Handicapped Space
By Minimizer
Chapter 1
"Come on, Cammie, quit sucking face in there and get back to the party!"
The pounding on the door startled Camille far more than the shouting did. Fortunately, her boyfriend's face pulled back quickly, just in time to keep his tongue from getting bitten as she withdrew. Matt grinned, rubbing his fingers across the thin fuzz of half-grown whiskers that lined his square, crisply angled chin.
"Not now, Jordan!" Camille called back irately. "I'll be right out! And I wasn't sucking face, either--not like it's any business of yours!"
"Su-u-u-ure you weren't!" came the instant reply, punctuated by a quick giggle amidst the unveiled sarcasm. "Come on, they're announcing the pledge choices in a couple of minutes!"
Cammie sighed and brushed her wavy black hair back behind her ears. "Sorry, Matt," she said sadly. "Now, don't go anywhere, mister! You're not done massaging my throat yet!"
The blonde-haired young man, impeccably groomed and quite possibly the handsomest man on campus, was already buttoning his shirt back up. "You know it's almost curfew," he told her, and Camille felt her heart sink just a little. "Besides, I've got homework. I'm going to be up for at least three more hours as it is."
"Come on, stick around!" she begged. "Please, just a quickie, after the meeting? Ple-e-e-ease?"
He shook his head and let the corners of his warm, inviting mouth curl up in the slyest of smiles. "Sorry, babe, you know I'd love to, but I just can't wait around for your sisters to get their act together..."
"Shit, sometimes I wonder why I bother with this stupid sorority anyway!" Camille reached back to refasten her bra, a task she accomplished with practiced ease, and then swept her Alpha Chi Epsilon sweater back on with a swift flourish. "Tell me why I stick with this house again?" she asked with an impish grin as she started brushing her shoulder-length locks back into place.
"Because your mother was in this sorority," Matt replied with the air of someone who'd said all of this at least a couple of times before--which, of course, he had. "The women of the Helmsford line have all been aces. Besides, all your friends are in this house, and of course, it's a free place to live while you're in school."
"And?" Cammie asked, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's waist. "Go on, tell me the most important reason. You know you want to."
He bent his head and looked down into her eyes, which were about ten inches below hers. God, he was handsome, she thought dreamily, wishing she could do more than just look at him right now.
"Because it's the best way to meet guys like me," laughed Matt. "Why else?"
"You are so right, as always," Camille agreed, standing on tip-toes to give him a lasting kiss on the lips. With a hopeful sigh, she put on her best pouty and disappointed expression. "Now go on, if you really have to go, and I'll see you tomorrow night."
"See you later," he agreed, but his smile promised something more. Cammie smiled as she left her room, confident her kiss had done its work.
She knew he'd still be there when she got back.
"So, who do you think they're going to pick?" asked Jordan, looking out over the sea of hopeful freshmen.
In contrast to her friend Camille, Jordan Metzler stood three inches shorter at the comfortably average height of five feet, four inches. Content to keep her appearance simple, the shorter girl wore her highlighted brown hair in a stylishly unassuming pageboy look and sported virtually no jewelry whatsoever. Both women were quite attractive, but Camille was the more athletically inclined of the two, while Jordan possessed a natural thinness that made her friend secretly jealous. In fact, at the moment she was nibbling on yet another hors d'oeuvre, a colorful-looking arrangement of icing and candy piled upon a thick, chocolate-coated cookie. Cammie almost never snacked, and hated to think how much time she'd have to spend in the gym to work off just one of those truly evil-looking desserts.
"No, seriously, who do you think they'll pick?" Jordan repeated after a moment, still studying the roomful of jabbering freshmen.
"I have no idea," Camille said after a moment, realizing now that Jordan actually expected a real reply. The question seemed rhetorical at first, but Jordan was honestly curious. "Doesn't really matter, I guess. We'll find out soon enough."
Cammie hadn't paid much attention to the twenty or thirty pledges, all of whom were hoping to become Alpha Chi Epsilon members--or "aces," as the sorority's acronym suggested. As sophomores, earning their membership only last year, neither Camille nor Jordan had any say in who was selected. Only the seniors, nine in all, were entitled to make that decision.
Camille took a moment to glance at each of the excited-looking applicants. The vast majority of them appeared plain or simply unattractive, hoping to get into the sorority on their academic merits. Some, like Cammie herself, probably had mothers or grandmothers who were aces--as if that alone permitted membership in one of the most desirable houses on campus! A lucky few likely came from rich families and hoped to buy their way into the sorority. This, of course, was the very same tactic Jordan used successfully the previous year, as the Alpha Chi Epsilon House's impressive new entertainment center could attest.
