Lost Change
Chapter One
A Change for Three
by D.X. Machina
"Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge"
--Ruth 1:16
Scott Chelgren Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
It was mid-September, in what should have been my
Senior year...again. Well, I went to the University of
Minnesota, what do you expect? Graduating in only five years is
pretty darn good. Better than most folks do, anyhow.
Of course, I never had been really interested in
graduation. I was more interested in college as a vocation.
You see, I had this charming, if naive notion that college was
somehow better than the "real world." After all, in the real
world, you never get to blow off an 8 A.M. meeting. You don't
spend most of your time studying non-practical subjects for your
own intellectual enlightenment. And you don't go out, get
drunk, and trade lewd stories while leering at women (unless, of
course, you end up in sales.)
Yes, college was a grand time, hampered only by the
fact that, eventually, I would have to leave it.
But I left it for something better.
On a bright spring day, about three months before
that mid-September day, I had been studying, and watching a
pretty young PSEO student in Coffman Union, and generally
grumbling about my life, when it all changed. I found my life
dependent on that pretty PSEO student.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I found fulfillment I never knew I could in her, a
peace, a tranquility, a je ne sais qua that I never suspected I
needed. And when we were separated, the absence made my heart
grow ever fonder.
I also found a way around my earlier worry. She was
going off to college now--a year early, no less. And I was
going with her. She insisted.
Well, really, I had to.
You see, it's hard to strike out on your own when
you're one inch tall.
I'm not going to go into the whole story of how we
met, misadventures we've had, and the like. That's all down on
record somewhere--I wrote a narrative for Claire, and I know
she's been busying herself with pulling all the details together
on some other great stories. Ask her, I'm sure she's got the
stuff somewhere. This is the story of my return to college,
with Sarah Kensington, the love of my life, the light of my
world.
But really, it's her story.
* * *
Sarah Kensington West Bank, University of Minnesota
The poor guy does rattle on, doesn't he? I've seen
his narratives--yap, yap, yap! I love the boy, but come on
Scott, brevity is the soul of wit!
Anyhow, it was mid-September. I was about to leave
for my first year as a full-time student at the U of M. You've
gotta love the PSEO system--they let you come down to campus,
get a dorm room, take a full schedule...exactly like being in
college. Oh, sure, technically I'm still a student at Apple
Valley High School, but so what? For all intents and purposes,
I'm a freshman at the U--on the state's dime, no less.
Of course, while I had looked forward to this change
for over a year, I was not unaware of the effects this would
have on my relationship with Scott. While Scott tends to
overpraise everything about me, I understand where he's coming
from--I love him deeply and truly, and I plan to be with him
forever. But caring for him without my family knowing is hard
enough (although not quite as hard since Karen started running
interference--but that's another story). Caring for him without
my roommate finding out--well, I didn't even see how it was
possible.
I suppose I could've left him at home--Karen would
do anything for him, which is only right, I suppose, after she
almost...no, no, that's the past, and I'm trying to forgive.
Slowly. Very slowly.
But Karen was only fifteen at the time--and while I
love my sister, I still see how she looks at Scott sometimes.
She sees the same things in him that I do--and I fear that
maybe, he sees something in her. Probably I'm paranoid. But
I'm not stupid. Scott was coming with me.
So on the first day I could move in, I made sure to
get up to campus bright and early. I was lucky--I luckily got
a room in Middlebrook Hall, on the twelfth floor. A lot calmer
than the dorms in the Superblock, and certainly a lot more
pleasant than getting crammed into a study lounge while the
school waited for students to drop.
I wasn't totally unprepared. Scott actually gave me
some good pointers. I forget sometimes that he was a student
here--that he had a life before he met me. But he told me to
forget about even trying to use the elevators, not to move
anything big in until school actually started, and to let my
roommate take whichever bed she wanted--start off on the right
foot.
My parents, of course, had their own suggestions as
well. But I ignored them. Mostly, anyhow.
So I moved in early, and was there six hours before
my roommate even showed. By the time she got there, I had my
computer set up, my TV situated, some posters hung, and Scott
stashed safely in my underwear drawer, in a little box which I
had furnished for him.
After my parents left, I finally was able to talk to
him in private.
"So, how's it going?" I said, holding him in my hand.
"Not bad, kid," he said, half-grinning. "I must
say, these dorm rooms are bigger than I remember."
Good delivery--he'd probably been saving that line
for days. "Ha. Got time for some hot action?"
"You sure? Your roomie hasn't shown yet--you don't
want her first impression of you to be a girl sticking a
one-inch-tall guy up her--"
"Thank you, I get the picture. But--well, I must
say, little man, that I'm in the mood for it. And I don't know
that you've ever not been."
"Well, I'm a guy. 'Nuff said. Hmmm....well, how'd
you like do do this in the conventional fashion?"
I smiled. "Wow--been a long time since we did that.
August, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, well, we both like this whole gee-tee-ess
thing you've got going too much to do this often--but this is
probably the most discrete." He smiled. "And I do so enjoy
being taller than you once in a while."
"Well, shorty, don't get used to it. But...hurry,
would ya? I won't be in the mood forever."
* * *
Anonymous Cadre Headquarters Anaheim, California
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the Cadre was
anxious.
They were the ones who had kept the secret. The
ones who had found a way to ensure that the public was not
exposed to the Giantess question.
They had made some mistakes in the past few years,
yes. Attack of the 50 foot Woman should never have gotten on
HBO. Attack of the 60 foot Centerfold should never have been
made at all. And the fact that Roger Corman was still alive was
an embarrasment to them.
