The Biggest Party in Town - Ch 13

The Next Morning – Kirsty

With light creeping in through the hole in the building, the noises of people coming and going had finally died down. The emergency services who’d cordoned off the Wylde Estate had tramped in and out of the devastated kitchen, through the house, all around the garden, and made their assessments. People had been questioned and let go, or otherwise taken to hospital, or wherever. Most importantly, Mackenzie and Taylor had stopped snooping around to take care of shit in some other part of the house, or to go with the authorities to spin whatever lies they were going to use to get themselves out of this. It was finally safe to come out of hiding.

Kirsty crept out from the fragment of kitchen cupboard she’d been using for shelter and checked the landscape of rubble ahead. The room, with its smashed walls and lack of ceiling, debris the size of ruined buildings, looked like a war zone. But it was quiet now. They could make their way inside. Patrick and Gina, her shrunken companions, came out slowly behind her. He was a muscly football player, she a whiny ginger-haired girl with glasses, and it’d been a chore to keep them from giving the game away. Never mind that they’d been accidentally shrunk by Taylor and their third friend was missing, probably stomped on by either Taylor or Mackenzie – these two had still wanted to flag down anyone they could for help. Kirsty argued hard that the giant girls could not be trusted (just look what happened to Faith, for fuck’s sake!), and insisted they stick together. If she was going to stand any chance of getting one of those devices working again unseen, she needed help.

Kirsty listened for movement and heard talking far away. It was safe, she decided, and waved at the other two to follow. They clambered down some broken bricks and made their way onto the tiles, to a nice open space. There was a long way to go to get back to the basement, but it looked clear enough ahead. Together, the trio crept out of the kitchen and down the hall, moving around discarded bottles and cups much larger than they were. There was a pair of bunched-up panties on the floor, big enough for them to make a tent out of – gross. It was all disgusting really, the remains of a party at huge size.

There was the basement door, though. Kirsty pressed on towards it, telling the others this was it, they were almost there. And footsteps thumped nearby. She froze in the middle of the hall, glanced back to the others, who looked as frightened as she felt. It came too quickly, the giant must’ve been close and not moving before – a huge shape swept around the corner of the hall and trod into view. Kirsty let out a relieved breath.

Tammy. She’d never been so happy to see the stoner, a beauty she now decided, in her massive form, those bare legs magnificently on show in her jean cut-offs, soft face pleasant as she carelessly toked on a joint. She murmured, “Where’d everyone go?”

She paused, spotting the three tiny people in the middle of the floor before they could move. Her eyes took them in without surprise, but her lips teased a little smile.

“Nice,” she whispered to herself, and stepped closer, dirty white trainers thumping towards them.

Gina whimpered like she was about to bolt but Kirsty, admittedly fighting down her own nerves, held up a hand and said, “It’s okay, she’s a friend. Tammy, hey! Down here! You have to help us!”

“Yeah, man,” Tammy said happily, crouching over them. Her smile showed off white teeth as her hand came up, fingers spreading.

Kirsty flinched back, calling out, “Hey, hold up –”

Tammy picked her up roughly, and held her in a sweaty fist as she placed her joint in the corner of her mouth, freeing up her other hand to reach for the other two.

“Run!” Gina shrieked, but didn’t get two steps as Tammy’s hand bundled her and Patrick together, to be clamped in another fist. As the giant stoner sat back on her haunches, Kirsty wormed her way up from her fingers, irritably slapping her flesh.

“Hey! Not cool!” she shouted. “Listen, Tammy – there’s a device that can make us big again. Are you listening to me?”

She appeared to be paying attention, with her giant eyes studying Kirsty. Eyes almost black from the size of her intoxicated pupils. She looked amused and said, “Just what I need. Not normal snacks.”

“Tammy!” Kirsty raised her voice even more. “Don’t piss me off! You can put me the fuck down now or so help me – would you two shut up!” she snarled towards Tammy’s other hand, where Patrick and Gina were fighting to get out from the gaps in the stoner’s fingers. Tammy was considering them all carefully, with the intense thoughtfulness of someone deeply high. Kirsty huffed. “Now listen. Get your grubby hands off me and do what I say.”

“What you said,” Tammy replied, carefully, “is that you’re delicious. And I’m really fucking hungry. I came down here for food, so, you know . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t think you’d be here otherwise?”

