Jake held his hands over his head, his breathing hard and fast as he tried to calm himself down, tried in vain to understand the world he had so rudely been thrust into. At Tanner’s calls he had run under the bench, feeling the great vibration in the earth, daring not to look back as he sprinted away. But he saw the shadows on the floor. He saw them stretch and continue, on and on, like some great horror about to transform the ground into a gaping pit to suck him down. He couldn’t stop his mind from imagining what eldritch horrors could have such a presence.

Cowering under the workout bench, the tiny boy had barely worked up the courage to look behind him. When he did, he found three pairs of legs ascending into the sky, coming to the floor in thick shoes that were larger than any living creature he had ever scene. The fact that they were laying where he had been standing not ten minutes ago only worsened his dread.

He could hear them, too. A low reverberation that physically shook him; even their words held power on the level of a god. Yet they sounded lighthearted, like they were just enjoying a regular day. A normal life, in a normal world, where death wasn’t around every single corner, only a step away.

Thoughts crept into little Jake’s mind. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought. Yeah, they’re huge, but they would notice him if he tried hard enough. All it would take was a glance downward, a single look. That’s all he needed.

But if he was wanted to be found he couldn’t stay under the bench. The boy pulled his eyes from the shadowy floor, looking across the landscape to where the girls’ shoes lay. He would need to go outside.

He gulped once, stood up, shook his head violently, ran his fingers through his hair a few times, first messing it up then shaping it back into position, before smiling. “I can do this,” he said, moving. “I can do this.” Step after step he continued to walk forward, looking at anything other than the titans, until he felt light envelope his person.

Suddenly he was out of the bench. He was in the open, a spec upon the ground, his form miniscule between two of the girls’ feet. When he looked to his right he saw what he could only imagine was Mrs. Brooks’ shoe. White and pink, with a thick sole that had probably been well cushioned once, but had long since turned into a slab of hard rubber that would be as unforgiving to him as it would be to a bug. Turning to his left he saw a black running shoe, cut with slight tinges of orange around the sole and the Nike logo. It almost looked new on first sight, but there was dirt and grime smeared into the fabric just like Mrs. Brooks’.

He recognized this sneaker as well. It belonged to the girl he saw at the gym all the time, who he always tried to talk to when they passed in the hall. Bree. But he was no good at talking to her. Every time he tried he’d stumble over himself and start stammering, talking about the weather, or on one poor occasion his rock collection, droning on and on like the world’s most incessant boring machine.

And now she was towering over him, a god.

He shook his head out again, snapping out of his stupor. “Hey, down here!” the boy shouted, jumping up and screaming to the girls. He saw movement above, and for a moment he thought that his plan might have worked. His hopes were shattered as Bree said a few words to her friends, the power of her voice drowning out his tiny chirps completely, the soundwaves almost forcing him down from their sheer strength. “Come on,” he said meekly, trying to wave up to the girl and quickly losing faith.

And then the girl moved a bit, shifting her weight so that she leaned closer to the older of her companions, her breasts, barely held by a tank top, hovered directly over little Jake’s body. They dangled there for a moment, the light reflecting off their glossy surface, made shiny by the loose sheen of sweat that covered her skin.

Jake could do nothing but stare up at the globes, marveling in awe at the sheer size of the girl’s breasts. Bree didn’t have the largest boobs in the world, but Jake had always thought that they had an attractive shape. Rounded, perky, the exact right size to gently press your face against. Now though, they were mountains, literal mountains, that were hanging over his head.

So enraptured was Jake that he didn’t notice the small droplet condensing on the underside of her skin. The moist bubble grew until it could no longer support itself, the sweat bead dripping off the giant girl and falling to the ground, impacting the floor, impacting the tiny boy so unlucky as to be under it, with a tiny squelch.

Suddenly Jake’s world became a spinning chaos as the fluids moved violently around him, carrying his body around the newly formed bead of sweat that had smashed into the ground. His head hit the floor below and he was able to orient himself, bracing against the still turbulent flow.

When he opened his eyes everything seemed blurred, the murky liquid barely allowing any light to pass through. But that didn’t matter, not nearly so much as escaping the bubble. Already Jake’s lounges were beginning to tire. He hadn’t taken a gulp in before the droplet hit; there was no way he could last more than a minute without air.

He swam to the edge of the sweat drop, thinking that he could just push himself out. This delusion was broken when he came to the wall, finding that his hands could not pass through, finding that he wasn’t strong enough to break the surface tension even when he pushed against it with all his might.

His eyes started to bulge as he desperately beat his fist against the inner walls of his crush’s sweat drop, his lunges burning, begging for the escape that was literal millimeters away. This couldn’t be how it ended… not drowned. Not in a sweat bubble. Not in her sweat bubble.  

He looked out, his wide eyes seeing through the haze enough to make out the orange swish of Bree’s sneaker. She could help him if she wanted. It would be simple for her, barely even an action. Just lean over and wipe the sweat away, and he would be free. He didn’t even need to be found, just break the bubble!

Bree, please… he begged silently, for he knew that if he went to scream his mouth would fill with her sweat. Just help me. Please…

She wouldn’t even need to bend over to save him. She could just use her foot. That would be fine, something a bug like him would deserve. If she just lifted her sneaker up, moved it over… just stepped on the bubble. It would explode, the slime moving to fill the space between her treads, but he would live.

If she would only step on him.

As his vision started to go black he found himself pressing up against the walls, starring at her sneaker. Please Bree. I love you, please. Please. Please just… just… step on me.

The pain was too much. He opened his mouth, desperate for a breath of air. Instead he was granted the taste of salt and slime.

It was the last thing he would ever experience.