A Few Strange Days
Part One: Pattycake
by D.X. Machina 

Every so often, something happens to shake you out of the 
doldrums, to change your view of the world. Something strange. 
Something wonderful. Something magical. 
I don't mean "magical" in the metaphorical sense. You see, 
something magic happened to me, just last week, and I am feeling much 
better for it. 
I work as an independent courier. Just me, and my little white 
car, and however many packages I can deliver in a day. It's not a bad 
living. I can pick my days, go in when I want to, and take time off when 
I want to. And I get to be out on the road, listening to Soul Coughing 
and Ani and the Jayhawks and whatever else I run across. 
It was about a month ago, on a Thursday. I was towards the end of my 
morning run. It was a slow day, with only six packages, and I'd already 
delivered four of 'em. Package number five went to the Laughlin Group, 
a research and development company out in Mendota Heights. I handed the 
package to the receptionist, and was told to hand-deliver it to Sasha 
Peterson in Bay 5. 

Dr. Theresa "Sasha" Peterson must have been in her early 
thirties, with an ebullient demenor and brilliant red hair. "Just the 
guy I was looking for! Got a package for me?" she said. 
"Sure do," I said, handing it off to her. "Sign here, please." 
"Okay," she said, and started to sign, when suddenly, an alarm 
klaxon began to blare. 
"Shit! Not yet!" she cried, whirling around to her control panel. 
While she worked, I felt a tingle run throughout my body, like I 
was being shocked all over with static electricity. Then, abruptly, it 
ended, and Peterson turned to face me. 
"Guys are a little overanxious to test this...equipment. You 
didn't feel anything there, did you?" she asked, nervously. 
I could have been a prick to the Doc, but it was obviously a 
simple mixup--they must have had a live wire loose in there, or 
something. And I felt just fine. "No, no problem. Anyhow, I have to 
get going...." 
"Oh, well, sure," said Dr. Peterson, initialing my sign in sheet. 
"You're heading to St. Joe's next?" 
She had noticed my route list. I was, indeed, going to St. Josephine 
Academy next, to deliver a transcript, or so it appeared. "Yep," I said. 
"My sister teaches there. Her second year out of school. If you 
see a Debbie Peterson, say hey." 
"Um, sure," I mumbled. "Nice to meet you." 
"Likewise." 
* * * 

St. Joe's wasn't far from the Laughlin labs, and after that, I'd 
be free for lunch. I felt, at that moment, like grabbing a beer at Old 
Chicago. As this would be detrimental to my driving ability, I called in 
to base. 
"42 to base, Alice, this is Steve, over." 
"Steve, Alice, 'sup, over." 
"Allie, how's business? Are we picking up, or should I take the 
afternoon off?" 
"Slow slow slow, Steve-o. You could take the rest of the week 
off, if you wanted." 
"Well, maybe I'll take you up on that. At any rate, I've got one 
more to drop, then I'm out." 
"Roger, Base out." 
I pulled up the driveway at St. Joe's. Funny, I was starting to feel 
that static electricity feeling again. Maybe I should have mentioned 
something...nah, that wouldn't have accomplished anything. Besides, I'd 
be at lunch soon, and then, if I still felt odd, I could go home and take 
a nap. 
I parked the car, locked it, grabbed the last package, and got 
out. As I closed the door, I felt a massive static jolt run from the car 
handle to my arm. 
"Ow!" I said, shaking my left hand. Well, on the plus side, 
maybe I'd gotten rid of some of that charge. I headed into the building. 
St. Joe's is a fairly typical Catholic girls' boarding school. 
The uniforms, nuns running the place, gates more secure than Ft. Knox, 
the whole nine yards. I had made more than a couple deliveries to here, 
and I knew the office staff by name. 
"Mary Pat! How are you today?" Sister Mary Patricia Baez was 
the Secretary, part-time instructor, full-time counselor, that I always 
assumed ran the place. She was in her late thirties, but had a youthful 
spark in her eye. I had a feeling she would have made a cool mom. 
"Steve Jensen, hello, what have you got today?" 
"A plain rectangular envelope. Could be a bill, could be a 
transcript, I just don't know." 
"Well, thank you. Where do I sign?" 
I gave her the pad, and it was then that I noticed something. 
She was standing, and it seemed like I was viewing her at eye level. 
And I remembered Mary Pat as being tiny, only about five feet 
tall or so. 
Odd. I grabbed the pad, mumbled a goodbye, and split. I felt 
dizzy as I approached the door, and as I got outside, I saw my car, and 
it was then I started to panic. 
It was always small, but now, it was only half the size of the 
Escort beside it. 
I ran to it, confused. It didn't seem to be changing size. It 
seemed to be staying the same. But the car next to it was growing...this 
was impossible! I was shrinking! 

