A Fine Day For Chelsea by gtswburg
Summary:

When most of the student body and faculty of Hayes High School are inexplicably shrunk, what will happen to them?

Chelsea Dewinter, finding herself still fully sized, knows the answer.

It's her.



Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: This material is intended for mature audiences only.


Categories: Teenager (13-19), Crush, Feet, Entrapment, Giant, Humiliation, Instant Size Change, Mouth Play, Slave, Violent, Vore Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Minikin (3 in. to 1 in.)
Size Roles: F/f, F/m, FM/f, FM/m
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 14 Completed: Yes Word count: 30637 Read: 334855 Published: April 05 2013 Updated: May 27 2013

1. Prologue by gtswburg

2. Chapter 1 by gtswburg

3. Chapter 2 by gtswburg

4. Chapter 3 by gtswburg

5. Chapter 4 by gtswburg

6. Chapter 5 by gtswburg

7. Chapter 6 by gtswburg

8. Chapter 7 by gtswburg

9. Chapter 8 by gtswburg

10. Chapter 9 by gtswburg

11. Chapter 10 by gtswburg

12. Chapter 11 by gtswburg

13. Chapter 12 by gtswburg

14. Epilogue by gtswburg

Prologue by gtswburg

The hallways of Hayes High School were as dark as they could possibly get.

A few rays of hazy orange light filtered in through the slim windows that lined the hallways, barely doing anything to illuminate the old halls of the high school. Shadows formed beneath the arcs of orange light, plunging half the lockers into darkness and the others left sitting under mere partial illumination. The only internal illumination came from the few emergency exit signs that hummed with power, offering a soft red glow above shuttered and locked doorways.

The long locker-filled row was exceptionally silent on this night. Classrooms and lockers shuttered tight against the darkness, prepared against the imaginary crimes that the citizens of this quiet suburb continuously feared. It was a quiet place in the evening. The complete antithesis of its appearance in the daylight; brightly lit, loud, and bustling with life.

Laughter, from some far off place, pierced the quiet row.

Voices followed, gaining slightly in intensity, clearly on an approach to the empty hall. They never became overpowering, though they became clearer as their owners approached. When a door burst open, they finally rang with clarity against the long echoing chamber of lockers.

Lances of white light cut clear down the hallway, forcing the shadows to twist and shrivel away from the trio of trespassers. Each of the trespassers carried a flashlight as they walked through the school, chatting and laughing. Occasionally they spun the flashlights about, keeping an eye out for security guards, janitors, or ghosts.

One of them spun about, carefully checking their trail before returning the light to the cooler his two companions were carrying. “Gah, dude,” the longer haired one in the front called out, raising one of his large pale hands to his face to cover his eyes. “Do you realize how dark it is in here? You practically blinded me.”
“Oh shut up, man. Don't be such a pussy,” his hand immediately spun the flashlight back into his long-haired friend's face when he lowered his hand.

“Dude!”

The wielder of the flashlight laughed.

“Guys, seriously,” came the voice of the wiry teen gripping the other side of the cooler.

“Ok, ok, we're almost at the next one anyway,” the troublemaker announced, turning his flashlight away from his friends and on to the lockers. After a few seconds of searching, the beam of light settled on one of the slim metal frames, “Here it is. Locker 224, Chelsea Dewinter.”

“Finally,” the long haired man dropped his half of the cooler with a loud thud. The young man rubbed his arm and carefully began to stretch it out before turning to the unburdened boy, “My shift carrying the cooler is over, Brandon, you've got the next one.”
“Oh but dude, ya know, my uh carpal tunnel,” Brandon weakly made a gesture with one of his hands, attempting to convey the vulnerability of his wrist.

The long haired teen frowned, “Don't be a dick, Brandon, this thing is heavy and we still got like, twenty or so lockers to do.”

“Fine, whatever, Mikey,” Brandon replied with a sneer.

“Don't call me Mikey, Bran-Bran.”

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“Guys,” the wiry teen interjected as he carefully set down his half of the cooler, “Can we just get this done.”

“Sure,” Mike answered, extending a hand to Brandon.

After a moment, Brandon pulled a sheet of paper and a single key from his back pocket, handing them over to Mike. “Whatever.”

Mike consulted the paper and looked up at the locker once again, “Locker 224, Chelsea Dewinter.” Directing the beam of his flashlight over the built in combination lock, Mike carefully approached with his key, easily fitting it into the lock. Once the flimsy panel of metal popped open, Mike wondered aloud, “Why are we giving her one anyway?”

Brandon flipped open the cooler, a cool burst of mist spilling out of the container. Very carefully, Brandon reached his hand in and grabbed a smooth brown bottle.

“You should really use the gloves,” Mike advised.

“Shut up.” Brandon winced as he held the freezing cold brown bottle in his hands and rushed it over to Chelsea Dewinter's locker. Very carefully, Brandon set it down on the same upper shelf where they had placed all of the previous bottles before taking a quick glance at the girl's locker.

Like most of the ones they'd seen that night, there was a bundle of papers the girl had never bothered to take home, a textbook or binder she hadn't needed, and a few random personal items. With the girls it always seemed to be extra beauty supplies; combs, nail polish, sometimes even perfume. Chelsea Dewinter had a few of those things, and surprisingly a stick of deodorant. Weird, Brandon thought, since she wasn't a particularly athletic chick. Though, she did have a set of what clearly smelled like used gym clothes in her locker, most likely forgotten in some mad dash to get home that afternoon. Maybe that was why there was deodorant.

“Seriously though, why Chelsea?”

“Oh, because Wookiee Dick over there has a crush on her,” Brandon jabbed with his thumb to the wiry member of the trio.

“Dude!” Wookiee Dick nearly shouted. “I told you that in like, confidence.”

Brandon shrugged.

Meanwhile Mike just gave his friend a strange look, “Man, Chelsea Dewinter would snap you in half if you asked her out.”

“Shut up. What would you know anyway?”

“Dude, my cousin is like her best friend. Trust me, that girl's got issues.”

“Whatever, I didn't say I was going to ask her out, I just... God, could we not talk about this?”

Brandon smirked as he watched the taller nerd blush in the dim lighting, “Hey man, this is your chance, want to smell her short-shorts?” Hooking one of his fingers into the light mesh of Chelsea's running shorts, Brandon held them aloft, swinging them toward his embarrassed friend.

“Dude, gross. I'm not some perverted stalker or something.”

Brandon just laughed and tossed the running shorts back into Chelsea's locker before closing it shut. “Whatever, Wookiee Dick. You just lost your only chance to touch something worn by Chelsea Dewinter.”

“We'll see, tomorrow things will change.”

“That's true,” Mike finally commented as he checked Locker 224 off of their list, “But you think it'll change things that much, Wookiee Dick?”

As Brandon and the wiry teen both lifted the cooler and began walking behind Mike, the wiry teen heaved a sigh, “I thought you guys were going to lay off with the Wookiee Dick shit?”

“Dude, you should be proud. That thing's monstrous,” Brandon commented.

“Yeah, man, it's like you're a fucking Wookiee.”

“It's practically the size of my thigh...”

“Really need to manscape though, if you're going to have a chance with Chelsea Dewinter, you definitely have to manscape that thing.”

“Yeah, that much hair, your dick might as well be like... Rooowwwrr.”

“I hate you guys,” Wookiee Dick heaved as he readjusted his grip on the cooler.

“Hey man, you were the one who agreed to play strip poker.”

“I didn't agree to play...”

“You took off your pants.”

“Yeah, man, you did take off your pants.”

“I... well, I... everyone was playing...”

“Rahr rahr rahr, Wookiee Dick,” Brandon laughed, and Mike joined in.

The sound of a hallway door closing with a resounding crash cut their voices off from the once again empty hall. The long row of lockers was once more returned to its shadowy stillness, now merely with the extra addition of a cold brown bottle in the locker of Chelsea Dewinter.

Chapter 1 by gtswburg

Chelsea heaved a heavy sigh as she pulled into an open parking space in the student lot of Hayes High School. With a flick of her wrist she cut off the car's engine, and took a moment to enjoy the sudden silence. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, letting the stale scent of fast food and cigarettes waft over her before frowning. “I really need to clean this place out,” she muttered to herself as she looked over a few empty burger wrappers, a crushed soda cup, and more than one make-shift ashtray.


With a shake of her head she banished the chore from her mind and took a quick look at herself in the rear view mirror. Her blue-gray eyes stared back into her pale, lightly freckled face, going over her sharp features with lightning speed; the cut of her jaw, her small yet pointed nose, and high cheekbones. Chelsea's mother insisted she could be a model if not for her “horrible,” lip ring that jutted off the center of her bottom lip. Apparently her nose stud was modest by comparison, and her multiple ear piercings didn't matter at all. Chelsea rolled her eyes at the very thought of her being one of the 'pretty girls,' or becoming a model. Of course, she still couldn't stop herself from checking her face for blemishes every morning.


As she slipped out of her car, and slung her backpack over one shoulder, Chelsea justified her morning beauty routine by reminding herself that it wasn't like she was doing it because of her obsession. It's not like she didn't care about her appearance. She kept her dark black hair clean, nice, and neatly cropped at around chin level. She exercised regularly, and ate... Chelsea shook her head thinking to the bacon and egg sandwich she had eaten on the way to school. She could eat better but ultimately she was fairly fit. A healthy weight that kept her curvy without going full hourglass.


She didn't even try to hide her lack of interest in fashion or looking particularly 'hot.' With the weather barely warming up, Chelsea was happy to have her torso covered in a bulky hooded sweat shirt, her legs wrapped about in jeans, and her feet nice and warm in a comfortable pair of skate shoes. The fact that her Vans were a combination of black and hot pink was the most “fashion-y,” thing about her.


So no, it wasn't personal interest that kept Chelsea Dewinter concerned about her appearance and how pretty she was.


It was that bitch-face Jenni Fitztaylor, Chelsea thought as she stalked into the school.


Jenni Fitztaylor was effectively the 'It Girl,' of Hayes High and with her gaggle of popular barbie dolls carefully subdued, she needed someone to be her 'enemy,' or her 'rival,' or something. By virtue of being fairly attractive and having a lip piercing to make her apparently just different enough, Chelsea had somehow won that particularly lottery. Since the latter half of sophomore year when Jenni officially rose to prominence after giving the captain of the varsity basketball team a blowjob in his car, Chelsea had been her nemesis.


Chelsea still had no idea how. She could count on one hand the amount of times she had spoken to Jenni before then, and it wasn't like they spoke much now that they were 'enemies,' either. Chelsea was certainly way more aware of Jenni now though. The girl could even say that she had come to acknowledge their status as enemies. After all, Jenni made sure to spread anything she could think of into the rumor mill of Hayes High to make it seem like Chelsea was running some subversive Bizarro High School hierarchy in the shadows of the school.


In the past two years Chelsea had been a giant slut after breaking up with her boyfriend and casually dating another guy a month later. She was a huge lesbian when she went to a concert with her best friend Liz where the headlining band happened to have a gay lead singer. Then she was a prude in Junior year because she didn't have a date and didn't go to Junior prom. Last Chelsea had hear she was somehow Queen of the Punks, Geeks, and Outsiders, because... fuck it, that's why.


She had to admit that she liked the latest one a teensy bit. Some freshman believed it was entirely true, which was sort of nice. When it was preppy freshmen that believed it, Chelsea reveled in the fear a little bit and when it was punk or geeky freshmen, she couldn't help but enjoy the admiration. In their eyes she was their apparent Queen, and like most monarchs she had done little to nothing to attain the position. For the briefest of moments Chelsea imagined herself astride a kick-ass rock'n'roll styled throne, one leg astride the throne's arm as she sentenced Jenni to polish Doc Marten boots and clean the Royal Theater after a mosh pit heavy performance.


Her lips were curled in a rare smile as she popped open her locker, and was immediately greeted with the rank smell of dirty gym clothes. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, poking the rancid running shorts that were nestled atop the pile of dirty laundry, “I have to remember to take these home today or they'll be here all spring break.”


“Ugh, you forget your clothes yesterday, didn't you?” A voice questioned from the other side of her locker door.


“Yes, I did,” Chelsea answered with a slight groan, “Please remind me to take them home today.”


Chelsea looked around the locker door to see her friend Liz leaning against the adjacent locker. Liz's handss were deep in the pockets of her vintage army jacket, a hefty drab olive coat that covered over the entire rest of her outfit, a tight black t-shirt, and black skirt bedecked in chains that hugged her wide and curving hips. Her muscular legs were covered in dark leggings ending in a tall pair of black combat boots with more than their fair share of scuff marks. Liz smirked back at Chelsea, her plump lips a bright red from her lipstick that clashed with her pale skin. “I don't know, if I have to bum a ride from you instead of Matt, I might just let you forget.”


“Bitch,” Chelsea replied with a giggle as she turned away from her friend, reaching up to the top of her locker to grab one or two of the extra pens she kept tucked away. Her hands immediately found themselves touching glass though, glass that was surprisingly cool to the touch. “What the hell?” Chelsea asked as her fingers wrapped around the bottle and pulled it down.


“Oh yes! Mikey added you to the list,” Liz said, leaning her head over Chelsea's shoulder, strands of her light brown honey-streaked hair spilling into the other girl's vision.


“What list? What is this?”


“So you know my cousin Mikey?”


“The nerdy guy with long hair?”


“Yeah.”


“The one who's scared of me?”


“Well,” Liz waffled for a moment, “I wouldn't say he's scared of you. Just... wary.”


“He's definitely afraid of me.”


“You know, you did practically beat him up.”


“We were all playing Chicken,” Chelsea replied in defense of herself, leveling her eyes at Liz's. Liz merely met Chelsea's gaze, not saying anything. “Ok, I might have been a little rough.” Liz continued to stare back at her friend, never blinking or flinching away. “Alright, I might have given him a black eye, but it wasn't intentional.”


“You punched him in the face.”


“My arms were sort of flailing, and one of them happened to hit him in the face,” she clarified before once more raising the bottle to Liz, “What is this?”


“It's beer. Mikey's friend Brandon realized that no one cards you on the internet if you want to buy beer making kits. Nothing is stopping you from brewing your own beer. So what they did was brew some a couple of weeks ago, and as a sort of like, 'Last Day Before Spring Break,' thing gave them out to a bunch of people. He made sure Matt and I got some, and I was all, 'What about Chelsea?' Then he was like, 'She beat me up, blah, blah, blah.' I didn't think you'd get any, is the point.”


“So...” Chelsea replied as she looked at the murky contents of the dark brown bottle. “It's beer.”


“Highly alcoholic beer,” Liz clarified with a smirk.


“Meaning we should...”


“Skip first period and get a little Spring Break Buzz going? Yes. Yes we should.”


“Ok, text your boyfriend, make sure the theater's going to be empty,” Chelsea said as she switched out her first period junk for what she would need for second and third. “I can get away from first period, Mr. Hale thinks I'm a genius or whatever, second might be tough, but I have to be in third for Ms. Cavelli.”


“God, is she still a giant bitch like she was in Freshman year?”


“You have no idea,” Chelsea replied with a roll of her eyes.

Chapter 2 by gtswburg

“The rest of the class was able to make it here on time, Ms. Dewinter,” Ms. Cavelli's voice was as haughty and arrogant as always. Chelsea could easily feel her dagger laced gaze piercing into her back as she walked to her seat, surprised by how much effort it was taking to not stumble about.


She wasn't even that late, the bell had rang seconds before she had come through the door but that didn't matter to Ms. Cavelli. Chelsea still had no idea what she had done to gain the young teacher's ire back when she was a freshman, but a few years had done nothing to mellow her. Ms. Cavelli stood at the head of the classroom, dressed in sharply pleated slacks, a perfectly fitting blouse, and a pair of heels that continuously clacked against the tiled floor of the school. If she didn't look so severe all the time, Chelsea would probably describe her as attractive. In fact, she knew there were more than a few boys that had had weird fantasies about the abusive teacher, so there had to be something to her.


Didn't stop her from being a bitch though. “Seeing as it is the day before spring break, I will let this slide.”


Chelsea started to roll her eyes but caught herself, knowing all too well that Cavelli always knew when she was being disrespected. Besides, Chelsea's head was already swimming from the beer she had drank. She'd never had anything so potent, it had been almost sickly sweet from the flavor of the alcohol, and left her, Liz, and Matt wobbly for most of second period. She couldn't cut Cavelli's class though, the woman would hunt her down with blood hounds, so she had taken care in arriving at the class without looking... well, buzzed.


A snicker from her right caused Chelsea to look over at some of Jenni Fitztaylor's little barbie dolls. Danielle Stockton was a tall, athletic brunette that was always plastered in designer labels. Even now, in the middle of class she had a pair of Coach sunglasses perched atop her carefully arranged hair. She was conspiring with Kelly Newman and Bryce Dickface about something. Not that Dickface was really Bryce's last name, Chelsea had just never bothered to learn it.


While Kelly was blond, and short, she too had an athletic frame, a gymnast's build to be precise, and was also in competition with Danielle for who could be the biggest walking billboard for overpriced shit. Normally every word she breathed was about how much money she had spent on a purse or pair of shoes she would never use. Though judging by the way their eyes turned toward Chelsea, she figured that this was one of the rare moments that Kelly spent talking about her.


Bryce meanwhile was like, well his name was Bryce what did his parents expect out of him? Polo shirt, Nantucket red shorts, and boat shoes. He was just a dick. A dick that was constantly trying to screw around with girls in Jenni's circle, which meant that making fun of Chelsea or her friends had become part of his daily routine the day he realized he had a penis that could go inside of vaginas.


As the trio of popular kids sniggered, Chelsea could only catch a few words. Of course, they were busily describing her as a burn out who was probably high at this very moment. Late because she was smoking weed or sucking dick for crank. Of course, it didn't matter that Chelsea's GPA was higher than theirs, because she was Queen of the Losers.


Her case also wasn't helped by the fact that she probably did look like she was out of it at that moment. Cavelli was lecturing away about something, and there was no way in hell that Chelsea could focus on it. She was starting to feel nauseous from Mikey's homebrewed beer. Her stomach quivered as she sat there, churning the overly sweet beer inside of her to a point that she was starting to feel very uncomfortable.


