Missing by nostromo
Summary: A man shrinks to a very small size during his sleep. His wife is looking for him.
Categories: Body Exploration, Crush, Vore Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Micro (1 in. to 1/2 in.)
Size Roles: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 5 Completed: Yes Word count: 16918 Read: 74244 Published: October 29 2006 Updated: December 20 2006

1. Chapter 1 by nostromo

2. Chapter 2 by nostromo

3. Chapter 3 by nostromo

4. Chapter 4 by nostromo

5. Chapter 5 by nostromo

Chapter 1 by nostromo
Author's Notes:
enjoy!
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.

MISSING


[i]Anna's story[/i]

I'm going crazy. I've been looking for him for most part of the morning, and no trace, no trace at all! I've ransacked the entire flat, and he's nowhere to be found. What can I do? What can I do? Where could he have gone? I'm beside myself with anxiety, now. What could have happened to him? He would never have gone without telling me, I'm sure of that. I know him too well. There's no way he would have gone, even in the most depressed state. He loves me, and he knows I love him . And I know he feels scared and angry for our marriage and the toll our situation has taken on me. But he would never go away like this. That does not make sense.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling the tears coming back to my eyes, I allow at last the most dreadful thought to come clearly into my mind. I bend down and remove my sandals. I can hardly breathe as I grab my right foot , turn it slowly towards me, and inspect my sole for a splash of blood.

-----------------------

Steve had started to shrink about 18 months ago, shortly after our marriage. It started with him complaining about headaches, more and more often. I thought he had caught some virus or something. He went to the doctor, but nothing unusual showed and the doc just prescribed him with the usual anti-migraine stuff. His mood was still ok, but you could see he was in pain often during the day.

Then the headaches became more and more acute, and no aspirin, or pain killers or anything could really relieve them. The doctor decided to go for a scan, thinking maybe there was bad news around the brain area. I was so anxious in spite of Steve's bravado about it. I remember my tears, behind the glass door, as I saw him slowly introduced in the futuristic machine. His face was grim but composed. Nothing showed on the scan, nothing at all.

Steve had to stop working, and was admitted in a center studying pain and psychological disorders, as it was thought maybe the pain was indeed subliminal and created by his own brain. He spent most of his time in bed, under heavy medication. I went to see him every evening after work, staying long in to the night holding his hand. He had lost quite a lot of weight. His family visited him at times, but not that often I thought. Not often enough.

After three months the pain disappeared entirely. There was no warning , no sign, it just happened. He woke up one morning, and it was gone. He called me at the school and I gave my class to a colleague so I could go and see him. It was as if a heavy thunderstorm had suddenly departed. The air was clean, I felt so light. His beaming face greeted me at the hospital. He was up and playing with a ball against the wall, waiting , he told me, for the doctors to do the final check and let him go.
That night we went to my favorite Japanese restaurant and later we made love all night long.

Three days later he came into the kitchen, with a funny look on his face. He looked puzzled, that's it. As if he had found something incredible. I laughed at his funny face, and asked him what was the problem. He just came up to me. The problem was screaming in my face as I looked down into his blue eyes. Steve was nearly 7 inch shorter than me. I used to go on top of my toes to kiss him.


---------------

Steve was no longer there this morning when I woke up, and instinctively patted the pillow next to my head. I felt the emptiness and opened my eyes. Where his tiny form should have been, there was nothing. Just an empty pillow. I could still see the small indentation his body had made in the plush cushion. A small depression, about four inch long. I raised myself on my elbow and called him. I did not shout, as it would hurt his ears, but I whispered his name, knowing that to him it would be like a fog horn anyway.

I expected to see him come from the under the covers. He sometimes does that, get lost under. I told him many times not to do it, as I've always been scared of crushing under my body during my sleep. Once I found him nestled under my right breast, unconscious. I was so scared. He told me later he had wanted to touch it, and had gone down his pillow to come closer. But then I had turned or moved in my sleep, grabbing the pillow under my head, and drawing closer to him. He just had time to jump back, but got pinned under my breast nearly up to his neck. He told me he called me, and fought against my flesh, that was slowly engulfing and squashing him, but he gave in eventually to lack of air. If I had slept one hour longer, he would have died under me, smothered.

I moved out of the bed really slowly, still calling, still thinking maybe he had gone to the little loo we prepared for him, and maybe had got into difficulty trying to climb back to bed. I walked carefully around the bed, to see if he was there, patiently waiting for me to get up and pick him up. He was nowhere to be seen. I had this sudden cold chill. I looked around in the room , where shadows covered the floor. I walked carefully to the window, opening the curtains and when the light flooded the place, there was not a single movement, not the slightest scurrying around, or scratching noise on the wooden floor. Everything was so still, as I was holding my breath, for fear of not hearing his calls.





[i]Steve's story[/i]


The motions in the room have stopped for the moment apparently. Steve is still unnerved by the sheer size of the mountainous form that went about the bedroom for the past two hours. Looking back at Anna he watches helplessly as he sees her inspecting the underside of her naked feet, reading the horror and fear in her eyes. She starts sobbing loudly, and tears are coming to his own eyes. He decides at last to start his progression again. In front of him the impossibly tall door of the kitchen is closed, a mile high slab of wood embedded in an inconceivably large vertical surface. Its' as if a pan of sky had fallen and planted itself in the ground. The few hours walking towards it hardly changes the perspective at all. His progression is so slow. The fibers of the floor carpet are like bushes to him, that he needs to duck under, to escalate, to dodge around. At this pace he won't reach his goal before tonight.

---------------------

He had woken up flying. But it was no dream, his brains told him so immediately. So he had woken up screaming too. It was like falling from a sky scraper. It had taken a long time before he landed on the not so soft reddish carpet . It was dark all over. His fall had winded him, but there was no broken bones. Where the hell was he? The landscape was nothing but ominously large shapes looming over him. As he sat down in the strange growth that had soften his landing, he started to realize an important fact. He was no longer 4 inch tall. To be so surrounded by the fibers of the carpet, he must have be to no taller than 2 , maybe three millimeters. A cold shiver shook his entire frame, as the realization sunk in, that he had indeed suffered another shrinkage during his sleep.

He had fallen asleep as usual, lying on his pillow, next to Anna's. She had come to him, and landed an enormous kiss on his body, then had turned her head the other direction, so as not to bother him with her breathing and they both had gone to dreamland pretty fast. (he knew well when Anna was asleep, as the gentle roar of her breathing acquired this slow and deep rhythm that sometimes gave him the feeling he was falling asleep next to some large factory, whose great machinery was running overnight). It was dark when he found himself flying down to floor below. At some stage shortly after they went to bed, he must have shrunk again. And in her sleep, Anna must have moved so, or sneezed or whatever, and had expelled his tiny form from the pillow. At his current size, the slightest movement could lift him off his feet, he was sure.

He had tried calling, but it was useless and he knew it. He was now reduced to the size of a speck, and his voice was never going to be heard, even if she was awake. Horrified by the situation, Steve decided to wait it out. He started to walk/ crawl among the fibers to the relative safety of the darker regions closer to the bed. Somehow the vast dark space above his head and around him was terribly unsettling and threatening.

As he was walking, he had realized that he was not so shocked as he thought. His thoughts had returned quickly to his rational train. He always knew this would come one day. The shrinking had occurred in steps before, taking huge chunks out of him, at regular interval. Both he and Anna had indeed assumed that this was it. That his 4 inch size was the worst the shrinking could do, and this had seemed corroborated by the fact that Steve had spent the last 9 months without feeling any change. And then...

Steve had felt a terrible rage waking up inside him. He'd felt he had been wronged somehow, he had been cheated, as the shrinking had taken place without its usual warning horn, the horrible headaches that foretold each episodes. He was taken by surprise, and in his sleep to top it all. He clenched his fists in anger. This was not fair. He wasn't supposed to vanish like this. They had no right to do this! Suddenly, as fast as it had come, his anger had subsided. Who the hell is “ They” anyway? He was beginning to add paranoia to his stupid predicament. It had taken him thirty minutes to get to the underside of the bed...


All hell broke loose when the morning came. Steve had not dared venture into the room. The darkness, the vast empty plain in front of him had cared him away. He was more than aware that he had reached the near bottom of the food chain. Any living thing in that room (including Anna) was now a very real threat to him. He had spent the night listening. A very disturbing cacophony of scratching, creaking and scurrying noises had kept him to the verge of terror, as he had curled in a his spot on at the edge of the bed. His relationship to spiders for instance had never been amicable when he was a real man, had certainly not improved at his stabilized size of 4 inches. Now he had to fight every second to keep his mind away from very very ugly thoughts.

But nothing had prepared him for the morning madness.

When Anna woke up, the giant boom of her voice startled him. Then somewhere above him a huge movement started to take place. The massive ceiling of the bed began to undulate, and loud creaking noises came from the frame. He quickly left his position to start moving out of the shadows, into the carpeted plain. His name was pronounced a few time above him, as per the voice of God, it was so loud. Then two huge feet landed on the floor, the vibration shaking the ground around him. Thankfully, they landed on the other side of the bed. He watched in amazement as the building size objects started to move and go in the direction of the little box that he used for his private business, on the other side of the room. (He had insisted it be placed far from the bed, but had regretted it, as a visit there was a whole trip to him, and he had often reached the place in a desperate state.). Steve could not see her body yet, but the sheer size of her feet told him more than he needed to know. She was now a mountain to him.