I had to get help. I ran back inside the school. I had to reach 
up to get the door handle, and I could tell I was shrinking faster. I 
started heading for the office, and each door I passed was a little bit 
larger than the last. By the time I reached the end of the hall, I was 
no taller than the baseboard. Then, as abruptly as the feeling had come 
over me, it stopped. I felt fine. 
I was about four inches tall. 
I paused, incredulous, unable to really comprehend what had 
happened. It had to be related to what had happened at Laughin Labs. It 
was the only thing I could think of. But how could I get there? That 
was 24 miles away, and while my car was probably the right size for me, 
it wouldn't exactly be an easy trip on a busy road. 
Then, it dawned on me. Debbie Peterson, Sasha's sister--she 
taught here! I'd have to find her! But how? I had a feeling that it 
might not be wise to go up to someone and ask--they probably wouldn't 
hear me even if I did. 
I was pondering this when I heard a huge, constant string of 
"BONG! BONG! BONG!" like Big Ben pealing a thousand times a second. I 
quickly realized what the sound meant: this class period was over. 
My worst fears were realized when five hundred school girls 
poured out into the hallway, equaling one thousand feet the size of Buicks. 
Well, I couldn't stay in the middle of the hallway. That was 
suicide. As quickly as I could, I ran towards the bank of lockers, just 
narrowly being missed by three patent leather shoes. I crouched, 
breathing deeply, watching the enormous display of teenage girlhood 
passing by. 
As I was hiding, a few girls stopped right in front of me. They 
were chatting about nothing much; from what I was able to gather, it was 
about a dance on Saturday. I might have heard more, but I was too busy 
staring at the girl who stood right in front of me. I was at eye level 
with a shiny leather shoe. I followed it into a bobby sock, which 
covered a bare, smooth, perfect leg, which stretched skyward, only to 
meet a plaid, pleated skirt forty feet above me. I could see the girl's 
school jacket, and could just begin to make out her face and hair. It was 
awesome. 
As I ogled her, I became aware that she had set her backpack on 
the floor. I grabbed hold of a strap which hung down, and was about to 
try to climb up it, when suddenly, I was swung through the air, as the 
girl donned her pack again. I was swung hard, landing with my back on 
her right hip. I slid along her skirt, coming to rest just above her 
right buttock. I didn't have time to enjoy myself, though, because we 
were suddenly in motion. 
I bounced around for a while, until we finally came to rest. The 
girl set her backpack down on a seat, and left. I could tell that I was 
in a cafeteria. It must've been lunch time. 
Which reminded me, I'd skipped breakfast, and I was starting to 
get a little hungry. I wondered if I'd be able to get any food. 
As I pondered this, the girl returned, carrying a tray of 
something. She set it on the table, then set her bag--and me--on the 
ground beside her. I hopped off, and wandered directly under the table, 
figuring that was the safest place. 
There were at least twenty girls at the table. I could see 
ankles and knees and skirts. It was a stunning sight. Of course, I soon 
realized that I wasn't as safe as I'd thought. After all, with forty 
feet wandering about in close company, one or two are bound to slip, and 
I had more than one close call. I guess I can be glad I wasn't in a coed 
school--I was having enough trouble without anyone playing footsie. 
At least I got to eat. Part way through the meal, somebody 
dropped a bit of her taco on the ground. I was on it immediately, eating 
hungrily, for I didn't know when I'd eat next. Then, I heard the 
clanging of the bell. 
Lunch was over. Now what should I do? I was probably not safe 
in the cafeteria: either another group was coming in, or lunch was over, 
and the janitors were going to be cleaning up soon. But where could I go? 
I started to sneak out towards the hall. I had gotten but a few 
feet, when suddenly, I was grabbed around my waist. I struggled to free 
myself, to no avail. I was turned face to face with an enormous girl, 
with short blonde hair, enchanting green eyes, and a devilish half-grin. 
"Wow! Who are you?" she asked, breathlessly. 
"Put me down! Hey!" I cried, trying to free myself from her 
iron grip. She laughed, softly. 
"Aren't you cute! Uh-oh, here comes Sister Mary Pat. I'm gonna 
hide you, 'kay?" 
I had no choice, as I was thrust into the inside pocket of the 
girl's blazer. I was resting against her ample left bosom, and I could 
feel her heart beating. 
I thought about escape, but where to? The girl would certainly 
feel me moving, and even if I got out of her pocket, I'd be standing on 
the breast of a 95-foot tall girl. 
And besides, maybe the girl would be nice, and help me find Miss 
Peterson. 
I wondered what she wanted from me. 
I didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, I was grabbed 
again, and brought out again. 
The girl was pretty, no doubt about it. If I had been a high 
school senior, and sixty-eight inches taller.... 
"My name is Patty," she said, dimpling as she said it, "and you 
are about the most darling thing I've ever seen!" 
"Patty, my name's Steve, can you help me find Miss Peterson?" 
She giggled. "You sound so funny, high and squeaky! Miss 
Peterson teaches senior math. I'm only a sophomore. And besides, I 
think she's out sick today." 
A sophomore? My God, I'd been ogling a fifteen-year-old. She 
smiled again. "But that's okay, I'll keep you safe little doll man. But 
where can I keep you safe until class is over? I know!" 
With that, she unbuttoned her blouse, until her breasts were 
showing. "This will be a tight fit, but I think you'll enjoy it!" she 
said, as she placed me between her breasts, then buttoned her shirt back up. 
If escape was difficult before, it was impossible now. I was 
trapped between enormous breasts. Indeed, I was stuck so tight that I 
could breathe only when Patty breathed. I was amazed; she was very well 
endowed for a high school sophomore. 
I suppose I could have yelled for help or something, but what 
would that have accomplished? Besides, I'd be lying if I said I didn't 
find some positives in the situation. The only time I was worried was 
when Patty apparrently took the stairs--I was thrown about violently, and 
felt momentarily ill--but for the most part, I was safe, and I had time 
to wonder what was in store for me. 
* * * 
It was a few hours later that I found out. I saw a button undo 
itself, then another, then another, until the blouse that Patty was 
wearing was completely removed. Patty was staring down at me, smiling. 
"Enjoy the ride?" 
"Um, yes," I said, deciding that I probably shouldn't complain. 
"I'm glad. Here, let me get you out of there," she said, 
removing her bra. "You felt so nice in there, cutie." 
"Patty, um...." it was hard to think and look at her at the same 
time. She was completely naked, from head to toe, and while I knew I 
shouldn't be even looking at a fifteen-year-old, her body commanded 
attention. 
"But one thing. We're gonna get you out of those clothes." With 
that, she ripped my shirt off, and then, my pants, until I was left in 
just boxers and shoes. "Aren't you darling! But what's under there? 
Let's see..." 
She slid my boxers off with skill, and whistled. "Is that for 
me? Aren't you precious! And don't worry, my roommate won't be back 
from her basketball game for another four hours. You'll have a chance to 
make use of it. I promise." 
The rational part of my mind was screaming at me to do something, 
to ward off Patty's advances. The not-so-rational part of my mind was 
singing hosannas. I considered, for a split second, what, if anything, I 
could do to prevent what seemed destined to happen. I could think of 
nothing. So I decided to relax, and enjoy the inevitable. 
"You know, it sucks to be in this place. No boys anywhere, 
except during the mixers--and those things are chaperoned like crazy. I 
mean, you can't even _kiss_ a boy, let alone do...other things." With 
that, she kissed me on the face, a kiss that sucked the wind right out of 
me. Then, she was kissing me all over, probing me with her tounge. I 
was quivering, so rapid was my arousal. She had found my penis, and was 
working it with her tounge, pulling me to her mouth. I came, and she 
stopped, for just a second. 
"Was that what I think it was? Wow! I'm pretty good, huh?" She 
was beaming. "Yeah," I said, weakly. Pretty good? I'll live my whole 
life, and I'll never approach that feeling. Unreal. Incredible. 
"Hmm...I was just getting going, and you've already made it 
there. Well, we'll just have to keep working, I suppose." 
* * * 
We kept working for the next three hours. I discovered places on 
and in a woman's body I never knew existed. Patty used me like a dildo, 
and I think she thought I was a good one. 
As is, I found myself near collapse, inside of Patty's cunt. She 
had come for the fourth time, and was resting. I think she may have been 
sleeping, I'm not sure. I was a sticky mess, but I didn't mind. I was 
warm, and now that I wasn't being crushed by deceptively strong muscles, 
I rather enjoyed my surroundings. I listened to her blood 
flow...slowly...slowly.... 
But before I nodded off, I realized that, as much fun as I'd had, 
I couldn't stay there. I had to find Miss Peterson, get her to take me 
to her sister. I enjoyed being a 15-year-old's dildo plenty...but there 
were other things I wanted to do with my life, too. 
So slowly, carefully, I backed out of there, making sure not to 
wake Patty. Finally, I came out into the world, in a field of short, 
coarse blonde hair. I slid off her hip and onto the bed, then found the 
edge of the bedspread, and slid down it until I reached the ground. 
As I reached the floor, I heard Patty awake. I ran for the 
door. I was hoping she'd think I was a strange dream, or at least that 
she'd be unwilling to tell her friends that she'd lost a four inch tall 
man. 
I heard her mumble, "Little Man?" I reached the door. It was 
shut, of course. And there wasn't enough space to slide under. 
Quickly, I took evasive action. There was a bed by the 
door--Patty's roommate's, no doubt. The space below it was full of dirty 
clothes and pizza boxes. I ran, full speed, and dove into the mess. I'd 
be safe, for now. 
I heard Patty's feet hit the floor. I watched as she put on a 
robe, and began looking through her sheets for me. She was searching 
everywhere--under her desk, in her plant, in the hamper--and was just 
turning towards her roommate's side of the room, when the door opened. 
"Hi Pat. Hey, taking a nap?" The voice was melodious. I could 
just see a pair of high-top tennis shoes. 
"Um, yeah...ah, you guys win?" 
"Yup. Made the section finals! On Sunday, can you believe it?" 
"Oh no! Not with the dance on Saturday!" 
"Good thing the game's not 'til five. I'm gonna have enough 
trouble getting up for church! I've got to take a shower. Where's my robe?" 
I saw her robe. It was a white terrycloth robe, which was balled 
up not to far from me--with a pocket! I now knew how I was going to get 
out. I ran to it, and reached the pocket, just in time to see a hand 
reach in under the bed. 
I was careful not to let myself be seen. Consequentially, I 
didn't get a good look at the girl--at least not right away. She wrapped 
the robe around her, and the only thing I could really see was a huge, 
well-sculpted right hand. She grabbed soap and shampoo, and set off for 
the showers. 
I had escaped from Patty. Nothing against her--she's a great 
girl. But I hoped to do better things with my life than be a consort to 
a 100-foot tall girl. 
But my escape wasn't exactly perfect. You see, I was escaping in 
the robe pocket of another 100-foot tall girl. 
She had just finished playing a sport--probably Basketball this 
time of year. I knew not just from what she'd said, but the powerful 
scent that flowed from her. It was exquisite. Whoever said that women 
shouldn't sweat should have his head examined. 
At long length, we reached the showers. The robe was removed, 
and hung upon a peg. I watched the girl step towards the showers. She 
was taller than Patty, with long black hair. She had smaller breasts, 
but her body was perfectly toned. I wondered briefly what it would be 
like to be enslaved by this girl...but quickly decided that was a bad 
idea. 
As the girl stepped into the shower and closed the curtain, I was 
out of the pocket, climbing quickly downward. Unfortunately, the robe 
hung a good ten feet off the ground. 
I knew I'd have to jump; I hoped that I wouldn't hurt myself too bad. 
Much to my surprise, in fact, I landed in a perfect standing 
position. I was just fine. 
As I mulled this over, I heard the shower stop. Without 
hesitation, I ran for it, heading in the direction I thought the door 
would be. And there it was--closed, of course. 
I cursed myself, as I was certainly too small to open the door, 
and just a little to big to crawl under it. To make matters worse, I 
heard the girl I'd been traveling with starting to head my way. I 
cringed, hoping I wouldn't be seen.... 
Just then, the door swung open, and two pairs of legs walked in. 
I was stunned, momentarily, and almost missed my chance. Almost, but not 
quite. I dove through the open door, and into the hall. 
I had to find cover, that much was for sure. With luck, I could 
wait out the night, and in the morning, find Miss Peterson. I jogged 
down the corridor, searching desperately for someplace to hide. After 
about five minutes, I came to an open door--open just a crack. I slid 
though it easily. 
It was another dorm room (not Patty's, fortunately.) It was a 
few moments before I realized it was empty. I walked in slowly, doing my 
best to stay against the wall. I didn't know it then, but I was making a 
big mistake. 
Presently, the door swung back open, and two beautiful girls 
walked in. One was a tall, skinny redhead, the other a remarkably 
endowed brunette. Both wore jeans and T-shirts. 
I was studying the two as I came across an extension cord. I 
didn't think much of it--until that feeling in my gut. 
That nauseous feeling. 
Not again! 
I started to run, but I felt the shock of the static discharge. 
The lights in the room flickered, and I stumbled and fell to the ground. 
The feeling was gone. But as I stood up, I knew that I was in big trouble. 
The girls had noticed the flickering lights, and were headed 
straight for me and the extension cord. I was going to be found. That 
wasn't what concerned me. 
What concerned me was that the girls were twice as tall as they'd 
been before. 