A few beads of sweat were starting to form on Chelsea's forehead as she sat in the class, trying to ignore the rumbling in the pit of her stomach. It was starting to feel like something was going to come out of her, one way or the other and she really didn't care to find out what it was. She knew that she had to get out of the classroom unless she wanted to be remembered as the girl who puked or worse, the girl who crapped herself. Yet, Chelsea also knew that Ms. Cavelli was loathe to be interrupted by requests to go to the bathroom, especially from her.


Gas bubbled up from her stomach causing her to nearly belch loudly. Covering the burp as best as she could, Chelsea was repulsed by how foul her own breath was. It was a smell so richly disgusting that she could actually taste it on her tongue, and instantly her gag reflex was set off as she dry heaved. Chelsea gripped her desk, trying to get control of her own body, and finding that her stomach was nearly in full revolt. “Ms. Cavelli,” she finally croaked, interrupting the teacher's lesson.


The tall woman sighed heavily, “What, Ms. Dewinter? Was there something that you don't understand?” The teacher turned to narrow her eyes at her, “Because if that is the case, I suggest that you should be paying more attention to me, rather than your phone.”


Danielle, Kelly, and Bryce all giggled at this. Their enjoyment of Cavelli's scolding going unnoticed by the teacher.


“No, Ms. Cavelli, I just,” Chelsea fought down another dry heave as she felt like her intestines were twisting about inside of themselves, “I need a pass to the bathroom.”


“Oh for Heaven's sake, Ms. Dewinter. This is class time, also known as my time. You go to the bathroom on your own time. I explained my policies at the beginning of the year, now if you'll excuse me, I am going to continue my lesson here on the Platt Amendment.”


As the teacher was about to turn around again, Chelsea couldn't fight back another dry heave, the choking noise cutting through the momentary silence of the classroom. “Please, Ms. Cavelli...” she pleaded.


For a moment the teacher paused. Her dark brown eyes obviously calculating as to whether or not this was some ploy by her least favorite student to ditch class. As Chelsea fought back another dry heave, the severe look that was always plastered across Ms. Cavelli's face seemed to soften, if only for an instant. “Fine, Ms. Dewinter, if it'll get you to be quiet when you come back. And I do expect you to come back,” Ms. Cavelli replied, quickly filling out a hall pass on a scrap of paper.


Chelsea practically launched from her seat, the churning of her stomach slowed her down significantly though. The sudden movement of getting up from her desk did not help the waves of nausea rolling over her. Fighting back the latest combination of nausea and dizziness, Chelsea moved to the front of the room, and snatched the hall pass. As the door closed behind her, she could once more hear Ms. Cavelli going on about the Platt Amendment.


The hallways were nearly empty during class time, relieving Chelsea of the embarrassment that half-running/half-waddling to the nearest Girls' Bathroom provided her. Once she reached the bathroom, she nearly threw herself into the door, knocking it open and rushing for the closest open stall. Her knees hit the ground, her hands gripped the white porcelain, and Chelsea started heaving and hacking and coughing. Saliva poured out of her mouth as her body prepared for the deluge of vomit and acid to shoot up her esophagus. She hacked and coughed and her muscles continued to spasm as they attempt to expel her stomach's contents, but nothing came.


The moment seemed to stretch into infinity as her body revolted against her, unable to calm down as it tried to vomit something that didn't exist.


There was suddenly a flash of light, and Chelsea swore she heard a low rumbling noise, like someone plucking a bass string with an amp's volume turned all the way up.


When her eyes finally cleared though, she felt fine. The nausea was gone and she no longer felt like her body was trying to shoot something from every orifice. Whatever had just happened had somehow made her feel much better. She shrugged as she reached a standing position. Maybe nothing had happened, and she had just imagined the flash of light. Fearing she might have passed out, Chelsea checked her phone, only to find a few minutes had passed.


Sliding her phone back into the big pocket of her hooded sweatshirt, Chelsea walked back out into the halls of Hayes High School. Even though she knew she could get back to class, Chelsea decided to take her time walking back. After all, the last Ms. Cavelli had seen, Chelsea had looked like she was about to vomit, so she figured an extra minute or two wouldn't be so bad.


 

Chapter 3 by gtswburg

Angela Cavelli had always considered herself to be a fairly rational person.

She had had dreams of course, and perhaps she had made some choices that wouldn't be considered the most practical by some. However, when it came to her day-to-day life she was certain that what drove her decision making was logic, and reality, not wishful thinking. This is why what was currently being presented to her, was so hard to grasp.

For a brief moment, there had been a very bright flash. Angela had no idea where it had come from, whether it had been the lights malfunctioning, or something happening outside in the hall, or out in the school's athletic fields. She had no clue. She did know however that the flash of light, and the deep rumbling noise that had followed were most likely responsible for what happened to her.

She shut her eyes, and took another deep breath as she tried to truly accept what had just happened to her. When she opened her eyes, Angela was once more met with a very alien world.

High above her loomed her blackboard, craning her neck all the way back she could just make out the small sill that ran beneath it, where she placed pieces of chalk and occasionally the cell phone of a disrespectful student. On her other side, stood what she had finally come to understand was her chair and desk. The massive metallic structures were shockingly huge at her new height. She had no clue how tall she was, perhaps a few inches? Definitely less than a foot, that much was certain. There was no hope, as far as she could tell for a rescue. She needed to determine exactly what had happened.

With a deep breath, Angela began to move around her desk, walking with calm measured steps. If only she had shrunk, one of her students would have gotten up by now to come see what had happened. That meant that all of her students were in a similar predicament, spread out amongst their desks, possibly hundreds of feet in the air on their chairs. The fact that walking around her desk was taking so long infuriated Angela. She was used to clearing this space in a few easy strides, but now it seemed like it might take the better part of an hour to make it to their desks.

As she began to round the corner of her desk, Angela paused. She felt like everything had swayed for a moment. Then it happened again, with a little more force that time. The next time, Angela could hear a loud booming thud before the floor quaked once more. It was then that she realized how even it was, she was hearing and feeling the footfalls of someone who wasn't shrunk. The class was saved!

The door to the classroom swung open and Angela Cavelli barely able to even comprehend a being that was able to move a door that was taller than some mountains. Her jaw dropped as she realized who would be walking back to the classroom at that particular moment. Chelsea Dewinter, an intelligent but very lazy and troublesome student. The girl was positively enormous.

Her sneakers struck the ground with the sound of a thunderbolt, causing the floor around her to quiver like it was situated on the San Andreas fault. Angela's head immediately craned back as her eyes swept up the long denim towers of the teen, to the field of gray that was the sweatshirt she was casually wearing. She could barely make out the girl's face, only able to watch the light catch against her multiple facial piercings. Chelsea was her only hope but Angela realized that she had no hope of communicating with such a grand being. Especially since just as she finished processing the girl's size, Chelsea was already walking deeper into the classroom.

“Ok, this is weird,” Chelsea's voice boomed out across the room, and Angela Cavelli could barely process it. It wasn't that Chelsea had had a high pitched girly girl's voice, but it had always been distinctly feminine. Her voice now though, had a deep booming quality to it that seemed to make Angela's bones shiver. It was still the voice of a young woman, but it now had a God-like power behind it.

#

 

“Where is everyone?” Chelsea asked herself as she stood in the center of the classroom. Everything looked normal, like it was set up for class. There was writing on the chalkboard, people's notebooks were out and opened. Pencils and pens were littered across the desks. Even most people's book bags and purses were still laying around, so it wasn't like there was a fire drill. In fire drills, people normally took their stuff.

“Fucking weird,” she muttered to herself, completely oblivious to her classmate's predicaments on the floor, and on their desks. Most of them were too terrified of the enormous girl to do anything. Chelsea was Queen of the Outcasts, who knew what horrors she might perpetrate on her now shrunken classmates.

One boy wasn't afraid though, or at least, he was more afraid of getting left behind in the classroom than anything else. He rushed out between the rows of desks, shouting Chelsea's name as he waved his arms and jumped up and down. He kept running for her, not quite calculating the size of one of the enormous teen's strides.

Unsure what to do, Chelsea turned to walk toward her own desk, still mesmerized by the sight of everyone being gone but leaving their stuff behind. She didn't even look where she was stepping as she moved forward.

The fearless boy charged forward, but began to lose momentum fast as he saw her car-sized foot rushing toward him with startling speed. He began to back pedal as best as he could, but it was no use. The toe of Chelsea's sneaker struck him, knocking him onto his back and causing him to slide just a few more inches. He had slid just far enough to be directly beneath her foot as the thick rubber sole of her skate shoe came down on him.

Chelsea Dewinter snuffed him out in one step.

She paused as she felt something pop underneath her foot. She swore that she could hear a soft crunching noise, like she had just stepped on a nut or potato chip or something. Looking down at her foot, she could just make out what looked like blood splattered about her foot. “What the hell?” She asked as she bent down to investigate it. Her fingers dipped into the blood, still a little warm and sticky to her touch.

“What did I just step on?” Chelsea's voice boomed in the ears of Joe Keller. He didn't really know much about the enormous woman who now dominated his world, but Joe had seen what had happened to his friend Will when he tried to contact the giant teen. Chelsea hadn't even realized she had stepped on a person. Joe quivered in his seat, staring out at the massive plastic expanse wondering what he should do. Above him, Chelsea pivoted, and her butt now hung above him like an asteroid about to strike the earth. He stared up at, wondering how many times he had seen her walk by in the halls and thought about her butt. Sure, he didn't know much about Chelsea, but he had seen her...and thought about her. All of his impure thoughts raced through his brain as the blue denim covered ass rained down on him with alarming speed. The great ass knocked him to the ground before Joe felt the greatest weight imaginable on his chest. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see. All he could smell was denim mixed with her detergent before the pressure increased ten fold.

Chelsea wasn't concerned about who's seat she was sitting in with everyone gone, as she landed in the nearest one. Leaning back, Chelsea lifted her foot up so she could inspect the underside of her shoe. As she leaned back, Chelsea felt something wet and warm explode across her butt cheek, “What the...?” She turned around but couldn't see anything, and returned to the inspection of her shoe. A blood red gory mess seemed to be imprinted across the bottom of her shoe, ground into the treads as if she had forcefully stepped on whatever the hell it was. She leaned in, never thinking of bugs as having blood so red. As she looked at the gore, Chelsea swore she could make out a humanoid shape, legs, arms, a torso. “No...” was all she could manage to say before she felt something tapping down at her ankle.

Cindy had been horrified when she had seen what happened to Will for trying to talk to the enormous Chelsea. Will, much like Cindy, was far from one of the popular kids, she could often remember him ranting on the whole concept of the school's hierarchy. He shunned knowledge of the popular kids at school the same way he ignored the Kardashians and the Jersey Shore, which was why he had no idea that he had run right into the heartless outcast queen of Hayes High. Cindy wanted to believe that Chelsea Dewinter had no idea that she had killed at least two people since walking back into class, but a part of her was almost certain that the girl was delighting in the easy murder. Still, the same fear that gripped Will was in Cindy's mind, amplified by the additional realization that if no one contacted Chelsea she might kill them all without ever knowing they were there.

That's why Cindy had crept up to the enormous teen when she had sat down. It had been a major effort to slide beneath the denim of her pant leg, the material nearly as heavy as a stage curtain to the shrunken Cindy, but she had managed to enter into the darkness of Chelsea's pants. In the darkness, Cindy's nose was bombarded by a combination of Chelsea's skin lotion, sweat, and the smell of detergent from her freshly laundered jeans. Carefully, Cindy clambered up onto the hell of Chelsea's shoe, and began banging against the girl's ankle. After a few swings, Cindy's fists were already starting to hurt from hitting the hard bone of the giant girl. She knew she was saved though, when the denim rose behind her, nearly sweeping her away with it, and light poured down around her.

Cindy turned her head, and nearly screamed in terror as she observed the enormous face of Chelsea staring back at her. She couldn't help but tremble as she took in the sheer size of the girl. Her eyes were easily the size of Cindy's head, and as the larger girl's jaw hung open in shock, Cindy couldn't stop herself from imagining what it would be like to be dropped into the dark, dank cavern that was Chelsea's open mouth.

“What the fuck?” The goddess-sized young woman said, her voice literally shaking Cindy's bones. Before the small girl could react, tree-sized fingers had grasped her, plucking her up off Chelsea's shoe and carrying her high into the air.

Chelsea could only stare at the miniature girl that she held in her hand. The tiny being was positively mesmerizing as she squirmed against Chelsea's thumb and forefinger, her small limbs kicking and flailing about, occasionally banging against Chelsea's hand. “What the hell are you?” She asked the tiny thing, “Do you know what happened to everybody?”

Cindy couldn't believe this. She had been in classes with Chelsea for years, was the girl so self-centered that she couldn't recognize her own classmate? “I'm Cindy!” She shouted back in anger, “I'm in like three of your classes! How do you not know who I am?”

Chelsea blinked back at the tiny girl, fighting back the urge to laugh at her pathetically tiny voice. If the girl sounded like a little chipmunk to her, Chelsea could only imagine the power her voice had in relation to her tiny form. In response to the tiny girl's question, Chelsea merely shrugged her shoulders, “I don't know... So, what happened to everyone?”

“You don't know?!” Cindy replied in rage, “You don't know why you don't know me?! You self-centered bitch! You killed Will and Joe, and you probably didn't even know who they were!”

The tiny woman flailed and screeched in Chelsea's hands. “Will and Joe?” Chelsea then looked down at her shoe, and the gory mess. Rising from the seat she was in, she turned around and saw the blood stain on her right butt cheek and could see another mess of limbs of organs on the seat. “Eww, that's what that was?”

“They were people, you fucking bitch!” Cindy screamed, unable to control herself. All concept of getting help was lost on her. She couldn't deal with being this small, and she certainly couldn't wrap her head around someone who could be so callous.

“Hey, shut up,” Chelsea commanded with a squeeze of the small girl's midsection. A quick yelp and the little being stopped. “So everyone shrunk? Everyone's your size?” The small girl, apparently named Cindy, nodded. “Hmm,” Chelsea pondered as her eyes swept across the room. She could see a few more students, cowering behind desk legs, in complete and utter fear of her. It was like when the preppy freshman would see her coming but times a thousand. In comparison to all these tiny people, she was a living goddess. A giantess of immense proportion. In that instant, Chelsea really didn't care how or why it happened, but she knew she was going to enjoy it.

Setting Cindy down on a desk, Chelsea's eyes began looking for someone else to play with. In fact, her eyes were searching for the only person in that room she would ever really want to have leverage over. As she walked toward the front of the room, Chelsea could hear little Cindy screaming bloody murder on the desktop. With a smirk, Chelsea lashed her hand out at the little girl, “Fuck off.” Her hand struck the girl so hard, she swore she could hear bones snapping from the impact before the little thing went flying across the room to her death. At their reduced size, Chelsea couldn't hear the presumed gasps from all her tiny classmates but she assumed they were shocked all the same.



Angela Cavelli had watched the slaughter from the far side of her desk.

In some way, it didn't surprise her that Chelsea Dewinter would be so cruel to her fellow students. She always had a feeling that the girl had a mean streak about her. One of her colleagues had once mentioned that Chelsea had savaged some honors student at a pool party once. The boy had come to school the following week with a black eye, he hadn't spoken to any of his teachers about it but students often assumed that their teachers weren't paying attention to their conversations. Who knew what that boy had done to offend the now titanic teen. Now that there was such a size difference between her and everyone else, Angela was certain Chelsea would abuse her position in far worse ways than she already had.

The floor quaked again, and Angela looked up in terror at the looming form of Chelsea Dewinter approaching her desk. “Oh, Ms. Cavelli,” the gigantic girl boomed in a sing-song tone. “I think it's time that we had a little talk,” Her voice had become deadly serious, and Angela only realized at that moment that Chelsea had spotted her. Angela tried to step away from her desk but Chelsea's sneaker crashed into the ground next to her with such force that Ms. Cavelli was hurled to the ground. She looked up, terrified, as the giantess loomed above her.

Chapter 4 by gtswburg

Chelsea couldn't help but smile down at the miniscule form of her teacher, rocked to the grimy floor of the classroom by her merely putting her foot down hard enough. She practically drank in the terror on her shrunken teacher's face as she squatted down above her, hand already in motion to snatch the tiny woman up. Her fingers curled around her, amazed at how light she was, and how comfortably she fit inside Chelsea's entire hand. “Why do you look so scared, Ms. Cavelli? It's not like I have any reason to take advantage of you in this state, do I?”


She couldn't help herself from laughing as she dumped the woman onto her own desk, before yanking out the chair she always kept neatly tucked away and plopping down into it. The tiny teacher scrambled to get to her feet, and once she had come to a standing position, she wiped away the dust and dirt from her precious little clothes. Chelsea gave a bark of laughter in response as she raised her sneaker clad feet up onto the desk, slamming them down hard enough to shake the metal frame before crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair.


Ms. Cavelli backed away from the shoes, her eyes fixed upon the gory underside of Chelsea's right sneaker. With a smirk, the teen couldn't help but casually flex her toes within the shoe, causing it to move in response. “What's wrong Ms. Cavelli? Is there something on the bottom of my shoes?” She teased, pretending to lean forward and look at them. “Oh don't worry, that's just the guts of some bug I accidentally stepped on.” That made the tiny woman shudder, and back away even more.


Finally, the small woman started speaking. Her little tweets and chirps barely reaching Chelsea's ears. Raising a hand, Chelsea brushed her short black hair back from her ear, cupping the hand against it and pretending like she was trying to get a handle on the tiny woman's frighteningly large world. “You should speak up, Ms. Cavelli. After all, how can I answer your questions if you don't speak clearly and confidently?” She giggled once again, trying to remember how many times the young woman had spat that line at her for muttering complaints under her breath.


Her ribbing was certainly getting to the tiny woman, she realized as she watched Ms. Cavelli stamp her tiny heeled foot against the desk before trying to compose herself. The tiny woman marched forward, finger held high, before she actually managed to make her voice heard, “Ms. Dewinter, that is enough! I can understand that this situation must be frightening for you and difficult to deal with but that does not give you any right to do what you did to Ms. Horvath. When this is all sorted, I will be certain to report you to the proper authorities, and you will be lucky...”


