In the distance I heard the crash of a door open and close, and then the storm-like rumbling of her walking. She entered the room in smooth measured steps, the skirt billowing behind her, and then flaring about as she turned toward me. In two smooth steps, which caused the dresser I was on top of to shudder ever so quietly, she was towering over me once more.
My eyes went up the vast distance of her t-shirt, emblazoned with what looked like a velociraptor from Jurassic Park that looked like it was deep in thought. I tried to make out the words beneath it, but then her whole body shifted. I jumped away as her gigantic pale face dominated my world. Her painted lips parted as she smiled, and then merely said, “Good.”
Her breath washed over me and I felt a chill go down my spine when I realized it smelled like beer, and for some reason french toast. I swallowed hard as I realized she was just watching me, fascinated by my movements as I continued to back away from her. Then I tripped over some random piece of jewelry that littered the dresser top, and her breath wafted over me again as she let out a giggle that was like cannon-fire. As I lay there, staring up into her enormous eyes, it hit me that she was at least a little tipsy from wherever she had just been.
Before I could realize what was happening though, her pale fingers had snatched me up off the desk. She wasn't holding me tightly or roughly. If anything her grip was loose. I was arrayed along fingers that cradled around me with a bit too much space between for my comfort. As I gripped her soft slender fingers, her thumb came down on my chest. At first, I was afraid of what she was going to do but then I found her thumb just casually rubbing up and down my body, and then it began to stroke gently down from my shoulders to my crotch. “Oh God,” I whispered as realization flooded over me, she was petting me.
She hummed to herself as she walked through her apartment, clearly not concerned about my welfare as she swung her arms back and forth. Her thumb continued to stroke me as she thundered about, but my hands were wrapped tightly around her middle finger, my eyes locked on the hard wood floors that were racing by far below me. If I slipped, or she let go, I'd be dead as soon as I hit the ground, and she might not even notice. I tried not to panic but I couldn't help it, I still didn't even know this girl's name and right now while she hummed to herself she held my life in her hands.
Everything stopped, and her hand swung out, wind whipping around me and then she opened her hand above a dark wooden surface. I clung to her finger for dear life, since I was still a solid foot off the ground and that was easily three times as tall as I was. “Come on now, little guy,” she said sweetly, “Let go of my finger.” The finger then began to twitch as she bobbed her hand up and down in an attempt to pry me off. She lowered her hand some more and continued to shake it, I tried to grab on to her finger, digging my hands into her skin with every ounce of strength I could muster but eventually between gravity and her shaking my hands slipped away and my body plummeted to the wooden surface below.
I landed on the table and bounced for a moment. My back hurt but I was still alive, and I once more came to a standing position. I was staring directly into her shins and I realized she must have put me down on a coffee table. My eyes scaled up her massive form, as she placed her hands on her knees and bent down over me. Her whole body engulfed me in shadow and I actually fell back onto my ass as her head lowered toward me, the long tresses of dark brown hair fell around me, encircling my body completely. She laughed, “I'll be right back, little guy, don't go anywhere.”
I fought back the urge to curse her as she rose back to her full height and wandered off. I followed her body through another door as I tried to think of what I could do. She was tipsy, that much was obvious, clearly wherever she had been she had been drinking. Maybe, I thought, if I was nice to her she would agree to let me go. For now, I would just have to play along, and bide my time. Besides, in a few days, someone's going to wonder where I am, and then I'd have leverage. This chick probably hadn't thought that far ahead. She didn't realize that people would start to worry about me, they'd go to the bar, which probably had a camera or two around it and then it was just a matter of time. Eventually, this would end alright for me. It had to.
Since I was lost in thought, I didn't notice the increased rumbles of her approach until the coffee table shook with enough force to send me sprawling back to the ground. I turned my head to see the largest bottle of wine I had ever seen standing next to me. As I got back to my feet, I shuddered when I realized it was several times my size backing away from it slowly. My captor laughed down at me, and asked, “Aw, are you afraid of my wine bottle?”
Her long fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle slowly and seductively. Her red fingernails popping against the clear golden shades of the white wine within. She then lifted it ever so slightly and brought it next to me. While I tried to move away, she was too fast and the bottle too large. Suddenly I was being pressed against its chilled surface. Condensation was already starting to form on the bottle as it was pressed against me, soaking my shrunken clothes. The bottle then knocked me over and hovered over me for a moment, like it was going to crush me. Then, she giggled again, and it lifted away, tilting sideways as some of its contents poured into a glass she held in another hand.