I was scared. If I wasn't done shrinking, how small could I 
get? What if, by the time I found Debby Peterson, she was thousands upon 
thousands of feet tall--so large that I would be less than an insect, 
less even than a virus? Or would I be dead by then? 
Right now, I was two inches tall, and for a moment, I thought the 
girls would miss me completely. I was wrong, of course. 
It was the redhead. She was fiddling with the cord when she saw 
me. Her eyes got huge, and her jaw dropped. Then, slowly, a mischievous 
smile played across her face. "Laurie! Look!" she whispered. 
I, of course, froze. Where could I run in three-foot high 
carpet? 
Laurie turned towards me, but didn't see me at first. "What is 
it, Kelly? I don't...oh my God!" 
For the second time today, a giant hand reached for me. This 
time, at least, I was somewhat ready. The hand (it was Laurie's) slid in 
under me, and carried me up to her face. Kelly looked on closely, too. 
They were gorgeous, and I hoped they'd be understanding. 
"Oh! Isn't he precious?" 
"He's just a perfect doll! Where did you come from, little guy?" 
I started to explain, but the girls just laughed, deep female 
explosions. Then, Kelly looked up. "Lor, you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" 
Laurie beamed. "Oh yes. But who goes first?" 
I didn't like the sound of this. "Hey! Wait a minute...." I 
started to shout, but the girls just laughed again. 
"Dear little toy, don't worry. You'll get a chance with both of 
us," said Laurie. "Kelly, you go first. Don't wear him out! I'm going 
to go to the Library for, oh, about an hour." 
"Okay then! Little doll, are you ready to play?" 
I was in a glass. 
Kelly had decided to change, and she didn't want me to go away. 
So I was in a small glass on her dresser. Meanwhile, Kelly was going 
through her wardrobe, trying for just the right look. After about five 
minutes, she gave up. "Well, I was going to dress up for you, but then 
again, you pretty much have to do what I say anyhow, don't you?" With 
that, she picked me out of the glass, and regarded me. "You know what 
bugs me? I don't have any tits to speak of. Oh, I've got 'em, but look 
at Laurie. Compared to her, I'm practically concave! Look at me, a 
senior in High School, with no chest. 
"But to you, well, I bet my breasts are huge. Aren't they?" 
With that, she dropped me down her shirt. 
I landed on her right breast. She was right. I was but two 
inches tall, and though nobody would list Kelly's decolletage as her 
finest attribute, it was ample from my perspective. 
I noticed immediately that Kelly wasn't wearing a bra. Made 
sense, I supposed. She probably didn't need one. Or did she? I had to 
admit, maybe I needed to learn more about women. 
Just then, a voice boomed above me. "Well? Are you just going 
to stand there? Or are you going to make yourself useful?" 
She didn't have to tell me twice. I slid down to her areolae, 
which was already crinkling. I reached for her nipple, and slowly 
caressed it. I worked into a rhythm, and it was a few moments before I 
realized that Kelly was beginning to match my rhythm. 
"Oh, my little toy, that feels...verrrrry good." 