While her teacher was speaking, Chelsea took her feet off of the desk, and pulled the chair in closer. Placing her hands down carefully, Chelsea slowly leaned over the tiny woman, bringing her large face closer and closer as shrunken teacher ranted. By the time Ms. Cavelli was talking about turning her into the cops, Chelsea's lip ring was within arm's reach of the tiny woman. “Sure you will, Ms. Cavelli,” her breath washed over the tiny woman, warm and still reeking of the homebrew she had gulped down in first period.


“Ms. Dewinter, have you been drinking!?”


“Yeah. What are you going to do about?”


“I will...”


“What?” She cut off the tiny woman, leaning down even closer to her causing the shrunken teacher to back away in fright. “You're going to what Ms. Cavelli? Write me up? Give me detention? Be more of a bitch to me for no reason? You're not doing shit unless I tell you to. Got that?” Chelsea slammed her fist against the desk, causing it to quake and ring loudly. When Ms. Cavelli fell back on her ass, Chelsea's smile grew even wider.


Chelsea watched as the once proud teacher tried to find out exactly how she had come to find herself in her current position. She tried to stand but couldn't seem to find the strength, her eyes looking up at the looming giantess before turning away from her. For a brief moment, the teacher stared out at the classroom. Seemingly empty but in actuality just filled with Chelsea's former classmates and presumably future victims. How many more, Ms. Cavelli wondered, would find themselves ground beneath her feet or suffering the same humiliation that she was now experiencing?


After a long moment, the shrunken teacher spoke, “Yes, I understand, Chelsea.”


She laughed. She couldn't help herself. Ms. Cavelli was truly underneath her thumb, and better than that, after just a few minutes was ready to consign herself to this new life. Chelsea smiled, nothing could ever be as sweet as this moment she thought. Then she really looked at the small woman. Sure, her hair was looser, and she was terrified but she still was sitting there trying to maintain some sense of dignity. Even after 'accepting,' Chelsea's rule she seemed to sit there as if she had won, and that Chelsea couldn't allow.


“I don't think you'll be getting much use out of your heels anymore,” she announced to the small woman. Chelsea gripped one of Ms. Cavelli's small feet and yanked the tiny shoe off of her. Holding the shiny pump up to her eye, Chelsea amused herself with its small size for a moment before crumbling it between her thumb and forefinger.


“My Michael Kors!” The tiny woman screeched from her place on the desk. Instantly the small woman started flailing, trying to protect her other foot and the expensive shoe that was attached to it.


Chelsea merely tutted in disapproval at her small teacher. Using two of her fingers, she pinned the woman down at the shoulders, easily keeping her arms down from the pressure alone. With her free hand, Chelsea grabbed a hold of the flailing leg and plucked the tiny shoe from it. Once more she raised the pathetically small thing up to her eye to inspect it. “How does a teacher afford shoes like this anyway?” Without another thought, Chelsea crushed them to dust between her fingers, sprinkling the remains onto her teacher.


Ms. Cavelli was sniffling when she replied, “They were a gift.”


“Oh my God, are you crying?” Was all Chelsea could say in response. Leaning down over the tiny woman, she watched as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her pinned arms fighting against Chelsea's massive fingers in an attempt to compose herself. “Wow, you are. That's pathetic!” Chelsea laughed, “Crying over a pair of fucking shoes, that's so fucking sad.”


“Shu... shut up... you, you.... you brat,” Ms. Cavelli called back as she began to sob uncontrollably, “T-t-th-they were a gift.”


“Aw, I wouldn't be calling me names in your position. After all, you're the one being pinned down by my fucking fingers.” Chelsea applied slightly more pressure to the small woman, listening carefully for the grunts of pain that followed. “Who would give you a gift anyway, Ms. Cavelli? Do you have a boyfriend?” Chelsea leaned down over the crying woman, stretching out the word boyfriend till it sounded like a little insult.


“Ye...yes...” She squeaked in response, trying to turn away from the colossal teen and her beer-laced breath.


“That's a shame, you're going to make a lot of boys very sad with that news, Ms. Cavelli,” Her fingers plucked at the overly pleated slacks that the teacher wore, tugging them off of her slender frame. “Did you know that you have a little fan club? A bunch of boys that sit around imagining you doing all sorts of naughty things to them? They just fap to thoughts of you, all day long. Boys like that would be so sad to know you have a boyfriend.”


The shrunken teacher kicked and screamed as Chelsea tore off her pants, but it was a resistance that Chelsea could barely feel. She saw it, but her brain couldn't process the idea of Ms. Cavelli revolting anymore. It was already very clear that Chelsea had all the power in this relationship, but for some reason, Ms. Cavelli hadn't accepted that yet. “Besides, what kind of guy wants his girlfriend to dress in slacks and fucking granny panties?” Chelsea's fingers gripped the plain beige panties and yanked them down Ms. Cavelli's flailing legs.


“Must not be very serious,” she teased while her pinky finger probed Ms. Cavelli's abundant bush. “Jesus, what do you star in retro-porn or something?” Somewhere deep within herself Chelsea felt astounding as her pinky finger continued to poke and prod Ms. Cavelli's nether regions. There was no aspect of her life that was beyond Chelsea's scrutiny and she wanted her teacher to remember that.


Chelsea tore open drawers in her teacher's desk until she got her hands on a collection of rubber bands. With quick deft motions, Chelsea had tied Ms. Cavelli's arms together, while still having plenty of slack to dangle her from. Chelsea lifted the tiny woman upward by the rubber band, watching as her arms stretched toward the sky, the rest of her body hanging limp below.


With a smirk she lowered her back to the ground, and set the teacher's coffee mug down on the excess rubber band to prevent her from escaping. “What do you think a boy would do if he found you like this, Ms. Cavelli?” Chelsea's fingers wrapped around a pen, carefully twirling it about in her fingers as she stared down at the little woman. “I have an idea,” she mused, lowering the non-writing end of the pen against the woman's overgrown bush. “They'd probably do something like this,” ever so carefully, she rubbed the pen into the bush, probing her teacher's tiny sex, “Trying their best to get you off. Just to prove that they could.”


The small form of Ms. Cavelli was still crying, but her sobs were starting to become broken up by cries of sexual pleasure. Every so often, the young woman would moan or twitch. A completely involuntary response to Chelsea's random probes. “Who doesn't want to see stern Ms. Cavelli actually crack a fucking smile? A chink in her icy armor?” The tiny teacher's shouts were becoming louder and more powerful as she twitched, her legs rubbing together furiously. “That's all any of us have ever wanted out of you, a fucking smile.”


Chelsea couldn't stop herself, her wrist carefully controlling the in-and-out movement of the pen that had seemed to start all on its own. The once tall, proud, Ms. Cavelli was screaming out in ecstasy before finally reaching an orgasm. In one great shudder, the once fearsome teacher unleashed a miniature torrent of sexual juices and came to relax upon the cool surface of her metallic desk.


Only as Ms. Cavelli lay there panting in the afterglow did she fully comprehend what had happened. Looming above her though, was the smiling face of Chelsea Dewinter to remind her. “And now what am I going to do with you?” The enormous teen asked, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Chapter 5 by gtswburg

 

Bryce sat huddled on the bottom shelf of a bookcase, his arms wrapped around Kelly and Danielle. Both girls were sobbing quietly, their bodies shuddering against his as he tried to keep them calm. He rubbed his arms against their shoulders, and made soft cooing noises each time a sob wracked through their body. It was all he could do to keep them from becoming completely hysterical.

Of course, with their heads turned into his chest, both girls were spared the sight of an enormous Chelsea Dewinter.

The shrinking had come in a flash accompanied by a loud boom. If the sky hadn't been completely clear, Bryce would have thought that a bolt of lightning had hit the ground just outside of the school. That wouldn't have explained why the light seemed to come from everywhere at once, but he yearned for some sort of explanation. Something normal amidst this insanity.

The teenager had come to relatively quickly, finding himself sprawled out on the tile floor beneath his desk. Everything had stretched out to a degree that he could barely comprehend what had happened. After a few moments though, it had finally sunk in. He, and apparently everyone else, had shrunk.

At first, he hoped he was merely hallucinating, but as the seconds ticked by and his brain began to process everything as real, Bryce merely hoped that someone had remained normal sized. He wasn't going to lie, the brief thoughts of an enormous Danielle or Kelly had flitted across his mind before Bryce had thought of a gargantuan Jenni Fitztaylor waltzing in to save him and the girls. It was easy to imagine her beautiful frame stalking into the classroom, leaning down over him, her breasts the size of trucks. It was also terrifyingly arousing.

No one came though, at least not for a few minutes.

By that point Danielle and Kelly had rushed toward him, horrified by their shared predicament. Kelly had been the first to press herself against him, unable to comprehend the enormous world around them. Bryce would have thought Danielle, who had easily been as tall as him would have had more trouble being shrunk, but she seemed simply distant, her gaze lost on the now alien world that they inhabited.

It had been up to Bryce to take charge of the situation and move the girls to the bookcase. The way he looked at it, there was no way they'd be able to get someone's attention at this size, so they'd have to wait and hope someone who wasn't shrunk figured out what was going on. Bryce still kept his hopes secretly pinned on Jenni as the trio pulled themselves up onto the bookcase, away from where a giant foot could threaten them. That's where they sat when the door opened.

Bryce's hopes were dashed instantly though. The long tan legs of Jenni didn't come cruising through the door, but a pair of plain blue denim towers that crashed into the floor with astounding force. On the opposite side of the room, tucked beneath the bookcase, Bryce could see who it was. Chelsea Dewinter. Jenni's number one nemesis and a massive bitch. Of course she hadn't been shrunk, she probably was the one to shrink everyone as part of some crazy scheme to do something to the popular kids.

When Chelsea's voice had burst across the room, amplified like a stadium announcer, Kelly had let out a horrific wail and pressed her face deeper into Bryce's chest, his t-shirt already becoming damp from her tears. Danielle had held on until the killing started.

From their place on the floor, they had a perfect view of Chelsea's sneaker as it popped another student like a grape. They watched each one of her titanic movements until she had consciously killed some girl that was yelling up at her. The body sailed across the room in an enormous arc, before smacking across the back wall, and falling what seemed to be dozens of feet to the now shrunken students.

When Cindy Horvath's body hit the ground, that's when Danielle lost it. She screamed and cried and pounded her fists against Bryce's chest. As he held the tall brunette close, he heard her whispering, “Why couldn't it have been Jenni...” Apparently he wasn't the only one to hope the school's queen bee would come to save them.

Chelsea's torture of Ms. Cavelli didn't make anyone calmer. Bryce could see how terrified everyone looked out on the floor of the classroom. They rushed to hide inside of backpacks and purses, sliding themselves beneath large pieces of furniture amidst dust and grime, a few were left cowering behind the legs of desks too scared to even move.

However, it was the people up in their seats that Bryce felt the worst for though. They were left suspended in the air, merely waiting to see if Chelsea came to get them or not. At least one person made the leap, hoping to survive the fall, but when Bryce saw them hit the tile, he knew they wouldn't get up and move around afterward.

The enormous bitch's words rang through the classroom after Ms. Cavelli's screams had reached a fever pitch. “And now what am I going to do with you?” Chelsea said, her voice almost pitying the woman who had once been her teacher. Bryce could only imagine what she had done to Ms. Cavelli, beautiful young Ms. Cavelli. She had to have killed her, Bryce decided, and in her screwed up mind Chelsea was just speaking down at Ms. Cavelli's mangled frame. Bryce shook his head and bit his lip as one tear rolled down his cheek. He couldn't believe that she would kill Ms. Cavelli but he knew, he knew how much Chelsea hated their teacher, and she had killed Cindy Horvath without a second thought. A girl she had barely known, dead with a swipe of the giant girl's hand.

“I know,” the booming voice called out with elation. In the distance, Bryce could hear Chelsea rise to her feet. He looked out from beneath the bookcase, and saw Chelsea standing there, tying a dangling form to one of the belt loops on her jeans. The naked body of Ms. Cavelli hung against Chelsea's gigantic thigh, bouncing against it as the girl moved, a pensive look crossing the giantess' face. “Hmm, now what?”

Chelsea cackled in delight as an idea struck her, Bryce held the girls tight against him feeling the tears pour down their faces. They could all feel Chelsea's approach, each of her steps rattling the bookcase they hid in, each one sounding like a blast of thunder. “Where are those little whores?” Chelsea mused, and they could hear her inspecting their desks, picking up and dropping their bags while she looked for them.

Her feet were practically right in front of them, separated from the bookcase by a desk and slim amount of space. Bryce was terrified of those shoes, the hot pink and black coloring made them seem both menacing and girly all at once. A perfect way to describe the feminine monster that loomed over them. “I'm going to find you guys,” the giantess taunted as she turned about, her eyes scanning the ground for signs of what Bryce now knew for certain was himself and the girls.

The shoes turned back toward them, and Danielle began to whimper, “No, no, no, no...”

The desk in front of them was lifted out of the way, Bryce unable to comprehend the amount of strength required to move such an awesome piece of furniture. Chelsea's feet took that extra step to come before the bookcase, and then her redwood like legs seemed to implode as she squatted down. Kelly and Danielle both turned to look, screaming in terror when Chelsea's face came into view. The lip ring made her smile all the more demonic as her gray eyes settled on the trio.

Chelsea's hand came down, and while Bryce tried his best to get the girls up and moving there was nothing they could do against the enormous appendage. Before he could even get Kelly into a standing position, Chelsea's warm log-like figures wrapped around them. The hand reeked of the school bathroom soap, making Bryce gag from the chemical smell. He looked down at the fingers, taking in their strength and power but also the small imperfections; a scar here, a tan line from a ring she wasn't wearing that day, the way her black fingernail polish was starting to chip. As she held them in their hand, it was startlingly easy for Bryce to suddenly remember that Chelsea was another high school student just like them.

The resemblance disappeared however when Chelsea fell back into the chair she had moved to get to them and dumped them out across an open notebook. Bryce's open notebook he realized, gazing over his own familiar handwriting. Kelly and Danielle fell down next to him, barely able to pull themselves to their hands and knees as he merely gazed up at Chelsea, who leaned back in the desk before placing her hand down upon it. Slowly, her fingers began rapping against the fake wood.

“Alright,” Chelsea's voice instantly commanded their attention, “This is going to be very simple. You tell me what I want to know, and I won't hurt you. If you don't though... Well, then I'll have to punish you.”

Her fingers continued to drum across the desktop, causing it to vibrate ever so slightly as her pale gaze fell upon them. Bryce squirmed as her eyes narrowed down on him. Her lips parted, and the booming voice asked a question, “Where is Jenni Fitztaylor this period?”

Chapter 6 by gtswburg

Danielle Stockton could barely come to grips with everything that had happened to her in the past period.

The last day before Spring Break was going just like any other day before a break. Teachers were wrapping up lessons and reminding everyone of projects that would be due not long after the week off, while the students were all plotting parties and trips. Danielle personally couldn't wait for school to end. Her parents were going out of town for a few days, which would mean that she had the house all to herself. There would be a party on Thursday, giving everyone a day to recover before Jenni's big bash on Saturday night, and in the meantime she could start work on her tan now that the weather was starting to improve. She was even thinking of inviting Bryce over at some point, the well cut boy definitely had eyes for lots of girls but that was only because he didn't have one right in his lap. Danielle was going to be that girl, and Bryce would be a perfect boyfriend. He had no choice really, it would be either cater to her every whim or be exiled from the popular circles.

Now though, Danielle couldn't imagine her future a few minutes in the future, let alone a few days or months from now.

High above her, scrutinizing her like some God, was Chelsea Dewinter, rival to one of her best friends Jenni and the mega-bitch of Hayes High. Danielle still had no idea how Chelsea had done it, or even if she had, but the girl had shrunk everyone in the classroom, maybe even everyone in the whole damn school, to just a few inches tall. After killing Ms. Cavelli, Chelsea's real plans were revealed. All of this had been done just so she could get back at all the popular kids, namely Jenny.

“I'll ask you one more time, you little bug-whores,” Chelsea sneered high above them, her lips curling about that stupid fucking silver lipring of hers, “Where is Jenni Fitztaylor this period?”

Kelly, of course, was the first to finally answer. That is if there were actual words amidst her terrified wails. Danielle's eyes fixed upon the short little blond, blown away that she would be so ready to betray their friend to this enormous slut. Kelly just kept screaming her head off though, barely making any sense.

Chelsea's hand came down with frightening speed, plucking the small girl off of the desk and up into the air as easily as if she were picking up a pen. In the air above, Kelly was flipped about Chelsea's enormous fingers much like a magician might flip a quarter or bored students fiddled with pencils. The giant girl just laughed as Kelly continued to sob before coming to a finish as she hung from the giantess' forefinger, her head lolling about in a daze as tears plummeted down to the desk. “You're going to need to speak up, Kelly, or else I'll need to motivate you a little better.”

“We... we don't know!” Kelly finally screeched at the top of her lungs, the words broken up by all sorts of sobs and sniffles. “Please, oh God, please don't hurt us, Chelsea. We really don't know.”

“Pfft,” Chelsea snorted dismissively, a wave of spittle shooting from between her lips and coating Kelly, “Yeah fucking right. All you little barbie dolls travel around in a fucking pack between classes. You know where Jenni is.”

“I really don't, Chelsea. Please,” Kelly whimpered and Danielle was disgusted. She was amazed that the little blond would even speak to the giant bitch. Just because Chelsea was gigantic didn't change the fact that she was still a loser.

“Honesty is really the best policy, Kelly,” The giant girl's tone was so condescending it practically hurt. Chelsea then raised her finger up and closer to her face as her head tilted back.

Danielle gazed up as Chelsea's enormous jaw opened up and Kelly began to kick and scream in renewed terror. The punk's long tongue reached out, darting about Kelly's legs and feet with amazing force before the girl was lowered close enough for the enormous muscle to fully wrap around her like a boa constrictor. Chelsea easily brought the shrunken girl into her mouth, and began to toss her about, bashing her against her teeth, and casually sucking on her like she was a piece of candy. She pushed Kelly to the side of her mouth as she looked down at the remaining shrunken students. “Oh no,” Danielle found herself breathlessly saying as her eyes looked up into Chelsea's blue-gray pools.

