A dreadful dizziness gripped Chris as his visions swirled into focus. His body felt like rock; dense, heavy and numb. He could see the bare skin of his legs as he looked down at himself; his modesty on full display for anyone who may be looking. The surface he found himself struggling to his feet on was smooth and cold, further inspection showed the circular floor curved up to a cylindrical wall that completely surrounded and towered his shivering form. It wasn’t hard to deduce that the wall was transparent but Chris’ vision was still far from fully focused to make out what existed in the hazey world outside of his prison. The feeling of familiarity gripped the back of his mind as his senses came to terms with his current situation and the nagging sensation that he knew this place screamed in his mind despite the setting seeming alien. Though his thoughts were deep they were quickly broken as a blanket of darkness eclipsed the light from above. Chris turned and looked up quickly to see what could only be described as an abyssal titan looming over his prison and slowly bending down closer to him. Pure instinct began to flow through his body but with nowhere to run and no way to fight the only response he could muster was a pitiful cry as he stumbled back, eyes still fixed on the leviathan lingered in the heavens above. Without warning the prison jerked as the hand of the god collided with the outside of the walls and completely wrapped around the glass room like the tendrils of an eldritch abomination, a description that would maybe have rang true if it had crossed Chris’ traumatised mind as he endured the awe and madness of what was happening.
The floor felt like it was going to tear straight through him as it rose up at speeds Chris could only imagine at this new scale. Light soon returned as the head that once obstructed the source now found itself level with what Chris now understood to be some huge glass jar, her features now very clear and much to his heartbreak and dismay...very recognisable. A soft giggle hummed its way in her throat as she gazed upon Chris’ relatively tiny form before she finally broke the lingering of silence.
“Hi bi...i mean Little bro” she sang down at him, her head tilting from side to side as if she was dancing to the melody of her own words. “Rough day huh” She continued to mock as she watched him become more visibly distressed. Everything from the way he could see the small beads of moisture on her skin to the way here swinging pastel pink hair seemed like flamboyant strands of rope seemed almost incomprehensible, yet it nonetheless presented itself in fall from right before his watering eyes.
A feeling of pure inertia kepted Chris nailed stiff in place as he stared back into the unblinking eyes of Rachel. He always knew her eyes where an unmistakable shades of blue but for the first time in his life he felt intoxicated by the sheer vastness of the sapphire oceans that beamed back at him, it was as if he himself could drown within them like some helpless child lost among unwavering waves. In his head he was screaming and pleading in every conceivable way but it didn’t break the fact that his body was simply betraying him. His sister was some ascended goddess like entity and she terrified him.
“So listen” she said interrupting his screaming brain, “Usually i tease you guys a bit first to get me going but...well you're being boring and i'm getting kinda tired, you know?”. Though her question was rhetorical it didn’t stop the questions in Chris’ head stacking up and boiling to a point where it broke his fear fueled trance.
“Why” he whispered sorrowfully, before repeating it mere seconds later in a blood curdling cry “WHY!”
An audible sigh could be heard from Rachel's nose as she rolled her eyes at the pleas of her now insignificant brother before returning to a melodic sing style response, “We both know I can’t actually hear what you’re saying Little Chrissy”. She leaned back in her bed and made sure she got nice and comfortable, almost satirically so as if to further insult the uncomfortable position Chris was in. “I mean keep screaming, I may not be able to make out the words but it’ll still turn me on” she added before flashing a sly and deceitful grin.
The jar began to tip as her hand turned and in a rather ungraceful fashion Chris found himself plummeting down to a pale surface below him. To Rachel the scene was less dramatic as she watched her tiny brother fall and land unceremoniously below her belly button. “Hey! Do you like this Crop top?” She sarcastically asked, wiggle her hips side to side. He knew she was only doing this to make it harder to get back onto his feet, though now that she mentioned her top he realised he never took notice of her outfit. Not that he could be blamed for an oversight, who would take the time to examine the outfit of a gigantic teen who was scheming something malicious. His frail form stumbled upright for what felt like the 20th time since he awoke and looked up at Rachel's grinning face that shone down beyond the now mountainous valley of her cleavage.
