveled. Controlled bursts of fire echoed out as the cheerleaders cut the horde back, giving Cassie room to maneuver the golf cart back to the mall’s back loading doors. The cheerleaders tightened their formation, falling back as Celia barked orders. Finally, they all backed behind the lowering garage doors together, leaving the army of the dead outside.

They were all silent for a moment as the horde pounded feebly at the lowered steel door, snarls and howls of rage echoed outside, finally subsiding as the zombies realized their meal had truly escaped.

“Celia,” Cassandra began, “I had to-“

“It’s Cheer Captain Rhodes while we are in uniform,” Celia said darkly, glowering at the other cheerleader for a moment, “I’ll speak to you later…” She turned to Barb and John and smiled, “Barb… long time no see.”

“Y-Yeah,” Barb said, shivering slightly, “Long time no see.” You don’t need to be afraid of her now, Barb scolded herself, she was a bully, but you’re not in high school anymore.

Celia slung her rifle over her shoulder, casually flipping her long blond hair behind her head, “Welcome to the Monroeville Mall Barb,” she said, “I’m honestly surprised that a fatass like you made it, wasn’t rule number one of the zombie apocalypse supposed to be cardio?” The cheerleaders behind her giggled, and Barb’s face burned red.

“Hey, what the hell is your problem!?” John shouted, calling Celia’s attention to him.

“Oh, and you’ve got a tiny too!?” Celia giggled and held up her necklace, giving them both a view of Peter, dangling from it, “What do you think Barb? Can your boytoy fit on one of these?”

“Just take us to whoever is in charge,” John shouted, “enough of this high school crap!”

“You’re looking at the person in charge,” Celia said, grinning.

John and Barb exchanged glances, Out of the frying pan, into the fire, he thought miserably.