Thus encouraged, I threw myself into the job. It was perhaps a 
bit big for me, but Kelly seemed to enjoy herself. After a few minutes, 
her shirt came off, and I saw her slide her right hand inside her jeans. 
That was all I saw, as her left hand landed on top of me, pushing me hard 
against her. 
Finally, after an incalculable time, she came. I was relieved--I 
was about crushed. We lay there for a while, until Kelly picked me up 
and examined me. "Little man, you were outstanding! I wonder what you 
could do if you were full size?" 
The door opened, and Laurie wandered in. "Hey, Kel. Studying?" 
Kelly giggled. "Um, yeah. Here, try not to break him--he's 
something worth hanging on to." 
With that, I was handed off. Kelly left, leaving me in the left 
hand of Laurie. She set me on her nightstand. 
Laurie smiled down at me. "Well, fella. What should I do with 
you? Hmm...you know, the first thing guys notice about me are my 
breasts. Do you like them?" 
With that, she pulled her T-shirt off, and removed her bra. She 
did indeed put Kelly to shame. She put most women to shame, come to 
think of it. Despite my fatigue, I found myself displaying the gallant 
reflex once more. 
Laurie giggled. "You know, I'm glad you like 'em. But there are 
so many other parts of my body you should see. For instance, what do you 
think of my ass?" She turned, and wiggled her jeans off slowly. Then, 
she slid her panties down to her knees. 
She did, indeed, have a nice ass. I was beginning to wonder why 
I wanted to go back to my regular size, when she grabbed me. 
She lay face-down on the bed, and set me on her left cheek. I 
was on a soft-firm plain. Behind me was nintey feet of leg, ahead 
of me, one hundred feet of girl. 
Slowly, carefully, I moved up her back. As I reached her 
kidneys, she suddenly started to giggle, knocking me off my feet. "That 
tickles!" she exclaimed. Then she started to roll over. 
I panicked. She would surely crush me! But as she rolled, her 
hand grabbed back for me, and all of a sudden, I was laying just above 
her belly button. 
"That's better, I can see you now," she said, staring at me 
through a valley of flesh. "Why don't you explore some more? Head, oh, 
towards my feet." 
And so I did, running almost immediately into the dark underbrush 
of her hair. On a whim, I headed for her clitoris. There it was--a 
daunting task, indeed. But carefully, I began to probe it, to stroke it. 
Laurie moaned. I began to work more rapidly. Before I could get 
into the work, however, an enormous hand swept me in to her vagina. 
I had been nervous when inside Patty--now I was terrified. I 
flailed around, trying for a means of escape, when Laurie squeezed. And 
again. And again. Until I was washed out of her vagina in a raging 
torrent, choking and coughing and amazed to be alive. 
Fun? Oh yes. But I was going to have to find Mrs. Peterson--I'd 
never survive this duty. 
Within the hour, Laurie had returned, and the girls took turns 
cooing over me, but the heavy lifting was done for the evening. I hoped 
they would leave me out. I knew, instinctively, that I had to get away. 
But it was not to be. Laurie put me back in the glass by her 
nightstand. Didn't even say a proper goodnight. 
I lay there, in the dark of the room, on the hard, cold glass, 
and wondered what lay ahead. I had vague fears about the future. 
I needn't have bothered. My fears would be realized--and then 
some. 
I awoke to the sound of an alarm clock magnified a thousand 
times. 
I tried to stretch, and wondered why I felt so stiff. Then, 
suddenly, it all came rushing back. How I had shrunk. How I had been 
taken prisoner by a succession of comely girls, two of whom had placed me 
in a glass on their nightstand. 
This was turning out to be a bad week. 
Kim and Laurie basically ignored me, other than to say cursory 
good mornings. I wondered at their behavior, until I realized that, to 
them, I was little more than a goldfish, there for their amusement and 
nothing more. The two changed quickly from nightgowns to school uniforms 
(they had showered the night before, but I wasn't invited.) Then, just 
before they left, Kim dropped a saltine cracker and a bottle cap full of 
water in my glass. Now I had only a couple of square feet of space to 
move around. "Bye dollman," she said, locking the door behind her. 
I was alone, and I knew I had to escape. But how? I tried 
climbing up the saltine, but I was still a couple of feet shy of the cup 
rim. Then, it hit me. 
With all of my might, I crashed into the cracker, breaking it in 
two. Then, I wet the top of the cracker, and put one half together with 
it. With all due haste, I clambered up the cracker, and dropped over the 
side. 
Freedom! 
Well, not quite yet. I was on a nightstand, seventy-two feet 
high. And I could see only one way down: the cord on the clock. 
I had to risk it. I grabbed hold, and rappelled down to the 
ground. Success! 
And it hit me again. The nausea. I knew what was coming; the 
shock, the discharge, and the room had again doubled in size. 
I was down to one inch tall. Then, it hit me again. I doubled 
over--the shock was a suprise, and suddenly, I was half an inch tall. 
* * * 
Shrinking again did have one advantage. I was just able to 
squeeze under the door and out into the hallway. Had I been two inches 
tall, I would never have made the trip. 
But that was a phyrric victory. The main building was now four times 
as far away, and my voice was that much softer. 
If I could find Miss Peterson, would she be able to hear me? 
No matter--I had to try. I began walking west; I thought that 
seemed right. 
I had been walking about twenty minutes, and had gone only about 
forty feet. I was beginning to get discouraged--I knew that the main 
building was a good hundred yards from the dorms. At this rate, I'd 
never get there by the end of the day--and it was Friday, to boot. 
If I didn't make it there today, I had no chance of finding Miss 
Peterson until Monday. And at the rate I was shrinking, I'd be 
microscopic by then. 
As I began to consider my fate, I heard a sound off in the 
distance. It started as a soft pounding, but soon became a series of 
seismic booms. I looked up, and saw, much to my delight, a girl! 
This was my chance. I hoped she would come this way. She was 
running--must have left something in her room, I thought. And indeed, 
she turned and unlocked the door across the hall from me. 
Putting all of my effort into it, I ran for the door. She came 
outside with a black bag, and set it down while she locked her door. I 
ran with all my might, and grabbed hold of it just as she picked it up. 
It was a short trip. Before I knew it, the bag had been set on a 
table, and I leapt off the bag. I was now able to regard the girl a bit 
more closely. She had long, curly red hair, with deep green eyes and a 
studious air. She was also about eight hundred feet tall. She was 
pulling books and papers out of her bag. I hid just up on the cover of 
an eighteen foot tall copy of _Little_Women_, knowing that at my height, 
I was most likely to be mistaken for an insect. 
Then, abruptly, another giantess joined us. She had long black 
hair, and brown eyes, and seemed younger somehow. She wasn't wearing a 
blazer, but instead a simple white blouse. At first, I couldn't put a 
finger on it. Then, it dawned on me. The girl was part of the 
Junior High program! 
I was about to back away, when the girl picked up the book, and 
opened it. 
I slid down the inside of a page and then, I was suddenly in free 
fall, finally landing in a sea of plaid. I was lying on top of the 
girl's skirt. 
This was bad, for a number of reasons. Not only was I in the lap 
of a girl who was in seventh or eighth grade (which was distracting and 
disconcerting--I was starting to get aroused, and scared about what that 
meant), but knowing what I knew about St. Joe's, it was dangerous. 
Let me explain. As you've no doubt concluded, St. Josephine's is 
a boarding school, mostly. Oh, sure, a few of the girls live in the Cities 
and bus in, but for the most part, the high school students live in the 
dorms. 
The Junior High students are another story. They all bus in--too 
young to stay on campus, I suppose. What I'm driving at is that if, for 
example, I had fallen on the lap of a high school student, and couldn't 
find my way free, I'd still be on the campus of St. Joe's. But in my 
current predicament, if I couldn't get free, I would be going to a random 
destination somewhere in the metro area. If I stayed on campus, I 
could--maybe--manage to stay my present height and find Miss Peterson on 
Monday. If I ended up somewhere in suburbia, however, my troubles would 
include finding my way back on Monday--if, of course, I managed not to 
shrink anymore. 
All this flashed through my mind as the floor suddenly thrust 
upwards. The girl was crossing her legs. 
My mind was numb. I knew I couldn't stay where I was, but I 
wasn't moving. It was as if fatalism had grabbed hold of me, and I could 
see no point in going anywhere. If I was to die, I may as well just go 
ahead and die, why spend all this energy, better to lie here, feeling the 
warmth of a young girl's leg beneath me.... 
I lay there for a few seconds or a few years, I'm not sure 
which. In actuality, it was probably about half an hour, but that's only 
a rumor. All I know is that, after lying calmly on a soft, plaid 
cushion, falling when legs were uncrossed, rising when they were 
recrossed, allowing self-pity to wash over me, into me, through me, after 
all this, the girl started to rise. 
And I started to fall. And I was suddenly back to reality. 
I grabbed, instinctively, and held myself fast to the front of 
her skirt. She was walking somewhere--I knew not where, and at the 
moment, wasn't concerning myself with that. It could be no later than 
eleven o'clock. She wasn't going home yet. 
The floor below flew by. The skirt shifted and swayed with every 
step. At any moment, I could have lost my grip, but my situation was 
much improved. I wanted to maintain my grip. I wanted to find Miss 
Peterson. I wanted to live. And I was willing to do what I needed to 
do, God help me. 
I recognized where we were the second we entered the room. It 
was the locker room. Good--this would give me a chance to escape, I 
hoped. 
The girl pulled her clothes out of her locker, and sat down. I 
threw myself off her skirt, hit the ground, and rolled. Ever-so-briefly, 
I looked back at the girl. 
I had wondered before how I could possibly be attracted to an 
eighth grader. Was I sick? Now, it hit me with clarity. At my size, 
there was no way to get a good feel for the gestalt. Girls were a series 
of disconnected parts--a breast, a leg, a knee, all magnified hundreds of 
times. If I ran into an eighth grader when I was my usual strapping 
5'10", I'd be able to notice that she was short, young, immature. But 
when I ran into this one at my not-so-strapping 0.5", she was towering, 
beautiful. It was not wrong for me to be attracted to her--I was not 
sick. It was natural--my subconscious wouldn't allow for reasoned analysis. 
(Incidentally, I talked to a psychologist friend of mine, who 
claims that girls start looking attractive to most men when the girls hit 
age 14. He chatted a lot about bell curves, mainly because he admitted 
he started noticing even 12-year-old girls. I don't know what that 
means. But I mention it anyhow.) 
At any rate, as this observation was passing through my head, I 
was suddenly rising. I had been standing on an article of clothing, and 
it was being lifted. 
Suddenly, I was dropping towards the ground, and I saw the girl 
standing, completely naked, over me. I had no time for awe--she was 
stepping in to the clothing. It was her swimsuit. This was not good. 
I was towards the top. This would prove fortunate. At any rate, 
I got a very good view of all of this girl, before being held in place by 
the skintight swimsuit, just on top of her small right breast. Then, 
abruptly, we were on the move. 
I knew I would have to escape, and fast. 
Of course, the knowledge that I had to escape was no help to me, 
initially. Held fast to the girl's breast, I was thrown about, only able 
to maneuver a few of my inches at a time. I hoped that attendance would 
take a while. 
Ever-so-slowly, I approached the edge of her suit, the light 
leading me onward. Finally, I reached the edge.... 
....just as the girl dove in the pool. 
I coughed and sputtered, sure this was the end. Then, 
miraculously, I was free! The shock of the water had blasted me free of 
the suit, and I was floating...no, that wasn't quite right. 
I lay on top of the water, yet I was not wet. Gingerly, I rolled 
over, aware that I was not falling through the surface of the water. The 
surface tension was keeping me above it. 
That didn't mean I _couldn't_ fall through it, of course. At the 
other end of the pool, seemingly endless miles away, the girls were 
completing the first half of their first lap, kicking up tons of water as 
they went. They were cutting through the surface of the water with 
reckless abandon, and I could very easily find myself on the wrong side 
of the surface--and the same surface tension that kept me on top of the 
water would surely keep me beneath the surface, as well. 
Or would it? Damn it, I wish I'd studied my physics more carefully. 
I had to make a decision. The girls were swimming back my way. 
As they drew nearer, the solution presented itself. The wake 
created by tons of girls was heading my way, and lapping ever-so-gently 
over the edge of the pool. Carefully, I pounced upon one wave, and rode 
its crest to safety. Well, relative safety, that is. 
I was by the edge of the pool. I could see the entrance to the 
locker room, about 1/4 mile away. Blindly, I ran towards it, figuring 
that it was the right direction to go. 
It took me a good twenty minutes to reach the door. I moved 
through it, and into the shower room. Then, I paused. I looked around. 
This wasn't the locker room I'd come from. I could feel it. 
From far away, I heard huge thuds and bangs. Then, a veritable 
earthquake. I turned, and saw at least five enormous girls heading 
straight towards me. 
Instinctively, I ran back, and slipped on some water, 
hydroplaning for thirty feet. I came to rest directly under a 
showerhead. The light above was blocked by an impossibly tall girl. Her 
toes were as tall as I. And I watched in horror as she turned the water 
on. This was it; I was dead. 
I closed my eyes, and crouched down, only to hear, clear as day 
from eight hundred feet above me, I heard.... 
"DAMN IT! THIS SHOWER IS BROKEN AGAIN!" I was saved! The 
shower I was under was inoperative! And this was good, as the water 
pounding down all around me would have washed me away forever. I had to 
get out of here; it felt like afternoon, and I still had to find Miss 
Peterson. The shower next to me stopped. I turned, and saw a girl 
reaching blindly for her towel. Providence was on my side, as she 
knocked it from its hook, right next to me! I leapt upon it; this was my 
ticket out. 
Vigorously, the girl set about drying herself. I passed quickly 
over her wet body, exploring ever-so-briefly every part of her. I was 
enjoying myself, until she got to her hair. She gave it a quick 
towel-down, but I fell off into a sea of wet red locks. Then, I had to 
hold on for my life, as she removed the towel and started walking. 
Before I knew it, she was assaulting her hair with a monstrous 
brush, the bristles of which were thirty feet long. I managed to avoid 
death by swinging on one strand of hair into the girl's right ear. 
I stood on the edge of her ear. Startled, I said nothing at 
first, until I felt her start to move again. "Hey!" I cried. 
Her head jerked, then tilted slightly. Then, I felt her sitting 
down. "Hey, I'm in your...." 
Her head tilted to the right. I tried to grab hold of something, 
but there was nothing to hold onto. And I was falling, falling to the 
bench below. 
I hit hard. It hurt, but not badly. I looked about my 
surroundings. I was in some sort of a dish. It seemed like a satellite 
dish, but padded slightly beneath me. I tried to get up, when suddenly I 
was on my way up. I saw a girl's left breast approaching rapidly. Then, 
I was against it. I was in her bra. 
It was a couple minutes before we were in motion. She had nice 
breasts, and they felt good beside me, but I was undoubtedly trapped, and 
I was forced to recognize that I would not see Miss Peterson today. 
And therefore, I was probably doomed. 
All day, I sat in that bra. Felt each breath the girl took, each 
beat of her heart. Nearly shook to death when she ran down the stairs, 
nearly crushed to death when she lay down on her stomach. Finally, hours 
later, I heard the click of the lock, and felt the pressure on me 
released. 
I had figured this out hours ago. I had two choices: stay with 
the bra, or try to leap free. Staying with the bra would be easier, with 
one problem: I'd probably end up in a hamper or laundry bag. And while I 
wasn't sure the girl would be doing laundry this weekend, I didn't want 
to chance it. So as I saw daylight, I leapt. 
I landed several hundred feet below on a dresser. It was 
obviously late--miles away, I could see another girl already in bed, and 
this one was pulling on a nightshirt. I was too tired to care about 
anything right now. I stumbled over to a soft corner of her dresser, 
right on top of a pair of panties, and promptly fell asleep. 
I would have to survive the weekend without shrinking; that was 
my only hope. I would stay in this room. After all, I could see a bag 
of potato chips off in the distance, so I wouldn't starve. I could see a 
drink box on the desk below, so I wouldn't go thirsty. If I could 
survive until Monday, I could find Miss Peterson, and she could help me. 
But as I drifted off to bed, I had a moment to think, and the 
thought disturbed me: 
Wasn't there some sort of dance tomorrow? 
I awoke before anyone else in the room. I was hungry and cold, 
but otherwise okay. Well, relatively speaking, of course. I was still 
just half an inch tall. 