Small vibrations scattered across the surfaces of her skins and she gently shook before he could see her hand silently hover over his head and drop down, landing just behind him without making as much as a tap. He turned around to see what exactly she was doing that took her attention away from him for a brief moment, the answer was apparently the elastic waistband of a pair of designer panties. “Or do you prefer these? White and black is a nice combination right!” she paused her attempts at further humiliation for a second, perhaps to let the situation sink in for him. Chris didn’t, or couldn’t rather, look away from her hand as her thumb hooked the elastic. It was clear what her intention was now and the last thing he wanted to see was the expression on her face before she forced him into a fate he couldn’t escape. “I made sure to pick ones you’d like” she cooed down at him “So make sure you do a good job, okay?”.
There wasn’t any dramatic music or slow motion, just the index of Rachels free hand crashing down on Chris’ pathetic form as it flattened him against her stomach. Then without any hesitation it began to drag him to the opening of her panties growing larger as it was pulled wide open by the other monster of a hand high above him. Small, course, freshly shaven hairs acted as red carpets of sorts to the exclusive area few men if any had ever seen, yet it was doubtful that the same could be said for shrinkies. The dark void beyond was powerful and consuming and before he knew it he was screaming as he passed the threshold and entered the strong musky smelling underwear. The warmth of her nether regions was something Chris couldn’t bear and the idea that he could smell the increasing arousal as he approached the lips of her womanhood was something that bordered madness, especially considering it was none other than his sister’s. Someone he held close to him for comfort in her times of need, someone he loved dearly and would protect to the last minute and the last breath he had. “As you would say, have fun!” she giggled before her thumb finally released the elastic, purposely causing a thunderous snap as it collided with her waist.
Chris shot up in his bed drench in a thick sheen of sweat. His breathing was heavy and his heart was racing like the double kick of some thrash metal song. What the fuck was that was the only words he could seems to conjur up in his tired, confused and frankly startled brain. The effects of the previous evenings drinking was pulsing in his head as he came to terms with the shadowed state of his room. What he had just experienced had felt so vivid and real that he felt like he couldn’t trust his own brain. Leaning back and rotating his shoulders, Chris’ body made an audible crack as he worked the tightness out of his upper abdomen before shuffling back down to a laid potion in his bed. His throat felt like hell thanks to a generous amount of alcohol and a nice shouting match with Lindsey not hours earlier but his head felt even worse. The image of her face with streams of tears working their way down her soft pale cheeks flashed in his mind once more followed by a mental playback of her shouting.
“If you walk away now… Don’t fucking come back” .
Less than 10 words but each time he recalled them it hurt just as much as the first time he heard them. The idea that it bothered him so much was something he wanted to think was ludicrous but no matter how many times he whispered them lies to himself, the fact remained...it was killing him. Another shuffle vibrated through his body as he turned over and reached for his phone that was charging on his bedside draws, the wire being torn from the device and discarded away onto the floor without a care. Big white digit stating the time 3:24am where the first thing Chris noticed as the screen blasted a beam of light directly into his eyes and nearly blinded him. It turns out that all it takes is a few beers and a generic smartphone to create small scale laser beams. He swiped his thumb on the screen and instinctively tapped the app marked “messenger”. Without delay a list of all his recent conversations popped up along with a simple tab bar at the bottom with different categories and options such as “settings”, “group” and “active”. Chris paused for a second, unsure of what he originally wanted to do. “This is stupid” echoed the nihilistic voice in the back of his brain, though it was met with a defiant head shake before Chris mustered up the will to tap active.