My heart was pounding as I watched her then set the bottle down on the coffee table once more. There was less of a shudder this time, and I watched as she sat down on a nearby couch, lifting her legging-clad legs up and planting her feet onto the table, before crossing her legs. “You have nothing to fear from my bottle of wine, little guy,” She explained, “It's Sunday, and I just like to relax a little, that's all.”
I quivered as I rose again to a standing position, and gazed at her enormous feet. At the moment she was wearing a pair of shoes made from a simple black canvas and a white rubbery sole. For some reason I couldn't help but approach them, awed by their sheer size and the power that rested within them as I recall how easily she could have crushed me earlier today. I touched my hand to a small tag along one of the seams, and read the faded letters that spelled out: TOMS. “Of course,” I murmured to myself.
Suddenly her whole foot flexed and I jumped back away from them, eliciting another giggle from my captor. “Don't be so afraid, little guy, nothing bad will happen to you as long as you do as your told,” She explained in a patronizing tone. I stared up as the toe-end of her left shoe pressed against the heel of her right, and pushed it away, removing the shoe with practiced ease. She repeated the process with her left foot, and this time I was mesmerized by her pale flesh and the bright red of her toe nails against the black canvas of the shoes. As her feet landed back down on the coffee table though, the stench of stale, dried sweat drifted over from them and I found myself dry heaving for a moment. “You'll get used to it little fella,” She said with an assurance that was simply frightening. Her left foot then casually floated over to me, and she poked me with her smaller toes, giggling as it knocked me to the floor before planting the stinky foot next to me.
“I can't believe,” she began to say, “That I've been letting you wear clothes this whole time, little guy.” Her foot then rose up and her toes hung splayed in the air above me. Before I could even react though, she brought her foot down around me and I was being held between her big and second toes. The air was forced from my lungs as she tightened the grip of her toes on me, I started banging my fists against her toe nails but I found that it started to pain me after just a few attempts to hurt her.
The world spun about as she swung her foot over to her hand, and dropped me down into her right palm. Her thumb began to casually pull my shirt away from my skin, busting buttons as she did so. I immediately began pushing against her thumb, smashing my fist against the soft flesh, and calling out to her, “You can't do this, you bitch! I'm a person, I have rights!”
“Aw,” she said her voice taking on the cutest tone it had since she had captured me, “It thinks it's people.” Her enormous face then rushed down toward me, her thumb still easily removing my shirt and now moving toward my pants. Those giant red lips came down and pressed down against me. My body stuck to the globby lipstick for a moment, and a few bits of saliva pressed through her pursed mouth, coating my body which was quickly becoming bare. Her lips then pressed hard and swift against me creating that perfect 'mwah' noise people make from an over-exaggerated kiss, that at my size was more similar to a howitzer going off than something cute. As her face rose back into the sky above me she looked directly down her nose at me and asked, “Is that why you were wearing those adorable little clothes? Because people like me wear clothes?”
I screamed, “Stop treating me like this, you know you're the one who shrunk me. You're the reason I'm like this now, and you know it. I don't know why you've done any of this, but you have. You giant bitch, you know I used to be a person!” I was about to continue my tirade but then I stopped when I realized what I had said. She had somehow gotten me to use the past tense, and as I gazed up at her, I knew some hipster that was probably obsessed with grammar or something would notice that too.
Her lips curled into a smirk as she explained, “Well that's just it though, little one. You used to be a person. Now though...” She paused as her head tilted as if she were deep in thought, “You're more like a pet.”
I shook my head back and forth, as I began to fearfully shake in her hand. “No, no,” I murmured under my breath as she looked down at me.
“You're my pet,” she said matter-of-factly, “And an owner can do pretty much whatever they like with their pets, my precious little guy. For now though, I just want to see you go for a swim.” Her right hand then moved to the half-empty glass of wine she was holding in her left, and then tipped over toward it. I spilled down her hand, and crashed into the shallow pool of white wine. I gazed up the curved sides of the glass but my world was suddenly being spun all around and I watched as the wine splashed along the sides of it. “I know you're not supposed to add anything to wine,” She said to no one in particular, “But sometimes I just don't care.”