But there had been successes to rival the heyday of
Land of the Giants. They had convinced Tim Burton to stop his
movie on giant go-go dancers. They had eliminated all two-shots
of giant women from the new "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" show.
They had squashed an idea about tiny aliens--clearly a ruse.
And they had cast John Goodman in the new Borrowers flick.
And still, they worried.
The source of their worries was Claire Danes.
She had the connections to get a movie made--and she
wanted to make a movie about shrinking. But even worse, she
wanted to tell the movie about a shrunken man. A _real_
shrunken man.
"How did it get to this point?" asked Inspector
Kopec, clearly vexed.
"I told you we should never have let D.X. out of our
sight," cried Dr. Cyclops.
The meeting continued, and the invective grew
stronger.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
It's not that difficult, really. I know it, sort of
like you know how to catch a ball, or touch-type. If you start
to think about it, it's hard, almost impossible to know what
you're doing. But if you just let go--there it is, on the
border of your conscousness. Now, make the shift!
I'm limited in my choices. I can only go up twelve
times over my base, which is 1/2 inch tall. And I can only
bring Sarah down to 1/12th of her base, which is five feet,
eight inches tall. I know this by observation, not by a rule
book. (I wonder--if I do this, will I get stronger at it? Just
wondering.)
Anyhow. When all is said and done, if I max out
on both ends, I end up an even six inches tall, and she ends up
five and two-thirds. A neat trick that we don't use much,
because, well, we both like our relationship the way it is, and
being at a normal height ratio skews the relationship.
Or something like that. But variety is the spice of
life, so we tried it.
"Well," I said, when I had completed my change.
"Where too, miss?"
She smiled up at me, a beauty at any scale, and
said, "Well, big man, I--"
Suddenly, we heard the sound of the key in the lock.
"Damn! It's Kelly! Quick--into the closet!"
We reached the closet just as the door opened, and
Sarah's roommate walked in. "OKAY, MOM, COME ON," she said, as
she walked into the room, sending tremors with every step.
She was tall, I think, though it's kind of difficult
for me to judge, and not very curvy, with curly red hair. She
was wearing a pleated skirt and a t-shirt, and I would have to
have been blind not to notice that she was very attractive.
I could feel Sarah's eyes on me. So I turned and
kissed her. "Not the way you probably planned this, eh, love?"
She kicked me in the shin--lightly--and said, simply, "No.
But...while we're here--you don't think she'll look all the way
back by my sandals there, do you?"
Making love on the deck of an adidas sandal has a
certain allure. And after a while, I didn't even hear the
racket Kelly was making.
* * *
Anonymous
The argument was heating up.
"If this gets out--why, if people start actually
thinking about giant women--or shrunken men--as a possibility--"
stated Michael Eisner, angrily. He had taken enough heat over
that one scene in "Honey, I Blew Up the Kid" to last him eight
lifetimes, and he was by God not going to let anyone else off
the hook this time.
Steve Spielberg studied his notes, quietly. He
seemed lost in thought, trying to figure a way out of this
mess--but no ideas sprung to mind. Don Bluth's seat was
conspicuously empty, a reminder of the way he'd walked out in a
huff weeks before--over an argument much like this.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Let's not panic,"
said the Chairman calmly. "We've been working for fifty years
to keep a lid on the whole GTS thing. On some fronts, we're
fighting an uphill battle--we've already lost the battle on the
internet, despite our takeout of alt.sex.fetish.giants, and our
continued work with GeoCities and Paradise-Net. They're too
fast for us.
"But thankfully, mainstream America is not yet
hooked to the net. For the vast majority of people who would be
interested in this...subject matter, Television and the Movies
are the only media they're aware of. We can control this."
"Mr. Chairman, may I make a statement?" I asked.
"Very well. Anonymous has the floor."
"With all due respect, sir, I think the time may be
right for us to end our opposition to GTS."
I was met by a hail of boos, but I persisted. "Just
because the Athena League has been looking for ways to utilize
GTS to their advantage doesn't mean they'll take over the world.
Sure, they may find a way to alter the male/female paradigm
but--"
"Mr. Chairman, point of parliamentary inquiry!" It
was John Jackson. "This is what we're fighting against. We
must preserve the old order! If women are stronger than men,
bigger than men, more powerful than men, then we are doomed! I
know Anonymous comes to us on the Chair's recommendation, but
can we really let him call for an end to our fifty-year mandate?"
* * *
Sarah Kensington
It was a good way to christen my room--and my
sandals. We went back out, and saw Kelly and her mom debating
where to put a chair, and the door standing open. "Well, here
goes nothing," I said, carrying Scott (already reduced to half
an inch tall) out into the corridor.
It was controlled chaos, and I was clearly not safe
being in cross traffic at my height. So I charged across the
hall into the bathroom, and Scott quickly worked his magic.
I looked into my right hand, and saw my little lover
there, the size of a rice grain. Amazing, I thought, that this
was even possible.
I blew a kiss carefully at Scott, and placed him
down my shirt, on my left breast. He was safe there--he knew
his way around my breast. I ran my fingers through my hair, and
walked across the hall to meet my roommate.
"Kelly?" I asked, poking my head in the room. I put
on my best stupid look--similar to the one on my school I.D.
"You must be Sarah! Nice to meet you! I see you're
already moved in." She seemed friendly enough. That was a good
sign.
"Yeah, got here this morning. But if you'd rather
have that side, I can--"
"No, no, I wanted this side anyhow. Um--I'd like
you to meet my mom, Karen Johnson."
The conversation continued in that vein for a
while--I won't bore you with details. It was two girls
yammering on about where the T.V. should go, what classes they
were taking, and so on. I even found the opportunity to quietly
sneak Scott back into my underwear drawer.