Kirsty had to take a moment, forehead folding in trying to figure out that logic. A weird mix of references to what they’d said to her when they had her shrunken friends. “You idiot. We’ve been –”

Tammy yawned loudly, looking away as if just noticing the state of the empty house. Her joint fell unnoticed from her mouth. Sunlight was coming in. “Shit. When did the party end? Have you guys seen Fino? Probably gone home. Man. I should, too. Get some sleep.” She rose up to her full height, making Patrick and Gina cry with surprise, and even Kirsty couldn’t help holding on tight. The floor suddenly looked terribly far down, and she had a sinking feeling that Tammy, not really listening, might just idly carry them home with her.

“Listen to me!” Kirsty said again, changing pitch to be more reasonable. Authoritative. “We have been shrunk. We need to go down the stairs. There’s –”

“Sure. Down,” Tammy said. “One for the road. Two for later.”

“What? No, you’re not –” Kirsty started, but they were all suddenly moving; Tammy’s other hand dropped to the pocket of her short shorts as Kirsty was carried closer to her face. She distantly heard Patrick and Gina shouting for help as they were shoved into Tammy’s pocket, and she stared with horror as the stoner’s massive mouth opened. At last, the reality of her situation hit her, and Kirsty was gripped with fear, seeing a wet tongue twice her width, teeth glistening with saliva, and a deadly dark cave ahead. The stoner wasn’t fully aware what she was doing, couldn’t be reasoned with. Kirsty pushed hard at her fingers, all her strength doing nothing to move the giant woman even a tiny bit. Idly, Tammy shoved Kirsty inside, as she screamed, “Stop it, no!”

Kirsty fell onto the tongue, and she skidded to one side, hitting her head against a tooth. She tried to right herself but was knocked down as Tammy’s tongue rolled under her, teasing her to one side. Tasting. The stone hummed happily, and Kirsty bounced in her moving mouth as she mumbled, “So good.”

“Tammy!” Kirsty cried as she crawled frantically for the light of Tammy’s parting lips. She burst between her teeth, arms reaching into open air. “You skivvy stoner scum –”

But Tammy’s teeth clamped on her chest, holding her in place, and the tongue worked to roll her over. Kirsty held onto her upper lip as she looked up past her big nostrils, just able to see her massive eyes looking down at her. Impassive.

“Please,” Kirsty said, pathetically. “Don’t.”

Tammy winked, then sucked her in with a slurp, right into the back of a gulping throat. Kirsty screamed all the way down, into the dark, digesting depths of Tammy’s stomach.

One Week Later – Mackenzie

Impossibly, life was slowly returning to normal. The night of the party had been chaos, a nightmare even, and throughout the next day Mackenzie hadn’t been sure how they’d ever move on. From the fever dream of seeing Faith smash out of the house in giant form, eating and stomping on people, and Mackenzie following as a giant herself, seeing the tiny world from up high, things had shifted into a mess of flashing lights and people in uniforms demanding answers. Injured students, blood stains on the tiles, ambulances coming and going. There’d been a concrete cell and angry detectives. Dishevelled Taylor in need of comforting. Mackenzie had handled it somehow all on automatic, claiming simply that she didn’t know what had happened. Someone must’ve spiked their drinks, no one really understood what they’d seen. That was as logical an explanation as anything the police were given, because the accounts of seeing giant women fighting in the garden were too messed up to believe.

There were photos, of course, and videos, but the instinctive reaction from the authorities, and the world at large, was that it was all a hoax.

By mid-morning, Mackenzie’s father had resurfaced and he took over, and by the afternoon she was restricted to her room while a clear-up operation began. When she came down for dinner, the house had mostly been cleaned up, cracks in the walls plastered and windows repaired, with only the gutted kitchen still awaiting a major overhaul. The garden still looked like it had been hit by an earthquake, but the blood stains were gone. Dr Wylde was beyond anger by this point: he merely told Mackenzie this must never happen again, in a way that suggested he held himself more responsible than her. He must’ve had excellent connections somewhere, because in the days that followed there was minimal additional investigation, and the story that filtered out through town was that nothing unbelievable had occurred, just a series of incredibly unfortunate gas explosions. Too many people moving around a house not equipped for the strain, air pockets under the garden, something like that. The bottom line being that the thirty-four or so missing students, whose remains couldn’t even be found, had been caught in eviscerating explosions. Within the week, as students filtered back to school, the traumatised witnesses started speaking to one another as if they genuinely believed that; some said they’d actually seen the fireballs, while others, more hesitantly, joked their memories off making up weird hallucinations they’d seen, presumably because of the gas. Strangely, the photos and videos quickly disappeared – more evidence of Dr Wylde’s connections. Within a day of the event, no evidence of the truth could be found, and any mention of the photos was made to seem disrespectful, as if they’d been made by someone taking advantage of a tragedy.

