I’d had a tough week, and so I took Friday off and went to the cinema on my own. There was a showing at 10 am in the new, small screen, and I went in with a naughty, almost guilty feeling; the room could seat 30 people, on steep tiers with wide, comfy chairs, but I was the only one there. I took a seat in the middle of the theatre and settled in with my big tub of popcorn. The previews came to an end there was still no one else there. My own private screening! But then the door opened and she entered. I stared, suddenly self-conscious – cinemas are anonymous through numbers, but if there’s just two of you, it’s kind of awkward.

It helped that she was disarmingly beautiful, though; young, in her early 20s, wearing loose jeans and a low-cut striped t-shirt that hugged her ample, round breasts and showed off a generous hint of cleavage. Her black hair was spiky on top and long on the left side, cut short on the right – a punkish look given an accent by the glitter of a nose ring in her left nostril, and the tatty leather satchel bag slung over one shoulder. She squinted into the room, and smirked as she looked my way. A devilish, cheeky look, that made me smile back.

The young woman walked up the steps to my tier and my heart stopped, thinking she was actually coming to me. But she continued one row up and walked behind me. I stiffened, looking forward, trying to act natural, but I felt more interested in the girl than the film – this strange beauty, also in the cinema alone on a Friday morning.

Her footsteps passed behind me, with a little waft of a musky, woody perfume, then a seat creaked as she sat right behind my ear. I gave a quick glance – she was one place along from me, as close as she could be without sitting directly behind me. She winked, making me stare straight ahead again.

The film started but I could barely focus, searching for meaning in that smile. Should I say something? Invite her to sit next to me, seeing as we were all alone? But no, that felt creepy. No one came to the cinema alone looking to pick people up . . .

There was movement to my left and I looked to see she’d stretched a leg over the seat next to me, leaving her boot hanging about ten inches from my head. It was a well-worn black leather combat boot, loosely laced so the tongue and ankle hung a little away from her ankle. She bobbed her toe distractingly as I tried to concentrate on the film. It was just there, though, right in my vision, a stranger’s booted foot – a little closer and she could’ve been resting it on my shoulder! Was she teasing me, or just so callous she didn’t care how off-putting it might be? Part of me was fascinated by her, though, tempted to shift a little closer.

I took in a breath, trying to calm myself.

Focus on the film. The movie had opened with loud music and action, but I could barely take it in. Ten minutes or more passed, with her boot still occasionally bobbing beside me, and my mind kept spiralling, no idea what I was watching. I kept sneaking glances to my side, not turning my head, taking in the scratches of the leather, the old thread of her laces.

Then she drew her leg back suddenly and I jumped in my seat with surprise. I fixed my eyes on the screen to insist, if only to myself, that I hadn’t been staring. She huffed with annoyance behind me and I cringed, thinking she must’ve picked up on my demeanour somehow – got uncomfortable that I was so close to her? But she was the one who put her foot there, I inwardly protested.

“I think you’ve got a better spot,” she said, right by my ear, and I went rigid, seeing in my peripheral vision her fingers had gripped my seat back and she’d leant right in close to me. I gulped, not sure what to say, and she whispered, “You can make space for both of us.”

She released the seat and I heard her stand, my heart racing. This couldn’t be happening – this beautiful stranger was actually coming onto me? I bit my lip as I heard her walk back down her row, not wanting to look in case I broke the spell. But then I was overtaken by a sudden strange feeling, a nauseous sensation rising from my gut. I looked down at myself. Was this nerves? No, it felt worse. Bad food? Why now! My stomach turned and I hunched forward. My skin felt tight, suddenly, my head hot. I looked up with worry, to the young woman now walking down my aisle, and I gave an involuntary groan as I cramped all over.

Then everything started changing. The room around me grew, the ceiling speeding away and the arms of the chair coming up either side of me like fabric-coated walls. I flopped onto my back as the seat expanded beneath me, knocking my legs up – suddenly no longer a seat but a huge surface of cushion. And as quickly as it all started, it stopped; the sick feeling and warmth left me, and I found myself sitting up on a chair fit for a giant, with the cinema screen as big as the sky beyond.

The young woman moved into view with a booming footstep, towering over me – now a giant! I pushed quickly up to my feet, stuttering fear at the size of her, but as I looked quickly around me and saw the immense size of everything, from the enormous chair to the room-sized tub of popcorn, back to her. I had shrunk, and couldn’t be more than six inches tall.

I looked up fearfully, to ask for help, to tell this beautiful punk girl I had no idea what was happening – but the look on her face chilled me. Not shocked, or even surprised. She was chewing her lower lip, eyes narrowed, as she took me in with satisfaction. She had somehow done this, and she did not have good intentions for me. I looked quickly around again, with a rising feeling that I needed to run. She bent down, though, and I was stilled by the sight of her smooth-skinned face, soft lips, big eyes – and her breasts, hanging down near me, a view into her cleavage that showed them off as enormous and round, each bigger than me.