I did find out some interesting stuff about Kelly,
though. Seems she went to a Catholic boarding school, so she'd
been through this whole dorm thing before. We chatted about
this and that, and then headed down to supper together.
I left Scott in the room. I hate doing that, but,
well, I would have to, until I was sure Kelly was a good person.
Once I was sure--well, then I would introduce her. I had
to--there was no way I could keep Scott secret forever.
I just hoped Scott would understand that.
* * *
Anonymous
"You are out of order, Mr. Jackson," said the
Chairman, pointedly. "Parliamentary Inquiry is not a license to
debate. Don't forget that it was Anonymous who covered up what
really happened with your great-great-grandpappy and the
beanstalk. He's earned his seat at the table. Anonymous, like
all of us, may state his feelings on this matter." He turned to
me, and said quietly, "I would warn the Gentleman, however, that
D.X. Machina was making speeches like this before he left us--I
hope you have no similar motive. Proceed."
"I yield my time." Damn fool--ought to keep my
mouth shut. Szalinski spoke next, and his vitriol shocked me.
"Mr. Chair, you spoke of D.X. Machina. I submit
that our primary concern is not Ms. Danes--it is Mr. Machina!
He is a rogue, neither on our side nor the side of the League.
He dispenses GTS like it was his personal gift. He writes
books, he sells crystals, he gives knowledge to scientists that
they are not supposed to have--he is a menace, and he must be
stopped!"
The Cadre seethed. It would be a long meeting, and
I feared for my friend.
I feared for the people he had helped.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
I slept that night next to Sarah, on her pillow, as
always. She had to be quiet, I knew, lest she wake up Kelly.
But I was able to whisper into her ear, "I love you always, my
dear." I kissed her cheek, and settled in.
I felt uneasy, but I pushed the feeling aside. I
didn't know it yet--wouldn't for a while--but things were soon
going to get ugly.
Lost Change
Chapter Two
Welcome Week
by D.X. Machina
"It is not good that the man should be alone."
--Genesis 2:18
KellyAnn Johnson Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
In the first few days we were there, Sarah and I got
to be good friends. She's really cool. In a way, she reminds
me of my high school roommate Lori, who's going to SCSU. (I
hope Lor comes down to visit soon--Sarah will love her!)
We made a pretty good team, actually. My mom
shipped me off to Catholic boarding school in tenth grade, which
is just as cool as it sounds. That is, it isn't. But it did
get me used to living in a dorm, so I was pretty well able to
handle things with rooming arrangements--and Sarah didn't argue.
Meanwhile, Sarah's been going here part time through PSEO for
the past year, so she kind of knows the academic layout. We
helped each other out with email, buying books, working the
cafeteria for all it's worth, and pretty much everything else.
It was a fun time, and the only thing that was at
all weird was that, from time to time, Sarah would seem to
disappear off the face of the Earth, or she'd have to run back
up to the room during supper, stuff like that. I wondered what
the girl was up to, but not too much. Maybe she missed her mom.
Maybe she was using an Electolux special. Either way, she
needed space, I gave space. I just hoped she'd do the same for
me.
* * *
Scott Chelgren Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
Welcome Week was Hell.
I got to see Sarah maybe three times a day. The
rest of the time she was running off with Kelly, going to eat,
or watch movies or something.
I, meanwhile, was stuck in the box.
What's worse, Sarah started talking about showing me
to Kelly. She said Kelly was nice, and cool, and...well, she
seemed nice. But I had too many memories of broken bones and
crushing weights. For ever Sarah or Claire, there's a Victoria.
And I was not going to bet my life that Kelly was in the former
category.
But really, Victoria had been the only mean one....
No, I couldn't chance it. No matter what Sarah
said.
Could I?
At any rate, the absence didn't do wonders for our
relationship, I can tell you that. By the fourth day of Welcome
Week, I was fuming.
And the worst part was, I knew I was wrong.
* * *
Anonymous Beverly Hills, California
I enjoy little more than sipping Chardonnay on the
veranda, reading a well-worn copy of "Gulliver's Travels," and
wondering about what might have been.
My family has always been connected with the Cadre,
ever since my great-great-grandfather William accidentally
accompanied Dr. Gulliver on his famous trip to Brobdignang--and
had decidedly different adventures. He returned to England with
the secret of GTS, a secret that would eventually be discovered
by the Athena League. You see--
--or more likely, you don't. It's a long story, one
for a different time, perhaps. At any rate, my seat on the
Cadre is hereditary, and I would have to screw up in a big way
to lose it.
Which I had almost done.
Damn fool! Let them see your liberal leanings at
your eighth meeting--speak out against the tide now, and
alienate yourself from everyone else--rather than build a slow
consensus to eliminate the Cadre.
For it had to be eliminated. Any damn fool could
see that. Maybe once we were fighting for man's rightful place
in the balance of the sexes (a dubious goal, at that). Maybe
once there were clearly defined male/female roles. But now?
Dear Lord, there are women's professional basketball teams that
outdraw men's professional basketball teams. Women are in the
workplace, Congress, even the military. Even if the Athena
League managed to release GTS, it would do little but put an
exclamation point on the evolution of relationships. Maybe if
we bargained now, it wouldn't have to come to that.
But bargaining was impossible with the old guard in
charge. Maybe Spielberg was on my side. He seemed reasonable.
Bluth I know was fed up, but he had left in the middle of the
last meeting, and nobody had heard from him since. And D.X. was
with me, I knew it....
I turned back to my computer. D.X., what are you
doing? Posting stories, on the internet, no less! I need you
on the Cadre--there are others who share our position, friend.
Stop this insanity, I implore you!