Still he wanted to be rescued, he needed her to see him. He tried to get himself in a wide open spot half between the wall and the bed. He knew she would be searching for him. The big feet came back to the bed. Looking up he saw the greenish sheet moving , as Anna started to inspect the bed, her voice conveying the stress she was beginning to feel. To him it was as if many football pitches of synthetic grass were being pulled together and crumpled. The woman above him did this with her own hands, he realized. He was drenched in sweat.

Suddenly a huge face appeared above. He screamed and nearly fell backward, as the massive promontory appeared and started to project from the side of the cliff. A river of blond hair dropped towards him. Anna's face was incredible. He had difficulty to focus on its entirety, so large it was. He could have strolled on her lower lip. He waved his hands and called her has loud as could, screaming himself raw. She never noticed him. He watched in astonishment as the face slowly rised away from above him. How could she not? She had looked directly at him? He ran in the direction of the retreating face, waving, and shouting. The long flowing hair dragged its way back up. The face disappeared totally far above above, hidden by the edge of the bed.

“Steve, where are you? Don't do that, please, if you're hiding, it's not funny. You're scaring me.” came her voice. He suddenly realized that she was looking for him as she last knew him. 4 inch and all. She was never looking for a speck on the carpet . It would have taken a serious focus to spot him there in the first place. She just was not doing that.

More motions occurred above, the sheet started slowly to rise away, beyond the edge, as Anna was no doubt trying to find him inside the bed and was removing the covers. Steve's mind began racing for a solution. If his wife did not know he was that small she was not going to look on the floor for a while. He had to make himself more visible. He started to walk toward the end of the bed, to find a spot in the room that would be exposed enough to be noticed.

He was half way there, fighting his way among the fibers of fabric when a shadow covered the entire region. Anna appeared, on his side of the bed. Her body was moving toward him. He hardly had time to see the unbelievably high legs, the massive naked body of his wife, covering the sky, before he noticed the real danger : the two huge feet coming in his direction. He saw the first one crashing ahead of him, and twisting slightly,as Anna negotiated the turn around the bed. The enormous thing rotated on the ground, huge toes now directed at him. Then the second foot appeared from behind the bed and came crashing a few hundred of his meters, supporting a mass of flesh he could not grasp in his vision. The foot covered and crushed the plain ahead. He knew there was no time to do anything. The foot behind lifted, the toes bending and then rising. The humongous foot came rushing towards him, like a flying building. In a split second he could the soft sole of his wife as a canopy of flesh, speckled with various stains of [i]his[/i] size, the car size toes looming closer above him. He did not even had time to scream, in the darkness under the falling flesh when his wife landed her foot on top of him.

What happened next totally baffled him.
He was compressed under the zillions tons of his wife body, as she stepped on, pushed deep into the carpet, but not that deep that it broke his body. The flesh on his face and body was sinking him into the pliant surface of the carpet. It was pitch dark, and he hardly had any air for a a second, but oddly enough the pressure he expected was not there. Compressed he was, but alive. He hardly registered that fact though, his mind in total panic. Then light again. And motion. He felt lifted off the ground, stuck to the smelly flesh. And the next second darkness and the huge pressure again. And the light, the motion, and the dark, the crushing weight. Then darkness again. Beyond the flow of terror he became aware he was somehow stuck, not under under her sole but probably under her toe. Kept in place by the suction of her sweat, and preserved by the slight curve he lay under. He tried to scream in the darkness, but air was lacking, the side of face pressed hard into the flesh. His body felt the tremendous heat of his living prison. The foot did not move for a few seconds, as Anna was probably still looking for him on the bed. Steve could feel the tremors of her movements as her weight shifted here and there on her foot. The image of her huge naked body towering above him and pressing on him like a living mountain planted itself in his confused mind.

When light came up again, and the nauseating upward motion, he felt his arms and legs detaching from the sticky fleshy ceiling and in a second his body followed, hurled into space and down to the carpet below. His wife's heel landed just ahead of him. He had time to see the under side of her shin, the high long back of her thigh, the protruding rounded mound of her buttock moving high above and further away, before he blacked out.


tbc

nostromo
Chapter 2 by nostromo
MISSING (Part II)

Steve’s story


Steve does not have time to think too much about anything but his progression on the vast plain of the floor. As he goes on, Anna massive shape goes to and fro from room to room. He had awoken shortly after the brutal experience under her foot, and is now focused on staying away from her walking area. He can hear her muttering to herself, calling his name from the bathroom, rummaging through the various corners and niches of the house. At first he had been mortified and frustrated at being a witness of Anna’s distress. She‘s looking everywhere, while he stands just there a few meters from her (at times much, much closer, to his great fear).

She is an unbelievable sight to him. She has taken the time to dress up in white top and rather short miniskirt. Steve looks at her from an impossibly low angle, so that she really is at time all legs and feet. The size of her body is so vast that it is hard to grasp it whole. In spite of this, Anna has never looked so beautiful, tall and lean and her blond hair gracefully brushing her back, or falling like a golden curtain around her head when she looks downwards. Promoted to this “goddess” status, her natural beauty is so amplified, and also combined to an incredible aura of …sheer power. The being walking about in the house is in fact the most powerful thing he has ever seen. In her search (she started again after a few moments of dejection) she is lifting buildings and mountains and massive shapes, with no apparent effort. When she bends down, her breasts looms in his directions like twin hills he’d have to climb to reach the top. She could crush him under one finger without even noticing. Damn, one eyelash of hers is more powerful that him. Yet her face is still the beautiful face he has always known, the very straight nose, the green eyes, the full lips, the slight freckles on her cheeks. From afar, so high above the perspective does not yet distort it or mar its natural contours. He wishes he could wash away the stricken look that has taken over her gorgeous eyes.

Every time she enters the room, her movements make it difficult for Steve to progress. The vibrations in the floor are so intense that he keeps falling to his knees and getting up. The wind of her passing by is sweeping over the floor in powerful gusts. Once her foot came so close as throw him flat on the floor, as the massive thing (now wearing a pink sandal) passed silently overhead, (but with a terrible swoosh of air). But he only thing on his mind is now to get out of this stupid red forest and get to place where motion is easier. The kitchen, with it linoleum floor and smooth furniture should offer more opportunity for detection. And there might be food and water….

Anna’s story


I go to the kitchen to drink some tea. I need to relax, I need to think. I did not spot anything under my feet, so I’m quite convinced I did not step on Steve this morning. Still, I’m in the middle of my second search and no trace of him so far. I let the tears flow again, as I lean against the counter, waiting for the hot water to boil.

----------------

Steve and I have a real bond, one of these connections that are meant to occur one or twice in everyone‘s life. Falling in love with Steve was as natural as breathing to me. At times, I feel we’ve been falling in love since eternity. We married pretty fast, shortly before my 25th birthday, not three years ago It seems like yesterday, and yet it’s seems that so many things have happened. The shrinking did happen, curtailing our budding couple life with no return.

I keep loving him, of course, in spite of some weird allusions from friends and other folks. (They seem to think Steve was no longer my husband, because his size was no longer a constant.). How could I not? He is still the man that makes me laugh, that listens to me, that is so smart and witty and put all my other relations to shame. He is still the man that loved me and I can see that everyday in every look. We never doubted each other. I found myself in the position to help him, to protect him, to take care of him. Although the reciprocation is somewhat not obvious, I ‘ve never felt bitter at this strange turn of event. I do not have much of a motherly nature (we hadn’t planned to have children before 30 anyway), but I certainly accept the role I have now. What protected us from falling in a weird mother- child relationship is that sex still kept us united.

I never expected that from myself, but the shrinking of my boyfriend brought some really unusual thoughts to my mind, and some really odd feelings. Sex was definitely not on our minds during the first three months of the shrinking. The situation was so weird, the activity so intense (we were so solicited by everyone, Steve was never in the house, always at some research center) that I feel we were just huddling together against a world that was playing us a monumental practical joke, and against people who could no longer see us a couple. But all the while a strong sensation was slowly taking hold of me. Looking at him, on our first real private day since he left the Center, his head hardly reaching my hip, I did not feel motherly feelings, I was feeling …powerful, beautiful and in charge. That night, the first one we were really home after so many nights where we had just cuddled in some cold impersonal room in the Center, I saw the look in his eyes, the hunger that was there and that somehow he had never expressed (out of shame? Out of fear?).