“Now, this seat looks much more comfortable,” she said, in a silky whisper, before rising up again. Still stunned by the sight of that giant cleavage, it took me a second to process her words – by which time she’d turned around, and I looked up at the sight of her impossibly huge behind, which looked tight and perfectly curved in her pale jeans. She started lowering towards me. I yelped and backed up slightly, not believing she’d actually sit down, and with nowhere to go anyway. Then she came down quicker, and when I tried to flee it was too late. I turned away as a wall of denim pushed me down.

Her weight descended on me, smothering me between the coarse fabric of the cushion and the soft give of her massive buttock. I pushed and twisted around onto my back as she shifted her arse over me, and my face was pressed into the denim by the pressure of her huge rear. I shoved and kicked with all my strength and managed to slip into a slight gap at the side, where I got my face clear and took in big breaths, but she shifted again and rested more of her weight down to finally pin me. Her arse cheeks pressed down on my limbs, and all I could do was gasp for air in the small space I’d found. It was the crack of her butt, I realised – I was wedged into the crack of her butt, inches away from being suffocated by her.

I was unable to move, forced to stop and take stock.

She had shrunk me and she had sat on me! Somehow, miraculously, I was still alive, my small body disproportionately dense to be able to bear her giant weight, but there was no way out, and if she’d been so quick to sit on me, who was to say what else she had in store.

I shouted, “Help! Someone help me!”

It was lost to the sound of explosions from the film, shaking the theatre with bass – and a light laugh from her. She said, “No one’s gonna hear you. Don’t waste your energy.”

“Why are you doing this!” I screamed. “Let me out!”

“Shh,” she replied, and gave a slight wiggle of her bum, rolling more flesh over my arm, knocking my head to the side. “I’m trying to watch the film.”

I was breathing quickly, desperate, but hopeless.

“Thanks for the popcorn, by the way,” she added, and I heard the crinkle of her fingers in my popcorn tub, then the loud crunch of her eating. The sound came through her body down to me, almost as loud as the film, giving me a chilling reminder of her size; a mouthful of popcorn to her would be about half my size. I heard her swallowing, and a gurgle from her stomach at work above me.

She ate and watched the film and only moved slightly from time to time, while I lay back under her bum, occasionally trying to pull my arms free again, otherwise conserving my energy, holding back despair.

“Oh, this is a good bit,” she whispered at one point, then something explosive happened in the film and she laughed loudly, enough to move in the seat and lift one cheek up. I got an arm free and quickly pushed against her other cheek, levering my other arm out before she sat fully back down. I rolled over and crawled, making it about two paces before her arse descended again. I was flattened, a bum cheek fully pressing down onto my back, squeezing over and around me up to my shoulders. I reached my arms forward, clawing at the cushion fabric, but there was no way to pull myself free.

The giant woman kept laughing, and I got the feeling she was laughing at me now, not the film. I struggled for a few moments more than gave up, resting my head down against the cushion. She sniffed satisfaction, apparently having been waiting for me to lose energy, then lifted her bum slightly to reposition, dropping back down to catch me in the more comfortable crack between cheeks. My arms were still free, but she had me pinned.

Shuddering with fearful breaths, I lay there, spent, with no hope. The film continued, and all I could do was wait. It felt like it went on forever, giving me nothing but time to consider my fate now, and what might be in store for me next. Was she going to squash me? Or leave me here to fend for myself? Frustrating as being stuck under her arse was, I dreaded the film ending even more. That was when something new and possibly more terrible would happen.

Sure enough, the film reached its dramatic conclusion, as a heavy rock tune came in to announce the credits, and the young woman gave an expressive sigh to announce it was time to move on. The pressure was suddenly released from me as she stood up, and I rolled over, quickly trying to recoup. She was standing over me, one hand on her hip, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“I enjoyed that,” she said, “didn’t you?”

I shook my head, too shaken for words.

“Yeah, I think you’re a keeper,” she said, definitively, making me frown. She raised her hand, fingers spreading, and I tried to scoot back across the seat away from her, tried to get my legs up to walk, but I was weak from being sat on for so long, and I had no chance of getting away. Her giant fingers closed around my waist and she lifted me as easily as if I were a doll. I clung to her hand for safety as I was carried into the air. I barely had time to demand she let me go when she’d opened the satchel bag and tossed me in. I fell amongst tissues, huge keys and cylinders of cosmetics, and only just steadied myself in the mess before all light was cut out by the bag closing. I was thrown about as she slung the bag over a shoulder, and I bounced inside as she started walking.

Outside, I heard sounds of people talking, and the breeze, and cars passing, as she walked down the road. I pushed myself up and mustered new energy to shout for help. I got out one cry before the satchel opened and her hand swept in again, pushing me down. I heard her whisper as she smothered me against the bag’s contents, “Be good or I’ll break you.”

I stayed quiet when she removed her hand, and was frozen with fear for the rest of the bumpy journey, no matter how many people I heard go by. I have no idea how much time passed, but finally there were sounds of doors opening and closing, and all was quiet again, as she carried me inside. Her hand came back into the satchel and pulled me out, and she tossed me callously into a cage, then thumped off through her apartment.

And that’s it – the story of how I ended up here with everyone else. It’s been two months now, and things have only got worse. So, how did she catch you?