Then there were the long shots--potential pledges with nothing really to offer. Poor, perhaps, and looking for a room somewhere other than the dorms or off-campus housing. Some were clearly unattractive, but brought with them a strong work ethic they hoped to energize the sorority. A few probably participated in Rush Week only in the hopes of meeting a guy and forming a long-lasting relationship--yeah, like that would ever happen! And finally, there were the lost, lonely ones with no chance at all. Why, there was even a--
Camille froze. Sitting near the back of the room, hopeful as the rest, was a plain-looking blonde woman in a fairly expensive and neatly pressed outfit. Smiling amiably and comfortably, she was chatting with two of Cammie's sorority sisters. What made the potential pledge stand out wasn't her looks or dress, though, but what she was sitting in.
A wheelchair!
"Oh, hey," Jordan put in a second later. "Did you see Diane? The paraplegic? You think they'll pick her?"
"God, I hope not," muttered Cammie, almost in a growl.
"What?" Jordan turned to look at her, a horrified expression on her face. "Why do you say that? Have you talked to her? What's she like? What, is she a bitch or something?"
"No, no, I haven't talked to her," said Camille. "I just noticed her for the first time. I just don't like handicapped people, that's all. They, uh, make me, um, nervous."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"It doesn't matter!" snapped Cammie. "I just don't like them, okay?"
"Okay, okay! Whatever!" Jordan shook her head. "Sheesh, what did a handicapped person ever do to you?"
Camille shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to decide how to answer--or even if she wanted to answer. What, indeed? Only suck up attention, money, and other resources that could've been better used elsewhere. Only take advantage of their handicap to advance themselves over her. Only ruin her life, more than once...
Fortunately, the seniors saved her from the trouble of a reply. Lisa Horton, president of the sorority (bearing the unique title of "Ace of Hearts"), suddenly spoke up from the right side of the room, bringing the murmur of conversation in the living room to a swift and resounding halt.
"Greetings, everyone!" she called out loudly, in the crisply measured voice that, along with her leadership skills, were the traits that won her the presidency for the present school year. "I hope you're all enjoying the party!"
A cheer went up, but just as quickly died as Lisa raised her punch glass into the air. "Then I hope you'll join me in a toast to all Alpha Chi Epsilon members--past, present, and future!"
"Hear, hear!" the others yelled, and almost as one everyone in the room took a swig from their cups. Camille, who hadn't refilled her glass, mimed taking a sip and waited for the announcement nervously.
"And speaking of future members," Lisa went on, "it's time to let you all know who we've selected to pledge our sorority this year. Those who aren't picked will be asked to leave the house immediately."
A laugh went up at the reference to a popular reality show. "Sorry, just kidding," continued Lisa. "You can stay for the rest of the party, of course. I wish we could take all of you, you know! We just don't have that many rooms!"
More laughter. Cammie frowned and wished Lisa would just get on with it, so she could hear the bad news.
"All right," said the erstwhile Ace of Hearts, "without any further ado, let me list those of you who'll be pledging Alpha Chi Epsilon this year. Hold your applause till the end, okay? Okay! Now, our first new pledge is..."
Camille held her breath as Lisa read each name, one after another. Please, don't say Diane. Please don't. Please...
But she did.
Chapter 2
"Damn them! Damn them to Hell!"
"What?" demanded Matt as Cammie stormed back into her room, slamming the door loudly enough to draw shouts of protests from deeper in the house. After all, he expected quite a different reaction when she returned to find him waiting there, and was somewhat taken aback by her obvious frustration. "What happened, babe? Is everything okay?"
Camille was furious, all but tearing off her shoes and throwing them into her closet with a loud thump. "Those idiots! They're letting a--a goddamn cripple pledge our sorority!"
Matt's head moved slightly backward and twisted to one side, giving her a quizzical look. "Huh?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.
"You heard me!" Camille all but yelled. "There's this girl, Diane Renfrew, who's in a wheelchair. They're letting her be an ace! Can you believe it?"
"Forgive me if I don't follow," said Matt shakily, "but what's so bad about that? You know the school just recently put in handicapped accessways in all the buildings, right? They're trying to make the college open to the...uh, less fortunate."