More people spoke to Mackenzie after that, patting her back, asking how she was, how the repairs were going. They spoke happily to Taylor too, recalling her hologram show and realising how much of a catch she really was. (One or two even put that together to explain their actual memories: hadn’t Mackenzie and Taylor had a fight while hocked into that giant projector?) In general, the students banded together to support each other, to get over the tragedy and put it behind them. The authorities, satisfied with the explanations that had arisen, left it all alone. But Mackenzie knew the truth of it. It was partly her fault, really, for not securing the technology better, or not stopping the mad girls sooner. For even inviting them to her house in the first place. Lola and Cody were gone, and she didn’t know how. Most likely eaten by those bitches. So many others were gone without proper explanations.

Mackenzie was tired but wanted to move on. Determinedly, she told herself there would be a way through. With things settling, she came back from another maudlin day at college to go straight up to her room. Throwing her bag on the bed, she went to her dresser and opened the top drawer, containing her thick socks and cotton panties. The light coming in made Faith squint up at Mackenzie, mouse-like as she scuttled sideways into the underwear. As if there was anywhere she could go, or any chance of escaping at only three inches tall. Mackenzie reached in and grabbed her and Faith punched at her fingers and told her to let go, as she always did. She carried her back to the bed and sat down, holding her miniature captive up to her face. She waited until Faith tired herself out, to rest on top of her hand with a hateful expression. Still beautiful, even if she was a murderous psycho. Still wearing her party dress, black hair a mess, though Mackenzie had washed her a few times now.

“Everyone’s moving on, for sure,” Mackenzie told her. “Time to put the tragedy behind us, they’re all saying. The Dean announced they’re gonna put up a memorial to everyone who was lost. Your name will be on it, don’t worry. People have this vague idea you did something bad, but by this point they don’t trust their own memories. No one even blames you. I mean, they think you’re dead, after all, so what difference does it make?”

“You can’t keep me like this,” Faith growled. Not for the first time. “Dammit, Mac. I’m a person. You liked me.”

“I still do. Kind of. I mean, I can make this work.”

“Fuck you. Let me go. Change me back. They’ll get you for this.”

Mackenzie laughed, more bitter than amused. “Nah. No one’s looking for you. I’m the only one still looking for anyone else that might be left, but I think at this point they’re all gone. Whoever else you shrank. Sorry, Faith, but I’m the only person who knows you exist now. I’m all you’ve got.”

Faith shook with barely contained rage; Mackenzie could practically feel her heat rise through her fingers. She adjusted her grip, enjoying the lightness of this beautiful woman contained in her hand.

“Anyway,” Mackenzie sighed. “It’s been a long day, I think we’ve earned some relaxing time before dinner. You look gorgeous as always, by the way, you know?”

“Let me go,” Faith repeated, through gritted teeth.

“No, Faith. Do you really not get it yet? You killed people. You went nuts. If I turned you back, it’d only be to put you in prison. Or worse. At least this way you’ll be comfortable, and I can personally see to your punishments.”

“Punishments?” Faith said, a crack in her defiant anger.

It’d been a week now, of gentle care and fairly hesitant interaction. Mackenzie had been unsure what to do. Distracted by guilt and sadness. But she was getting over it now.

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, it’s a matter of perspective. You’re mine, now, Faith, and I’m going to enjoy having you all to myself. You might enjoy it too, if you let yourself. But something tells me you won’t.”

“The hell, Mac? Don’t be a creep – if you really liked me, you would let me go. You wouldn’t hurt me or do anything. I’m a person.”

“I guess I don’t like you that much anymore,” Mackenzie said, cheerily, and reclined down onto her elbows, lowering Faith to hover just above her belly. “But I do intend to enjoy your company.” Her other hand went to her belt and Faith twisted around to see. As Mackenzie slid the buckle aside, and started unbuttoning her jeans, her tiny captive began struggling again, huffing as she uselessly pushed at her fingers.

“No, Mackenzie, dammit! Don’t you dare!”

“Shh, Faith,” Mackenzie whispered, sliding her hand into her panties. “This time, I’m inviting you to a very different kind of party . . .”