But it's no use. I sighed. I hoped he would come
back soon.
* * *
Scott Chelgren Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
I sat in the box, and thought.
And thought and thought.
It was what I did for that first week. Almost all I
did. Oh, sure, I saw Sarah, and the time was sweet. But then I
went back in the box and thought some more.
And about the fifth day, I had an epiphany.
I would not know that I was wrong for too long after.
* * *
Sarah Kensington Coffman Union East Bank, University of Minnesota.
"Well, Scott, here it is--the place we first met."
I was trying to drag Scott out of the doldrums. My
fault--I'd been ignoring him, gallivanting across the East and
West Banks, while he lingered in my underwear drawer. So I had
taken him out to see the campus, and hopefully, to cheer him up.
"Where I first met you, you should say." His voice
was distant, and not just because of his height. It was a real
strain, these first few days. He was used to having me all to
himself--and now, well....
"I knew you were there. I felt a lump in the seat.
It went away, though." I tried to smile, but I had to admit the
strain was getting to me, too.
I slumped into the naugahyde, swayback chair, and
placed him on my shoulder. "I'm sorry this hasn't been a good
week for you, Scott, but I promise, I'll make it up to you."
"How?" he asked. "And why? This hasn't been a good
week because you've got a life. And, well, I'm....
"I'm holding you back, Sarah. I didn't think I was,
or at least I convinced myself I wasn't. But I am. I'm holding
you back. You'd probably be better off without me."
I know my jaw dropped. I knew things were bad,
but--was Scott dumping me?
I mustered my courage. "Scott--I would most
certainly not be better off without you, I--"
"--love me, I know, I love you, too. I love you
too much. I wish I loved you less, I could ignore what I was
doing to you. But you're having to worry about me when you
should be finding activities. Having to run up and feed me when
you should be enjoying dinner. Having to always worry if I'm
all right, rather than worrying about meeting a nice guy who can
be something other than a dependant."
"Scott, you don't understand, I love you, the way
you are. Always."
I could hear him sigh--barely audible, but clear to
me above anything. "Sarah, I wish I could be out of your
life--let you be able to live the way you should. I...I wish
that you didn't have to care for me, or worry where I was. I
had a chance to make that choice--and I made the wrong one. I'm
sorry."
And we both sat, crying. I didn't know what to say.
* * *
Scott Chelgren Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
We traveled back to Middlebrook in silence. It was
a lot to burden the girl with, but I had to say it. Deep down,
I wanted her to take me back to Apple Valley. Or maybe just let
me go in Coffman Union. I wanted to stay with her, more than
anything--but that meant denying her the opportunity to be just
a normal, everyday college freshman.
And I had to give her that opportunity, somehow.
No doubt, Welcome Week had been Hell. But maybe
some good would come of it.
When Sarah returned to her room, Kelly was already
there. "HEY," she said, "JORDAN GOT COMPS TO BEN FOLDS FIVE AT
FIRST AVE--WANT TO GO?"
Ben Folds Five! Wow, that took me back to my
previous life, back to the last date I'd been on before...well,
before.
"UM--YEAH. JUST HAVE TO FRESHEN UP FIRST." That
was code for "I'm going to stash you in the drawer" but I'd have
none of it. I intended to go to that concert.
* * *
Sarah Kensington Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
Scott was not going into the drawer--it seemed he
wanted to go to the concert.
Well, at least it was something. Almost, I thought,
a date. And hopefully it would shake him out of this mood of
his where he was convinced that I needed to get rid of him
somehow. Get rid of Scott? May as well chop my right arm
off--I could get by without him, but I remembered the way I felt
when I lost him in L.A.
So if Scott wanted to come, he could come. I tucked
him into my décolletage (his preferred method of travel--and I
wanted him to have that much more to think about) and walked
back into the room.
"It's Jordan, Kyle, you, and me," said Kelly,
smiling. Well, I thought Kyle was showing interest in me--guess
it's true. Too bad for him, I suppose. "Great!" I smiled. "We
going by bus?"
"Naw, I've got a car," said Kyle, brightly. He was
kinda handsome, in an odd sort of way.
"Well then, let's go," I said.
* * *
Anonymous Beverly Hills, California
The call was completely unexpected.
"Sir," said Kozlowski, "Telephone."
Kozlowski was about as British as couscous, and as
epicure as a plowman, but he was a fine servant, with a fetish
for cleanliness and a tremendous work ethic. His accent was
faux-British, but only for humor's sake.
"Thank you, Kozlowski. 'Speaking,'" I said into the
phone.
"Is this Mr. J--"
"Please, no names. How may I assist you, madam?"
"Sir, this is Claire Danes."
I paused, flummoxed. How? "Miss Danes, how may I
be of service?"
The young lady continued. "Mr....Mister, I
understand that you are involved in a certain fraternal
organization that has great power in this town."
"That may be true, Miss Danes. I belong to many
organiz ations."
"This one calls itself the Cadre, and it is a most
exclusive bunch. Don Bluth, Steven Speilberg, Michael
Eisner...and a few others whose identities are not so readily
available."
My heart raced. "My dear girl, you must be
mistaken. There is no Cadre, at least none I'm aware of."
"Yes, he said you'd say that," she said, bluntly.
"Who said?" As if I didn't know.
"A Mr. Machina. He stopped by, read over my script,
got paged and left. But he gave me your name and number. He
said you could help smooth the waters for my project."
There was a grand pause. After an eternity, I
answered.
"Miss Danes...when would you like to meet?"
* * *
Scott Chelgren First Avenue Night Club First Ave and 7th St, Minneapolis
I could almost feel him, staring at Sarah, making
small talk, all the while wondering what he'd have to do to get
with this girl.
