"Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge"

Scott Chelgren
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota

It was mid-September, in what should have been my
Senior year...again. Well, I went to the University of
Minnesota, what do you expect? Graduating in only five years is
pretty darn good. Better than most folks do, anyhow.

Of course, I never had been really interested in
graduation. I was more interested in college as a vocation.
You see, I had this charming, if naive notion that college was
somehow better than the "real world." After all, in the real
world, you never get to blow off an 8 A.M. meeting. You don't
spend most of your time studying non-practical subjects for your
own intellectual enlightenment. And you don't go out, get
drunk, and trade lewd stories while leering at women (unless, of
course, you end up in sales.)

Yes, college was a grand time, hampered only by the
fact that, eventually, I would have to leave it.

But I left it for something better.

On a bright spring day, about three months before
that mid-September day, I had been studying, and watching a
pretty young PSEO student in Coffman Union, and generally
grumbling about my life, when it all changed. I found my life
dependent on that pretty PSEO student.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I found fulfillment I never knew I could in her, a
peace, a tranquility, a je ne sais qua that I never suspected I
needed. And when we were separated, the absence made my heart
grow ever fonder.

I also found a way around my earlier worry. She was
going off to college now--a year early, no less. And I was
going with her. She insisted.

Well, really, I had to.

You see, it's hard to strike out on your own when
you're one inch tall.

I'm not going to go into the whole story of how we
met, misadventures we've had, and the like. That's all down on
record somewhere--I wrote a narrative for Claire, and I know
she's been busying herself with pulling all the details together
on some other great stories. Ask her, I'm sure she's got the
stuff somewhere. This is the story of my return to college,
with Sarah Kensington, the love of my life, the light of my
world.

But really, it's her story.

* * *

Sarah Kensington
West Bank, University of Minnesota

The poor guy does rattle on, doesn't he? I've seen
his narratives--yap, yap, yap! I love the boy, but come on
Scott, brevity is the soul of wit!

Anyhow, it was mid-September. I was about to leave
for my first year as a full-time student at the U of M. You've
gotta love the PSEO system--they let you come down to campus,
get a dorm room, take a full schedule...exactly like being in
college. Oh, sure, technically I'm still a student at Apple
Valley High School, but so what? For all intents and purposes,
I'm a freshman at the U--on the state's dime, no less.

Of course, while I had looked forward to this change
for over a year, I was not unaware of the effects this would
have on my relationship with Scott. While Scott tends to
overpraise everything about me, I understand where he's coming
from--I love him deeply and truly, and I plan to be with him
forever. But caring for him without my family knowing is hard
enough (although not quite as hard since Karen started running
interference--but that's another story). Caring for him without
my roommate finding out--well, I didn't even see how it was
possible.

I suppose I could've left him at home--Karen would
do anything for him, which is only right, I suppose, after she
almost...no, no, that's the past, and I'm trying to forgive.
Slowly. Very slowly.

But Karen was only fifteen at the time--and while I
love my sister, I still see how she looks at Scott sometimes.
She sees the same things in him that I do--and I fear that
maybe, he sees something in her. Probably I'm paranoid. But
I'm not stupid. Scott was coming with me.

So on the first day I could move in, I made sure to
get up to campus bright and early. I was lucky--I luckily got
a room in Middlebrook Hall, on the twelfth floor. A lot calmer
than the dorms in the Superblock, and certainly a lot more
pleasant than getting crammed into a study lounge while the
school waited for students to drop.

I wasn't totally unprepared. Scott actually gave me
some good pointers. I forget sometimes that he was a student
here--that he had a life before he met me. But he told me to
forget about even trying to use the elevators, not to move
anything big in until school actually started, and to let my
roommate take whichever bed she wanted--start off on the right
foot.

My parents, of course, had their own suggestions as
well. But I ignored them. Mostly, anyhow.

So I moved in early, and was there six hours before
my roommate even showed. By the time she got there, I had my
computer set up, my TV situated, some posters hung, and Scott
stashed safely in my underwear drawer, in a little box which I
had furnished for him.

After my parents left, I finally was able to talk to
him in private.

"So, how's it going?" I said, holding him in my hand.

"Not bad, kid," he said, half-grinning. "I must
say, these dorm rooms are bigger than I remember."

Good delivery--he'd probably been saving that line
for days. "Ha. Got time for some hot action?"