He glanced at the names that appeared; various friends from over the years and so on. He scrolled through the name before one caught his attention, Lindsey Verdell. No way? She’s actually awake? He thought to himself as he stared at her name. The rhythm of his heart stuttered for a moment like he had just been hit with a sudden shock. His index finger hovered over her name in a slow and unsure manner but eventually it made contact with the screen, opening the conversation tab up completely. There was so much he wanted to type in this moment; sorrowful apologies, bitter defenses and everything in between, but his fingers tapped out a simple “hey”. The ticking of the clock on his desk kept the anxiety floating in the room and his thumb froze over the “send” button. What is she doesn't want to hear from me? What if she is still upset? He squeezed his eyes shut tight in an attempt to silence the wave of what ifs from his mind, too often did his self doubt stop him from doing what he needed, no, wanted to do. It took a lot but he mustered the strength back into his body enough to shoot his eyes back open, but when he looked at his phone her status had switched to offline.
“Fuck sake” he muttered in an annoyed exhale before closing his app and phone down and dropping back on his side table in a slight aggressive maner. Just like many other things he missed the chance to do, the message never did make it to Lindsey. Though the more he thought about it the stupider the idea became, the thought that she would want to hear from him at all was idiotic as far as he was concerned. So with his resolve and conviction all but dead he closed his eyes and attempted to steal back whatever sleep he could.
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Making his way down the carpeted steps, Chris shuffled to the kitchen to get himself some breakfast. His body was famished and he definitely needed strong coffee and some good food to kickstart his beaten system. Walking into the kitchen he was greeted to the sight of his robe clad mother who was at that moment nursing her own coffee that sat in a cup marked with her own name “holle” on the side. Now Chris wasn’t the sort to fantasise over his own mother or her apparel but he edged his bets that with it being little past 7am and the fact her long black logs were still messy and tangled, she wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothing under that robe. This fact didn’t bother him too much but he always found himself to be of a more modest nature whereas his mother and sister acted more casually in how they lounge around the house, must've been a girl thing as far as he was concerned.
“Good morning” she greeted between gulps of her coffee. Her eyes didn’t meet his own and was instead fixed on the phone that rested on the middle island counter.
“Likewise” he mumbled back as he made his way to the coffee machine, making sure to waste as little time as possible in getting his caffeine fix.
“Sleep well?”
“Nope”. His reply was short and to the point. It would even be argued he was more interested in dropping two sugars into his drink and stirring it into the dark energy potion than he was talking with his mother at this unnatural hour.
She glanced up for a moment, eyes lazily looking at him as he finished his drink off with a dash of milk, “evidently” she said back. Her tone indicated a slight dislike in Chris’ morning mannerisms, especially his lack of pleasantries.
He didn’t let this fact bother him as he took a sip from his own drink. A deep breath was drawn into his body as if the flow of coffee into his system was literally pumping life into him. No words were exchanged for a moment, just two adults drinking coffee battling out a still and tense silence in a room that didn’t choose to be a war ground.
“Drinking again?” She asked, cutting through the silence as if it had no right lingering.
“Yes” he responded. He didn’t feel like entertaining the way this conversation was inevitably going to go.
Holle tutted, befitting of someone fresh into the age of 46. “A few days time and you’ll be given a rightful place in the world and you decide that drinking all the time is a good example?”, her probing words were meant to bait some form of response out of Chris and he knew it.
“I’m assuming you want to argue now? Or shall we skip to how you wish I was Rachel?” he bit back, his words a result more on previous arguments as opposed to the situation at hand.
Holle stood up and glared straight at him. Her slender form gave no indication of the fact she had 2 children and worked full time; she was lightly tanned, curvy enough to not be classed as petite and her breasts would be enough to catch a man's attention if she wanted. No matter which way you sliced it, Holle was considered what people these days call a MILF. She made her way to the kitchen sink and placed her mug inside before leaning for a moment, shaking her head as she did so.
“I work all day, 5-6 days a week and get respect from only one of my kids? What do you want me to say Chris?” She asked in a breathy tone.
Chris had to stifle a laugh, not out of rudeness but out of pure absurdity of her statement, “You have favorited her since Dad died, don't blame it on me”. He changed his stance from a lean to upright and made his way to the kitchen door. “Besides, you say you work in an office, how hard can it be” He added before he made his way out of the room and towards the stares.