I couldn't fault him. After all, I'd spent much of
the past few months getting with this girl. She was someone
that radiated beauty of spirit and stature. He had good taste.
But he was a reminder. He was six feet tall. He
was a guy you could take home to mom, or go to spring formal
with.
Or walk down the aisle with.
I was none of those. I was nothing. Nobody. And
not even Sarah's reassurances could convince me otherwise.
I began to crawl out of my carrying case--I was
going to go on my last date with Sarah.
I had no idea it'd end the way it did.
* * *
Sarah Kensington First Avenue Night Club First Ave & 7th St, Minneapolis
Kyle was pretty cool, but not so cool as Scott. I
liked him, but there was still something about holding a man in
the palm of your hand. Who cared if the march down the aisle
would be a bit unusual? I was already trying to figure out how
to break the news to Mom when the time came.
We entered First Ave, and I was surprised that we
were being frisked. Nevertheless, I raised my hands and allowed
the man to pat me down (he was quick about it--very
professional). We then walked into the legendary club.
First Ave is gritty, and dirty--and amazing. It's a
great place to see a show. The place was packed with about
twelve hundred concertgoers, there to see Ben Folds and the
other two guys who made up Ben Folds Five. The five of us waded
in to the crowd.
Or so I thought.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
I hadn't been positioned correctly when Sarah lifted
her arms for the search. I dropped like a stone into her
shorts, and then only stopped because I was wedged into the
elastic. With every step she took, I slipped further and
further down. She couldn't feel me, apparently, and my arms
were pinned--I was unable to grab hold of anything.
I slipped, slowly but inevitably, until we hit the
floor. Then, I finally reached the bottom.
I fell.
I landed on the hard floor, dazed but unhurt.
There were feet everywhere. I was in big trouble.
But I was buoyed by one thought.
Sarah had lost me.
It would hurt, but in the long run, she'd be better
off.
Or so I thought.
Lost Change
Chapter Three
Stop the Bus, I Want to be Lonely
by D.X. Machina
"Be not ignorant of anything in a great matter or a small"
--Ecclesiasticus 5:15
Claire Danes Burbank, California
The man arrived precisely on time, as David had said
he would. He was nondescript--middle aged, full head of
silver-black hair, glasses, slight paunch--which was fitting, I
suppose. At any rate, I smiled my most winning smile, rose, and
greeted him.
"No need to rise, young lady. Please, we'll get
down to business. I understand you talked to D.X." He was
cool, but there was a note of concern in his voice. Why?
"Yes, he stopped by this morning. With no notice, I
might add. He's a strange man, Dave Machina. But he seemed to
know what he was talking about."
"Yes, well, um, you see--" was that a British
accent? Or New England? "--um, yes, Mr. Machina was correct.
About everything."
"And you can smooth the waters. Get this movie
made."
"Well--it's a bit more complicated, you see--"
I sighed. "I don't, Mr. Unknown. Tell me what I
don't see."
And so he did.
* * *
It seems that, about ninety years ago, the Athena
League, a band of women committed to female dominance,
discovered the secret of GTS, which had been until then the
exclusive province of a shadowy organization known as the Cadre.
It was assumed, among the Cadre, that one of its members had
gone over--but nobody was ever identified, and the pieces to the
GTS puzzle were there, waiting to be assembled.
As the years passed, the Athena League's plan became
apparent--get the public used to the idea of strong women--even
giant women--and then use GTS to make those fantasies reality.
The Cadre fought all the way, trying at all turns to
prevent dissemination of material on Giantesses. The media
expression of GTS was shunted into pulp fiction and B-movies.
In recent years, though, the Athena League began to
grow more bold. It was said that they were ready to use GTS
anyhow, whether the public was ready to accept it or not. A few
brave souls in the Cadre, led by D.X. Machina, argued for
reconciliation with the League, and a negotiated truce that
would have allowed the secret of GTS to be exposed, and the boon
granted to those willing to use it; but the old guard would have
none of it. The lid was jammed on tighter than ever. D.X. left
the Cadre, though he never surrendered his seat, and nobody ever
moved to remove him. Now, the old guard had the upper hand--and
any fictional mention of GTS was bound to be squelched.
"And so you see," concluded the man, "It's a bit
more complex than just green-lighting a project. The future of
the human race has unfortunately come into play."
I stretched back. "But what of my friends--haven't
they come into contact with GTS?"
"Yes," said the man gravely. "Thanks to D.X. And
that's the devil of it. He's using GTS for frivolous ends. I
fear that there are great problems about to surface now that GTS
is out in the open--and I fear for your friends."
* * *
Scott Chelgren First Avenue Night Club First Ave & 7th St Minneapolis, Minnesota
Sarah et al. disappeared into the crowd, and
part of me died.
After all, what I really wanted was Sarah. Sarah,
and nothing else, and I would be a happy man.
But to gain that happiness, I would have to deny her
happiness.
Damn it, I hate when shit like this happens.
A huge foot smashed down next to me, and I broke
from my reverie. While part of me had died (that part that
includes my heart and soul), the rest of me lived, and that part
of me did not want to die. At least, not much.
I suppose had I not known First Ave well I would
have been in trouble. As it was, though, I spent the better
part of my formative years here. I would have to get over by
the pool tables. To stay on the main floor was suicide.
I hopped up onto a pair of Doc Martens that were
wandering by. They seemed to be headed in the right direction.
Yep--there was the souvenir table, so the pool tables should be
just about--there!
It was between sets, so there was a bit more traffic
in this area than I wanted. Nevertheless, I needed to think,
and if I could make it under the tables without dying, I'd have
that chance.