“Pretty tasty actually,” The giant teen teased, “A little sweet for my taste but pretty good all the same.” Through her enormous lips, Danielle could see the blond girl struggling against Chelsea's teeth and gums, trying to find some purchase amidst the pools of saliva that continued to rush over her. Then Chelsea closed her mouth and tossed the little girl about again. When her eyes settled upon Bryce, Danielle heard a loud crunch from above, followed by the faintest of screams. “I always bite down on candy too early,”Chelsea said with a laugh, “Kind of annoying cause if you haven't sucked on it long enough, it gets all stuck to your teeth. Just gross. But I can never seem to help myself.” There was another loud crunch and Kelly's screaming intensified while Danielle's eyes watched Chelsea's jaw and tongue move from beneath her chin. “Now Bryce,” the titanic teen's fingers began creeping toward the shrunken boy, “Do you know where Jenni Fitztaylor is this period?”

Bryce hadn't stopped squirming since Chelsea had first set her eyes down upon them, and after Kelly had landed in Chelsea's enormous mouth the young man had nearly fainted. Danielle now watched as a damp stain began to spread across his Nantucket red shorts. She couldn't help herself as she smashed her fist against the broad notebook they were sitting upon. “Damn it, Bryce,” she hissed at the attractive boy. He was going to be her strapping boyfriend, and now she realized that he had no back bone at all. Just like Kelly, he was going to fall to Chelsea, aka Slutzilla.

“I... I... I really really really don't know, Chelsea,” he whimpered. His head looked over to Danielle, those dreamy blue eyes of his now pleading with the girl to help him. Begging for some kind of comfort as Chelsea's fingers crept forward. Only a few moments ago, Danielle had been the one seeking comfort with Bryce. His pathetic nature shined through though as he stared back up at Chelsea and continued, “I swear, I really don't. I would swear on a bible, Chelsea, I swear to God, I have no idea what class she's in.”

Her finger came down on his kneecap like a sledgehammer. In one simple tap, she obliterated the thick bone with a sickening crack that was lost amidst Bryce's painful shouts. Danielle's jaw dropped as she watched the finger rise away, leaving only a crumpled mess of flesh and bone in its wake. “Yeah, don't bullshit me, dickface. I know you fap to thoughts of all the popular girls nearly hourly,” Chelsea's hand made a vague 'jacking off,' motion in the sky above them, “So I know you have to at least have some idea where Jenni is this fucking period.”

“Please, Chelsea, I told you. I swear to God that I don't know anything, I really really don't. Please, I swear to fucking God!” Bryce tried to sit up as he screamed, only for the pain of his missing kneecap to drive him back to the ground, each writhe sending new found pain through his whole form. Danielle could only guess whether or not Chelsea could hear the shrunken teen as he continued to whimper, “I swear... I swear to God, I really don't know.”

Chelsea bent down over the boy, her lower jawbone twisting as she ground Kelly's body to a bloody pulp amidst her molars. “You shouldn't be praying to God,” she whispered, her breath reeking of death, “You should be praying to me.”

“P-p-p-please...”

“Go on, fucking baby, pray to me. Pray to me and I won't kill you.” Her finger lowered to the desk and pressed down upon his chest. Danielle could hear his rib cage starting to crack underneath the enormous pressure.

“Ch-chel-chelsea please. I'm begging you, I don't know, if I did I would you tell.” His hands wrapped around her enormous digit, caressing it. Slowly, painfully, he leaned upward and kissed her chipped nail polish. “Goddess, I'm sorry.”

“Did I say you could fucking touch me?” She flicked her finger forward, and smacked it into Bryce's face. Instantly, parts of the pretty boy's face began to swell, and his nose started to bleed like a faucet. Her finger returned to his chest and slammed down against it as she emphasized each syllable, “Did I say you could fucking touch me?”

“No, Goddess!” Bryce screamed at the top of his lungs. Blood spewed up from his face as he shouted toward Chelsea's face high above him.

“Now where the fuck is Jenni?” Her finger continued to compress his chest, causing the bones in his ribcage to creak like a loose floorboard.

“I don't know Goddess, I swear...”
A frustrated groan erupted from somewhere in Chelsea's throat and her finger plowed through Bryce's ribcage like a pile driver. “Fucking useless,” the giant girl complained. To Danielle's utter shock, there was no eruption of blood and guts, all of them stayed within Bryce's chest cavity. All that came out was whatever was left smeared to Chelsea's finger. “Eww,” the enormous teen said as she inspected her bloody finger, wiping the excess remains of Bryce's internal organs against the clean white paper of the notebook.

Danielle didn't realize it, but her entire body was shaking in terror as she tried to process Bryce's prone form. She felt herself nearly snap to attention when Chelsea's voice rang about above her, “Third time's the charm, right?” The brunette stared up into the enormous pale blue eyes of Chelsea. “Now, Danielle, this is really simple. Ok? You just need to answer the question. Where is Jenni Fitztaylor this period?”

If it weren't for the fact that her vision kept going dark, Danielle would never have realized how much she was blinking in response to the question. The word 'shock,' could not begin to convey how Danielle felt when Chelsea spoke. Something within the shrunken girl snapped as she stared up into Chelsea Dewinter's gigantic face, and she shouted, “Are you fucking insane?! You should be calling a fucking doctor or something. We're all shrunk to like four inches tall and what are you doing? Torturing us because we don't invite you to parties you wouldn't even go to? Jesus Christ, Chelsea, I wouldn't do this to you, I swear I wouldn't ram my finger through your chest or fucking eat you. Get over yourself and save us.”

Chelsea's jaw had dropped open, and the whole room was silent. Danielle could only hope her speech had reached the ears of her shrunken classmates, and they could see some light at the end of this tunnel. Maybe her harsh words had pierced whatever power trip Chelsea was on, and finally brought the situation into some sort of realistic light.

Then Chelsea laughed.

It was soft at first, her lips barely curling into a smile. Then it grew, air being pushed up from her diaphragm as she continued to laugh. One of her gigantic arms slipped around her belly, trying to calm the near painful sensation of the laughter, while her other hand came slapping down upon the desk.

As the titanic teen laughed, Danielle realized that she had no fucking idea what fear felt like. At that moment, she was too afraid to piss herself, too terrified for her bowels to unclench. Or at least that's what she thought until the smell hit her a moment later. Her vision was collapsing upon the image of Chelsea laughing high above her and there was nothing she could do. It was as if she were just watching the events unfold around her rather than actually living them.

“You think... you seriously think...” Chelsea managed between bouts of renewed laughter, “You think this is because you guys don't invite me to parties? Do you really think this about you guys and your petty passive aggressive bullshit? About how you giggle under your breath when Ms. Cavelli asks me some tough question you couldn't answer if you worked on it for a whole damn day?” The giant girl shook her head, “This isn't even about all the times you fucking whores have called me slut, and dyke, and every other nasty term you can think of.

“I'm doing this, because it feels right.” The girl's lipring marred smile stretched out once more, and at her reduced size Danielle watched how the skin puckered and scarred ever so slightly around the simple silver piece of jewelry. “You, and all your little friends, are right where you belong. Where you've always belonged, really, but you just didn't realize it. So now, I'm going to ask you again, and if you don't want to end up sharing space on my shoe with any other little bugs that get in my way, you better answer fucking quick. Where is Jenni?”

A part of the shrunken girl wanted to shout, scream, punch, scratch, and kick against Chelsea. She wanted to call her a whore and a cunt and every horrible word she could think of. Yet, as she stared up into Chelsea's gray eyes, and felt the pressure of her gaze, Danielle realized that the giantess was right. She had been petty. She had been unfair to Chelsea, just because Jenni told her to. Even though Danielle was going to college after graduation, she didn't want to really do anything. Everybody knew you just needed a college degree to get a good job. That's what Jenni had always told her.

Danielle's mouth become very dry as she tried to process everything going on around her. Had she just been following the whims of some crazy girl for the past few years? Did none of her classmates really care that she was the one who helped decide who got invited to parties and who didn't? Her eyes turned to Bryce's limp form, and wondered. He had cared. He would have been her perfect boyfriend, but she was only going to jump on him because he was really the only one asking... and he wasn't really asking.

“Mr. Grayson's English class, Room 113,” she couldn't even recognize her own voice when it spoke.

“There you go,” Chelsea said in mock-kindness as her fingers wrapped around Danielle's form.

Danielle began to squirm in the giant's grip as she was lowered to the ground, “Wh-wha-what are you doing?!” Danielle somehow was able to find her feet as she was set upon the tile floor of the classroom, staring up at Chelsea's body.

As the girl rose from her seat, Danielle lost sight of her face and could only take her in as vast sections of limbs and body parts. Most prominent at her place on the floor though, were Chelsea's gigantic skate sneakers. The large truck sized sneakers caused tremors with every minor adjustment of Chelsea's weight.

“Chelsea, y-yo-you promised that if I answered the question, you'd let me go. You promised you wouldn't kill me!” Danielle began to run away from the giantess, unable to comprehend what was about to happen to her.

#

Chelsea tracked the small girl's movements with her eyes, amazed that the little thing actually thought she might be able to get away after all of that. She could just barely hear Danielle Stockton's little voice screeching up at her, but she couldn't make out the words. With barely any effort, Chelsea raised her left foot and brought it forward like she were taking a very slow step. Once it hovered over Danielle she brought it down quickly, smashing the girl beneath the rubber sole of her sneaker. She could barely feel the small body crush beneath her own foot but she could tell from the blood splatter that she got the girl.

With a smirk Chelsea grabbed her backpack and walked toward the door. Ms. Cavelli was still bumping against her thigh, only half-conscious from her wild ride earlier, and Chelsea knew there would be a lot of fun when the little woman fully came to. Her fingers casually came down, and fondled the small woman like she were nothing more than a key chain.

The giant girl propped the door open and looked out at the rest of her class, spotting a few classmates still cowering in fear from her miniature rampage. “I'll leave this open in case any of you want to try your luck in the hallways,” she peered outside for a moment, amazed to find them still relatively empty, “But if I were you, I wouldn't want to be underfoot.” With a harsh laugh Chelsea stomped her left foot into the ground with enough force to leave a bloody imprint on the white linoleum.

As she started to walk down the hall, and make her way toward Room 113, Chelsea felt a vibration in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Her hand pulled her phone from the enormous pocket and she was surprised to see the little notification light blinking. When she turned on the screen, Chelsea gasped in surprise. It was a text from her friend Liz.

Chapter 7 by gtswburg

A hundred terrifying thoughts ran through her brain as she saw the text notification from her best friend. Chelsea couldn't banish the thought of a shrunken Liz cowering in her own purse using all of her strength to send an S.O.S. For the briefest of moments, Chelsea thought back to Kelly Newman, now nothing more than a bloody pulp digesting in her stomach. Would someone do that to Liz, she suddenly wondered?


Swallowing hard, Chelsea unlocked her phone, and pulled up the text message.


[Grrl, you need to come to the gym. Matt and I are having a blast.]


Chelsea's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had the rest of the school not shrunk? Her hand immediately went to cover over the dangling Ms. Cavelli, suddenly fearful some teacher might round the corner and question her about everything that had just happened. “Oh God,” Chelsea muttered to herself for a second, her mind racing as she thought about everything she had just done. Her eyes traveled down to her shoes, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew that there was blood and guts pounded into their tread.


Then something flickered at the edge of her vision. Chelsea's head turned, immediately tracking the movement. Her eyes fell upon a little person, frozen in terror as they stared up at Chelsea's form. Even at the relatively large distance between them she could tell that they weren't from her class. Hell, they didn't even look like they were in her grade.


A very different series of thoughts entered Chelsea's mind. Liz wasn't cowering in her purse, but having the same sort of fun Chelsea just had, slamming her booted feet onto preppy jerks and flicking teachers from their desks. What if everyone had shrunk but them? Her lips curled into a smile at the thought. This was karma at it's most obvious. She hadn't shrunk because she didn't deserve to be, unlike all the prick teachers and haughty bitchy students. All these people deserved their fate at Chelsea's hands... or feet.


Her hand slid off of Ms. Cavelli as she sauntered toward the shrunken person who had been racing through the halls before spotting the enormous Chelsea Dewinter. She made sure each one of her steps were firm and kept her eyes locked on the tiny person. It took her a moment before she realized the tiny girl was a freshman cheerleader, not quite worthy of attention from Jenni Fitztaylor or Danielle Stockton, but certainly someone who would give anything to be a part of that crowd. The little girl actually shied away from Chelsea's shadow as it engulfed her, doing her best to scramble away from the relatively gigantic teen.


“Hey, freshbug,” Chelsea taunted while carefully craning her neck downward. Her eyes settled on the small being at her feet, watching her for any slight movement, carefully boring her gaze into the girl's itty bitty soul.


The soft and high pitched squeaks that Chelsea heard were definitely the freshman's cries and pleas. Such sounds were starting to become fairly familiar to her after the fun she had had with her classmates. Of course, unlike Kelly or Danielle who were able to tell her things, she couldn't think of any use for this little freshman. Her words were literally meaningless.


“Give me a reason not to crush you.”


She could just barely make out the young girl's features. Her face was red and tear stained, and she was quite clearly still crying, but Chelsea could understand if someone called the little thing attractive. Girls that weren't attractive didn't make it into the insular cheer squad at Hayes High, anyway. However, the cheer squad defined attractive very narrowly in Chelsea's opinion. Everyone had to fall around the same height, the same weight, and she swore there was even a limited band of hair shades that they allowed. All of that on its own was screwed up enough, but Chelsea knew that they also made the girls that didn't make the cut feel like shit. Like they were beneath all the cheerleaders because they weren't pretty enough.


“I'm waiting, freshbug,” her foot began to tap against the ground, causing the freshman cheerleader to brace herself against the floor when she stumbled over.


Slowly, the girl rose to her feet and struggled to make her way over to the non-tapping foot. “What the...fuck?” The small girl planted her hands against the toe of Chelsea's sneaker and then lowered her head down against the hot pink toe and began to kiss it. Chelsea bent down to get a closer look, and then knew she was right. The little cheerleader was actually kissing her foot. She laughed, which caused the little girl to attend to the shoe even more, rubbing her hands across it, kissing it, and nearly humping it.


Chelsea squatted down and slipped her fingers around the small girl. As she lifted her up, the girl started screaming once again, her arms and head flailing toward the sneaker as if all that she could live for was kissing the skate shoe. “Well then...” Chelsea reflected on what she was about to do with the shrunken girl.


Rather than continue to carry her skyward, Chelsea lowered the hand containing the girl back toward her foot with a smirk. Using her free hand, she lifted up the shaft of her pant leg and revealed her milky white calf to the little cheerleader. With the help of just a few of her fingers, the titanic teen pried open space between her sock and the wall of her shoe. Carefully, she slid the tiny freshman into the expanded crevice between her foot and her sneaker. The soft interior material of the sneaker smashed the little girl tightly against Chelsea's sock.


Somehow, the girl found enough air to scream just a little bit, but the heavy curtain of denim that was Chelsea's pant leg was easily able to muffle her screams. “God,” Chelsea rolled her eyes, “Freshman these days have no appreciation for anything.” Once back at her full height, she smashed her foot into the ground, and felt the little bug pressing against the side of her foot. “You should be happy I didn't step on you, freshbug.” The barely perceptible cries stopped, and Chelsea couldn't help but smile.


The teenage girl started walking, her lips curled up into a smile as she hummed a jaunty tune. Her teacher slapped against her thigh, barely maintaining consciousness as the enormous world sped by. Meanwhile, wedged within her sneaker sat a freshman cheerleader who had no idea if she should be happy she had ended up within Chelsea Dewinter's stinky shoe, or sad that she hadn't ended up beneath it.

Chapter 8 by gtswburg

Chelsea decided that Jenni Fitztaylor could wait a little bit, after all shrunken students weren't going to get anywhere without the help of a normal sized person and Chelsea had personally taken care of several members of the queen bee's inner circle. Rather than head straight for Room 113, Chelsea decided to figure out exactly what the hell Liz and her boyfriend were up to in the gym.


It wasn't a particularly far walk from Ms. Cavelli's classroom anyway.


The emptiness of the halls was completely mind-boggling to her. She was so used to having to push and shove against a quivering mass of humanity to get anywhere in this school that the emptiness of it was almost unsettling. Chelsea had walked the halls during class time plenty of times, but it wasn't like this. Normally, there were other people walking around; students going to the bathroom, teachers running errands, a security guard or janitor making their rounds. It was now so quiet that Chelsea could hear her own soft footfalls as they landed across the tiled floor.


Each step came with the softest slap of rubber against the highly buffed floors. And every time her left sneaker landed, Chelsea could feel the barest wiggle from the little freshbug that she had wedged in there. That feeling combined with the barely audible thwap of Ms. Cavelli's dangling form against her thigh reminded her that she wasn't alone in the big empty school.


Chelsea Dewinter had free reign to do whatever she wanted to it, and its inhabitants.


Hayes High was now literally her dominion, with hundreds of little subjects that would be forced to bow down or face the consequences. People that pissed her off too much would become stains on her feet, or cool pieces of jewelry. Little accessories for her to play with absentmindedly while doing whatever it was she decided to do. Everyone else would be a slave to her whims until she decided to make them something else like a snack or a pet. Chelsea couldn't even begin to explain to someone how good it made her feel. How deep within her, it just felt so right.


When she arrived outside the gym, Chelsea lifted her right foot up and smashed it into the push-bar on one of doors, kicking the heavy piece of wood away from her before she sauntered into the massive gym. She loved the idea of what she must look like to any bug-sized people in the gym as she walked through the doors. Yeah, Chelsea thought to herself, she could get used to being a fucking giant.


“Ohmygod, yes!” Liz's voice cut from clear across the gym, momentarily cut off by the gym door slamming back into its hinges.


Chelsea turned to see Liz standing up from where she was seated on the lowest row of bleachers, dressed just as she had been earlier that morning minus her jacket, which had been thrown onto one of the nearby seats.