"You sure? Your roomie hasn't shown yet--you don't
want her first impression of you to be a girl sticking a
one-inch-tall guy up her--"

"Thank you, I get the picture. But--well, I must
say, little man, that I'm in the mood for it. And I don't know
that you've ever not been."

"Well, I'm a guy. 'Nuff said. Hmmm....well, how'd
you like do do this in the conventional fashion?"

I smiled. "Wow--been a long time since we did that.
August, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, we both like this whole gee-tee-ess
thing you've got going too much to do this often--but this is
probably the most discrete." He smiled. "And I do so enjoy
being taller than you once in a while."

"Well, shorty, don't get used to it. But...hurry,
would ya? I won't be in the mood forever."

* * *

Anonymous
Cadre Headquarters
Anaheim, California

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the Cadre was
anxious.

They were the ones who had kept the secret. The
ones who had found a way to ensure that the public was not
exposed to the Giantess question.

They had made some mistakes in the past few years,
yes. Attack of the 50 foot Woman should never have gotten on
HBO. Attack of the 60 foot Centerfold should never have been
made at all. And the fact that Roger Corman was still alive was
an embarrasment to them.

But there had been successes to rival the heyday of
Land of the Giants. They had convinced Tim Burton to stop his
movie on giant go-go dancers. They had eliminated all two-shots
of giant women from the new "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" show.
They had squashed an idea about tiny aliens--clearly a ruse.
And they had cast John Goodman in the new Borrowers flick.

And still, they worried.

The source of their worries was Claire Danes.

She had the connections to get a movie made--and she
wanted to make a movie about shrinking. But even worse, she
wanted to tell the movie about a shrunken man. A _real_
shrunken man.

"How did it get to this point?" asked Inspector
Kopec, clearly vexed.

"I told you we should never have let D.X. out of our
sight," cried Dr. Cyclops.

The meeting continued, and the invective grew
stronger.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

It's not that difficult, really. I know it, sort of
like you know how to catch a ball, or touch-type. If you start
to think about it, it's hard, almost impossible to know what
you're doing. But if you just let go--there it is, on the
border of your conscousness. Now, make the shift!

I'm limited in my choices. I can only go up twelve
times over my base, which is 1/2 inch tall. And I can only
bring Sarah down to 1/12th of her base, which is five feet,
eight inches tall. I know this by observation, not by a rule
book. (I wonder--if I do this, will I get stronger at it? Just
wondering.)

Anyhow. When all is said and done, if I max out
on both ends, I end up an even six inches tall, and she ends up
five and two-thirds. A neat trick that we don't use much,
because, well, we both like our relationship the way it is, and
being at a normal height ratio skews the relationship.

Or something like that. But variety is the spice of
life, so we tried it.

"Well," I said, when I had completed my change.
"Where too, miss?"

She smiled up at me, a beauty at any scale, and
said, "Well, big man, I--"

Suddenly, we heard the sound of the key in the lock.
"Damn! It's Kelly! Quick--into the closet!"

We reached the closet just as the door opened, and
Sarah's roommate walked in. "OKAY, MOM, COME ON," she said, as
she walked into the room, sending tremors with every step.

She was tall, I think, though it's kind of difficult
for me to judge, and not very curvy, with curly red hair. She
was wearing a pleated skirt and a t-shirt, and I would have to
have been blind not to notice that she was very attractive.

I could feel Sarah's eyes on me. So I turned and
kissed her. "Not the way you probably planned this, eh, love?"
She kicked me in the shin--lightly--and said, simply, "No.
But...while we're here--you don't think she'll look all the way
back by my sandals there, do you?"

Making love on the deck of an adidas sandal has a
certain allure. And after a while, I didn't even hear the
racket Kelly was making.

* * *

Anonymous

The argument was heating up.

"If this gets out--why, if people start actually
thinking about giant women--or shrunken men--as a possibility--"
stated Michael Eisner, angrily. He had taken enough heat over
that one scene in "Honey, I Blew Up the Kid" to last him eight
lifetimes, and he was by God not going to let anyone else off
the hook this time.