And that struck me like a sledgehammer. I wanted to hold him, but I also wanted to feel his little body on mine, I wanted to let him feel the weight of my body on him. I think that in the aftermath of the disease relentless attacks, I wanted him to belong to me at last, not to this strange and invisble third party. As he awkwardly landed a kiss on my lips, a fire in my loins was already burning, as if all this nights without contacts were suddenly burning up wildly. I landed a kiss on his lips, his head, and his torso. And, pushing him on his back, I knelt in front of his diminutive body, removing my top. Steve was all eyes, and was showing a raging hard-on. I was so incredibly turned on. It was not only that we hadn’t been able to make love for a few months. It was that… I liked him to be so small. There’s no way around it. I found Steve so unbelievably sexy, His athletic body was in perfect shape, his proportions so perfect, but it was all so weird, as I lent forward to kiss him, I could see my shadow covering his whole body. He raised his arms, touching my breasts, and that sent tingles all over my body. I smiled a wicked smile at him. He smiled back. In spite of our difference, we were back in business.

I nearly gasped when Steve brought his mouth to my breast. It felt so good. Why on Earth had we stopped making love for so long? But although his actions were undeniably arousing I was seized by the impulsion to control him, to make him mine. I started to lower myself on him, my breasts pushing against him. He laughed and tried to push me away, but I would not let this happen. I lied squarely on top of him, and I could see his head just above my breasts, and felt his body squirming in delight under me. I pushed further till he could no longer move and my weight was sinking him into the bed. That was the first moment I realize sex was going to be a totally different and totally exhilarating experience now. (Sometime a risky one, even, and that makes it ever so hot for both of us).

We went on all night. I remember how we were laughing when, me sitting across his body, my back to him, I pretended merrily to squash him by sitting on his face. When my sex gently touched his whole face, with a wet sound, and realised I could squeeze most of his body between my thighs, it was no longer a laughing matter, I was dripping wet and suffused with lust, pressing his head against me, covering him in juices. I turned round, now keeping his face between my thighs, as he gazed on me with wonder, and I deliberately took his hand and stroke it against my clit, my labia, and pushed it inside me…

Later, as Steve went on dwindling away, we kept our routine just as alive as during this first night. When I press him into my breast, rub him around my nipple (much larger than his head today) I get so full of lust I can hardly breathe. He’s the man I love, and he‘s mine in a way no woman has ever possessed a man. I can do what I want with him (we discussed much about this, and the outcome is that we totally agree on the mutual pleasure we get from this) , I can smell him and taste him whole on my tongue and press him in my skin (gently). Steve always seems delighted. I guess for him to realize his life as a lover isn’t over is a great kick to his moral too). To me, it’s a whole new world of sensations that opened up. I just love to look [i]down [/i]at him. I take all sort of threatening, crushing poses, and that makes us laugh and that makes me strangely hot. I love to lie down slowly over him, as i look down under my belly, watching my navel slowly covering his head, and I just keep him there for a second, feeling the very light struggles of his body against my flesh. The sheer power is so intoxicating and so sexy. I could just let myself down on the warm mattress and my love would be so totally engulfed by my belly and my body. There is something so Freudian about this I sometimes think. Something wicked too, that arouses me like nothing else I’ve imagined.

The riskiest part of course is when we really make love. When I grab him gently between two fingers, breathing hard already, and gently brush him against my clit, feeling his tiny arms pulling at it, his little body sliding over it. And I feel his joy even through the like contact with my fingers, which turns me on no end. I press tentatively his whole body against my labia, stroking them, feeling his tiny legs kickings against it ( a very light and sensuous touch to me). The few seconds when I start pushing him inside, feeling his torso entering slowly into my sex, his shoulders struggling against the not quite yet opened orifice ,are so tantalizing. When I insert him fully, guiding his wriggling body with my fingers and applying at last a gentle push on is feet till my sex closes full on my finger, I feel like a receptacle for our love together, as my vagina relaxes to accept him inside me. He’s mine,then, totally mine. We share the same body. In the golden mist of pleasure, I become aware that i am alone on the bed, I have engulfed him, made him part of me, of my sex. My sex has eaten him whole. I own his body and his soul, I’m everything to him then. This holding of his life inside me, the sheer power of it, mixed with the incredible sensuous feeling of his body and arms and legs touching and wriggling against my vaginal walls is overwhelming.(sometimes I feel complex movements, as , when too deep inside, he attempts to turn back, his feet pushing against my cervix) , creating an arousal sensation beyond words. When the pleasure drowns me, and I tighten my vagina around him, I’m hugging him in my spasm as I would in my arms.

The risk is there for us to go too far, I could crush him under my bottom when he explores me below, in a sudden wrong movement, I could drown him literally in the oblivion of a too prolonged orgasm. But each time we start making love there is this look of defiance from him to me. This implicit “I dare you” which turns me on so much. Steve is my hero still, my 4 inch hero, as he defies me to pleasure myself, as he demands his own pleasure at the risk of his life. When we finish, I love to put him just on my bush, feeling his tiny legs just brushing the upper part of my sex. And then I look at him, wet and exhausted and happy, falling asleep on my nether region that he has conquered, while I still feel lights tremors inside me. Just thinking about it makes………………..

The boiled water is hissing at me nastily. I come back to the surface, to find the air cold and mean and threatening. I pour myself a cup of tea. Coffee won’t do me any good. I need to think clearly. I need help. I call the police. They follow their dull script asking me his name, and address, and when it comes to his description and I mention his size, a blank silence answers me. I think the man is going to hang in on me. But no, his voice comes back, carrying a weird excitement hardly masked by the professional tone. Of course. He remembers .Steve. He’s seen him on TV. I’m a VIP now. They’ll be here in a jiffy he tells me. I hang up. I can almost hear the conversation in the police station. “Guys! You won’t believe who we got to find today!”. I sit on the chair, and stare at the window. Where are you my love?



Steve’s story


At last, the door. It’s wide open. Steve can hear the boiling water. She’s making some tea or coffee (she’s totally unpredictable when it comes to hot beverages). He climbs over the metallic bar that separates the carpeted floor of the bedroom from the flat smooth surface of the kitchen floor. Sighing with relief, he can at last walk. Normally. The red jungle is over.

He slowly penetrates in the brightly lit kitchen. A huge sqaure of light is splashing on the floor from the window. All he can hear is the slurps from Anna's drinking , and the low vibration from the fridge. Every object has turned also into a parody of itself, giant shapes that he needs to analyze to put a name on it. Going as he did from 4’ to a 10th of inch, everything is now 40 times wider, longer, taller than last nite, and as calculates coldly. He had though before he was living in a world of giants, but this is so much worse. He has slipped outside the world of men altogether.

He stops to look at the giant woman sitting on the chair, sipping tea (this time, it’s tea, he thinks to himself). She must be exhausted, she’s spent the entire day searching the place. Her face is tired, her eyes red again. There’s nothing he can do about it now and he better find a place to hide or be exposed. He heard the phone call, and although he could not understand the words properly, Steve knows one thing for certain. The giants are coming.


tbc

nostromo
Chapter 3 by nostromo
Author's Notes:
a bit more...
Missing (Part III)

Steve's story


The ascension is arduous but nothing as bad as he expected. To him the very grain of the wooden counter is covered in easy-to-grab notches. With his experience as a mountain climber, Steve has no problem gathering the proper rhythm for his movements and slow ascent. The fact that his arms and legs seem so much powerful at his current size, and that the pull of gravity is so reduced as to not be noticed makes this challenge much more feasible than anticipated. Steve is climbing the side of the kitchen counter as a fly climbs up a wall. He surely hopes the comparison stopped here.


In the kitchen, enormous shapes are moving around, and the main threat to him is not their huge mass, but the strong eddies of wind they create when passing by. As far as he can see two of them are from the Police. A man and a woman. Their massive frames totally dwarf the rest of the room, as their hands easily manipulate objects hundreds of times larger than him. They are talking to Anna in a near comic fashion, each one talking in his turn, in what seems to be a rehearsed script. Steve cannot understand properly everything that's been said, the voices being so both loud as to get lost in their own vibrations. Still he gets enough to understand they are asking the regular stuff for this type of inquiry.

They are in the kitchen taking a seat now, and the man is beginning to write some report while the woman speaks to Anna. They had disappeared for a while in the room next door, and a lot of slow walking was done apparently, judging from the vibrations on the floor. They even had called him in low whispers. Anna was with them, probably straining her ears to catch any sign from him. Steve was happy he was not in that room when they entered. Three pairs of huge feet going around the room was a bit much to contemplate and he was quite certain he would probably have ended as a small stain under a shoe, had he stayed there too long.

He has decided to stick to the plan, get a higher position, and a clearer spot to stand on. He knows they are looking for him. And that gives him courage to continue the climb. He feels grateful for their presence, even though they are so large as to be nearly outside his comprehension. Still, he reminded himself of the fact that he was also a human being. His size has altered everything in him, but surely not that. That fact makes everything possible, even communication with these walking mountains. Steve keeps climbing, using the good old three point method he has learned at the mountaineering club. He focuses on the approaching top, a frightening overhand of wood, half a mile above ground. He relies on one factor to pass it: his total absence of weight.