Seated next to her, lackadaisically stretched across two rows of seats was her boyfriend Matt. Matt was an exceptionally tall boy, standing several inches over six feet, with surprisingly decent muscle definition. Above him curled a small cloud of blue cigarette smoke, that he added to every few moments. He was wearing his usual combination of band t-shirt, blue jeans, and slightly roughed up skate shoes. In sheer defiance of the school's outdated anti-hat policy, he was wearing the same baseball cap that was always a staple of his attire outside of school. A hat that was so faded, and the brim so heavily curved that Chelsea had no idea what its original color or shape might have been.


While she crossed the gym toward them, Chelsea watched her best friend return to her seat. She watched carefully as Liz settled back down onto the bleacher, leaning over to kiss Matt softly on his stubble covered cheek like she usually did before carefully planting her boots on the ground. Chelsea's eyes were drawn to her best friend's normally scuffed Doc Martens, and found what she was really looking for: a small collection of tiny people moving back away from them in fear before slowly moving toward them and beginning to lick and clean them with their tiny little bodies.


“Watch your step,” she cautioned when Chelsea finally reached the pair, “I wouldn't want you to ruin your cute shoes with preppy guts.”


“Eh,” Chelsea replied with a shrug as she stepped over Liz's small army of boot slaves, mounting a row or two of bleachers before settling into a seat, “They wouldn't be the first.”


Liz laughed, and Matt cracked a wry smile while he took another drag from his cigarette.


“Who'd you get?” Liz asked, turning her eyes up to look at Chelsea.


Chelsea leaned down and tapped Matt's shoulder, lifting two fingers up to her mouth to indicate she could use a cigarette. Matt dug a crumpled pack of American Spirits out of his pocket before moving his long arm across the intervening space. Carefully, she plucked one out and lit it in a smooth and easy motion, “I don't know, some guy, and then Danielle Stockton. Plus, I killed Bryce whatshisface, and ate Kelly Newman.”


“Damn, you are fucking cold,” Matt interjected.


“Now, do you understand why my cousin is afraid of you?” Liz's lips were curling up into a smile.


Chelsea just shrugged before gesturing to the collection of gym classes at Liz's feet, “Oh come on, like you guys haven't done anything to anyone.”


Liz's face turned to one of mock-shock, “Chelsea, really! All of these little people volunteered to clean my boots. They all said that now that they were down at my feet, they couldn't bear the thought of a pretty girl like me having scuffed boots. They just set right to work because they realized that that's how it was going to be from now on.”


Matt's soft chuckle was all Chelsea needed. Turning her pale gray eyes to him and waiting. Feeling more than seeing her gaze, he finally spoke, “This was after she had stomped on a few people, including that one football coach who's a bodybuilder.”


“Oh come on,” she said with a playful slap to her boyfriend's thigh, “Like I was the only one having fun, King Kong.”


“Do I even want to know?”


Matt slowly unbuckled his belt, before he took a moment to shove his hand deep within both his pants and his underwear, digging around for something. “I personally think it's a little gross but at the same time...” Liz explained, andChelsea blinked as her best friend watched Matt with lust in her eyes, “... it's so fucking hot.”


“Ah, there she is,” Matt finally said, with the same enthusiasm a person might use after they had found a pen at the bottom of their backpack. His hand returned from the swampy hell that presumably was his underwear, and through his long thick man-fingers, Chelsea could see a trembling figure. He extended it toward her, and then his palm opened up.


It took Chelsea a few moments to adjust to inspecting the small woman. She had to look past the matted hair, the sheen of sweat, and the clumps of what Chelsea hoped were only underwear lint, but it still only took her a moment to identify her as Ms. Watson, a hot young female gym teacher who had started at Hayes High halfway through the year. Ms. Watson shied away from Chelsea's enormous face, practically burying herself within Matt's palm rather than face another gigantic teen.


Liz had ascended up the extra bleacher to look down at the shrunken teacher, instantly jabbing a finger into the tiny woman's back, causing her to spread out across the comparatively huge palm. “Look up at me, bitch,” Liz commanded, and slowly but surely Ms. Watson's head rose up, the fear evident on her small face. The small woman began to plead up at the giant standing before her, but Chelsea couldn't make out the words. “You better be sorry, you little,” Liz let out a frustrated noise, “Just put her back in there, Matt. I can't even stand to look at her.”


The tall man shrugged, and his fingers closed around the miniscule phys. ed. Teacher. Instead of struggling about with his genitals this time, Matt simply pulled back the elastic band of his underwear and rolled Ms. Watson across his stomach and into his crotch. When he let it snap shut, he chuckled once more while giving his crotch a soft pat through his jeans.


“Wow,” was all Chelsea could say.


“Mean little bitch... she gets off on being horrible to students.”


Chelsea nodded in response, ignoring the soft sniffling in Liz's voice, or the way she seemed to choke up for just a moment in the center of her sentence. She never would have considered Liz fat, or even overweight, but there was no secret between the two of them that Liz had some issues with her body. Sometimes Chelsea would just catch her staring in the mirror, pinching parts of herself and frowning. It wouldn't take more than a misplaced comment or two to make Liz get a little upset, but the girl had never said anything about Ms. Watson to Chelsea.


Matt's fingers wrapped around his girlfriend's and he pulled her down into his lap, instantly eliciting a girlish giggle from Liz and another quick soft kiss between the two of them.


Liz smiled at Chelsea, the darkness of the previous moment lifted just as swiftly as it arrived, “So I guess I don't need to ask you who you're going to go after on this little day of revenge, do I?”


“Jenni...” Chelsea began and then paused, “Wait, why would you call it a day of revenge?”


“Cause it is...” Liz made it sound like she were stating the most obvious thing in the world before gesturing down to her little army of boot slaves. Chelsea could only imagine how terrifying the sight of Liz stamping on a few people must have been for them all to still be sitting there, awaiting orders.


“Right, but like, how do we know that other people aren't doing this to our friends and stuff? When you texted me, I'll admit, I was really scared for a second...”


Liz merely blinked, and Matt stared back at her like she had an extra head.


“What?”


“You don't know?”


“Know what?”


“Come on, Chelsea, it's obvious.”


“No, it's not. I thought I was the only one who wasn't shrunk and then you texted me and...”


Liz leaned forward and gently patted her on the knee like she was a confused child, “Chelsea, the beer my cousin brewed. That's why you didn't shrink.”


“What? That's...” Chelsea clenched the bridge of her nose, “That's just dumb.”


“I know, when she told me, I was like, 'What is this a shitty sci-fi movie from the fifties?'” Matt chuckled once more while shaking his head in surprise. The air was filled with a slightly acrid odor as he stubbed his cigarette against one of the plastic bleachers.


“Hush,” Liz's fingers gently settled on Matt's lips, and he kissed them, “Look, I don't know how it worked but some nerds, mainly my cousin and his friends, decided that they were going to shrink a bunch of people but they had a list of people they didn't have any problems with and soooooo... day of revenge. Didn't I tell you about this like, last week?”


“No, you did not tell me about your cousin's plan to shrink the school last week, or about the beer this morning, while we were drinking it.”


“Oh, well... sorry.”


Chelsea rolled her eyes, and heaved a sigh before shaking her head. For some reason, failing to mention that there was apparent super-science plotting behind the fact that everyone had shrunk but them was simply... a very Liz thing to do. “So now what?”


Liz shrugged, “I don't know, go find Jenni, have some fun with her... Me and Matt are going to...” The pair of lovers locked eyes for a moment before giggling, “I think we're going to have a sex ed class for all of our little friends down there.” Liz eyed the group down on the gym floor, “And we're going to need some volunteers.”


It was too hard to actually tell, but Chelsea swore that they all seemed to shiver together as one when Liz said that. Slowly though she rose from her seat, “Ok, you guys uhm... have fun with that.”


Both of them just laughed, and called out a quick goodbye before their tongues tied up together and their bodies pressed close. As Chelsea moved out into the hallway once more, she rolled her eyes as Liz straddled Matt's lounging form, and their hands begin to pull at each other's clothes

Chapter 9 by gtswburg

Everything had happened in an instant.


One second Mr. Grayson had been droning on about their big research paper, and how they'd all had months to work on it but that he knew most of them would be trying to cram it all into spring break. It was his usual spiel for whenever a big project was due. That he understood why they had put it off but that he would be able to tell that they had procrastinated. They needed to learn, especially since most of them were going to college next year, that you can't procrastinate like this.


Of course, Mike wasn't listening.


What did he care? He wasn't going to major in something like English anyway. He might have to take one more of these dumb courses to fulfill some requirement down the line, but he'd be sure to take something easy without a lot of research papers or other bullshit. As far as Mike was concerned, after Spring Break, he'd be pretty much done with literature in general. He'd get a useful business degree, just like his dad.


Then everything seemed to fade to white, like a movie. The all enveloping whiteness flashed across his vision and just stayed there for a few minutes. Then there was a roaring noise, deep and otherworldly, like the kind they used in movie trailers. The rumbling seemed to shake his very bones before the whiteness finally faded.


Mike was laying flat on his back, and staring up at a ceiling high above him. It wasn't the drop ceiling that was in every room of Hayes High, but a dark brown mess supported by wide steel beams and dotted with big globs of what looked like fluorescent paint.


“What happened?” He muttered to himself, though a part of him was hoping someone else in the class would answer. When no one responded though, Mike rubbed his eyes and looked up at the vast ceiling again. This time it seemed extremely familiar, as if he should know what he was staring at.


Climbing to his feet, Mike dusted himself off, trying to figure out exactly where he was.


His jaw slacked open as he took in his surroundings. Mike stood on a vast plain of linoleum, covered in vast structures made of steel and plastic. Next to these strange alien structures were huge monoliths of canvas, looming like artificial mountains above him. He swallowed hard as he recognized logos and brand names on each of the canvas monoliths. Mike knew that the one across from him, covered in safety pins and patches, was a backpack that belonged to some punk rock chick that was always giving him dirty looks. His own pack was resting on the back leg of his desk, and came into his view as he spun around toward it.


“Holy shit,” he muttered, slowly but surely venturing out of the shadow of his desk.


Then there was another enormous noise: a collection of quick, sharp, staccato blasts undercut by a deep and forceful, “Wheee!”


Mike stopped in his tracks as he parsed the excited exclamation through it's God-like timbre. The whole room seemed to shake, and he heard blasts like thunder come crashing all around him. His head whipped around just in the nick of time to see two bus-sized feet barreling toward him. Mike dove out of the way of the worn and dirty running shoes, looking back to see the plain denim jeans that rose high above them, all the way to a simple gray blouse. The girl was so huge that he couldn't make out anything else about her as she moved past him. He was able to just make out a brown ponytail bouncing off the back of her head.


“Oh God, you've got to be kidding me,” Mike muttered as he carefully crawled back out to the row. He watched as the enormous god-like teen made her way excitedly around Mr. Grayson's desk at the front of the room, her squeals of excitement nearly bursting Mike's ear drums.


Stacey Milton was a know-it-all and a teacher's pet. She was supposed to be a junior but had skipped a grade years earlier, and still considered herself smarter than everyone around her. Some people said that she often claimed she was supposed to skip two grades but the school wouldn't let her. All of that intellect though didn't make up for the fact that she was sort of a stuck up bitch, and super-weird on top of that.


“Don't worry, Mr. Grayson, I'm not going to hurt you,” her voice filled the room, her cutesy upbeat lilt coming through despite the sheer power her voice now had. “I would never hurt my faaaaavorite teacher. You and me, Mr. G, we're going to get really close after today, just you wait.” Mike was far enough back to see the action beyond Mr. Grayson's desk. The poor teacher was being held in her small fist, squirming for his life while she just smiled down at him. “Do you like my top? I wore it especially for you today.” Slowly, Stacey carefully slid Mr. Grayson into the low cut of her gray blouse and between her cleavage. She pressed her small perky breasts together, probably smothering the poor man before she giggled, “I know they're kind of small but I have a feeling they look pretty big to you.”


Grayson must have been screaming his head off because Stacey paused and looked down at him, “Oh don't worry, Mr. G, I'll take care of the class. You don't have to teach these little idiots anymore.” Her finger went down and carefully rubbed the teacher's receding hair like he were a small pet. Of course, Mike figured, that's what he was... a pet teacher.


Stacey then picked a thin book off of Mr. Grayson's desk, and flipped it open to a page as she strutted back into the rows of desks. “Now...” her voice took on an almost threatening tone as she started walking, each of her steps forceful and demanding attention, “It's time to take attendance for our special lesson.” Standing at the first desk, she began, “Adams?” Mike watched as she bent down and squatted around, looking for her shrunken classmate. “There you are!” She exclaimed before grabbing the person up in her hand and moving on to the next desk.


She moved down each row with frightening precision, carefully rooting out each shrunken student and gathering them up in her hand or on Mr. Grayson's grade book. When she couldn't carry any more, Stacey dumped them on the teacher's desk. Once she made her way halfway through the class, she dropped a paperback book in front of them before saying with pure authority, “Open it up to page thirty-one, students.”


Mike shuddered as she began moving down his row. Stacey Milton had never been your normal girl, but a girl who could shrink an entire classroom just to make a point? He really never imagined her to be that sort of person. Not to mention the fact that if he weren't huddled down on the ground at that moment, he wouldn't have believed that people could shrink.


With an ear shattering boom, Stacey's worn gym shoes crashed down in front of him. “Michael Sorrentino?” She asked, her gaze flicking down from his chair to her feet. Mike stared up at her, her dark brown eyes obscured slightly by her thin-framed glasses. Her thin lips pulled into a smile as she bent down and with just the tips of a few fingers, pressed him against several of his classmates within her fist.


It was the most uncomfortable position Mike could imagine as he was pressed up against two other people he barely knew, Stacey's hand sweat rubbing off onto them. Her hand was oppressively warm, and that combined with their own body warmth meant that they were sweating heavily by the time they were dumped onto the desk with everyone else.


After she rounded up all the present students, Stacey settled down across from them, her own copy of the book high up in her hands. Softly, she began to read a passage from the page they were all on. Her voice still carried immense power, but she clearly wasn't trying to scare them anymore. While she read, everyone just shared glances with each other, unsure of exactly what they were supposed to be doing at that exact moment.


While their captress was distracted, a few people began moving to grab rubber bands and paper clips from around Mr. G's desk. Anything they could grab a hold of that might help them either fight back or escape. “Now, who can explain what Kesey is trying to...” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the little people roaming about the desk, grabbing up any office supplies they could.


Stacey's fist slammed into the desk with enough force to send a few people toppling over, “What do you think you're doing, class?” Mike suddenly looked away from her enormous gaze, feeling very ashamed that he would even allow his classmates to think about rebellion and escape. “I'm trying to teach you something and what? You're all off playing with this stuff?” One of her fingers came down, yanking a push pin from a student's hand and flinging it across the room with a flick of her index finger. “First off, what do you even think you were going to do with that? And second off, you don't do such things during class time. I expect you all to treat me with the respect I deserve.” Her whole body loomed over the group of her former classmates, and cast them into a deep shadow.


“You're fucking crazy!” Screeched the punk girl that sat next to Mike. She flipped Stacey off and began running off across the desk as she shouted, “Fuck this, and fuck you you giant bitch.”


Whump!


Stacey's copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest slammed into the girl so hard that it shook the desk. A wet crunch was heard as Stacey pressed the book down a little harder, carefully grinding it against the desk itself. “Too bad, Lexi,” Stacey announced, “Rebellion and death does not look good on a permanent record.” The once meek little brunette lifted the book up and inspected it, making a face as she gazed into the pulpy mess that once was one of her classmates. “Ew, I got punk whore on my book,” she said to herself, though certainly for the benefit of her “class,” before tossing the book into the garbage.


“I'll be right back, kids, let me just go grab another one.” Her enormous frame rose from her seat and walked to the back of the class, grabbing another book from a small stack. While she walked back, she asked, “Now where was I...?”


By the time that Stacey was seated again, everyone was holding down the student copy of the book, their eyes glued to the passage she had just read to them.


Mike had no idea how much time passed as they all sat there, trying their best to dissect the novel up to Stacey's excruciating standards. Every so often, Mike would catch glimpses of Stacey's smug and self-satisfied smirk. She was loving every minute of lording not only her intellect over the rest of her classmate's but her new found size. Mike didn't care though, he did just what he did in Mr. Grayson's class: participate just enough to not get in trouble.


All they needed to do was wait for the authorities or whatever, and then they'd be saved, and Stacey Milton would go to jail forever.


In fact, when the door opened up, the entire class breathed a sigh of relief turning their heads to face what they assumed would be some kind of friendly savior. Instead, what walked through the door was the last thing that Mike wanted to see: Chelsea Dewinter.


Standing several inches above Stacey made Chelsea even more intimidating than the enormous girl that sat before all of them. Worse was the completely casual way she walked in, always walking around school like she was some sort of hot shit when in reality she was just the biggest loser running. Now though, Mike was more than a little afraid. If cute little Stacey had taken the chance to crush another person like a bug, Chelsea wouldn't even think twice.


It was as that thought crossed his mind that he saw what was bouncing against her thigh. At first, it had looked like a set of keys or something, but as she got closer, Mike could make out a definite shape. It was Ms. Cavelli, the hot calculus teacher. She was always a cold hard bitch, but damn if Mike didn't think that she was fucking hot for a teacher. Now she was strapped to Chelsea's belt like a fucking ornament.


Stacey simply closed her book, folded her hands on the desk, and looked up as Chelsea approached. “Is there something I can help you with?”


“Yeah,” the raven-haired bitch-queen replied as she looked over the assembled class, “I'm looking for Jenni.” Her pale gray eyes tore through the crowd of shrunken students, pausing over each one to inspect them.


“Oh, Jenni's not here right now,” Stacey answered quickly. She lifted up Mr. Grayson's grade book and handed it to Chelsea before pointing out a certain line, “See, she's in school today but she was excused from this class.”


“Seriously?”


“Yes, seriously.”


“Why?”


“I don't know, because she's a dumb little whore,” Stacey whined, “Now if you don't have anything else, I was in the middle of teaching.”


