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

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