Anna 'story

They are walking around the room with cautious steps. At each step, I shuddered involuntarily. Thanks God, there's only two of them. If an army of policemen had arrived I would not have left them come in like this. Hey are nice and polite, obviously a well suited duo. When they speak to me, one always seems to complement the other's idea. They asked me the usual stuff. Where did I see him last. What was the last thing we said. Did we quarrel. Did he look upset.

I can see they're somewhat puzzled by the situation. Who wouldn't be? It's not their regular turf for sure. And I can feel a tint of thrill in the woman's voice. She's obviously quite happy of this strange assignment. Still, she's courteous and professional and her presence comforts me a bit. She's a trained investigator and far from the the image I have of them.

After a while when they have been around the room for one hour, touching object very cautiously with the tip of their pencils, we come back to the kitchen and sit around the table. Sophia (she tells me to call her Sophia, no doubt a typical psychological approach to a witness under duress) , Sophia tells me the locks of the door are untouched. At my surprise, she tells me that it would not be passed certain individuals to try and collect such a rare item as Steve, and that it may be that some criminal intent might explain the disappearance. I am unnerved now. I've never thought of that. The idea of someone walking into the room during our sleep and silently snatching Steve from our pillow is really horrific. Sophia sees my reaction and re-assures me that this is only an hypothesis, and that no breaking in is yet evident in the flat.

She asks me more questions. I answer as truthfully as I can, but find it hard to concentrate. Suddenly the man rises his eyes-brows and asks me a very strange question. “How tall is your husband, Mrs Burton? “ I answer surprised that he's about 4 inch tall. Everyone knows that now, it was on TV. “I understand, but how long has Steve been that size?” I think about it, its' been a year nearly I'd say. Then it hits me. It's been a year since he did not shrink. No one told us ever that he could shrink further. The doctors had always been evasive about this. “You don't mean to say...” I begin to stammer.

“Well, Mrs Burton, here again, its' only an hypothesis. But considering the history of your husband's disease, there is a small margin of a possibility that he has shrunk again.” He looks into my eyes. Either to appraise the impact of his statement or to try and decipher any clue on my face that could lead him to believe I did not state the full truth about Steve's size. “You mean... he could be in the room... even in the bed... but too small for us to see him?” My voice is shaking, I know the idea must have come to me at some stage during my search, but I never let myself fully face the possibility.

“This is correct”, Sophia says, and we have already taken some steps regarding this ... hypothesis. I've contacted the Bernstein Science Institute on our way here, to let them know we need their input on this. They told me they are already contemplating some action to assist us.”
My mouth is getting very dry all of a sudden. I've been walking and moving things around for half of the day in the room. If Steve is really that small, then... Sophia looks at me with a concerned look. I stand up and go for some water.




Steve's story

Steve stays laying on the flat counter plane. He's gasping like a drowning fish. His arms feels like they've been ripped from their sockets. Still, he's made it. He'd seen on TV these guys who climb overhangs by simply hanging by their fingers. They have 170 pounds or more of muscles to balance during their insane prowesses. He didn't have that problem. Even though he was sick with vertigo, his grip on the wood and his constant stretching between the notches was keeping his body stuck to the overhang. He felt very much like the fly indeed.

Above him the huge silos of water bottles are keeping the view blocked, and remind him he has nothing to drink to compensate the effort he's just done. A grumbling in his stomach is a sharp reminder also that he needs to get some food. At last Steve stands up, and starts walking around the bottles. The glass is much thicker than his entire body. He can't bring himself to think that not that long ago, he could hold one of those huge things in one hand. When he comes to the front of the edifices, a vast plain of polished wood stretches for what looks like miles, encumbered on one side by various towering objects. He walks towards the edge of the counter, facing the vast empty space of the kitchen, and watching intently the three giants that are sitting in the middle. Anna is back to him, but even with his distorted vision ,he can well recognize the fluffy woolen top she wears ,and the long blonds hair that flows over it. When he gets close to the abyss he can't help and start shooting in her direction, waving his arms like a man on a desert island calling the far way ship.

But the giants are talking and his infinitesimal voice is blown away by the strong wind that seems to rush around him on the open space. Suddenly he sees Anna standing up, her massive frame stretches high in the air. An horrifying screeching noise occurs , when she pulls the chair away. In a a split second Steve is covered by a stupendous shadow, as the enormous body seems to rush to him. He sees Anna's shorts becoming a wall of blue fabric in front of him, every button on it like a bronze roundabout flying right at him. He start running away, as the huge shape is touching the counter. Above him, an enormous ceiling of white fluffy stuff is slowly descending in his direction, as Anna is stretching to catch glass in the above compartment. Before he can do anything, the white fluff is all around him , its strands, lashing on his back and sticking to his body, curving around his legs and torso. When Anna pulls away from the counter, Steve feels himself lifted off the wooden surface. He's carried away by. The woolen strands that hang loose from the bottom of her angora knit top. Everything turns into motion. As he struggles to get free, he catches the sight of a large glass striking the surface he was standing on not a second ago. Two other glasses crash onto the wood. Steve yells as loud as he can. He just about realizes that Anna has swept him away on her top, like unwanted dirt. He struggles to get free from the white sticky threads. And succeeds...

Just as Anna is turning round to speak to the police, Steve is caught by the movement on the light brown strip of skin that separates the bottom of her knitter from her shorts. He screams as he glides along the smooth skin into the large crevasse between the hot wall and the blue fabric. The sky disappears as he enters the dark region, and suddenly his fall is halted by a complex ridge . He grabs it. It's made of complex pink threads with plenty of nooks and crannies. As he establishes his balance, he can see the wall of blue coarse fabric that threatens to crush him. Above him a brown wall of skin rises into the lit area, where white strands of wool are hanging. The heat around him is incredible,as if he was standing on hot plate. Sweat starts pouring down his face. This is not going according to plan, he thinks, in a panic.

More motion is happening. He can hear gallons of water splashing in the glasses , just on the other side of the blue fabric. When Anna walks back to her chair, Steve hangs on for dear life to the pink threads he's now sitting on. His left arms is pushing against the warm wall of flesh next to him. A downward motion, and the blue fabric of Anna's shorts is closing on him, shutting the light above. In his head a single sentence come back and back like a mentra. I'm still alive, I'm still alive.

Loud gurgling noises come from above for a few seconds, and then the boom of the conversation replaces them. Steve is still trying to make sense of the darkness when something big is inserting itself in the crevasse, partly lighting it, partly obscuring it. The enormous finger quickly glides in his direction, opening an other crevasse between the warm skin and the pink fabric. Steve just has time to scream when the elastic band of the panties detach itself from the skin and the finger touches him like a moving truck, sending him headfirst in another dark and moist abyss.



Anna' s story

There are five more people with us. I was stunned when I opened the door. A cosmonaut was standing there, clad in a white plasticky looking costume, his eyes covered by some sort of transparent dome. Some sort of oxygen bottle or what is strapped to his back. Behind him two other cosmonauts are looking at me. Two serious looking gentlemen are standing at the back and beckoning me to come out.

They are from the Bernstein institute. Dr Pleet and Dr Swanson are very soft speaking people, in spite of their grim look. I can see they're concerned , but their behavior is calm and ... methodical. They speak with the police people for a little while. And then explain the situation to me. I can see more people moving what looks like some science material into the hall. One of the contraption looks like a giant square of glass , supported in a square thin metallic frame on slender feet. When I look more closely, I realize it's a huge magnifying glass, through which I can see the carpet of the hall looking like a jungle of brownish trees.

Dr Pleet has asked me and the two policemen to leave the kitchen via the side door leading into the hall. His crew is replacing us, but is hardly moving moving at all. One guy is standing behind the magnifier glass for a long minute before he pushes it further into the room. He breathes through his domed helmet. Dr Swanson is talking to me, but I'm somewhat puzzled by all this and more than a little afraid. Behind us more police is stretching yellow ribbons to condemn the door. What looks like a little toy car is slowly entering the bedroom, with an elaborated camera attached to the top part.

“Mrs Burton, you cannot stay in the house. There is a probability of 6 to 10 that your husband had shrunk to a size that makes it very dangerous for him to have anyone around. We were about to call you both this week to discuss the dramatic risk. One of our researchers, Dr Hopkins, has recently come up with a theory about your husband's disease, and its prediction had lead us to believe this might happen. This is the reason why we have all this material already at our disposal.
I must ask you to go in this room with the police officers, where the three of you will be examined.”

My mind is getting muddy with panic. Could I have hurt Steve by simply being there? I do not discuss anything. The tone of the doctors and their quiet insistence is maddening, but also re-assuring. Some one is helping me, all these people are helping me. They will find him.
In the hall, some neighbors are watching us , filled with excitement.


When I enter the little room (a small maintenance room I realize , for the building), the two officers are already half naked. The woman still has her skirt on, while white-clad person is inspecting it with a weird looking magnifier. She turns round very slowly, as instructed. Her colleague is standing there with an annoyed look on his face, wearing nothing but his underwear and socks, while another lab assistant is scrutinizing his trousers. I can tell he's not too happy of the way things are turning out on this assignment.