Chelsea blinked, her eyes darting from the collection of students to Stacey, and the wriggling form of Mr. Grayson between her breasts. “Wait, hold on, what about everyone else? Maybe they know something.”


Stacey gave her a look before sighing, “Fine.”


Chelsea clamped both hands on the side of the desk, and leaned over the assembled shrunken teenagers. Mike trembled beneath her gaze, hoping she wouldn't notice him. If she didn't notice him, he'd be fine. “Which one of you knows where Jenni would be if she's not in class?” Chelsea's head came down closer and closer. Mike looked up to see her lips carefully parting, revealing teeth stained a light red, as if the enormous girl had eaten someone.


“See, they don't know anything,” Stacey interjected, preparing to once more shoo Chelsea Dewinter away.


“Wait,” Chelsea held up a hand, and Mike instantly felt her eyes land on him. “Is that Mike Sorrentino?” Her hand came down and instantly scooped Mike up. He tried to fight but her grip was terrifyingly strong.


“Put him down,” Stacey whined.


“Fuck off, you little know it all,” Chelsea replied as she turned around and leaned against Mr. Grayson's desk, she raised Mike up to her face. Mike was terrified of the drop down, knowing it could easily kill him if Chelsea decided to ease up her grip in any way. “Now, Mike, you and I both know that your best bud is nailing Jenni.”


Mike gulped, and then nodded.


“Do they have sex during school?”


Mike shook his head violently.


“Speak up, little man, I can't hear you.”


Her hand suddenly clamped around Mike, shoving all the air out of his system before letting him breath just as easily.


“No!”


“Are you sure? They don't go out to his car for a quickie, or do it in the storage lockers in the gym?”


“I'm sure, I'm sure!”


“Then where the fuck is Jenni?” She growled. She literally growled at him.


“I don't know! I don't know, I swear.”


“Then you better tell me where your buddy Frank is this period or I'm going to fucking crush you.” Her fingers pressed in again just to remind Mike of how much strength she had in just one hand.


“Gym! Oh God, he's in gym, just don't hurt me, please...” Mike sobbed as the terror got the best of him. His pants began to feel damp and warm as he wailed.


Suddenly, he was free falling through the air as Chelsea's voice boomed around him, “Ew, fucking gross. You fucking pissed on my hand you piece of shit.”


Mike landed with a crash on the ground, and the whole world went black for a second. It flashed back in as he moaned, unable to move upon the ground. He watched as Chelsea's neon pink sole rushed over him, encrusted with the blood and guts of some other unfortunate classmate. Mike could feel the whole world around him vibrate as she walked out of the classroom.


He tried his best to move but nothing seemed to respond, neither his legs or arms really seemed to be into the whole moving business.


Then Stacey's enormous face loomed high above him, cocking to one side as she considered what to do with his broken body. “Pity,” a twinge of sadness entered her voice, “You were kind of cute.” The sole of her dirty and worn running shoe hovered over him. Mike could see pebbles the size of his head ingrained in the tread and found himself whimpering as the whole thing rushed towards him with immense speed.


The last thing he saw was the logo of a shoe company.

Chapter 10 by gtswburg

Chelsea swung her backpack over one shoulder and sighed as she walked out of Mr. Grayson's English class. Or well, what used to be Mr. Grayson's English class. Since the shrinking it had quite clearly become Stacey Milton's class. In a way, Chelsea wasn't surprised that the mousy little nerd did something like that. She had always been a bit of a bratty know-it-all, just waiting to lord her intelligence over someone else. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bad for Mr. Grayson. The poor guy was definitely going to find his way past Stacey's lips, just not the ones on her face.


She couldn't help but smile at the thought though. It was, after all, sort of funny to Chelsea when students had crushes on teachers. Some teachers were aware of their fan clubs and the like, others were painfully oblivious. For a moment, she wondered exactly where Mr. Grayson had fallen in regards to Stacey. Either way though, it's not like anything would have happened before, and it'd be super gross if it did. The situation was different now though. It's not like Stacey was going to date Mr. Grayson, she was just going to use him.


Her fingers unconsciously trailed over her own little imprisoned teacher, and her smirk grew a little bit when the tiny person flinched against her thigh. Chelsea said nothing to reassure Ms. Cavelli of what her intentions were as her fingers explored the miniaturized teacher's soft skin. You didn't have to explain yourself to your toys and pets.


Rather than waste time walking through the halls, Chelsea opened a door and started to cut across one of the interior courtyards of the school. It was a small slice of nature nestled amidst the concrete and steel. The courtyards were rarely open to students, despite the picnic tables and benches that implied that they were designed for student use. Years ago though, Chelsea learned that they would often be open in the days leading up to breaks and major exams. A little known gift from someone with the keys to students seeking a quiet place.


Chelsea paused, remembering previous years when she would hang out here on other days before spring or summer break, ditching class to share a joint with Liz or Matt. It was always nice and peaceful in the little courtyards and no one ever seemed to actually look into them, which made them perfect for illicit activities. A giggle escaped her lips as she remembered the boyfriend who had actually introduced her to this particular courtyard.


An uncontrollable flush of red reached her cheeks as she thought of the things she had done when she had first visited this place.


Such thoughts reminded her of exactly what might be waiting for her in the gym. Chelsea shuddered at the thought of watching Matt pound Liz, his pale ass thrusting back and forth through the air. Accidentally walking in on them was enough for a whole lifetime, and that was before they would have had any little 'volunteers,' to help them. Whatever Liz was doing with her tiny subjects, Chelsea didn't want to see it.


Settling down on one of the benches, Chelsea pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to her friend, [Hey, when you guys are done fucking, could you check to see if you have a shrunken Frank Carlotta with you?] Putting her phone on the bench next to her, Chelsea decided that she didn't want to let a moment of relaxation go to waste.


Bending down, she unzipped her backpack and dug her hand into an interior pocket before pulling out a little baggie of weed, rolling papers, and a lighter. Chelsea started humming to herself as she carefully set everything in her lap, and set about preparing herself a nice little joint.


From her lap of course came a suddenly bitchy series of tweets and chirps. All Chelsea could do was arch an eyebrow at her captive teacher, before the little woman started to scream loud enough to be heard, “What do you think you're doing, Ms. Dewinter?! I know what marijuana looks and smells like.”


Raising the carefully bent rolling paper up to her face, Chelsea casually licked it for adhesion and then rolled it into a smooth cylindrical shape. “If you know what it looks like and you know what it smells like, then what the hell do you think I'm doing, Angela?” Chelsea sneered down at the tiny woman, amazed that she was still trying to seem authoritative.


“Not only is that against the student code of conduct, Ms. Dewinter, but it is illegal.”


“Pfft, it's legal in Washington and Colorado.” Chelsea waved her hand down dismissively at the shrunken teacher as she slipped the joint between her lips and set about packing away everything but her lighter.


“That is no excuse...”


Chelsea flicked the teacher's flank with her index finger. The small amount of force had the immediate effect of shutting the tiny woman up. “If you don't want the ashes burned into you, Angela, I'd suggest you shut the fuck up.” With a few twists of her thumb, Chelsea was able to light the thin joint and inhale deeply.


As the smoke coursed through her lungs, Chelsea was already feeling better. She bent down and dug her fingers into her shoe before they grabbed a hold of the small wriggling form that was still pressed between her socked foot and the walls of her sneaker. Dumping the small cheerleader on the ground, Chelsea looked down at her and smiled, “Hey there, Freshbug.”


The little girl chirped in fear and backed away from Chelsea's all-powerful feet.


Chelsea took another drag before she leaned back against the bench and set her feet out before her. Crossing her ankles over each other, she delighted in hearing the light tapping of her shoes' thick rubber soles bouncing into each other. “Get to work, Freshbug,” she commanded. Her eyes watched as the tiny form of the once proud freshman cheerleader ran to her skate shoes and immediately set to work prying bones, guts, and dried blood from them. “Don't be afraid to use your little tongue,” she added with a bark of laughter.


Once again a stream of protests came up from her thigh as Ms. Cavelli finally became aware of the little woman Chelsea had kept imprisoned in her shoe. Taking a deep pull of her joint, Chelsea merely bent down and blew the secondhand smoke all over her teacher's pathetically small body. “Chill out, Angela, unless you want to end up down there with her.”


Her fingers came down and wrapped around the small woman. Then, carefully she untied the rubber band holding her to her belt. It was amazing to feel the way Ms. Cavelli's body just relaxed even though the little woman was still trapped in Chelsea's grip. She lifted her up to her face as she took another drag on the joint. All the smoke was once again directed at the clearly exhausted Ms. Cavelli, “You are so fucking small.”


The miniature woman struggled and whined against the titanic teen's tree like fingers. “Like, do you get how fucking small you are?” She asked as she leaned in toward her, trying to inspect the little form. Angela twisted away from her breath that now reeked of weed, the small woman coughing, never experiencing the earthy stench with such power before. As the gray eyes ravaged the tiny woman's body, Chelsea giggled, “I think I've taken shits bigger than you. Do you realize that's how small you are, Angela? You're smaller than my shits.”


Chelsea could feel the small woman trembling in her grasp and it made her feel fantastic. Slowly, and with immense care, Chelsea lifted the burning end of her joint to the shrunken teacher's flesh being certain to not quite let it touch her flesh. “I bet this is pretty terrifying to you. A fucking lit joint could just destroy you.” As Ms. Cavelli tried to bury herself deeper in Chelsea's palm, she imagined what it would be like if she brought the smoking herbs against the math teacher's flesh.


A buzzing noise broke her from her reverie though.


Apparently Liz had finally stopped fucking.


Placing the joint back into her lips, Chelsea almost killed it with her next drag as she read the response, [Nopes, and he wasn't lost during the demonstration either. Matt says you might want to check the locker rooms and pool. Swim class today.]


“Fucking... really?” Chelsea said to no one in particular as she finished the joint and stubbed out the remaining ash on the old bench. As she sat up, she looked down at her enclosed fist and what was wrapped up in it. Then her eyes ran over her backpack and the little freshman girl that was racing to reach where she had just planted her feet.


Chelsea laughed at the little freshman's predicament, bending her feet so she could inspect the soles of her shoes. The left was mostly clean but the right still had various chunks stuck to it. Sanding up to her full height she watched as the miniature blond stopped in her tracks. “Well, Freshbug, you're going to have to do a much better job next time because cleaning these shoes is easy. Just watch.” Lifting her foot high up, Chelsea swiped it down at an angle against the lip of the bench, instantly sheering off the guts of whoever it was she had stepped on.


With her foot planted on the bench, Chelsea bent all the way down before she plucked up her shoe slave in the same hand as Ms. Cavelli. “Freshbug meet Angela, Angela this is my little Freshbug,” she introduced as she squeezed the two women together between her fingers, “I figured I should give you guys a chance to bond seeing as how you'll be spending a fuck ton of time together as my... I don't know, slaves? Pets? Toys? Something like that.” Chelsea smiled at the thought of waking every morning to Ms. Cavelli cleaning the lint from between her toes, and this little freshbug licking the scuff marks from her shoes. A devilish smile crossed Chelsea's face as she tossed her backpack over one shoulder and imagined exactly where she would be keeping Jenni Fitztaylor in the future.


On her way to the locker rooms, Chelsea stopped by her locker. Her fingers quickly spun through the combination and popped open the thin metal door. She hung her backpack up on the coat hook inside, and then dumped Ms. Cavelli and the Freshbug atop the rank pile of gym clothes she needed to take home. “Don't worry, girls,” she teased them, “I totally have to take these home today or else they'll never get clean and my locker will be fucking rank for the rest of the year. So no worries, I won't leave you in here.”


Both shrunken people were clearly disgusted by the stench, covering their tiny noses and mouths as they tried to escape the smell. Chelsea laughed as she watched them try to run across her running shorts, only spilling into unsupported pockets of clothing where they were almost buried amidst her gross sweat-soaked gym clothes. Without a second thought, she slammed the door shut and set about to find her way to the boy's locker rooms, and the only little person who would know for certain where Jenni was.

End Notes:

I normally don't add things like this to a text but thanks to all of you that are reading, and of course double thanks, three cheers and a tiger, to those who are reviewing.

Chapter 11 by gtswburg

Chelsea confidently strolled down the hallway, the musky smell of locker rooms mixed with the distinct scent of chlorine already filling her nostrils. She always wondered what genius figured that filling an entire hallway with locker rooms where sweaty jocks of both sexes would store their equipment, and practically live, was a good idea. At the beginning of the year, the gym hallway wouldn't smell bad, but now just before spring break the whole place had a unique funk.

Clearly no amount of cleaning could spare the tiled rooms from the stench of teenage sweat. As she moved down the hallway, she had to wonder how terrible the smell was for any tiny students scampering across the tiled floors. Chelsea had half a mind to dump any dick-athletes she found in their own sports bras and jockstraps. She chuckled, unable to prevent herself from thinking of Ms. Cavelli or the little freshman gagging atop her running shorts.

Out of habit, she moved down the corridor to the main girl's locker room. Once beyond the oversized door to the locker room, she was within the sprawling pink and red tiled room. It was so dumb to her that the rest of the school, even the bathrooms, were the same industrial shades of gray, brown, and black, with the occasional pale blue. Neutral enough colors that made the whole school fairly uniform.

The locker rooms though, they had to be color coded for the sexes. Pink for Girls. Blue for Boys. With a few similar accent colors to avoid what Chelsea felt would have been an inevitable desire to tear the tiles off with a crowbar.

Her eyes immediately snapped to the floor, keeping an eye out for any little people. With swim classes, it was always hard to know when they might be sent back to the locker room to change.

A flash of white dashing around the corner of a locker told Chelsea everything she needed to know though. The corner of her mouth twisted upward into a smirk as she stalked after the tiny girl. She rounded the stand of lockers with a casual grace, trying to imagine what the little pale teen might see.

The little figure was really running, her strides carrying her across the small tiles with great speed and determination. Well, relatively great speed. Chelsea debated on whether or not to just step over the little being and let the thing run face first into the heel of her sneaker. Instead though, she let it run, watching as the small person dove into a pair of jean shorts that lay sprawled across the floor. Noticing the empty shorts, Chelsea's eyes scanned across the rest of the row of lockers. A towel here, a bikini top there, even some shoes arranged haphazardly. It was strange to her, since every tiny she had encountered so far had had their clothes shrunk.

A giggle escaped her lips as she realized that most of the girls in the locker room had been in the middle of changing. Probably wearing only their underwear, or just being in a state of half-dress. The giggle grew into a warm chuckle as she looked over the mounds of clothing, just able to spot girls that were peering out from pockets or the mouths of shoes. She ignored most of them though, stepping right over to the jean shorts in one smooth stride.

Squatting down, Chelsea snatched the skimpy garment up with both of her hands, practically crushing the denim folds between them. A high pitched squeak came from the jean shorts, just barely piercing past the thick denim. The most likely intense thrashing of the trapped girl inside felt like a slight wriggling to Chelsea, as if whatever she held was barely alive.

Slowly, the relatively giant girl opened her hands as she rose back to her full height. She made certain not to let the tiny person fall to the ground as she started walking once more. Chelsea couldn't resist smashing her skate shoes down onto the pairs of designer jeans or brand-name shirts that littered the ground. Sometimes she saw little women dive out from the garments just in time, screaming in terror. Others became stains on their over priced clothes.

The pale little brunette finally struggled up out of the interior crotch of her own shorts, staring all the way up at Chelsea. Thin limbs covered over tiny breasts as she gazed up in awe at the Goddess-like Chelsea, completely unaware of the destruction the gigantic teen was loosing upon the girls below.

Chelsea recognized the pale girl she was holding, though just barely. She was some drama kid, and so her face would occasionally get plastered up in the school for the once-a-semester plays or musicals. Her name was Anna or Anne or something like that... or maybe they had just done Annie last fall? Or was it Annie Get Your Gun? It didn't really matter, she had no real problems with the now bug-sized girl. She had just been the first person Chelsea had spotted.

Pausing in her path of destruction to scuff up the over priced pumps that some girl was hiding in, Chelsea gazed down at the little woman. “Alright,” she announced, “This is pretty simple. Was Frank Carlotta in your class today?”

“Ch-ch-chelsea, please,” the little woman pleaded, “What's going on? We all shrunk and... and...” Her weak sobs filled Chelsea's ears.

“Annie,” Chelsea growled, and the small woman looked up at her, terrified and slightly confused. She sighed, she wanted to just smash the pale girl's lanky body for her God damned insolence, but she really had no problems with the girl, “Answer my question and I'll tell you everything I know.”

Painfully slowly, the girl began to nod. Her tresses of brunette hair became tossed about by the motion as her nodding became stronger and stronger. “He was there, Chelsea! He was!”

“Good, so he's in the boy's locker room?”

The small girl nodded once more, as Chelsea walked through the locker room, ignoring other shrunken people as she made a bee line for the entrance to the school's Olympic sized swimming pool. As she moved though, little Annie once again whined wordlessly, before releasing a high-pitched, “Chelsea, what happened?”

“You were shrunk,” Chelsea said plainly as she paused to look down at the girl. The tiny teen still covered herself, and gazed up at Chelsea as if they were equals in a scary situation. Her lips started to curve upward, her lip-ring glinting in the locker room's florescent lights as she realized the best way to get rid of that thought, “You were shrunk because no one liked you enough to give you the antidote.”

“Wha...what?”

“Yep. Some guys shrank the whole school so they could fuck with whoever they wanted, and they gave people they liked an immunity to it, so they could also do whatever they wanted,” Chelsea's grin grew wider, and her gray eyes settled on the small girl. With one flick of her finger she pried Annie's arms away from her petite breasts. “I wouldn't be too worried if I were you though, you're kind of cute for a drama nerd. Maybe some giant geek will take you back to his place as a pet.”

“No... no!” The little girl wailed.

Chelsea just nodded, “Yeah, it'll happen. I mean some lonely guy's going to come down and raid the girl's locker room for panties and shit eventually. If you cozy up to him, maybe you can be his prize pet rather than just some fuck toy.”

The pale girl started screaming in fear. Words eventually formed, “No, Chelsea, no, please don't let that happen to me! Please, I'm begging you!”