The boots had continued down the ramp and over to
the vending machines. I was still one inch tall--I didn't know
whether I should change size, and I've always believed that,
when in doubt, don't change what you're doing.
Ha.
I needed another lift to the pool tables, and I
found it in a pair of iridescent green sandals, that belonged
to a short-skirted alternachick. She walked over to the pool
tables--I knew she would. She was one of the fangirls, the
fourteen-something girlfriends of the fanboys. They come to
shows to mosh, and crowd surf, and I don't know why they come to
Ben Folds Five, because they're a piano group. But whatever.
She was nice enough to walk over to the pool tables for me, I
won't criticize.
I blocked out the world, and tried to think.
* * *
Sarah Kensington First Avenue Night Club First Ave & 7th St Minneapolis, Minnesota
We arrived at the tail end of the opening band--they
were equal parts forgettable and bad. So we mostly just stood
around, listening to the music blaring over the speaker and
watching clips of midget wrestling. By the time Ben Folds Five
finally took the stage, I was bored out of my skull. I hoped
these guys were good. Scott spoke highly of them.
* * *
KellyAnn Johnson First Avenue Night Club First Ave & 7th St Minneapolis, Minnesota
They opened with "Jackson Canary," one of the best
of all time. Man, I'm amazed at what Ben Folds can do with a
piano. Then they ripped through "Song For the Dumped," brought
out the lighters with "Brick," and then ripped things up again
with "Uncle Walter." Man, they were good. It seemed like Sarah
was enjoying it, anyhow.
* * *
Anonymous en route to Beverly Hills, California
The meeting shook me up. The girl was right, of
course. It was only a movie. But the story was about real
people--who had benefited from GTS. The Cadre would never
support it. Never.
But what worried me more was the seemingly simple
way in which the one lad had gained access to GTS--a book,
readily available, published by D.X.
I jumped when the Cell Phone rang. I picked it up
with trepidation. "Hello?" I asked.
"This is the Chairman," the voice said, and indeed,
it sounded like him.
"She was a girl of sixteen," I said, wanting to make
sure.
"A pleasant, frolicsome girl," he agreed. "You're
going on assignment."
It appeared I was.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
Here I stand--sad and free. I can't cry and I can't
see what I've done. God...what have I done?
The words pierced me like a knife. It was always
one of my favorite songs. It's true, for me at least, that I
always wanted to get into a car and drive anywhere. And
yet--here I was, doing the scale-specific equivalent, and I was
stuck on the chorus.
What have I done?
Focus, focus. You've left Sarah, and you want to go
back. Of course you do. But remember why you left. For her.
Don't go charging after her now. You'll hurt her.
But--
Stow it. What now? Hang at First Ave forever?
You'd see some good bands.
No, I'd get squashed at some point. And I don't
think I could live forever on stale beer and dropped popcorn.
Well?
Well, seems to me I should head home with one of the
crowd. Set up shop in their home. Maybe someday reveal myself.
Probably not soon.
Good idea, chum. You're getting good at this.
Too much practice, mate.
* * *
Sarah Kensington
"BEN FOLDS FIVE! BEN FOLDS FIVE!"
The crowd was chanting enthusiastically for that
moment of spontaneity, the encore. Of course, the band would be
back out in just a second, but for now, the crowd was paying its
respects.
I was chanting along with 'em. Wow. The show was
amazing! I would have to tell Scott later that I should've
bought their albums when he told me to. I wondered how Scott
was doing--tried to feel him, but couldn't. Odd. Usually when
traveling with me I could feel his every move.
Oh well, he was probably being still. Probably.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
They were closing with "Underground," which made
sense. It was their first hit, and it's a very danceable number.
In spite of myself, I half grooved to the music.
Who to go with? I had a few minutes to decide, and
I had decided on a fangirl. Why? Because I could see her from
here. She looked kinda cute, with a long black skirt and
Birkenstocks. I would go home with her, because--well, because.
Why not her?
So as the song wound down, I headed straight for
her, and vaulted onto the deck of her sandal, right by her
silver-painted toenails. Instinctively, I halved my height to
one-half inch, and settled in between big and second toe. I
looked up--I hoped she was a decent girl.
It didn't really matter to me. I'd poured my heart
out, and it had evaporated.
* * *
Sarah Kensington Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
It was almost an hour later when we got back to
Middlebrook. I was now nervous. I headed straight for the
bathroom, closed my door, and carefully pulled off my shirt.
He wasn't there.
I pulled off everything, a little less carefully
when I reached the end. When I did reach the end, I stared into
the mirror. He was gone--again.
And I feared he wasn't coming back.
* * *
the narrator Summit Hill Neighborhood St. Paul, Minnesota
And so it was that at that very moment, a man in
California, who called himself David Machina, or D.X. to some,
woke up.
It had been a rough day for D.X., and it was going
to get rougher.
He h ad sensed a disturbance in GTS.
A disturbance that was about to send him home.
Home to meet his maker.
Chapter Four
Delusions and Grandeur
by D.X. Machina
"So we grew together,/Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,/But yet an
union in partition."
--William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act III Scene 2
Scott Chelgren Whereabouts Unknown
We were in a car.
More I cannot say. We had gone out of First Ave and
headed for the ramp across the street from Blues Alley, walked
up two flights of stairs, and ended up inside a car with a
charcoal gray interior. We were on the passenger side. Across
the stick shift, I could see another girl, wearing a black top
and long black jeans. I didn't know if anyone else was in the
car besides her and my transporter.
That was ten minutes ago, and we were driving
somewhere. I wondered where.
* * *
Sarah Kensington Lobby of the Humphrey Institute West Bank, University of Minnesota
Scott told me once that he liked to come here to
think.