A woman is now asking me to stay still, while she starts inspecting every inch of my body. After a few long minutes, she asks me to remove my top. A chill runs between my shoulder blade when I do so. After more minutes , she asks me to remove my shorts. I stand there now in my underwear, like the officers, getting cold and totally unnerved. I feel goosebumps on my skin. I look around for more privacy and with a peevish tone in my voice I hear myself asking if I should remove my pants. The lab assistant has a very fleeting smirk, but turns around to Dr Pleet who is waiting nearby. He seems to think about it for a second, then makes a negative gesture with his head. “That won't be necessary” tells me the assistant with a comforting smile “Here, you can dress again”, as she gives me back my clothes. I sigh with relief as I button my shorts back on.


Tbc

nostromo
Chapter 4 by nostromo
[i]Steve’s story[/i]

Steve struggles to get free from the small forest he got entangled into. Anna only has a small tuft of pubic hair, and is an adept of the bikini trimming, but to him, what’s left of growth on her pelvic mound is enough to trap him solidly. The fact that she’s been sweating profusely in her attempts to get to him is not helping one bit, making her nether regions moist and sticky. Her scent is heavy, and even in his state of panic, a weird rush is also running through him.

At one stage it seems to Steve he was about to get a chance, when for some reason, the darkness within her shorts was suddenly removed for a few minutes. He was surprised at that , as he could hear many voices around and could not understand why she would remove her shorts in front of strangers. His mind was racing. How the hell could he be here now, of all places? His plan was to be spotted on a clean surface, at a good enough height so he would be more than a spot to her. And now here he is struggling in the deep recess of her panties, invisible to anyone, and in mortal danger of being crushed to a pulp into her skin by the movements of her giant body.

He feels her body traveling through space, vast movements occurring below him, as unbelievable thighs are pumping away under him, an enormous machine in full motion. The rhythmic motion is slowly dislodging him from the sticky hairs, in spite of the fabric pressing against his back. And the little gravity that pulls on him is enough to let him slip inch by inch downwards, on a trail of sweat. He ‘s well aware that if he drops down into her crotch, that will be the end of him, as the sticky and strong smelling folds of flesh so close below would trap him and surely engulf him for good.

At last he gets a better grip on a hair, just as he’s about to reach the end of the vertical soft wall and to topple down in the underside of the cliff. With all his strength, he manages to recover his position and to start pulling himself back up. He knows that far above him is the strong elastic band that encloses him in the dark prison. So, trusting his best judgment, he attempts to climb back up, angling his progression towards the less difficult opening where the fabric touches the joint between pelvis and thigh. He should be able to lift the fabric there, he hopes.

Around him the movements have stopped and he reckons his wife has at last sat down somewhere. This makes his progression somewhat easier.


[i]Anna’s story[/i]

The examination has produced no results, thank God for that. I would never had born the discovery of Steve’s body stuck to my own, smothered under my weigh. Dr Pleet and Dr Swanson have been as comforting as they could, I realize that. After the examination, I just hang there outside the flat, like so many other people (scientists, policemen, nosy neighbors). The imagery coming from the little robot inside the bedroom is eerie, making my simple flat look like a moon landscape, full of weird structures, and I know that’s what Steve is looking at just now.

The man behind the huge magnifier glass has hardly made any progress. He scrutinizes the floor under the lens for minutes on end before slowly moving forward. Dr Pleet has explained to me that they will search the flat in a repeating pattern, in the hope that Steve will catch up with their movements and will position himself in their way in the most visible fashion. It could take a long time though, he added in a flat tone.

After two hours the robot has not yet spotted Steve. The man with the lens is well inside the flat, but when Dr Swanson calls him, he turns back and nods negatively. Dr Pleet has come to tell me, they will soon vaporize some water in the flat. The idea is that Steve may need access to water, and the artificial fog should provide him with micro droplets that could help him quench his thirst without endangering him. Dr Pleet admits not knowing much about the bodily requirements of an organism such as Steve, with the complexity of a human body, but the size of a dust mite…. I glare back at his cold description and he leaves me alone. I feel so tired.

Dr Swanson comes and asks me to leave the premises altogether. They are going to start the vaporization and more material is coming in now from some trucks parked outside the building. He assures me there is nothing for me to do here anymore and that I should get some rest. I resist the offer of course but eventually, a policeman politely but firmly leads me away from the flat. As I sit in the police car, he asks me where I would like to go. I do not answer straight away, as I stare at the TV channels trucks slowly moving closer to the house, and at the journalists rushing past us, their mics in hand. Finally I give Suzie’s address. It’s only ten minutes from here.

Suzie is in tears, as I walk into her flat. She’s mad with worries, and said she learnt about the disappearance via a newsflash. Her glance tells me she’ not too happy that I did not call her about it first. Still, she hugs me and we share a tearful moment together. I believe it does us some good actually. Suzie is Steve’s sister, and my best friend. It is through her of course that Steve and I met, and although I was worried at the time of the shift of relationship my going out with Steve would bring about, we never wavered an inch from the strong path of our friendship.
We talk a while, Suzie and I describe the day’s events to her. She wants to go to the flat but I dissuade her to do so. She’d never make past the police barrage, family or not. We both try and persuade each other that Steve is okey, patiently waiting in the bedroom for the right moment to step in front of one of the machines and be detected.

As we speak, images keep flashing in my mind of the many movements and upheaval I created in the room while searching for him. My God, it must have been like an earthquake to him, I must have looked like a mountain relentlessly bent on squashing him. I shudder, and excuse myself, leaving a sniffing Suzie staring at her cup of coffee.


[i]Steve’s story[/i]

He just can’t do it. Having reached at last what he knows is the border of the panties touching the crease of the thigh, he finds out he just does not have the strength to lift the fabric here either. He tries and follows the rim, hoping to get to a spot where the junction does not create a dangerous fold that could squash him. After an hour of struggle against the damn fabric, he just sinks in a stupor. He better wait it out, he reckons, as his strength is not inexhaustible, and he has no access to water nor food. He needs to spare himself. The tight fabric keeps rubbing and scratching his back , bruising him. Still, under him the skin is hot and sweet smelling and he starts to drowse off.

Suddenly the darkness lifts off and he can feel the weight of the fabric around him lighten up, a flood of light pours through the holes of the pink fabric. He braces himself for whatever movement Anna is about to do. The fabric disappears altogether and Steve finds himself falling down screaming. He falls down along an incredible pillar of pink flesh, like a man falling along the walls of a skyscraper. Above him, the amazing sight of an enormous woman sex many times bigger than him is receding in the air.

Still screaming he ends up in the pile of pink fabric on the floor. Stunned, but not broken in any way, Steve tries to gather his wits as more motion is taking place far above him. Two huge pillars are surrounding him, soaring high above to the amazing junction of thighs larger than zeppelins. For a fleeting moment Steve can see the vast frame of Anna’s torso bending down in his direction and even gets a glimpse of her huge face, and the momentous swing of her blond hair around it. Then it disappears and is replaced by the picture of a smiling woman. What’s the…?

A white shiny cliff is towering above him , like a vast enamel overhang from where the huge thighs seem to protrude. The large picture of the smiling woman is still staring down at him from between the fleshy columns. A liquid splashing noise is rumbling now, echoing in the vast room around him. And Steve realizes where he is just then. Jesus, he needs to get out of here. His fall has placed him right in the middle of the panties gusset. If he waits and Anna dresses up again with him still here she will engulf him deep in the folds of her sex. Steve starts rushing out towards the edge of the soft plain. As he looks up he can see the smiling woman wobble as Anna is turning quickly the pages of the magazine. Steve silently thanks his wife for this annoying habit she has of monopolizing the loo every time with her endless reading.

More noises come from above as he rushes madly, closing quickly the distance that separates him from the drop to the floor. Just as he reaches the edge of the fabric, the magazine above disappears and more light floods on to him. In a second a vast fluffy white wall appears instead and a second later his soft platform starts rising again along the pink pillars. The open space is beginning to shrink as the skin of her legs is coming closer. He jumps. He bounces against the flesh of his wife’s calf and glides down, just in between the skin and the blue fabric of her jeans shorts, bouncing against the sudden mound of her ankle.

This time no soft fabric to receive him, but instead a hard landing on the cold ceramic tiles far below. A blue ceiling of jeans fabric is covering him. To his left a huge shoe is moving, coming dangerously close to him. He can feels the rush of air, as the massive sole lands five of his meters from him. Above, the panties have carried on their vertiginous ascent, and are now settling against the impossibly high crotch, as the slapping noise of the elastic band tells him. A second later the blue ceiling is receding as well, following the gracious rails of the long naked legs. A split second again and the enormous structure of the giant body is moving away from him. He can’t help screaming and waving at the giantess, but a huge flushing noise drowns his feeble attempt at attracting her attention. A rush of warm air, a tremendous shuffle of gigantic shoes, and the huge form is gone. The light goes off, and Steve finds himself alone on the cold floor of the toilet room.
“Back to square one” he thinks bitterly, as he starts walking towards the slit of light under the vast darkened door.