Chelsea pondered it for a moment.

Then she carefully lowered Annie to the ground and while squatting above her said, “Then go on, beg me.”

The tiny woman blinked, gazing up at the enormous girl, “What?”

“You said you were begging me, I'd like to see it. So go on, beg me.”

“Please, Chelsea, I... I don't understand...”

“Beg Me, little girl.”

Annie collapsed onto her knees and gazed all the way up at Chelsea. Even with half the girl's face shrouded by shadow, she could see that Chelsea meant business. “Please, Chelsea, please don't hurt me. Take me with you! Don't.... don't let me become some geek's pet.” She sobbed and wailed, and practically threw herself into the ground as her arms tried to reach up toward Chelsea who looked down from on high with little more than indifference.

Extending her index finger, Chelsea ran it down along the girl's long pale back. She watched as the pathetic little creature stiffened from fear, while her finger traveled up to Annie's tight little butt gently tapping it. Chelsea always liked guys, but she certainly appreciated when another girl was good looking, and little Annie definitely had a classic beauty. She could easily be the lead on a turn of the century period drama. The little girl certainly didn't deserve to be crushed underneath her shoes or left to die in the locker room.

Plus, something about the fact that she actually did get down on her knees and beg made Chelsea smile. Wordlessly, she scooped the girl up into her hand, as the little thing squirmed about trying to kiss her flesh, Chelsea squeezed hard enough to get her to stop. Walking into the vast indoor swimming pool arena that sat beneath the gym, all she did was shove the girl into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt alongside all the other random shit she carried; a cellphone, some crumpled dollar bills, receipts, gum wrappers. Mostly trash that she would clear out at the end of every day.

She was uncertain what role Annie would play in the future, alongside Ms. Cavelli and the Freshbug, but it wouldn't be important or particularly stressful. Maybe she would keep the little girl locked in a cage, a pretty little song bird just for her.

Chelsea's eyes swept the pool's arena as she walked toward the forbidden boy's locker room. The whole area was empty as far as she could tell. The only sound was the pool's water lapping against wet cement and her own footsteps against the tile. For a brief moment, the chlorine's harshness overpowered the stench of teenage sweat, but only briefly.

The inevitable locker room funk grew far worse as she moved down the tunnel into the Boy's Locker Room. The tile shifted from the white and gray of the pool area to the blues and greens that were suitable for Boys. Chelsea rolled her eyes as she pushed open another oversized door and walked into the room.

The door shut behind her with a loud thud, and she found the whole room silent.

She frowned, for some reason, Chelsea had really been expecting to find someone having a field day with shrunken men. Certainly at least one of the boys in the school that hadn't been shrunk wanted to get even with some jocks on their turf. Larry the Fairy came to mind, he had always been teased by most of the guys. Not just because his name offered the dumb rhyme scheme but because he actually was gay and apparently that was hilarious to most of the football team. Certainly he'd relish the chance to get revenge, right? Or what about any of nerdy freshman? Chelsea imagined this one little bespectacled blond boy that was regularly thrown into trash cans at the end of the school day. It was practically clockwork. He could throw every senior who taunted him into just one trash can now. She just couldn't believe that no one would be doing anything.

Then she walked in between a row of lockers, and realized why it was so quiet.

Someone had already been through the Boy's locker room, and they had left an awesome path of destruction. Smears of red blood and guts were streaked across the floor like a modernist painting, clothes had been chucked all about the place and now hung from open lockers and were strung over benches. Chelsea couldn't help herself as she squatted down and inspected one tiny teen whose body was crumpled and partially trapped in the vents of a locker. The whole room was done up like that.

The best part though, was Chelsea could still see a few people scurrying about in terror of her gigantic form. They hid amongst the slaughter and were terrified that she was about to continue it.

And she wanted to.

In a way, she wanted to call it the most disgusting thing she had ever seen, but she absolutely loved it. Whoever had done this must have had a lot of fun, she thought as her finger slipped through the guts of some poor teen that had gotten in the way of this brutish giant. She wanted nothing more than to watch as this guy tormented some puny jock fuckers.

Gripping the front of her hooded sweatshirt, she began to fan herself off with the material, suddenly finding herself becoming flush. Her breathing was a little erratic as she sat down on a bench, observing the destruction around her. There was no denying it, Chelsea realized, she was feeling very... tingly.

At first, she wondered if this was Matt's doing. He had mentioned Liz going on a rampage earlier, and maybe he had done the same. Yet, they hadn't gone down to the locker rooms. They had no idea if anyone was even down here though. This had to be someone else's work.

Chelsea shuddered in pleasure at the thought, wondering what dude could have pulled this off.

She looked out on the destroyed locker room, and saw a pitiful little boy-toy creeping toward her, cautious of her gigantic frame. Clearly he didn't get the super-enlarged signs that she was becoming sexually charged observing the post-carnage locker room. Her lips curled into a smile as she stood.

Instantly the tiny man froze. When she took one step forward, he began to back away. When she took another, he burst into a run.

Chelsea laughed wickedly, her voice ringing off the tiled walls of the locker room as she lifted her whole leg up, her knee rising above her waist, and brought her foot down hard on the puny fucker. The little man screamed and dove, his legs becoming nothing but paste beneath the ball of her foot. “Crawl, bug,” she commanded the unlucky boy.

When the small man merely writhed in pain and screamed, she lifted her foot again, “I said crawl, bug!” At a pace slower than a snails, the man began to crawl forward, trailing blood and what little remained of his legs behind him.

Chelsea squatted down, and pinned him to the smelly sweat-soaked tile floor with one finger. “Was Frank Carlotta in this class?” She asked, her rich alto voice filled with authority.

“Yes! Oh God, mercy!” The boy screamed.

“Is he dead?” She pushed a little harder, unable to contain herself as she felt his back cracking.

“I... I don't think so. Please! Please don't!”

“It's a yes or no question, bug. Is Frank dead?” This time she pushed hard enough she did hear a crack.

He screamed in agony once again, and in a way she was amazed that she hadn't accidentally killed him. “He was taken!”

Chelsea licked her lips. Whoever had done all this did it to take Frank Carlotta, that sent another jolt of pleasure down her spine. She couldn't help but wonder what this giant tormentor was doing with him. Looking down on the bug, she just shrugged, and then pressed her nail against the base of his skull. With a quick shove, she popped his head off like a grape from the vine. “Thanks,” she said with a giggle to the corpse.

Rising to her feet, Chelsea headed for the exit, wondering if her new little pet had heard the exchange. Well, it didn't matter to Chelsea, the little drama nerd would see plenty of weird stuff from her gilded cage. Or she would if she did what she was told, Chelsea decided. She wasn't going to put up with shit from tinies.

Tinies, she liked that term. They certainly weren't people but bugs or pets or slaves. None of that quite worked like tinies did though.

She was happy to move out of the locker room, the stench of jock-sweat left behind as she walked down the hallway. Chelsea paused as she reached the end of the hallway, uncertain of where to go. It was a pleasant thought that Frank Carlotta was being tortured at the hand of some magnificent teenage giant but that didn't help her find Jenni.

Chelsea sighed and rounded the corner, kicking her foot against the ground in annoyance.

Then she saw him.

He was a tall and wiry guy, with a shock of dark hair, and the barest hint of stubble along his chin. He was dressed plainly, just a black t-shirt, and dark blue jeans. Besides his height and scruffy hair, Chelsea probably wouldn't have paid him much mind. In fact, he did seem somewhat familiar, maybe they had had a class or two together? He just didn't seem particularly noteworthy.

Or he wouldn't have been, if not for his shoes.

At first glance they were just a dirty pair of sneakers. The thick white rubber soles though weren't covered in scuff marks and dirt. They had pink and red streaks and splatter marks. Either this guy was really into gory horror movies and had an odd way of showing it, or he had just wrapped up his fun time in the boy's locker room.

For an instant Chelsea frowned. She had been imagining someone a little... hotter?

He wasn't bad looking by any stretch, but he wasn't exactly handsome.

Still, he was definitely her man, in more ways than one. Once she noticed the blood on his shoes, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His long frame was propped up against a wall, one of his feet firmly planted against it. His eyes were closed as if he were lost in some deep thought. All Chelsea could think though was that he had just stomped nearly an entire gym class beneath his feet because he could.

Once more, Chelsea found herself getting flushed. The tiny girl in her sweatshirt's pocket forgotten, Chelsea peeled the hoodie off. She was happy as the cool air hit her toned skin, all she was wearing beneath it was a tight black tank top. Instinctively she cupped her breasts for a second, making sure they were both level and perky, not that they were particularly large or sloppy... or that she had ever worried about this sort of thing before. Chelsea shook her head, what the fuck had gotten into her?

Running one of her hands through her hair, the other traveled down to readjust her pants just in case her ass was falling out or something. With a deep breath, and her sweatshirt held loosely in one of her hands, Chelsea strolled down the hallway, directly toward the wiry youth.

He didn't notice her approach, still lost in whatever thought was overtaking him. Now that she stood within a few feet of him, she noticed something else: the massive bulge in his crotch. Chelsea blinked at it for a few seconds, the denim practically writhing. She looked back up at the boy's face, and could see the barely perceptible indications of pleasure alongside his lidded eyes.

“Hey,” she said, her voice taking on a husky, lusty quality. Chelsea couldn't help herself as she watched the young man lean against the wall, nearly bucking in pleasure.
His eyes snapped open, and they widened instantly upon seeing her. He stumbled for a second and then stammered, “Ch-chelsea Dewinter?”

Chelsea fought back the frown when he reacted to her like all of the tinies she had squashed, she banished it away with the fact that this boy had caused all the destruction that had made her so well... horny. “Yes,” she said, getting slightly closer, he was only a few inches taller than her. Not so tall that it was weird, but tall enough that it made her feel appropriately like a girl. “And you are?”

“B-bill,” he stammered once again, and then coughed. Suddenly confidence surged out of him as he said, “Bill. Bill Hoffman.”

She smiled up at him, and he found himself smiling back. Chelsea could tell he was nervous, really nervous for a guy who was also a senior like her to be talking to a girl. Of course, she realized, that he like the majority of people who had remained normal sized, was probably some kind of science geek or something. Social awkwardness was a prerequisite for that clique.

Chelsea snaked her arms up over his shoulders and around his neck, dropping her sweat shirt in the process. His body stiffened, just like little Annie's had, but unlike the tiny, Bill relaxed, his dark brown eyes looking down into Chelsea's gray pools. “I saw what you did in the boy's locker room.”

“Y-yeah?”

She nodded in response, and then leaned up ever so slightly and kissed him. She couldn't resist as she plunged her tongue into his mouth. He was confused and hesitant at first, but he quickly got the rhythm of it. Thank God, she thought as their tongues tied up, he's at least kissed a girl before. Chelsea broke off the kiss, and watched as he gasped a little for air, “I thought it was awesome.”

Bill nodded dumbly, as Chelsea's fingers ran along his stubble coated jaw.

“Why'd you do it?”

The wiry young man stared back at her and then spoke, his voice gaining in anger, “Because fuck them. They've given people shit for no reason for years, and well... now I could finally give them what they deserve. I mean... fuck, haven't you ever felt like this whole school is designed for these assholes who contribute nothing but shit on everyone else?”

Chelsea nodded in response, not fully getting the nerdy rage that intrinsically infected Bill's reasoning but she liked the spirit of it. Very passionate, very Romantic... very revolutionary. “It's like they've had it coming, and we're just the instruments of their demise.”

Bill smiled before leaning in and kissing her. “I knew you'd understand,” he murmured as he broke off the kiss, his eyes locking once more with hers.

She smiled back, kissing him tenderly on the jaw, her hands running down his back, and wrapping about his waist. His arms too were wrapped around her, and for the first time in a long time, Chelsea felt really good. Still, she had something that needed to get done, “Do you have Frank Carlotta?”

The tall boy paused, freezing once again like a deer caught in headlights. He coughed uneasily, “Uh, why?”

“Cause I'm looking for Jenni, and they're dating or well, at least fucking. Some tiny in the boy's locker room said you took him.”

“I... uh, I did.”

“So?”

“Uhm...”

Chelsea then felt the bulge of his pants writhe. She had barely realized they had gotten so close, but now she was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that she was practically straddling his leg. His cock bulge was rubbing against her crotch, and it was clearly very excited.

Except, Chelsea realized, cocks didn't move like that.

A wicked smile crossed her face, “Oh my God, that's fucking hot.”

“Uh... yeah?” He asked, confusion and fear across her face.

Slowly, Chelsea lowered herself down to her knees, her face level with Bill's crotch. Her hands undid his belt with ease, and unbuttoned his jeans. As she unzipped his fly, Bill stammered, “Wait, what are you doing? What if someone sees us?”

“Then we'll step on them,” Chelsea replied with a wicked smile as she gripped at his underwear. She pulled them down and was instantly greeted by Bill's shockingly large manhood. The beast was around half-mast and steadily growing up from a thick forest of pubic hair. “Wow,” she muttered as she stared down the barrel.

Her eyes then focused on the tiny teen who was struggling to maintain his grip on Bill's testicles. Chelsea burst into laughter, gripping Frank Carlotta with ease and placing him astride Bill's sill growing shaft. The once proud football star couldn't even straddle Bill's girth, his legs awkwardly splayed out beneath him. He screamed in terror as everything came into focus and he looked up at the gigantic Chelsea, and high above the enormous Bill.

“Hey, Frank,” Chelsea said with a smile. Her voice filled with sexual energy as she looked at Bill in comparison to Frank. “Jenni's not in class, and I was hoping you could tell me where she is.”

“Fuck you, you giant fucking freaks!”

“Aww, that's cute,” Chelsea stared up at Bill, who was still marveling at the fact that Chelsea's face was that close to his penis. “Isn't that cute, Bill?” She ran her fingers up and under his shirt, scratching at him playfully.

The wiry teen snapped out of it, and then his hand came down, his thumb smashing Frank into his massive shaft, “Yeah, it's kind of adorable.”

When the thumb lifted, Frank let out another string of obscenities before announcing that they would regret what they were doing.

“Who do you think you're talking to, you pathetic worm?” Bill asked, his thumb once more pressing the tiny man into his hot dick-flesh. “I could use you for fucking toilet paper and flush you down the drain like a piece of trash if I wanted to.”

Chelsea loved watching the tall nerd assert himself, it was easily the hottest thing she had seen.

“Now,” the big man continued, “Answer my girl's questions or you'll wish you were trapped beneath my dick.” She shuddered in pleasure at the thought of being Bill's girl. Chelsea never would have given him a thought before today, but now it was taking most of her will power just to stop herself from jumping him right then and there. She would have no problem leaving Jenni to rot and crushing Frank between their genitalia solely for their pleasure.

“Fuck both of you, I'm not telling you where Jenni is!”

“That's it, little dude,” Bill's hand rushed toward his shaft, but Chelsea carefully interceded, her own fingers intertwining with his.

“I hope you're ready for a wild ride, little guy,” Chelsea cooed sweetly before looking up at Bill, who seemed so powerful and manly at that exact moment.

Slowly she brought her tongue along the underside of the massive cock, before swirling it over the glans and giving the head a cute little kiss. Frank started to scream and tried to run as he realized what was about to happen. Bill on the other hand, looked down dumbfounded as Chelsea trapped the tiny jock between her fingers and set him down far further down the shaft, practically on the head itself.

Chelsea moaned as she opened her mouth wide and relaxed her throat muscles as best as she could to take in Bill's mammoth dick. As she traveled down it, she tickled it with her tongue, and had a field day with Bill's reactions. The tall boy moaned and practically collapsed against the wall while she continued to take him in. She stretched her lips just enough to take in the miniature Frank, his body falling to the side of the cock almost instantly. She felt his small body within her mouth, bouncing about, blindly stumbling against Bill's manhood, her tongue and her teeth. With careful muscle movements, she would toss him up against the musty cock and rub him against it.

She very carefully worked as much of the shaft as she could, and Bill was bucking from the pleasure. His eyes were shut tight and his fist banged against the wall as she continued to suck him off. It was very cute to watch him trying so hard not to come, Chelsea realized as she tossed Frank about once more. She ran her fingers up underneath his t-shirt again, playing them against his flesh to distract him. Suddenly, she could feel his whole body relax right before it tensed with climax.

Bill's load burst forth like a shotgun, and Chelsea found it hard not to instantly just choke on it. Still, her muscles started to work once again, and she let the viscous salty liquid slide down her throat. Using her tongue, she pinned Frank on the other side of her teeth so that he wouldn't be accidentally swallowed. When Bill was spent, she ever so carefully brought Frank back into the center of her mouth, amidst a pool of Bill's ejaculate. She stared up at her giant companion and opened her mouth wide for him to see.

The wiry teen burst out laughing as his hands began to tuck his deflating penis back into his pants. “He looks so fucking pathetic.”

Chelsea nodded, feeling the tiny man hold onto her tongue for dear life.

Bill bent down and stared into her mouth, glaring down at the little man, “Now answer her question or she swallows you with the rest, you little cum dumpster.”

“She'd be in the student council office! Please, please don't kill me.”

Bill's fingers carefully went into Chelsea's mouth and yanked Frank free. He dangled the small cum-soaked guy in front of him and shook his head, “You're fucking pathetic, Frank.”

Chelsea swallowed the last of the load and rose back up to her standing height. She looked up at Bill before leaning in and kissing him once again. While a lot of guys sometimes hesitated to kiss after a blowjob, Bill didn't. Instead he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her deeply. “Thanks, babe,” she cooed sweetly at Bill.

“No problem, Chelsea,” he gazed longingly into her eyes. He then coughed, and she could hear a nervous edge creep into his voice, “Uh, would you like to, I don't know, go out some time?”

Frank threw a little tantrum in Bill's fingers, something Chelsea could barely make out about them being two giant fucking freaks, and how no one should be able to think about dating after what they just did. She didn't care what a tiny thought though, “Sure. Do you know the independent theater in Willoughby? They're going to be showing Plan 9 from Outer Space this Friday. It's supposed to be terrible.”

“Oh.. kay...” Bill looked partially confused but it passed as he said, “Uhm, I'll call you?”