Moving swiftly he made it to the second floor and through the threshold of the doorway to his room, placing his mug down on the top of his bedside table as he moved towards his bed. No hangover would stop the fact that he had to get ready for another day at that god boring “Societal Evaluation center”. So with little more time left to waste he commenced rooting through his clothes collection for something to wear, eventually settling on a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and a dark blue zip up hoodie. It wasn’t until mid way through getting dressed that he realised that getting a lift with Troy was unlikely thanks to last night's transgressions. “Fuck” he murmered to himself as he clawed at his phone frantically. Glancing at the screen showed the time 7:17am. His head hung as he was overcome with a sense of humility and annoyance. He unlocked his device and got ready to text the only person who would be able to help him. The chat marked “Mother” opened up on the screen displaying a series of short back and forth messages between the two, though Chris wasn’t interested in re-reading them right now. He typed out his message and sent it. A simple question reading “What time do you have to leave for work?”, nothing too patronising or demanding. He spent the next few minutes finishing his dress routine and fixing his hair before the phone buzzed with a response. It was opened swiftly thanks to the slight anxiousness lingering in Chris’ chest. His eyes fixed in place as he looked at the response, “Need a lift? Be ready by 8”. A sigh of relief left his body. He typed a simple thanks in response before returning to fixing his hair.
Time passed while Chris finished making himself look presentable for the outside world. His hair styled in a nice, volumized side sweep. He left his room and closed the door gently before making his way down the corridor. Without warning the bathroom door that sat opposite his sisters room swung open with none other than Rachel exiting. She seemed to move in slow motion as she walked past him, her eyes beaming back that same sapphire shade and her lips curled into a soft smirk that now struck differently. It was strange but for a split second he could feel, smell and hear everything he had felt in that nightmare.
“Hey Big bro” She sang up at him as she passed by. “I’ll be leaving shortly after you and mum, let her know for me.” added as she entered her room. She must have not noticed the colour of his face drain as she spoke otherwise she would’ve been prompted to question it. His gaze fixed on her face, the way her lips kept that playful smirk almost matched the way she smiled at him in his dream. The tranced silence persisted as her door shut. He couldn’t break through the tight grip of his chest as the sight of his caring little sister was replaced with the monster in his dream. How long would he see that image before he could look at her again? The fact it still haunted him even in the waking world was enough. He let out a grumble and clenched his fists, fighting back any atrocities that plagued his mind. “It's not real….just your head” he mumbled to himself, trying hard to force his way forward through the metaphorical wall that stopped him earlier. The steps he took next were still slow and uneasy, all thanks to the stupid dream. That wasn't Rachel last night, his mind repeated to itself in a desperate attempt to wipe the fear of his own little sister from his body as he reached the top of the stairs.
His steps thudded down the stairs, meeting his mother at the door. She stood patiently clad in her uniform. A nice three piece ladies suit that consisted of a black skirt that sat just above the knees, a white shirt that fit perfectly around her matured bust and a blazer to finish the already highly professional look. The hazel orbs of her eyes that sat behind a sleek pair of spectacles followed him down each step. “I’m going to get the car ready, can you grab my bag and folder from the table?” she asked him, keys ready in one hand and thermos mug in the other.
He nodded, signalling that they both could briefly part ways. He headed to the dinning room without delay. A black bag and zipped folder full of various files sat on the oval table in the center of the room. It confused him as too why they kept a table that sat 6 people when there were only 3 of them ever in the house and even rarer did all three dine together, but he surmised it was likely down to some inattentive form of complacency on their mothers side. He approached the bag and hung it on his shoulder, his attention then turned to the documents folder that contained god knows what information regarding his mother's mysterious work. Though he knew the prospect was invasive, Chris couldn’t shake the urge to peak inside. He was sure his mother had left the house and was just starting up the car so there was little risk of getting caught after all. Slowly his hand drifted towards the zip of the file holder, his heart racing out of nervous excitement. The tips of his fingers made contact with the metal lever when out of nowhere echoed a high pitched honk from beyond the walls of the house, causing him to jerk suddenly and retract his arm. Holle was obviously getting impatient of waiting for her son to do the simple task of collecting her things and assumed he needed reminding that they both had places to be. He didn’t need any more hints as to hurry his efforts up so without further stalling he picked the folder up and made his way to the door, slamming it shut and locking it tight.