[i]Anna’s story[/i]


Suzie is watching the TV news when I come back. An excited reporter is standing outside our flat, along with a crowd of people. Flashes of lights burst into the night. The red and blue lights of a police car add to the “disaster” look of the whole scene. I hardly listen to this pandemonium of curiosity. The only time I look up from my prostrated sitting is when they show pics of Steve at his normal size, and a quick but staggering series of pics at different moments of his shrinking. Used as I am to the impossible size of my husband, I can’t help but stare at this incredible résumé. To see our life pass by on screen in a few second is quite a shock. And seeing the unbelievable trend shown in the clip, I realize how complacent we had grown, Steve and I, in assuming the shrinking was done with us. As the little man on the TV screen keeps getting smaller, I understand at last the relentlessness of the disease. We have let ourselves be caught fully unprepared, and its’ only a matter of luck that the doctors had started a back-up plan in case of the dreadful possibility of a continuation.

Suzie is doing her best to keep it together. She reminds me what a resourceful guy her brother is, how he always has aligned challenges after challenges, be it in the mountains or on the sea. She tells me she has faith he’s the type of man that can survive anything if given the slightest chance. I can feel her adoration for her older brother, and realize that my marrying him has actually strengthened my position in her mind, as she believes her brother incapable of making a mistake. I inwardly smile at that, as in truth I’ve always admired Suzie and tried many times to emulate her ways.
She’s a free spirited person, terribly strong-willed and really talented to top it all (she’s a hair stylist with a pretty wild reputation). Her figure is picture perfect, a tall graceful doll with a long black mane of shiny hair, her face is a gentle oval adorned with a very straight nose and full lips that have always made the boys go wild whenever she strolled on the campus. The fact that I’ve been blessed with a pretty good-looking frame myself made us a quite famous pair in our time. Still, I always had the feeling I was the follower rather the equal of this boisterous beauty.

I know she’s right. If anyone can make it under the circumstances, it’s got to be Steve. He will not give up, I know that for sure. I sigh heavily as I sit there wondering where in the flat he could be. Can he see the little robot looking for him? Or the giant man cautiously walking behind the giant lens? Will he try and get to them? Will he wait for them to reach him? Has he already prepared a means of communication with either of them?

I try to imagine my Steve in the empty flat, eying the machines, and deciding his next move. I try to visualize the fog entering the room, and Steve running to a droplet, quenching his thirst, getting ready for the next challenge. He will make it. I’ve let him down, I never looked for the tiny form he had become, I probably threatened his very life with my hectic search, but I know he must have tried to get in touch with me, I’m sure of that. And if he failed, well, it’s my fault more than his, and I know he won’t hold it against me. In a way, it may be better to be away after all, as my presence won’t push him to try a rash move in my direction. It’s now between the science guys and him, and he will know what to do, I’m sure.




[i]Steve’s story[/i]

Steve reaches the door, passing under it, as one walks into the light, his tiny shadow stretching long behind him.

What house is he in? They obviously no longer are at home. He had heard many voices while struggling in Anna’s shorts. Then it seems to him that only two persons were talking for a while. The female voice sounded familiar, and Steve is slowly coming to the realization that indeed there is only one person his wife would go and see in such a tough corner. He peers at the darkened corridor in front of him, and recognizes the phone stand that towers a mile or two in front of him. He had carried it himself when his sister moved in. Yup, that’s the place. Suzie’s home.

He quickly passes the rooms in review in his mind. The wooden floor is an easy walk. Far away, the immense door of the lounge is half ajar, loud noises and voices seem to travel from it to zoom past him above his head. He gets into a jogging mode now, his heart pounding, as the voices of his sister and his wife resonate far away, attracting him like a lights attracts a moth. He’s nearly running now when he becomes aware of his mistake. The walls are really far on both sides. He’s been rushing forward without a thought for the dangers he may encounter in that “narrow” corridor.

Just as he thinks this, loud vibrations run under his feet. He starts running perpendicularly to his previous course, toward the nearest wall. Too late, he keeps thinking, you moron, you’re too late!
The massive door opens wide and as more light floods the corridor a gigantic shape simultaneously casts a shadow all over the place. Steve looks up and sees his sister moving forward. She’s wearing her usual skimpy red skirt and her long naked legs seem to go on for ever high above him, her thighs joining at a yellow bridge. Two huge naked feet slam down on the wooden ground. Steve keeps running but in a split second all he can see is the rushing mountain of her left foot flying low above ground in his direction, then soaring up, the fleshy sole rising high, crusted with various tiny things, the fleshy toes splayed and coming down towards him. Everything gets dark all of a sudden as the distance is bridged.

Steve screams and raises his arms helplessly. The ceiling of flesh collapses on to him just as he feels his feet stumble into a void. The massive foot lands on top of Steve, as he collapses in the tiny breach between the wooden boards. The air pressure increases thousands-folds and crushes him in the tiny recess. A second of total panic and darkness, a strong smell of sweat and wood and dirt, and the light comes back. Steve feels the suction effect of the naked foot on the wood lift him off the ground and out of the recess. When he lands back on the floor, a giant leg is moving away, carrying the massive female body away from him, in a blur of flesh and red fabric. Stunned, Steve sits stupidly on the floor, staring at the black river of the young woman’s hair, as she briskly walks to the end of the corridor.

Damn it!!! Damn it!!! Damn it!!! He screams at the walls. The very people he loves and is attempting to reach are relentlessly trying to kill him, it seems. He staggers back on his feet and rushes towards the safety of the wall.

Looking now through the open door, he can see Anna, sitting far away on the sofa. Her body is so huge, so unattainable, and he can hardly believe that less than two hours ago he was so close to her, nor can he believe he has actually survived this unwanted trip. He must be the luckiest man on Earth, he sniggers to himself. He hesitates; the lounge is a pretty complex place, the carpet a greenish bush. When Anna starts suddenly tapping her foot nervously on the floor, he makes his decision. . The two huge women are too dangerous to reach from below .And no way he will end up a stain under their foot. He will have to carry on with his original plan back at his house. Whatever you do, Stevie boy, he thinks, gain altitude. You’ve got to go up. He starts back-tracking under the huge arch of the phone stand, towards the other door. As he does so, two huge naked feet pass by, shaking the ground, before disappearing in the lounge.


Tbc


nostromo
Chapter 5 by nostromo

Missing   (part V)

 


[i]Steve’s story[/i]


              Every muscle ache but the deed is done. Steve is standing on the slightly curved wooden plain, catching his breath at last. That was a tough climb again. The overhang was a bitch to pass, but he used some grain of …rock? mica? he’s no too sure, but the tiny shards acted as grappling hooks for him in the somewhat softer material of the wood. It allowed to clutch his way under the overhang without too much effort. His weightlessness and the apparent power of his arms at this size have indeed conferred him a definite advantage as a mountain climber.

 The house is quiet. Steve can hear the loud ticking of the Mickey mouse clock on the wall, (just why his sister would keep this ridiculous and ancient thing is beyond him), but this is about the only audible activity so far. Through the window’s curtains, a definite light is beginning to slip through, and the morning is not far away. Steve is apprehensive, and despite his hope of being rescued soon, he’s dreading the arrival of the two young women in the kitchen.

 The evening before had been as terrifying as he could expect it to be. Although most of it was dedicated to his slow progress towards the kitchen, he had a few times witnessed the unbelievable stroll  of his wife or sister in the house, massive mountains of flesh whose movements were heralded by tremendous earthquake-like vibrations that kept him from moving properly, and whose passage was followed by near hurricanes of displaced air. The enormous feet stampeding next to him were a vision of awe and even terror, as he watched the carpet forest being crushed under the enormous soles.

 He was able to hear their conversation from the lounge open door, their voices carrying the power of Goddesses, the blaring of the television sounding to him like an apocalyptic announcement far away. He could hear crying too and recognized Anna’s quiet sobbing. Suzie’s soothing voice hardly had any effect, and Steve had cursed himself for inflicting this pain on both of them. Then again, pain was something he had a fair share of, lately. He‘d finally heard the “Try to get some sleep” sign , that told him it was now safe to attempt the climb in the kitchen. The house had gone quiet and he’d started his new challenge.

 The ascension to the table top or the counter top had proved useless. The metallic feet of  Suzie’s furniture had made impossible for him to even lift himself from the ground. The only possible objective had been the old wooden chair Suzie had brought back one day from her country house and adopted in the midst of her modern looking kitchen. Good taste does not run I the family, he’d thought.
So he’d started the long climb along the rounded gigantic pole.

 In the middle of the night, as he was lost in the rhythmic climb, he had suffered a horrific shock as below him a dark spot had started to move on the lighter surface of the kitchen floor. Coming from under the main counter a series of scratching sounds had materialized into this large shadow angling its progression toward the chair he was climbing. Steve’s heart missed a few beats and his arms had started to shake violently.. Without the grip that offered his tiny rocky tools, he would have fallen below. The massive spider had moved closer, and Steve had watched in horror as long legs carried the ugly thing closer to the base of the pillar. Its body was easily five times his size. The thing had stopped right below him, at the base of the chair, and across the moonlit void, Steve had a long agonizing look into the monster’s multiple eyes.