I decided that now would be a good time to find a semi-permanent 
hiding spot. Both girls were asleep, and I knew I'd be better off to 
avoid them. I just needed to survive forty-eight hours. If I could do 
that, well, I'd have a chance, albeit slim, of surviving. 

I considered my options. There was a lamp on the desk, with a 
cord that led to the ground. I considered chancing it, but I knew the 
odds were good I'd shrink again this weekend; there was no point putting 
myself at risk intentionally. After careful consideration, I found a way. 

There was a desk not too far away. I'd already proven to myself 
that I wouldn't get hurt by falling, or at least not much. I got a 
running start, and leapt nearly a third of the way across the desk, onto 
a stack of papers. I got up, and dusted myself off. There was a half 
empty bag of Doritos on the desk. I climbed in, and began ravenously 
devouring the chips. It had been a day and a half since I'd last eaten. 

My hunger had led me to an error in judgement, which I'm sure 
you've picked up on already. Within a few minutes, an earthquake hit, 
which is to say, the bag was picked up. Fortunately, whoever picked it 
up evidently didn't think tortilla chips were a good breakfast food, and 
I was simply dumped somewhere, probably by some other bags of chips. 
The larger problem was that the bag was now upright, and the top of it 
was fifty feet above me. I tried, and failed, to scale the plastic 
wall. I was imprisoned in a bag of Doritos. 

After a while, I realized that I really wasn't in bad shape. My 
only problem was thirst, which would have to be dealt with eventually, 
but I figured I could last another day, at least, if I had to. And I had 
to admit, I was pretty safe where I was. So I resigned myself to the 
situation, and decided that I'd spend my time sleeping on a nacho chip. 
Hours passed, and I dozed. A long time later--it was afternoon, 
I know now--I was awakened by a tremor. The bag lurched violently 
upward, and swung wildly from side to side. Finally, it stopped, and I 
saw a face looking down at me. It was the girl from the locker 
room--which figured, this was her dorm room. She reached down, and at 
first, I thought she'd seen me. I felt myself rising.... 
But she wasn't holding me. She was holding the chip! I watched 
in horror as I was thrust towards her mouth. Teeth as big as I bit 
down. I flinched...and to my utter suprise, I was unhurt. The chip, 
however, was wrenched violently in twain, and I was unable to maintain my 
grip. I fell forward and down. I hit skin and slid, blindly grabbing 
for anything. I found it in a necklace. 
I dangled from a silver chain, forty feet above the girl's 
breasts. She was wearing a loose-fitting blouse, and I was just below 
collar level. 
Ever-so-carefully, I pulled myself up the chain, working my way 
towards the girl's shoulder. I wasn't sure why I did so, only that it 
seemed like a good idea. It wasn't, but I wouldn't realize that for a 
little while. 
After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the base of her 
hair. I grabbed onto a few strands for support. Suddenly, the girl 
lurched forward, and her hair swung gracefully away. I held on to her 
auburn locks for dear life. Things were about to get worse. 
I first realized I was in trouble when I saw the mirror. It was 
hundreds of feet away, and I could see myself, clinging feebly to life. 
I now could see the girl better, as if on a billboard. She looked a bit 
like Lea Thompson with red hair. Pretty, but not overwhelmingly 
beautiful. I studied her face, looking to see if she had the barest hint 
of my existance. Nope. Then, out of nowhere, another face appeared, on 
the opposite side of the girl from me. She was already done up, with a 
nice party dress and her hair styled to infinity. 
Party dress.... 
I started to lower myself when the curling iron appeared. I 
could feel its heat from a hundred feet away. But that wasn't my worry. 
I prayed it was butane, but that would have required good luck, a 
commodity that I had found to be in short supply. The queasy feeling 
returned. I lost my grip, and fell, and felt the world around me 
growing. The shock. I had shrunk again. 
I landed on the girl's right breast, and immediately tried to 
stand up. She had grown, all right, but she had only doubled in 
magnitude, not quadrupled. I could deal with 1/4 inch tall, I told 
myself, though I didn't really believe it. 
About fifteen minutes later, the curling iron disappeared, and 
soon, so did the blouse. The girl slid into what I could only assume was 
a formal dress (and it was, as I confirmed in the mirror a few minutes 
later.) I ran up the breast, but thankfully, the dress left a little bit 
of cleaveage showing, so I wasn't covered by fabric. 
I'll spare you the details of the next hour. It primarily 
consisted of the girl making herself up, and cooing over her roommate, 
and the like. Finally, she was ready to go. She sprayed herself with 
perfume (strong stuff--I felt ready to faint), and away we went to the dance. 
I resolved early on to stay out of sight, if possible. Of 
course, exactly where I would go was an open question--I was trapped on 
the person of this girl for the duration of the dance. Hopefully she'd 
get stood up by her date. I knew I wasn't that lucky. 
Actually, my scenery changed pretty quickly, if not my immediate 
problem. Apparently, the girl saw a friend or a sister or a cousin or 
something, because she quickly made a beeline for an attractive brunette, 
who was wearing a blue satiny number. I know, because upon seeing each 
other, they decided to hug. 
I was thrown violently from one set of breasts to another. 
I grabbed hold of the pin in her corsage, and held on for dear life. 
After stabilizing my position somewhat, I crawled over the top of 
the fabric of her bodice, and dropped down to the breasts below. I was 
shielded from view of the outside world, and that was just as well--there 
was at least an interesting, if highly dangerous, diversion to be found in 
giantesses, but giants? They were just big guys to be avoided, as far as 
I could tell. 
Having thus separated the world into distaffs and those I wished 
to avoid completely, I was content to rest at the border between bra and 
breast. 
I stayed there for an eternity, bathed in warmth and perfume, 
rocked by the motion of the girl dancing with, I presumed, her date. I 
could have stayed there forever, gently swaying, but that was not to be. 
About an hour or so into the dance (I think), the girl bent 
over--I'm not sure why--and I found myself rolling off her breast, and 
then falling downwards. 
I fell. Past her stomach, past her panties, and then, as I 
thought I would fall to my death, I landed on something. It was soft, 
and broke my fall nicely. But I was in constant motion, and it took me a 
few seconds to gather my wits. 
I was surrounded by white lace. I turned around, and was staring 
at an enormous pink wall, which ran upwards into a V far above my head. 
I was laying on the girl's garter. 
Well, it could be worse. 