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A tense silence lingered between the two as Holle drove along the winding roads that connected the neighbourhood they lived in to the rest of the nearby civilisation. One of many reasons Chris didn’t particularly enjoy getting lifts from his mother was down to their inability to connect on any human level. But nevertheless did his mother find something to talk about, glancing at him briefly out of the corner of her eye. “What were you shouting about last night then?”
Chris stuttered for a moment, choking on what would have been one of his usual scripted responses thanks to the curveball of an inquiry on his mother's part. “I...I didn’t shout”.
“Well someone was, don't forget my bedroom is at the front of the house”, her face curved into the slightest of smirks at her own response before continuing, “and usually you get a lift with Troy”.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she picked up on that fact but Chris had still hoped that she wouldn’t have noticed it to be something of notability. “It was just a disagreement, nothing major, don't worry” he replied in a rather unenthusiastic tone. He glanced out of his window in an effort not to meet his mother glances, “anyway why would you care?”
“Of course I’d care” She scoffed back at him. “Look Chris, in a few days you’ll find out your results. You have to be ready for whatever might happen.” Her monologue paused as she turned on to the next road. “And if the worst happens you need to make sure you have people who will keep you safe and look out for you”.
Chris’ brow furrowed slightly at her remarks. “So I wouldn’t be safe at home?”.
Holle widened her eyes briefly and looked at him, completely caught off by his twisting of her words. “I didn..” She paused for a brief moment, allowing her head to catch up and think of the right words to use. “look i know it's no secret that i’ve eaten...or ….used a shrinky more than enough times.” Her justifications sounded as counter productive to her as they must have done to Chris. They both knew that tinies had short lifespans on her watch, but it’s not like that was anything to be ashamed of. It was clear she was at a loss in terms of a response, a fact that Chris knew most likely agitated her greatly, “You’re thinking too much about this..”
As much as he wanted to protest and find yet another excuse to question his mother loyalties, but he couldn’t find fault in what he assumed to be her mindset. How many times had he watched his friends throw back a tiny without looking at it twice? How often did Tilly ignore the tinies forced to the mercy of her soles as she relaxed in the sun on a scorching summer's day? Or the amount of care Troy took as he tossed tinies into his infamous “night stash”....likely little to none. Not to mention the ways the rest of the world seemed to treat them. All this made his chest deflate as he let out a slow exhale. He couldn’t guarantee safety in any situation really, only the option was who, what and when.
“Besides” Holle cut in, breaking his thoughts for a moment. “You should be more certain on passing and less focused on whether or not i'm going to eat you up or keep you in my night stand” She chuckled in what was most likely a bad attempt at light humour. The car turned on to the final stretch of road before the evaluation center.
Maybe her words were supposed to comfort him to a degree. He should be more sure of his own ability and be looking towards a positive future. But now the thought of his own mother tossing him into her carnivorous maw or keeping him with whatever toy or underwear collection she had plagued his mind. Why did she have to add that bit his head screamed, as if his current nightmares weren’t taxing enough.
The car slowed before pulling up a few yards shy of the carpark entrance. “I’ll drop you here so i can head straight off, i’m sure you can kill some time somewhere”, she said, smiling at him as he opened the door and exited the car. He didn’t respond as he shut the door and walked his way around the rear of the vehicle that was now pulling away from him. She most likely assumed it was out of some form of arrogance or ignorance but in truth he didn’t have a response. Maybe he should tell her he loves her every now and again, but at this point he was so closed off from her that that sentence felt alien to the context. So in the same silence he would grace most of the day he walked on, reflecting his new found feeling of desolation that displayed itself on the face he was pulling his hood up to hide.