                 At that moment, strong vibrations had started to echo in the distance, getting stronger by the second. Both Steve and the spider and turned their gazes towards the door, just as it opened, a terrific swoosh of air suddenly crossing the kitchen. In the darkness, a massive form had entered. Steve saw the spider suddenly rush back to the safety of the counter shadow. Huge feet had abruptly come to a stop , as a deafening yell exploded in the room. Steve had not been able to repress his  “Yes!” of triumph, as he watched the huge sandal come on top of the monster. The squishing noise that came up from under the loud crash had told him everything he needed to know. One problem solved. The impossibly large legs had carried on further away, and while various noises came from the counter (Anna or Suzie had had a sudden craving for cookies apparently), Steve could make out the squashed form of the predator on the floor below. Like an improbable dea ex machina, the young woman had saved him from a horrible death.

 


                  An alarm clock starts sounding from an afar room. Vibrations start traveling all around the place. The morning has come at last, and Steve braces himself for the coming ordeal.


 
[i]Anna’s story[/i]


           I wake up in a sweat. The sheets are cloying to my skin, as if to strangle me. I kick around and feel at last the cool air of the room wash over my naked body. I blink into the rosy light that invades the room. It’s early still. Ugly images are still turning in my mind. I must have had a nightmare. Breathing slowly, staring at the ceiling, I recall indeed some images from the night.

          It's quite vague but I remember the two police officers were there, the man and the woman. The three of us were in our underwear, but there was no one else in the room. It was a weird room, as if it was both an interior and an exterior. The two officers had large magnifiers and were searching the floor. At some stage I said something, I don’t recall what, and they both looked at me with irate faces. They were suddenly all over me, I was on the floor and their magnifier plates were pushing on my body. I remember struggling. I saw the woman through the magnifier, her face distorted and enlarged, till I saw nothing but her huge smile, that seemed to stretch for ever, obliterating her face. She had a cry of triumph and the plate was lifted off my face. Her hand came to ma face and seemed to pluck something near my eye, I was really scared.

 The next thing I was sitting with her at the kitchen table. She looked very happy and I asked why. She did not speak but showed me a glass on the table. I lent forward and saw too little men in the glass, about one inch tall. They were fighting. I recognized the other officer and …Steve. They really were at each other’s throat. I tried to get to the glass and put a stop to the fight but my arms would not bulge. It was as if I had lead weight hanging on my wrists. I shouted to Steve, but my voice seemed so frail , and they did not notice me. The woman was looking with a smile on her face.

 Then I remember she was lifting the glass and tilting it. The two little men inside started to shout. They glided and rolled out of the glass onto a buttered piece of bread, where they stuck and were struggling now to escape. I told the woman to let them go. But she just said “Thank you”. And lifted the bread , with the two tiny terrified men , to her lips. She opened her mouth wide, and for a second I had the feeling I was on the bread, but I was not and I had to watch as she slowly inserted the bread deeper in her mouth. Her teeth went over the little officer before sinking into the bread. I heard a shriek from inside and I started to cry, pleading with her to stop. But she started to munch slowly, swallowed and just said “Thank you, you’re too kind.” She looked at Steve, licking her lips, and I was beside myself with confusion. I wanted to grab her , but no movement was possible, I as stuck in some quicksand of slow motion.

 The woman then said “we’re here to help , you know”, and she brought the piece of bread closer to my lips. I could see Steve on it, struggling to unstuck himself, his little face a mask of terror , as he shouted  to me “ Anna, don’t!!” I opened my mouth, and felt the bread on my tongue. The woman said again “ Thank you”, when I had closed  my lips around the little offering. That’s when I woke up.........  God this was horrible!

 Still unnerved, I get up and go straight to the shower.  The hot water is calming me. I smile as I remember Steve always complained when we took showers together that I used way too hot a water for him. But then I realized he said so when he was still taller then me, and that sends a wave of pain through me. But I still remember taking showers with Steve when the shrinking was well on its way, his small frame under me, between my thighs, catching the water running down my body. It was always a fun moment, as he always harbored a hard-on then, seeing me like this, naked over him. And mostly surely I responded in kind, the view of his naked body between my leg, sending me in a then familiar and exciting territory. I used to push him around gently with my thighs, something squeezing him between them, sometimes cornering him against the wet tiles, sometimes squatting under the hot jet , to press him against my breasts. We had a hard time keeping on time for my work then. Eventually, his size dwindled till it was not safe any longer. I could have slipped on the wet tiles and crushed him under my foot, we simply had to stop meeting like this…. I stop the shower and put on panties and a tee-shirt.

 When I get to the kitchen, Suzie is already there. We look both tired and unwell, I guess. She’s wearing nothing but her panties and a very sexy tank top, that uncovers nicely her flat stomach. I can’t help for a second looking at her, she’s so gorgeous. I do not believe I ever had any lesbian thoughts towards my best friend, but I am always stunned by her natural beauty.  She’s drinking a glass of water, leaning the counter, her long legs crossed. “Watch out for the mess on the floor, I did not have time to clean it” she says. I look down and sees the flatten body of a pretty large spider. “Hugh” I said , as I step over it with a smile. At the back of my mind, a dark thought tries to emerge.

 

[i]Steve’s story[/i]

 

           Steve is getting ready now. Both Anna and Suzie have entered the kitchen. Anna smells wonderfully, her long legs are still moist from the shower she’s taken. He shouts and jumps up and down on the chair, but to not no avail. He looks at her as she makes a face at the squashed spider on the floor. Her knees pass just in front of his eyes, leading up  to the momentous passage of her perfect thighs. He gets closer to the bars that constitute the back of the chair, and go prone, up to prepare for the coming motions.

              The girls chat a bit for a moment, but sure enough, large thighs come closer to the chair. He sees the giant frame of his wife, looming above him as her hand is grabbing the top of the chair starts dragging. Good things he’s lying down , he thinks , as with an enormous screeching noise, the vast plain of wood moves away from the table. Giant legs position themselves across from him on the other side of the plain. As he looks up, his feet pushed against the wood of one of the bars, he can see the most enormous behind ever slowly descending upon him. The vast pink surface is covering the sky in a second, still rushing towards  him, the shadow deepening, as the huge thighs start making contact with the chair. The panties crush the plain in front of him and a gust of wind flies across the surface . the back of his wife is stunningly high, a new born cliff high above him.

             A sudden motion and the panties lift off again in the air, as the chair makes a sudden motion towards the table. This sends him sliding away from the protection of the bars, and he screams as the huge buttocks come crushing again, this time much, much closer. The fabric settles less than two of his meters away, and Steve finds himself nearly at touching distance of the sudden wall of pink. He awaits a second  in fear of another re-adjustment but the massive buttocks no longer move, as Anna’s back is now coming to rest against the back of the chair, like a falling mountain, plunging Steve in near darkness.

            Steve is shaking like a leaf, the rush of fear and adrenaline has been somewhat too intense. He has prepared himself, he thinks, but who can be prepared to this? Under the massive arch of Anna’s back, on the narrow ledge of wood left by her sitting bottom, Steve comes to his feet and with a sigh, launch himself on the pink surface and start his climbing under the overhang of the curving buttock. This is the most dangerous part, and he does not want to stay there too long.  Any movement and he’ll be squashed under Anna ‘s weight.

           The surface is familiar. Hell, he has spent two or three hours on the other side of the damn stuff, squeezed against Anna’s tender skin. He grabs ledges of fabric after ledges of fabric. His progression is really easy now. Sure he gets the odd wrinkles to pass, but all in all this is going pretty well. He can hear the incredible voices of the two young woman as they speak very quietly and intermittently t one another.  In no time, he has covered the height of the pink panties. An overlap of fabric, more acrobatics, and he’s tackling the bluish cliff of the tee-shirt. This is not as difficult as he expected, the fabric is not as forgiving, but there plenty of grips and threads to catch. His progression is going smoothly, if not really fast. It’s good he has decided to go for a back climb; he congratulates himself, as the idea of climbing Anna’s breasts while she’s moving seems now suicidal and far more problematic. Far above him, he can see the first golden threads of her long blond hair.

 An earth shattering din comes from another room and the wall he’s climbing makes a sudden lurch.

 

[i]Anna’s story[/i]

 

             The phone rings and I startle, we both do. We look at each other for a spit second and I rush to the lounge. When I pick up the phone, the calm voice of Dr Pleet is asking for me. He tells me the search has been negative so far. They have covered the entire floor space, he tells me. Since Steve has not shown up under the magnifiers or in front of the camera, it is reasonable to assume he might be stuck in a confined place, a small nook somewhere. The team is now passing all various objects under scrutiny, starting by the bed sheets. This is going to be along process, he tells me.