It was quiet, and a calm place to study--and indeed,
there was a lot of space to stretch out and just relax, and
wonder about what the future held.
A nice place.
A nice place.
Oh, God, oh my God, why? Why?!? Why did he
convince himself he was holding me back? Why did he leave me?
I was sobbing. How could he ever think that I
didn't need him? That his existence held me back? Didn't he
remember that night back in June?
Didn't he remember?
I made a wish, then and there.
I wished that, whatever happened, whatever the
future would bring, that Scott would be safe. That he would be
okay.
I just wished I knew.
I sat in the Humphrey Institute and cried until I
was cried out. Then I headed back home.
I had some calls to make.
* * *
Claire Danes Beverly Hills, California
The phone rang, and a chill ran down my spine.
I knew something was wrong.
I walked slowly over, and as if in a dream, picked
up the phone.
"Hello," I said.
"He's gone, Claire," she said.
And I knew it was going to be a hard, hard night.
* * *
Anonymous LAX Los Angeles, California
I looked at the dossier. D.X. Machina. Everything
known about him. Where he came from, how he ended up in the
Cadre, his known acts since leaving us.
I had been ordered to find him. And to bring him
back to Los Angeles. By any means necessary.
Which is why I was waiting for a non-stop flight to
Chicago O'Hare International Airport. He had ties to the
Chicago area. I would go there first.
* * *
Scott Chelgren Somewhere in Suburban Minneapolis/St. Paul
The car pulled into a driveway, and I had to make a
decision.
It was a relatively easy one, based on my
unwillingness to trek across a car, and the spirit of "que sera
sera" which governed my actions.
I would go with the girl that brung me.
I climbed onto the birks and held on as the car door
opened.
It appeared we were going home.
* * *
We made it inside the door, and I leapt to safety.
Not that I had anything against the girl's feet--they were quite
nice--but they weren't the safest place for me to be at that
moment.
I looked around, and tried to get my bearings. I
was in four-foot-high powder blue shag carpet, which appeared to
go on forever. It was apparently the living room--I thought I
could hear a television on somewhere.
I increased my height to three inches--tall enough
to move, but still small enough to blend in somewhat--and
started inwards.
I saw my hostess turning down the hall, and I
decided to follow her. It seemed like a plan, anyhow. Keeping
along the baseboard, I walked until I reached the first room on
my right. I was just about to turn into the room when a huge
foot stomped down in front of me. It belonged to a five or six
year old girl, who was apparently heading out to the living
room. I groaned inwardly. My biggest fear was always that Susi
would find me, and try to make me into one of her dolls. Sarah
used to say--
Shut up, brain.
I continued down the hall.
* * *
D.X. Machina Somewhere in New Mexico
It was a crisp fall evening, and I was busy doing
not much of anything. It was easy enough to do nothing here in
the desert, and I came here as often as time permitted.
I was debating whether or not I should pull another
crystal out and distribute it. I had a pretty good success rate
with those things--people always felt like they were in control
with 'em, even though really, all the power they were using came
from within themselves. Still, they were pretty enough, and
with that little bogus history I gave out with 'em, they sure
convinced people they were the real thing.
I could either pull the crystal out, or I could
maybe enroll at a college somewhere, and quietly distribute some
more GTS.
It's what I did. Get GTS out to those who needed
it. A far more satisfying career than selling computers. A
tremendous amount more satisfying than quashing even the mention
of GTS.
I don't know why I ever signed on with the Cadre.
Actually, yeah I do--I was unemployed, accidentally stumbled on
the secret of GTS, and used it against the Athena League without
even realizing what I was doing, and before I knew it, I was on
the Cadre's board, and richer and more powerful than I ever
imagined.
Of course, I was denying happiness to billions, and
that's why I left years ago.
I heard my beeper go off, and I went over to it.
Claire Danes' number. I guess she talked to Anon--I wondered
how that went.
I really wondered why she was paging me. She said
she'd do it only if things turned ugly.
I picked up the phone. Well, it beat watching my
Cubs lose, anyhow.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
I reached the last door in the hall, and walked
through. Yeah, this was the room of a high school girl. I did
have more respect for her--her posters were of Ani and Soul
Coughing, not Alanis and Collective Soul. Maybe she was a girl
with taste after all.
She was sitting at her desk, studying. I tried to
size up her age. Sixteen? Seventeen? It was hard, and I never
was very good at it. She did have cool short green hair,
though. Always liked green hair.
She stretched, and I sighed. I was going to have to
forget. I had done it before. It had been easy then--my life
was largely forgetful before my change. It would be very hard
now, for my life had been anything but forgetful since. But I
would forget, somehow.
Perhaps with this one, or one like her. Perhaps. A
thought was forming in my mind, one which I did not push away.
Perhaps I was going insane. Or perhaps I was simply starting to
overcompensate.
Perhaps.
* * *
D.X. Machina
The phone rang just once before it picked up.
"David?" the voice said. Claire's voice was quiet and quavery;
I began to wonder why. "Yes, Claire. How can I help you? Did
my friend cause you any problems?"
"Never mind about that," she said, abruptly.
"There's a far worse problem. One which I think only you can
help me with."
I paused. "What is the problem, Claire?"
"Do you remember a gentleman by the name of Scott
Chelgren? You gave him the gift of GTS."
"Of course, the subject of your script. Why?"
"He's missing."
I sighed. I tried to reach out to him. I could do
it, sometimes. But his mind was blocked. His girlfriend's
mind, however, was howling with pain and anguish. He decided he
was holding her back, eh? Common enough. I hoped he lived
long enough to get over this stupid notion.