Steve Spielberg studied his notes, quietly. He
seemed lost in thought, trying to figure a way out of this
mess--but no ideas sprung to mind. Don Bluth's seat was
conspicuously empty, a reminder of the way he'd walked out in a
huff weeks before--over an argument much like this.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Let's not panic,"
said the Chairman calmly. "We've been working for fifty years
to keep a lid on the whole GTS thing. On some fronts, we're
fighting an uphill battle--we've already lost the battle on the
internet, despite our takeout of alt.sex.fetish.giants, and our
continued work with GeoCities and Paradise-Net. They're too
fast for us.

"But thankfully, mainstream America is not yet
hooked to the net. For the vast majority of people who would be
interested in this...subject matter, Television and the Movies
are the only media they're aware of. We can control this."

"Mr. Chairman, may I make a statement?" I asked.

"Very well. Anonymous has the floor."

"With all due respect, sir, I think the time may be
right for us to end our opposition to GTS."

I was met by a hail of boos, but I persisted. "Just
because the Athena League has been looking for ways to utilize
GTS to their advantage doesn't mean they'll take over the world.
Sure, they may find a way to alter the male/female paradigm
but--"

"Mr. Chairman, point of parliamentary inquiry!" It
was John Jackson. "This is what we're fighting against. We
must preserve the old order! If women are stronger than men,
bigger than men, more powerful than men, then we are doomed! I
know Anonymous comes to us on the Chair's recommendation, but
can we really let him call for an end to our fifty-year mandate?"

* * *

Sarah Kensington

It was a good way to christen my room--and my
sandals. We went back out, and saw Kelly and her mom debating
where to put a chair, and the door standing open. "Well, here
goes nothing," I said, carrying Scott (already reduced to half
an inch tall) out into the corridor.

It was controlled chaos, and I was clearly not safe
being in cross traffic at my height. So I charged across the
hall into the bathroom, and Scott quickly worked his magic.

I looked into my right hand, and saw my little lover
there, the size of a rice grain. Amazing, I thought, that this
was even possible.

I blew a kiss carefully at Scott, and placed him
down my shirt, on my left breast. He was safe there--he knew
his way around my breast. I ran my fingers through my hair, and
walked across the hall to meet my roommate.

"Kelly?" I asked, poking my head in the room. I put
on my best stupid look--similar to the one on my school I.D.

"You must be Sarah! Nice to meet you! I see you're
already moved in." She seemed friendly enough. That was a good
sign.

"Yeah, got here this morning. But if you'd rather
have that side, I can--"

"No, no, I wanted this side anyhow. Um--I'd like
you to meet my mom, Karen Johnson."

The conversation continued in that vein for a
while--I won't bore you with details. It was two girls
yammering on about where the T.V. should go, what classes they
were taking, and so on. I even found the opportunity to quietly
sneak Scott back into my underwear drawer.

I did find out some interesting stuff about Kelly,
though. Seems she went to a Catholic boarding school, so she'd
been through this whole dorm thing before. We chatted about
this and that, and then headed down to supper together.

I left Scott in the room. I hate doing that, but,
well, I would have to, until I was sure Kelly was a good person.
Once I was sure--well, then I would introduce her. I had
to--there was no way I could keep Scott secret forever.

I just hoped Scott would understand that.

* * *

Anonymous

"You are out of order, Mr. Jackson," said the
Chairman, pointedly. "Parliamentary Inquiry is not a license to
debate. Don't forget that it was Anonymous who covered up what
really happened with your great-great-grandpappy and the
beanstalk. He's earned his seat at the table. Anonymous, like
all of us, may state his feelings on this matter." He turned to
me, and said quietly, "I would warn the Gentleman, however, that
D.X. Machina was making speeches like this before he left us--I
hope you have no similar motive. Proceed."

"I yield my time." Damn fool--ought to keep my
mouth shut. Szalinski spoke next, and his vitriol shocked me.

"Mr. Chair, you spoke of D.X. Machina. I submit
that our primary concern is not Ms. Danes--it is Mr. Machina!
He is a rogue, neither on our side nor the side of the League.
He dispenses GTS like it was his personal gift. He writes
books, he sells crystals, he gives knowledge to scientists that
they are not supposed to have--he is a menace, and he must be
stopped!"

The Cadre seethed. It would be a long meeting, and
I feared for my friend.

I feared for the people he had helped.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

I slept that night next to Sarah, on her pillow, as
always. She had to be quiet, I knew, lest she wake up Kelly.
But I was able to whisper into her ear, "I love you always, my
dear." I kissed her cheek, and settled in.