Chelsea nodded, her cheeks blushing as she leaned up and kissed him once more before grabbing her sweatshirt of the floor and pulling out her cell phone. “Sure, let me just give you my number.”

As Frank dangled between Bill's fingers, he and Chelsea exchanged numbers while sheepishly glancing at each other. She wanted to just jump him right there, but knew it would be better to get a hold of Jenni first.

Chelsea snatched Frank from him, and opened up Bill's jeans again. With ease she slid the tiny into the crotch of his underwear once more, giggling as she did. She zipped up his fly, buttoned his pants, and buckled his belt before kissing him. Chelsea carefully patted his crotch, making sure to press Frank into Bill's deflated organ, before walking away with a wicked grin on her face.

Bill laughed and smiled back, “You're very cruel.”

“Just a little,” Chelsea giggled back, turning into a stairwell and heading for the student council chambers.

Chapter 12 by gtswburg

The Student Council Office.


There was no preppier place than in all of Hayes High School. There were the occasional school legends of some geek or punk winning student elections and trying to actually affect change in the student body, or well at least the lame fundraisers and events they'd been rehashing since the sixties. Of course, they were only legends as far as Chelsea was concerned. The one or two that had enough details to be legitimate also had sad endings. Some teacher would claim votes were miscounted or the PTA would help block every one of the new Student Council's attempts to be different. Eventually it would fall back into the hands of the type of kids who had parents to buy them brand new cars when they turned sixteen.


Of course, it would be where Jenni Fitztaylor would go to skip class.


Even if one or two of the cool teachers actually went through the effort to write her up for skipping class this late in her senior year, the girl would just be able to whine that she was doing something for this or that event. She'd get her way without having to lift a little finger.


Chelsea smirked at the thought, glancing down at her own little finger. She wondered if Jenni was even as big as it. The blond girl probably was, but she certainly wouldn't be as strong as the thin digit. Chelsea wiggled it, imagining the unbearable pain it could inflict on little Jenni.


Gripping the door knob, Chelsea's smirk widened to a full blown grin when she found it unlocked. Slowly, she opened the door, finding the ample conference room to be brightly lit. Sunlight filtered in through tall windows, and the light bulbs hummed in the ceiling above, illuminating the whole place.


As she stepped in, Chelsea tossed her gray hoodie over the back of one of the comfortable office chairs that were arranged around the long wooden table that filled most of the room. She watched as the lower half of the hoodie swung in the air and lightly smacked against the back of the chair before swinging to a stop. While hooking her thumbs into her studded belt, she wondered what it must be like for little Annie, trapped and confused in the confines of her pocket, swinging dangerously above the school's linoleum floors.


Her attention was caught by movement on the floor though, and her eyes instantly narrowed on the tiny figure. “Well, well, well,” She said, making each one of her movements painfully slow as she turned and began to walk toward the little blond girl, hips swaying, “Just look at you, Jenni. Why, you're no bigger than a little bug.”


Even with the distance and size difference, Chelsea could tell Jenni was wearing designer everything and holding a pair of expensive heels in her hand. A shrill and surprisingly loud shriek erupted from the tiny woman before she took off running around the other side of the conference table.


“Where do you think you're going?” She taunted, still keeping each one of her steps slow and deliberate. Chelsea was far from concerned that Jenni would actually be able to run away from her, no matter how fast she moved. Taking a pause as she rounded the side of the table, Chelsea narrowed her eyes at the little girl who was already starting to slow down even though she hadn't even made it past the first chair on this side, “Do you really think you can get away from me, Jenni?”


Jenni turned back to look at the colossal Chelsea behind her, and tripped like the blond character in every slasher flick from her immense fear.


“I'm a big bad fucking giant now, Jenni,” Chelsea announced, trying to soak up the small creature's fear. She stomped forward, taking short steps that Chelsea was certain would rock the ground, “Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I see a little bitch.” On the last step she slammed her sneaker down next to Jenni, who was now cowering in fear, her hands over the back of her head. Jenni jumped away from the huge piece of footwear that now dominated her world, sobbing and looking every which way. Everywhere she looked though, all she was Chelsea.


Chelsea squatted down over the little girl, her pink lips turning up into a grin as she watched Jenni unconsciously squirm, “You're fucked, huh?” She said the words slowly, each time her lips carefully curling around the thin silver ring embedded in her lower lip.


The little blond girl just kept screaming while Chelsea rose back to her full height. “What should I do with you, Jenni? How should I repay you for all the lies and bullshit you've thrown my way for years? Maybe I should just crush you like I did your friend Danielle?” Chelsea lifted her sneaker above the small girl, lowering it a few times just to hear more screams before setting it down. “No, I don't think you deserve something that quick. Do you, Jenni? Do you deserve something so simple and easy?”


She bent at the waist to attempt to decipher the wailing sobs of the blond girl but couldn't make heads or tails of it. Chelsea snorted as she slipped her socked feet out of her comfortable Vans, “You know, Jenni. I really expected a bit more fight out of you. You're the school's fucking princess, I'd thought you'd have some dignity or something.”


Chelsea yanked a chair out from behind her and settles down into it, crossing one leg over the other. She dangled her slightly dirty and sweaty white sock above Jenni, while she bounced the ball of her foot against a floor tile for a few seconds. “But you never were a real fighter. That's why you always picked on me, after all,” Chelsea smiled as a wicked idea crossed her mind and she immediately began tugging off her socks, “I didn't fight back because I didn't really care, which ended up making me popular with all the 'losers,' making you even angrier I'd bet.


Very carefully, Chelsea lowered her bare foot onto Jenni, instantly causing the girl to scream and panic. The thrashing of the small girl's body felt positively relaxing to Chelsea's tired toes as they closed around the girl, easily wrapping her in the tunnel of flesh between her toes and the ball of her foot. “All of your friends were like that. You picked on people that didn't matter to you, people who you never thought would fight back. People who couldn't fight back.”


Slowly she began to roll her foot forward, bringing her wrinkled sole across Jenni in one smooth deliberate motion. The little body was perfect against her spongy flesh, rubbing deep into the muscles as she pretty much rolled the girl back and forth. “And guess what? They did do something to get back at you guys, and now... now none of you matter to them.”


Chelsea paused her foot massage, resting Jenni between her toes once more as she splayed them against the cool linoleum tile. The shrunken teenager was already covered in clumps of sweat-coated dead skin, dust, and other bits of grime from the floor and Chelsea's foot. Her hair was matted and gross, and her face was a beacon of red probably from both the intense sobbing and embarrassment. Chelsea leaned forward, positively delighted at the sight at her feet and she was certain it showed across her face. Brushing a few errant strands of dark hair behind her ear, Chelsea continued, “You're a fucking bug in comparison to me, Jenni, and I could squish you right now with zero fucking effort. In fact, it's probably taking more concentration to just not crush you beneath my foot than it would to do it.”


“But...” Chelsea leaned back, settling down into her chair once more, “You're not just any little bug. You're a bug that has pissed me off for way too damn long, so I'm not going to squash you.” She lifted her foot off the small girl before rising back to her feet.


Jenni was far too terrified to run at this point, and Chelsea couldn't help but revel in that fact for a moment. Chelsea rested her hands on her belt, and bit her lower lip, suddenly debating what she was about to do. Then she shook her head, knowing full well that Jenni wouldn't have even kept her alive this long. If the situation were reversed, the blond haired titaness would've crushed Chelsea beneath her over-priced pump the moment she saw her, then laughed about it.


Of course, that was the real difference between Jenni and Chelsea. Jenni did mean things but she didn't really have a point behind it. She did them just because she could. Chelsea meanwhile, wanted to make Jenni's new place in life very clear to her.


Bending down, her hand went from her belt to the tiny at her feet. Jenni barely resisted this time as Chelsea carried her up in a fist to the big conference table and dumped her there like a dropped pen. Turning to face the tiny, Chelsea craned her neck and gazed over her sizable breasts to look at the small girl. Jenni gazed up at her with a look of terror across her face. The danger of uncertainty loomed above Chelsea even bigger than the girl herself.


“I met a boy today, Jenni,” Chelsea began, her fingers carefully prying the leather of her belt away from her body. “He's pretty cute, though his dick's kind of...” Chelsea laughed, “Well it's like three times the size of you. I'm sure we'll be able to cross that bridge if we come to it but more importantly he's smart, and passionate, and he keeps your latest little fuck buddy in his underwear.” Chelsea leaned down over the little girl, “And he stomped on plenty of your fuck buddy's friends just because he could.” Her voice was becoming lusty and strained as she finally undid her belt, thinking back to Bill and his blood stained sneakers. “It's fucking hot just to think about. Do you realize that Jenni? You and all your little friends, you're toys to us. We play with you, anyway we want.” Chelsea slid her dark blue jeans past her firm buttocks and let them fall to the ground. “And right now, I am so God damned horny,” her fingers instantly hooked past the orange trim of her black panties and yanked them down as well. Her womanhood towered over the small girl and it merely further fueled Chelsea. “So come on, Jenni. Let's play.”


Jenni started screaming a beat after Chelsea pulled away her underwear. She could hear the girl's single word, 'No,' being repeated over and over again. Then the little girl started to run but there was no escaping Chelsea's pale fingers, or her aching vagina.


She brought the small girl against her folds and instantly felt electricity run up her spine. In smooth consistent circles she began to rub the girl against her mound. Chelsea let out a loud moan as she truly felt just how little power Jenni had now. In mere hours, she had gone from the queen of the school to Chelsea's sex toy.


While running the woman against her lower lips, Chelsea fell back into the chair she had pulled out earlier. Chelsea's legs spread out slightly as she began to part her womanly folds for the main event. Without much thought, Chelsea shoved the small woman inside of herself and instantly released a shout of pleasure. Her own fingers continued in after the girl, certain to manipulate her small body to the exact positions Chelsea wanted her in.


With her fingers and Jenni going to work, her thumb carefully rested upon her clitoris and began to massage in a very smooth careful circle. Her breathing became heavier and heavier with each passing second. She pushed and prodded and pulled at Jenni while she wondered what the small girl was experiencing.


Jenni was in a dark, wet, and blisteringly hot place. On top of that, Chelsea's fingers were ramming against her with a strength the girl couldn't comprehend until just a few short minutes ago. By now, Chelsea imagined that her air was cutting out and she was yearning to breath all while Chelsea pleasured herself.


All for Chelsea's pleasure.


That would be her only purpose from now on till the day she inevitably was crushed while performing this exact service for Chelsea.


Those thoughts combined with her intense finger work caused Chelsea to suddenly explode with orgasmic force. Her groan shook Annie, who was trapped in a sweat shirt across the table, and nearly rendered the miniature Jenni deaf with its power.


Chelsea merely leaned back in the chair, basking in the after glow for a few seconds before she plucked Jenni out from her slimy ejaculate and dropped her onto the table with a soft plop. “I.. hope you enjoyed that,” Chelsea said, still catching her breath, “Because that's the rest of your life.”


The giant teen's eyes scanned the room before she reached out to a nearby table and grabbed a box of tissues. “Clean yourself up, you little whore,” Chelsea said with a giggle as she dropped a beach towel-sized tissue onto the small girl, before snatching a small bundle up to dab at herself with. As she cleaned herself up, Chelsea's smile was big and satisfied. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy.


On top of everything else that had happened today she had met a nice boy.


Carefully she rose back to her feet, tossing the used tissues in the trash, and then slipping her jeans back on. She wasn't very concerned with making a show of herself now that Jenni lay huddled on the table, shivering within a tissue that would never truly get her cleaned. Chelsea was completely dressed in a flash.


She towered over Jenni, her fingers reaching down and smashing into the little blond. Chelsea casually rolled her against the table, and into the tissue, watching as it soaked up the remaining juices off of her. When she peeled away the thin layer of paper, Jenni's designer blouse and skirt followed suit, making the small teen as naked as the day she was born. Appraising the miniature woman with her gray eyes, Chelsea smiled, “I like you better like this, Jenni. I don't think you deserve to wear clothes anymore. Clothes are for people, not tinies like you.”


Lifting the small girl up in her hand, Chelsea couldn't help but explore her now nude body with her thumb. Her thumb spent the most time playing with Jenni's pert little breasts. With a broad smile, Chelsea dropped Jenni into her cleavage before gently pressing her breasts together, “This is what boobs look like you little surfboard.” Jenni squirmed pleasantly for a moment before Chelsea started to move, and the natural bouncing of her womanly breasts completely disrupted the small girl's sense of balance.


While stepping out of the room, Chelsea grabbed her sweatshirt and tossed it over what she was wearing. It amused her to trap Jenni not only within her breasts but also the darkness and warmth of her sweatshirt. Her pocket began to vibrate and her hand dove in to grab a hold of her cellphone, batting aside the shrunken Annie as she did.


Once the speaker was pressed to her ear, she heard Liz on the other end, “Hey, bitch. Matt and I were wondering if you wanted to grab some food?”


“Definitely,” Chelsea answered as she walked through the halls of the school toward her locker. She paused when she saw a preppy sophomore running out of a classroom before stomping the pathetic thing underneath her foot, “I'm pretty hungry, and I got something to tell you too.”


“Oh yeah, you found Jenni?”


“What? Yeah, I did, but that's not it.”


“Oooo,” She then heard Liz say something unintelligible to Matt before Liz continued speaking, “Anyway, is the diner good with you?”


“Sure, I'll see you guys there.”


Chelsea clicked off her phone and smiled.


It had been a pretty good day.

Epilogue by gtswburg

Chelsea rolled over in bed as the late morning sun finally started to filter in through her window. Her phone buzzed with another unread text message, and she groaned. “No,” she muttered as she pawed at her phone, fearing it was her summer job asking her to come in, “It's my day off.”


The pale young woman curled up into the fetal position for a moment, and clutched her pillow close. She hoped that if she were simply unwilling to face the day, it would go away and let her sleep. Instead though, her phone buzzed with another text and she heaved a sigh before pawing away at it.


Gripping the phone in her hand, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stared at the screen. Most of the messages were dumb nonsense from Liz, who was at work that day and apparently bored out of her mind. Her latest text promised a funny picture in a few minutes, and Chelsea could only wonder what it might be. The other bundle were from Bill, her sort of boyfriend. They both had decided that since they were seniors and they'd be going away to college, being committed to each other was just sort of dumb. Not that either of them had anyone else, or wanted to actually stop seeing each other.


So, when they had the time, they would hang out, and do... other things.


Apparently Bill was also free. The text was about lunch, but Chelsea had a feeling the boy had other things on his mind. Frankly, Chelsea could use the release too. Her summer job was driving her nuts, and college still seemed like it was never going to happen despite her parents insisting that she needed to start buying stuff for her dorm room. She just needed to do something like... well, Bill seemed pretty good.


She fired off her response, not quite telling him that she was still laying in bed half-asleep but implying that she needed to take care of herself. Chelsea wasn't going to really primp herself for Bill, especially not now that he was trying to grow out a beard for his freshman year of college. Still, that didn't mean she'd show up without a shower.


Sliding from her bed, she carefully walked across her room, stepping over discarded shoes and clothes. “I really need to pick up around here,” she muttered to herself as she entered the hallway.


Her shower was quick and refreshing, and she felt like a new woman as she walked back into her bedroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around her. The first thing she noticed when she walked into the room though was the silence. Chelsea didn't get ready for the day in silence.


Crossing her room in four quick strides, she gripped the cage that dangled from her ceiling and shook it violently. A pale little brunette released a frightened yelp as she was roused from sleep and forced to gaze into the face of Chelsea Dewinter. “You should be singing, little bird,” Chelsea snarled at the shrunken girl. Annie had become her little songbird after the fateful day where most of Hayes High School had shrunk. Normally, the small theater nerd did what she was supposed to but she was starting to become lazy in the past few days.


Chelsea stood there and watched as the tiny woman scrambled to her feet before bowing so low that she nearly scraped the bottom of her cage. She then stood up straight, cleared her throat and began to sing. The music was bright, the lyrics foreign, and Chelsea found herself actually enjoying it. She had never really been a fan of classical music until she had forced Annie to start singing for her. It was mostly all she knew how to sing, but more often than not it sounded great, which was all Chelsea really asked for.


Dancing away on her bare feet, Chelsea shed her fluffy towel, and opened up her drawers before sliding on underwear and a bra. She then flung open her closet and grabbed a simple band t-shirt and a pair of pale denim jeans, before her eyes narrowed on the small freshman she had kept around to clean her shoes. “My chucks better look fucking nice, Freshbug.” The small girl rushed to where they sat, perfectly preserved thanks mostly to the girl's tongue and one of Chelsea's old shirts. Picking one up, she inspected it for scuffs and dirt marks but smiled when she found none. “At least you always do your job,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a glance to the cage that hung from her ceiling.


After slipping on a studded belt, she walked over to her desk, leaning down to check her email and Facebook very quickly. She quickly scrolled through the sites, all the while ignoring Ms. Cavelli, who was being punished again for trying to escape. This time, Chelsea had tied her up and dangled her along the backside of her computer tower, making sure that she fell right next to the part of her machine that got the hottest.


Chelsea snapped on a studded bracelet to complete her ensemble before turning around and opening the top drawer of her nightstand. Once the drawer had contained a cute little journal and some very girly pens, then Chelsea would often just leave whatever piece of cheap genre fiction she was reading in the drawer, but slowly as she grew, the drawer had become for her sex toys. It's not like she had a lot of them, and nothing too out of the ordinary either, except for one thing.


Her pale eyes lit up and a smirk crossed her face as she stared down at Jenni Fitztaylor, her high school nemesis. Chelsea barely even taunted the girl anymore, she didn't need to but sometimes she certainly wanted to and that's all that was necessary for her to unleash a string of humiliation on the girl. Today though, she just reached down and grabbed her. Squeezing the girl, Chelsea told her, “I'm going to go hang out with Bill, grab some lunch and a little afternoon delight.” She giggled as she smiled, “I feel like it's been forever since both you and Frank were in the midst. Like, way too long.” Instantly, the small blond was trembling, and Chelsea just laughed before stuffing her into the pocket of her tight jeans.


It seemed like her day off was going to be a pretty fine day after all.

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