Hours passed, and I was getting sick. 
You try attaching yourself to a girl's leg for a few hours in the 
middle of a dance, and see if you feel any different. She bobbed. She 
swayed. She dipped. And I tried hard not to ralph. I succeeded, barely. 
After an eternity of this, we finally left the dance. I could 
tell, because the annoying dance music went away, and the girl was just 
walking. This I could handle. 
The girl sat down with a violent thud. I found myself laying on 
top of her thigh. Then, I saw a huge hand reaching for me...no, it was 
reaching for her garter. 
I ran away. I didn't know if it was her hand or someone else's, 
and I was not in the mood to find out. Instead, I ran up her thigh, 
towards her panties. 

I waited there, nervously. I wasn't sure whether she had a giant 
boyfriend waiting to put a hand (or worse) up her skirt, and I was 
resolved to vigilance. I didn't need to fear that, however. After a 
while, it became apparent that the girl had removed her own garter. She 
wasn't talking to anyone, and she was barely moving. She was alone. 
I heard a loud, muffled bang. The door to the room was shut. I 
wondered who was there. I couldn't make out everything, but it sounded 
like the girl's roommate was back. 
They chatted about this and that, and I was suprised to find 
myself getting a little bit aroused. I wondered why, until I got a whiff 
of the air around me. This girl was getting aroused, and the scent was 
having an effect on me. I wondered why, until I heard a line break 
through, clear as day. 
"Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want to pressure 
you. You don't have to." 
"I want to." 
Then, suddenly, the girl stood. Fortunately, I grabbed a bit of 
the fabric of her panties, so I wasn't in danger of falling. 
Then, abruptly, the girl's skirt was lifted away, revealing the 
view of another pair of panties, about ten feet above my eye level. Far 
above that, a mammoth pair of breasts. The other giantess moved closer, 
and they kissed. 
I was lucky. Has I been a few inches over, I would have been 
crushed between the legs of the two experimenting lasses. As it was, I 
could feel my host heating up like a firecracker. 
It looked like I was going to have a ringside seat to that oddest 
of popular male fantasies. 
Cool. 
About three hours later, I finally rested, between two walls of 
girlflesh. The two had drifted off to sleep long ago. They both seemed 
happy. 
I was glad I hadn't had to dodge a male body, but still, if you 
think I was just having fun, you're wrong. The two girls, once they got 
into it, really got into it, and I was lucky not to have been crushed 
half a dozen times by one body part or another. 