             A vaporization took place early this morning, and they added some vitamins and stuff into the water. An apparatus is being flown from Dallas that can spot the tiniest infrared signature. Steve has this uncommon quality at his size to still be a warm-blooded animal (I wince at the term but say nothing), and it may be possible to locate either him or his recent wandering in the room. A refrigerant unit is going to be placed to lower room temperature and make the contrasting signature more obvious. They do not think it will affect him too much. He tells me to keep my hope alive, that they do not expect the shrinking to have caused Steve to be undetectable. According to the most recent figures, he may be somewhere between three and six tenths of an inch, a very small size for sure, but still within our realm. Of course the magnification of the room to that ratio makes it a searchable place the size of large town. Patience is of the essence he tells me. I thank him and put the receiver down.

 I stay a long moment staring at the phone. Somehow I no longer trust in all this science stuff  to rescue Steve, I don’t know why, they are very competent and obviously work hard for us. I try and think of Steve over there. And I feel his fate is in his own hands now. He will have to make the right decisions and his decisions will necessarily involve me. I believe I should go back to the flat, if only to let him know I’m not giving up on him, that I’m right there and waiting for him. Only then will he make his move, for sure.

 I go back to the kitchen and tell the news to Suzie. She’s not surprised, but I can tell she’s not despondent either. Steve is facing a major challenge, but she’s positive he‘s going to be ok.  Its’ only been a few hours, she says, and if he really got that small, a few hours is really nothing. He will pull through this one, she says. He’ll be back. We’ll go and collect him after breakfast.

 Somehow her sheer optimism is lifting my spirits a bit. She’s right, the fates are not decided yet. We will go together to the flat to let him know he has to show up. And he will.  I go to the fridge and get myself a little coffee mousse. I was surprised last night to see this sort of sweet stuff here I must say, but then I recall Steve loves those, and that’s probably why there is some in this house. Suzie is a bit of a diet freak, she’d never eat anything like this. Her bible is the weight scales in her bathroom, and once I was working on her computer I opened by mistake this Excel file with her own weight graph on it. I smile at that as I open the little plastic recipient. She will not doubt launch herself into one of her rants against sugar. No, maybe not today.


[i]Steve’s story[/i]


            He ‘s trying hard to keep his balance among the golden ropes that flow down the huge dome of Anna’s’ head. The trip to her shoulder was difficult. The constant sway of the hair was always threatening to wipe him away. A few times already he had no choice but to grab one and just hang on for sheer life, a little speck in the golden waves. Still he hanged on. And carried his trip upward. At some stage things went quiet , as Anna spent some time on the phone. She had pushed her hair away, which had liberated enough tee-shirt space near the shoulder to let him gain ground at a better pace.

             When he‘d reached her shoulder, the huge hand and receiver were high above him, her voice loud and booming near him. He could see the long graceful neck stretching high above, a sweet smelling wall of flesh leading to the root of the blond forest. Even at his size Anna’s profile was graspable and beautiful. He ‘d felt he was going somewhere at last, coming back from some unnameable place of oblivion into the world he was accustomed to. When she placed the receiver down, he saw the large ear above him. That was going to be weird, he had thought, but that’s the place he needed to reach.

                He’s standing at the hem of the tee-shirt, eying the motions of the hair near him. He needs to get to one of them to climb close to her ear.  The sudden downward movement she does when opening the fridge near throws him off the shoulder. He grabs the fabric with all his might, as lashes of blond hair suddenly wash over his body. He manages to stay on.  The problem is to get across the tanned skin that lead to Anna’s neck to reach the very fine hair that surrounds her ear. Steve feels fearful of this crossing, as he will have nothing to hang on and he worries that his light foot steps might make her think she has a crawling insect on her shoulder. She could swat him in oblivion without even knowing .

                He waits till Anna sits down at last. Opposite the vast space of the cluttered kitchen table, the huge form of Suzie is forcing some smiles et him…her. He wishes she could just spot him here, on Anna’s shoulder, put her hand to mouth in surprise and say suddenly “ Don’t move an inch” to Anna, while coming round the table and collecting him in the safety of her hand. If only it could be that simple. He’s not that small though , if only she focused a bit, she could see him. But she has nor reason to. He understood well from the electronic voice in the receiver that the main focus of research is is flat, understandably. Well, he think, there nothing for it, and he launches himself in the cautious walk to the base of Anna’s neck.  That’s when the phone rings again.

                 Anna, startled, turns her head violently to the right. A huge flow of hair suddenly rushes into Steve. He screams and tries to catch one, but this time the shock is too violent, and he’s catapulted in the air towards Anna’s’ breasts . He can see the huge chasm of the cleavage rushing to him. He has time to think “Oh no, not again” when the huge shape shifts suddenly and he misses, falling downwards. The word goes cold and gooey.

               “I’ll get this one” says someone. Steve is trying to break free from the brown goo around him. It has soften his landing but it’s sooo cold. When he manages to look up again , Anna is nowhere to be seen. Some sort of white round container is restricting his view. Only the kitchen ceiling is visible. He’s chest deep into a brownish cream. The smell is overwhelming and it takes a second for him to recognize the coffee aroma.  The world starts lurching and suddenly Anna’s huge face is looming above him, her eyes absently looking down at him. He starts waving his arms but a second later a massive shiny object id dropping in his direction, The spoon is entering the recipient and crashes silently into the mousse. It’s nearly as large as the container itself . And even larger fingers are holding it, big masses of complex flesh barring the view. Steve feels a tremor shaking the mousse, as the large object travels underneath him.  He feels it as an underwater surge, coming in his direction, passing right below and traveling towards the plastic wall.

             A second later a movement starts occurring as the white plastic walls seems to lower down and disappear. Suddenly the huge frame of his wife comes in full view, as the mousse is rising past her enormous breast, the huge tube of her neck and settles for a second under her face. Her vast eyes are green pools looking at him under  eyelashes longer than him,... but they're not looking at him. Steve screams himself raw as an enormous mouth is coming closer. He can hardly recognize Anna now, as her face turns into a rosy cliff, the vast cheek overlooking him , her nose starting to come closer, the huge nostrils sending warm air onto him. Next to him , huge reds lips are starting to part, revealing pearly teeth much larger than him and opening on a wet chasm , where a tremulous surface seems to be eagerly waiting for him covered in a transparent layer. Deep inside, a dark arch of flesh , obstructed by strands of mucous liquid is coming closer. The warm breath of Anna is washing over him, as he starts throwing mousse in the air, and resumes his screams. “Anna!!! Don’t!!!  Not like this, pleeeeeeeaaaaase!!!”

 

[i]Anna's story[/i]


Miracles [i]do [/i]happen.
As I lift my first spoonful of coffee mousse, I suddenly have this déjà-vu feeling. The dream….

            I can’t help myself and look down hard on the spoon I ‘m about to engulf.  Just as do so I notice a tiny geyser of cream, like a bubble bursting or something. Except that it’s not a bubble. More like little projections. I bring the spoon to my eyes. And I see him. A tiny tiny man sunk deep into the mousse, waving his arms…Steve... Steve is on my spoon…Alive, shouting…  I stare hard, mouth opened, in utter disbelief. Am I dreaming again?  I can nearly make out his screams now. Oh my god, it’s real. It really is Steve, he’s waving at me. I’m holding him on my spoon. It’s really happening. “Steve?”

           I hear a tiny “Yeeeeehaaaaw!!!” coming from the minuscule shape.  “Oh my God”,  my hand starts shaking and I lower the spoon on the plate in front of me. “Oh my god”. I lower my face  and yes, I can make out Steve’s shape quite clearly now. An intense glee is engulfing me. He made it, not only did he got noticed but he got noticed by me, in this house. How did he do this? And then the cold sweat of realization comes along too. I was a split second from swallowing him alive.  I would have… swallowed him…digested him…and not ever know it.  My head spins and I sat back for a second, fighting the sudden nausea.

            “Suzie, come in the kitchen!! Quick!!” I shout, as I lean closer. I cautiously use the tip of my finger to try and dislodge him from the mousse, but I see with horror, that his body his sinking even deeper, his head just about above level. A sudden shout from him makes me stop instantly. I’m confused, too excited to think straight. My heart is beating too fast. I need to relax, to think. Lets’ do this right.  “Hold on ,darling, I’m getting a magnifier, and a pair of tweezers, I’ll get you out! I love you!! I love you!!” a tiny arm is sticking out in acquiescence from the mousse.

             I run to the bath room, my mind in turmoil. Tweezers, tweezers, where does Suzie keep the bloody things? I open drawers, spills their contents, fumble a while. I see them. A shiny pair of tweezers. I rush to the lounge to the magnifier I had noticed was always on the shelf. My God, Steve is ok, we’re Ok. We gonna pull through this. We’ll find a way. Even as I think this, going back to the kitchen, I have this weird pang of despair that tells me that we’re not back to normal, we’re back to an impossible situation. He’s so small. I can hardly see him. How are we going to speak?  How are we going to…


           Suzie is in the kitchen, turning to me. She takes the spoon off her mouth. “What’s the story?” she says........ “What? What's with the face?..... Oh my God, Oh my God, but...it's just a spoonful! Do you think it's gonna show?" shes says, passing a hand on her perfect tanned belly, a worried look on her face.

 

The end


nostromo,            17th December 2006

This story archived at http://www.giantessworld.net/viewstory.php?sid=391