But--"Yes, I know. He's got the idea he's holding
Sarah back somehow."
I heard Claire mumble an oath, than say, "If you
know, you can find him and drag him back to Sarah. Get it
through his tiny head that she loves him no matter what."
"It's not that easy," I said, sitting down. "I
mean, I give this gift, but what people do with it is up to--"
"DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!" I jerked the phone away
from my ear. Claire could yell! "Find Scott! Get him back to
my friend!"
"You're not really in a position to give orders," I
offered.
"Don't test me, Mr. Machina. Or would you like me
to give the Cadre your pager number? They're resourceful-They
could probably track you down with it."
I chuckled. She had style, all right. "Very well.
Mr. Chelgren is in Minnesota, correct? I'll do what I can." We
concluded the call, and I leaned back. I studied the crystal I
had pulled, then hung it around my neck. I was off to my
hometown. I hoped I could be of assistance.
* * *
Karen Kensington Apple Valley, Minnesota.
"Yeah, Sar, I know. He'll come back. He did in
L.A. He loves you, y'know? He's just screwed up right now....I
know he said that, but he'll figure out soon enough that he's
being a moron....Look, he managed to survive Universal Studios,
that place is easily as packed as First Ave. He's okay. Really.
"I love you, Sar. Take care....He will, I promise.
Yeah, bye."
I hung up the phone and blinked back a tear. Scott,
what the hell are you doing? I mean, it's like you fight
through Los Angeles to get back to Sarah, and now you leave her?
You moron, she's nuts about you, and you're nuts about her.
Can't you see that?
Maybe he can't.
The course of true love never did run smooth, and
that's what you and Sarah have.
Come on, figure it out Scott.
Please?
* * *
Scott Chelgren
I crawled under the bed, and was pleasantly surprised
to find quite a mess in under there, including a half-eaten bag
of chips, enough to feed me for the foreseeable future. I laid
out a white bobby sock, and tried to make up a bed for myself.
Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight, I could see that. But
it would have to come. The coming weeks were going to be hard.
I peeked out under the bed ruffle and looked around
the room.
The girl was changing for bed. She was really quite
attractive, I couldn't help but notice. I sighed as I watched
her pull her nightgown on, and head for the bed.
She wasn't Sarah.
* * *
Sarah Kensington Middlebrook Hall West Bank, University of Minnesota
"Sarah, what's wrong?"
It was the question I had been dreading. Kelly was
pretty perceptive, and she had picked up on my distress almost
immediately. What to tell her? The truth? Yeah, that made no
damn sense.
But I had to tell her something, and I found that I
was, indeed, telling her the truth.
I had gotten almost halfway through the condensed
story of Scott and I before I realize what the hell I was doing,
and I stopped on a dime. "I must sound crazy," I admitted, and
lapsed into silence.
"No," she said, quietly. "No, you don't. Laurie
and I found a little man of our own o nce."
My head jerked up. "What! What do you mean?"
"We found him in our room last spring. About two
inches tall. He ran away, though. We really just used him for,
um, personal stuff. I don't think we ever even really thought
of him as human. But he must have been like your Scott. A real
person. Scared and alone in a world of giants. And we--man,
now we both feel bad."
We sat in silence for a while, before Kelly finally
spoke again.
"If it is true love, then he'll be back. It's
inevitable. It's the way the story has to end."
"I wish I could believe that," I groaned.
"We live in a world with two-inch-tall men," said
Kelly, quietly. "I think almost anything is believable if you
accept that."
I smiled slightly. Maybe Kelly was right.
She had to be.
Chapter Five
Delusions and Grandeur
by D.X. Machina
"There were giants on the earth in those days."
--Genesis 6:4
TWO WEEKS LATER
Scott Chelgren Home of Tanya Robertson Wayzata, Minnesota
It was about three thirty or so, and Tanya would be
getting home soon. I was sort of looking forward to it. It was
a break in the monotony, anyhow. She was a kind of like
company. I could sit and watch her study, and imagine that she
knew I was there. It was what I did every night, from the
relative cover of her bed.
She didn't know, of course, that I was there.
Didn't know that I'd been observing her for the past two weeks.
Well, I had to do something, and this was it: try to get a
fly-on-the-wall's view of a typical teenage girl (albeit one
with green hair). And I'd done well in my observation. I
picked up on her name (Tanya Robertson), her grade (Senior), her
school (Wayzata), her activities (newspaper and quiz bowl), her
boyfriend's name (Chuck something-or-other) and even such things
as her favorite snacks (potato chips and bananas).
I rarely had to leave her room, and when I did it
was at breakneck speed. I was playing it safe, and I probably
could have done it forever.
But it was getting dull. I needed a challenge.
This was safe, but it was too safe--and I was getting
bored. I needed to do something.
So I started to plan.
* * *
Anonymous Glenview, Illinois
No sign of him. That wasn't a surprise. D.X.
always was a private individual, and he had more reason now for
privacy than ever. Those contacts he had here were reticent,
save for one who offered the opinion that D.X. Machina could "go
to Hell."
So I sat at the cafe and drank cafe and wondered
what to do next. Mayhaps I would go to Arizona. I had heard
he spent time there.
I had to find him, though. Or the Cadre would drum
me out.
So I considered my options, and read the
entertainment magazine, and pondered.
* * *
Sarah Ke
Sitio recomendado:Giantess videos
Giantess Stories: Lost Change
'Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge' by D.X. Machina by D.X. Machina A Change for Three A Change for Three Chapter One Chapt
giantess18
en
2021-08-01
Acording with the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (“DMCA”), Pub. L. 105-304 If you believe that your copyrighted work is being infringed, notify our team at the email [email protected]