Still, I can't complain. It was a lot of fun. 
So I allowed myself to drift off to sleep. Hopefully, I'd avoid 
anything electric tomorrow. But I had survived the dance. Now, I just 
had to survive one more day. 
I didn't know then it would be the worst day. 
Sunday came. 
A day of rest. In a Catholic School? Right. 
The alarm rang at 6:20 in the morning. 
I needed to grow about 69 3/4 inches or so. Alarms are too damn 
loud when you're 1/4 inch tall. But what are ya gonna do? Instead of 
sleeping in until 3 in the afternoon (as I usually do on Sundays), I was 
awakened by a huge alarm, and the movements of the two girls still lying 
in each other's embrace on this early Sunday morning. 
I didn't know it yet, but this would be the worst day. 
And the best day. 
I was on the foot of the bed, a few feet from the left foot of the 
girl whom I had attended the dance with. She was the first to stir, and 
immediately, I felt the bed begin to tremor. Mere aftershocks after last 
night's earthquake, but still enough to wake me fully. 
I had to plan. I was pretty thirsty, and hungry, and tired. I 
was just basically worn out, and I knew that I still had a long road 
ahead of me if I were to live to find Miss Peterson, and then manage to 
attract her attention. 
So I decided to go to Breakfast. 
The girls kissed a bit, then reluctantly broke, and headed off, I 
assume to the showers. I figured they would probably shower seperately, 
rather than together--public places are bad places to sin, 
unfortunately--but that was just idle speculation designed to amuse 
myself. I was putting together the larger plan. It would involve me 
doing something other than resting or hiding, which, frankly, was 
good--every time I tried ot hide, I got thrown into an even worse 
situation. Maybe attacking this thing head-on would help. 
I was thinking this when the first girl returned, and started 
blow-drying her hair. She was a pretty blond, I could see now, about 
17. She was athletic, rather than voluptuous, and her movements were 
lithe. 
I couldn't complain. That thought struck me dumb, but it made 
sense. My life had been getting boring lately. Well, it sure wasn't 
boring now! I smiled in spite of my self. If I was going to go down, I 
was damned sure going to do it with style. 
The girl pulled on her uniform--blouse, blazer, skirt--and sat 
down next to me on the bed. She began pulling her shoes on. I moved 
quickly. 
I grabbed onto the fabric of her skirt, and began pulling myself 
up. I wouldn't make it to breakfast all by myself, I was going to need 
assistance. And she was going to provide it. I hoped she wouldn't mind. 
Not too much later, I was moving down the hall at hundreds of 
miles per hour, holding on to the waistband of a plaid pleated skirt. 
Though the world was mostly a blur, I did catch a view of other girls 
coming out into the hallway. Breakfast would be served at 7:30 sharp. I 
was going to eat some of it. 
We reached the start of the line, and stopped cold. So far, no 
problems with my plan. The trays were sitting, face-up, just a few girls 
down the line. I steadied myself, readied myself, and leapt. 
I landed right smack dab in the middle of the tray, just as a 
girl grabbed it. I held on as she tipped and turned it--fortunately, the 
the tray had some handholds. I finally relaxed as she set it down on the 
counter. 
I watched hungrily as the girl set plates down on her tray. I 
couldn't see over them, but I could smell--waffles, bacon, sausage. She 
also got some orange juice and--finally! A little luck!--spilled just a 
few drops. More than I could drink! My thirst was finally quenched. 
I rode on the lurching tray as the girl sought out her friends. 
So far, so good. When the tray was finally set down, I leapt onto her 
plate, and beheld a waffle a third of the size of a football field, with 
enormous strips of bacon beside it. 
I ran to the waffle and began tearing chunks off of it. The 
girl, I'm sure, didn't even notice. I ate hungrily, knowing that I had 
little time. I watched, and as she picked up her syrup packet, I ran to 
the edge of the plate, and dove off it... 
WHAM! A hand slammed down just behind of me, and I found 
myself thrown forwards by the sudden rush of air. I could only surmise 
that the girl had seen me out of the corner of her eye, and thinking me a 
bug, tried to kill me. A natural reaction. I had come a scant 
millimeter from that reaction ending my life. 
I came to rest on a sticky purple plain. I tried to move, but 
found myself mired. Suddenly, I was lifted in the air. I was on a piece 
of toast, with grape jelly. And a girl was about to eat me. 
There was nothing I could do about it. 
She bit down, just a half-inch from me, and chewed food for a 
family of four for a month in one bite. She gestured with her left hand 
(the one which held the toast, and by extension, me), and I got a good 
look at her--pretty, young, Asian, braces--which was good, as I figured I 
should know the face of my executioner. 
All I could think, as her lips and teeth passed over me, was that 
I had given it my best, had tried with all my might to survive, and that I 
had nothing to be ashamed of. As the teeth started to bite down, I got 
ready. One last battle to fight. I would go down with style. 
And there was abruptly no more light. 
The teeth crunched, and her powerful tongue moved my little life 
raft ever closer to her. Then, a powerful wave of saliva washed over 
me. That gave me a chance--it freed me from the sticky jelly which had 
held me fast. 
I hit something hard, and was fortunate again--her mouth opened 
just slightly, and showed it to be the surface of a molar. I dove 
forward, into the space between lip and gum. 
She swallowed. I was pulled back with tremendous force. I 
grabbed onto her lower archwire, and held fast with all my strength. 
Finally, after an eternity, the vacuum let up, and I was able to rest. 
For about two seconds. Then, the toast was in her mouth again, 
and she was taking another bite. 
This time, I was in a better position. I pulled myself between 
her archwire and two brackets, and braced myself with my back to her 
teeth. I was banged on the head with some toast bits, but wasn't hurt 
badly. She swallowed again, and I held fast. 
Maybe I could win this one after all. 
Then came a river of orange juice, covering me from head to toe, 
and burning my skin. I howled in pain, but somehow hung on. 
After about ten minutes of similar treatment, she finally finished. 
She was just talking now, about mindless stuff--how romantic last night's 
dance had been, how tired she was, that sort of thing--and I felt finally 
safe. How I would get out of her mouth was an open, but not immediately 
pressing, problem. 
For a few seconds. Then, apparently, she realized that 
something was stuck in her braces. I had braces once, and I remembered 
how annoying that could be. Now, it seemed, she was annoyed by my 
presence. Well, not the first girl I could say that about, but the first 
one to press down on my forehead with thousands of pounds of pressure. 
Her tongue slammed against me, trying in vain to dislodge me. It 
was rough, like sandpaper, and, I daresay, very erotic. I would have to 
escape, and fast. 
I waited for her to stop, and then for her to say something. As 
she opened her mouth, I pulled myself up, and caught the jet stream of 
her voice, which propelled me out towards God-knows-where. 
It was at this point that I wondered if God was having a sick 
joke at my expense. I was saddened to find that the girl had chosen this 
moment (of course!) to shout to a friend across the room, and I was 
propelled far and away, out towards nowhere. (I also was momentarily 
deaf. Man, that girl could shout!) I found myself drifting slowly but 
surely towards the ground. I cringed, knowing that the tile floor was 
going to hurt. But I didn't hit the floor. No, that would have been too 
easy a death for me. 
Instead, I saw a girl not to far ahead remove her left shoe, and 
start to straighten her sock. I saw the patent leather shoe looming 
ahead of me. 
It was a perfect shot. I landed right on the "r" of the "Dr. 
Scholl's" logo, and bounced all the way down into the toe. I wanted to 
just stay there, but I got up, knowing that I'd better not stay here. 
I didn't have a chance. I felt the shoe move, and saw the white 
bobby sock-clad foot slowly slide towards me. I had but one chance. I 
ran back to the toe of the shoe, praying they were just a tiny bit too large. 
And they were. I found myself with a bit of breathing room, with 
a big toe on the left of me and another toe on my right. I tried, 
slowly, to pull myself up on top of the sock. I had just made it to the 
top when we got underway. 
It is impossible to pull yourself up a sock while the person 
wearing it is walking. That's not something you can use in your everyday 
life, but if you ever find yourself trapped in a schoolgirl's shoe at 1/4 
inch tall, it's a good thing to remember. You'll save some energy. 
As it was, I tried, unsuccessfully, to pull myself out to 
freedom, to no avail. At least I was just above the girl's foot. If I 
hadn't moved, I would have been crushed to death. 
Finally, finally, she stopped, and sat down. I had just enough 
space to pull myself out the top of the shoe. 
We were in the chapel. Service would be beginning momentarily, 
and that was fine by me. I needed to pray. I needed all the help I 
could get. 
I stayed on the girl's foot through the service, holding on to 
her white bobby sock. I never realized before how much girls play with 
their feet. (Maybe guys do too. I never was in that situation). The 
girl crossed, and uncrossed, and recrossed her legs, and twirled her foot 
around in circles, making me dizzy and slightly ill. Finally, the 
service was over, at about 10:30 or so, I'm not sure. The girl walked 
out, and I went with her. It was a dizzying ride, but it wasn't too long 
before she reached her room. 
Of course, she couldn't just remove her shoes. She had to kick 
them off. This sent me flying through the air for the second time today, 
and for the second time, it was a perfect shot. I fell into a gym bag, 
and landed on a pile of clothes, that smelled vaguely of sweat and 
exercise. I decided to stay put. Who works out on Sunday? I would 
stay in this bag until tonight, and while I was here, figure out how to 
get back to the school in the morning. 
Wrong. 
It was about three hours later that the bag I was in was lifted 
up, zipped up, thrown over a shoulder, and carried off to somewhere. I 
was thrown about, but I was more annoyed than upset. I should have 
worried more. 
About five minutes later, the bag was set on the ground. I 
rested atop a swatch of fabric that was large enough to be a shirt, I 
thought. Suddenly, the bag was opened, and I saw the girl again, 
reaching for the fabric I was on. 
She put the shirt (it was a shirt) on, and I was clinging to her 
back. I clambered up the navy blue blouse, until I reached her 
shoulder. There was just a thin strap on her shoulder. Wait a minute. 
This was a basketball jersey. 
I was afraid we would play right away, but instead, the girl 
threw a sweatshirt on, and went about her business. I clung to her 
shoulder as she walked, as she sat down, and ultimately, as the bus 
started. Oh my God. 
The Section Finals. I had almost forgot. 
It was a road game. 
There's a corollary to Murphy's Law that reads "Everything goes 
wrong all at once." Truer words were never spoken. I did manage to 
climb onto the sweatshirt, and considered dropping onto the seat, and 
staying behind on the bus. But I had no assurance that this would be the 
bus that returned for these girls. I would have to stay with them, and 
stay out of trouble as best I could. 
The bus ride was long, but we got there eventually. The girls 
walked off the bus, and into the gym. I could see the other team warming 
up--girls in white jerseys with green trim. I was going to have to be 
careful. A basketball game is no place for an insect. 
The girls quickly removed their warm-ups and got down to warming 
up themselves. At first, I thought I would just remain among the pile of 
sweatshirts, but of course, the team equipment manager would have to 
decide to straighten them out at the very moment I was finally starting 
to relax. I flew towards the court, landing a few inches from the 
sideline. 
I regained my bearings just in time to see a huge shoe skim over 
me before crashing to the ground. This was a bad place to be. 
I ran, but another shoe landed in front of me, forcing me in a 
different direction. Then, another shoe fell behind me, spurring me on. 
I realized finally what was happening--the St. Joe's team was running 
laps. I ran opposite them, towards the opposing team's practice and a 
bit further out onto the floor. 
I was about to run over the sideline when the opposing coach 
decided to get his team to stretch, or something. All I know is that a 
girl in white with green trim suddenly was towering over me, and before I 
could react, she was dropping. 
I was caught in the diamond formed by her legs as she did the 
butterfly stretch. At this moment, I made a fateful decision. I decided 
to give up trying to make it to the sideline on my own, and instead try 
to hitch a ride. 
I pulled myself up into her shorts, and held on. This should be 
safer than running around the basketball court. 
Again--Wrong. 
Or maybe I was right. But I made my decision, and it all worked 
out all right. 
The girl stood up, and then began running, and I realized that I 
wasn't safe hanging precariously from her shorts. I worried, but I had 
no choice. I pulled myself up the front of the shorts, and leapt over to 
her panties. With all of my might, I forced the elastic up just enough, 
and pulled myself inside. 
I would be safer there, I thought. I grabbed hold of some hair, 
and hung on. When she sat down on the bench, I would make my escape. 
Because I couldn't stay here--this girl was from the wrong school. 
I didn't realize that this girl never would sit down--that she 
would stand, and jump, and bounce, and then plow headfirst into the 
game. She was, I found out later, her school's top point guard, only 
5'2", but a dynamo. I found out too late to help me. 

The game began, and I found myself clinging to increasingly wet 
hair. My grip loosened as the girl threw herself one way and another. I 
climbed higher, trying to find a spot where I wouldn't lose my grip and fall 
between her powerful legs. 
I never found that spot. Instead, I found, completely by 
accident, her clitoris. I found, much to my surprise, that I could brace 
my feet against it, and hold onto her hair, and I was relatively stable. 
Oh, sure, my feet kicked once and a while, but I didn't think she'd notice. 
Well, according to the paper, halfway through the second quarter, 
Susan Garris, point guard for the Eden Wasps, seemed to become 
distracted, like her mind wasn't fully on the game. She gasped for air, 
and finally came out of the game. 
She noticed me. I didn't realize this until the floodgates let 
loose. Frankly, knowing what she was going through, I'm impressed--she 
scored five points while in the midst of having an orgasm. 
I finally got my wish when Susan was taken out of the game, and I 
found a slight gap in her waistband. With all due haste, I clambered 
down the side of her leg, and then onto the chair. I leapt into a sea of 
green warm-ups--they broke my fall nicely--and then tried to figure out 
where to go. 
At first, I thought I would head directly over to the visitor's 
bench, but both my paths were blocked. I could either walk on the 
court--no good--or walk in front of the stands. That would've been good, 
but it was a big game, and lots of people were going in and out. I was 
stuck until halftime. 
When halftime finally came, I breathed a sigh of relief, and as 
the teams hit the locker room, I wandered out onto the court. I would 
simply walk to the St. Joe's bench, and make it home alive. 
Wrong. Again. Darn it. 
They took the opportunity to sweep the floor--and me with it. I 
found myself unwittingly pushed all the way to the baseline, and 
unceremoniously dumped with a huge pile of dust and debris. 
There, amidst the clutter, was an enormous program. I found 
myself sitting on top of it, staring at the St. Joe's roster. I didn't 
pay it too much mind, until I saw, in billboard-sized letters, right in 
front of me: 
A H P E T E 
I stood back, and tried to get a sense of the entire word. When 
I did, I shouted for joy. 
H E A D C O A C H: D E B O R A H P E T E R S O N 
Miss Peterson! She was here! I just had to get to her, and get 
her attention, somehow.... 
I quickly realized that this was not the place to get her 
attention. I just had to get to her, to make sure that I could get her 
attention later. I made it back to the visitor's bench just as the teams 
were arriving, and took special care to hide underneath the chairs. 
Then, I saw her. 
Actually, the first thing I saw was a royal blue pump, framing a 
huge perfect foot, leading up a perfect leg to a stylish business skirt. 
And high, high above, brilliant red hair. 
Sasha Peterson's sister. Debbie Peterson. 
My quest was almost at an end. 
She reached for a clipboard which sat inches from me. I leapt 
for the clipboard, and rode it up to her lap. When she rested it upon 
her, I dove off onto her skirt. I looked up at her. As pretty as some 
of the high school girls had been, Debbie was gorgeous, beyond compare. 
As the second half began, slowly, I began to ascend her blouse. 
It was not an easy climb. Debbie is the kind of coach who's up 
and down and out on the floor and all of that. I had barely reached her 
third button at the end of the third quarter. 
Still I climbed. Finally, by the middle of the fourth quarter, 
with Debbie gesturing wildly, I reached her breasts. I climbed carefully 
over her right one, feeling its softness beneath me. 
I reached her collar in the closing seconds of the fourth 
quarter. Debbie was screaming. The St. Joe's Falcons hit the winning shot. 
Debbie had coached her team into the state tournament just as I 
dove for cover under the collar of her blouse. 
There was a brief celebration, and then, everyone went home. On 
the long bus ride back, I pulled myself up onto Debbie's collar, and then 
onto one loose strand of hair. I swung myself over to her earring--a 
large, dangling hoop--and hung on. 
About an hour later, after the girls had gone to their dorms and 
Debbie was preparing to go home, I took my chance. It hadn't worked 
before, but I had to try. I pulled myself up into her ear, and as loud 
as I could, called out to her. 
"Miss Peterson!" I cried. She heard me--her head snapped to the 
right, and it was all I could do to avoid being thrown out of her ear. 
"Please! Don't move your head around too much!" I shouted. 
She stopped, briefly. "WHO--WHAT--ARE YOU?" She asked. It was 
thunderous, traveling through her jaw to the ear, where it rumbled and 
echoed. A beautiful sound. "My name is Steve Jensen. I'm in your right 
ear. I'm a quarter of an inch tall." 
I held my breath. An ordinary person would have discounted me 
entirely, or declared themselves crazy and moved on. Debbie was 
extraordinary. 
"HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY EAR? 
AND--UM, I MUST SOUND CRAZY!" A slight giggle. Not a panic. 
"I delivered a package to your sister on Thursday. She was 
running an experiment...." 
"SASHA?" 
"Yes, Dr. Peterson. I--" 
She chuckled. "SO THAT'S WHY SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS WORKING ON 
'SMALL THINGS' AT THE LAB THESE DAYS. MR. JENSEN, I HAVE A FEELING THAT 
YOUR SHRINKING WAS AN ACCIDENT." 
"You're right." 
"OF COURSE I AM. AND I NEED TO GET IN TOUCH WITH MY SISTER. 
WE'LL GET YOU BACK TO NORMAL--WELL, I HOPE SHE WILL, I HAVE NO IDEA 
WHAT'LL HAPPEN. BUT--YOU SAID YOU'VE BEEN SHRUNK SINCE THURSDAY? HAVE 
YOU BEEN WITH ME, TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME SINCE THEN?" 
"No, I've been trying to find you. Thank God I found you now." 
For the next few minutes, I filled her in on the basics of my 
story, leaving out some purient details. She nodded. Then, she said, 
"MR. JENSEN, WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE FOR ME TO SEE YOU? JUST TO ASSURE 
MYSELF I'M NOT CRAZY?" 
"Of course. Put your finger by your ear, and I'll step onto it. 
Be careful, though." 
I found myself standing on Debbie Peterson's right index finger, 
with her beautiful green eyes fixed on me, and a huge smile played out 
over her lovely lips. She put me back in her ear, saying, "I THINK 
YOU'RE SAFER IN THERE, FOR NOW. YOU SURE YOU WANT TO BE UNSHRUNK? 
YOU'RE PRETTY CUTE THIS WAY, YOU KNOW." 
"Yes, I am absolutely sure." 
"ALL RIGHT, I'LL CALL MY SISTER." 
And so, three hours later, I found myself the subject of the gaze 
of both Peterson sisters, and I must say, Sasha's green eyes are almost 
as pretty as Debbie's. Almost. 
The reversal process was simple. Inside of ten minutes, I was 
full-sized, good as new, except for a whole bunch of bruises I was 
unaware of. Debbie was a bit less imposing at her regular 6'1"--a bit 
less, but not much. 
That was a few months ago. I don't hold a grudge. After all, 
Debbie and I have been dating the last few months, and I wouldn't give 
that up. And I'm now on the development team at Laughlin Labs--seems my 
little test run was the first time a human had been through the shrinking 
process, and so Sasha wanted to know everything--everything--about the 
experience. Hence, this little memoir. (Well, Sasha, is this good enough? 
If not, tough. I'm getting enough flak from Debbie as it is. Good natured 
flak, but flak nonetheless). 
Really, things worked out pretty well. The only thing that 
concerns me is that, at least according to Sasha, I'm never totally 
cured. Something about biochemistry being metastable in the polarizing 
field--or is that polarizing in the metastable field? Whatever. The 
point is that if I get a real solid jolt of electricity, I could find 
myself starting the shrinking process all over again. I hope not. And 
yet, sometimes I find myself missing those few strange days. And I think 
that it might not be so bad to one day find myself shrinking--if, of 
course, there was a certain red-haired, green-eyed basketball coach 
around at the time. 
A few more strange days could do me good.