"That's exactly the problem, don't you see?" complained Cammie, still not showing any signs of cooling off. "Do you realize how much money they spent on all those sloping sidewalks and shit like that? They could've put that cash into something that benefits the rest of us! Something that helps everybody!"
"Umm, okay, I guess so," said Matt, still worried he might say the wrong thing and get his head bitten off. "What does that have to do with a handicapped person joining your sorority?"
"Plenty! You know the bathroom renovation we were going to get? Well, now we aren't getting it! The council just announced that if Diane makes it through pledge week, they're using that money to build a ramp so she can get into the house more easily! They're wasting it all on just one person!"
"Okay, well, they must've had a good reason for making such a drastic decision," Matt went on, acutely aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. "Surely they didn't bring on this Diane person simply because she's handicapped, did they?"
"Of course they did!" Camille retorted. "Oh, yeah, so she has a three-point-five grade point average in high school! Whoop-de-doo! Her family's dirt poor and has no history with the sorority! The sisters picked the cripple to get attention, that's all! It's all about PR, and the rest of us have to suffer for it!"
Matt sighed. A bit fed up by his girlfriend's pacing and seething, he took a few steps towards her and grabbed her shoulders tightly. "Camille," he intoned in a deliberately intense manner, "I've heard you bitch about handicapped parking spaces before, but this is going a bit far, don't you think? What's really going on?"
Cammie grabbed his hands and tried to pull them apart, but he had her shoulders firmly in his grasp. Instead of struggling further, she took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes. "Look, Matt, you can't understand. My parents don't have any money. I've had to earn my way into school, and fight for everything I have. I go to the gym every single day to keep myself in shape, and I study like mad to keep the grades respectable. I worked my ass off to get here! And then, people like Diane come in, and--"
"Yeah, yeah," Matt interrupted, "let me guess. They get it given to them on a silver platter. You know who else gets accused of stuff like that? The NAACP, for one, and just about any other minority group that has its own scholarship program!"
"You don't get it," she went on, not bothering to listen to his words. "I've seen it happen. It's happened to me! I was up for a scholarship, you know. I could've had my tuition paid for. But no! The academic board picked a crippled girl over me, even though I had better grades. Why? They said it was because she had a 'broader spectrum of classes.' Liars! It was because she was handicapped, and taking her was politically correct. Well, fuck that!"
"Cammie, you're getting hysterical," Matt insisted, trying to hold his girlfriend in place. She was getting angrier by the moment.
"I'm fucking sick of it!" Camille shouted. "I'm sick and tired of working like a dog and having somebody else get what should be mine! Every time I have to watch one of those assholes get the prime parking spot at the store, I want to smash their headlights! Every time I hear about crippled people sucking up tax dollars on health care, I want to scream! They shouldn't let anyone with a handicap even live in this country! They should send them all away! Or better yet, just euthanize them all! Yeah, that would do it! That would solve all our problems!"
Matthew let her go then, a horrified expression on his face. "You--you're serious, aren't you?" he muttered.
"Of course I am!" Cammie answered instantly. "Don't you get it? This world would be a better place if there weren't any handicapped people at all!"
Matt's shoulders slumped and he turned for the door. "I'm sorry to hear you say that," he said sadly. "I haven't known you all that long, Camille, but I really liked you. I don't think we're going to work out, though."
"What?" Cammie rushed towards him, but he pushed her away. The look on her face was one of total befuddlement. "You--you're not--you can't break up with me! Not over this!"
"I'm sorry, I have to," Matt replied with a sad shake of his head. He opened the door and stepped through, turning to face her one last time. "I never told you this, but I have a younger brother. His name is Stephen."
"W-what does that have to do...?"
"Everything," Matt answered. "You see, he has Down's syndrome."
With that, he closed the door, leaving Camille there with an expression of total horror on her face.
"Cammie? You in there?"
The knock on the door was softer than before, but the voice no less voluminous. "Come on, Cammie!" Jordan called. "I saw Matt leaving, and he didn't look all that happy! What's going on?"
"Nothing! Leave me alone!" Camille wailed, her tear-soaked face half-buried in a pillow.
Jordan ignored her and came in anyway. "What happened?" she all but begged.
"He broke up with me!" Cammie choked between sobs. "He--he just left! He said he couldn't--didn't want to stay with me, all because I didn't want a cripple in the house!"
"Huh?" Jordan looked confused. "What about a cripple--?"
"Diane, the new pledge!" Cammie answered with another sob. "I told him my story. How I lost my scholarship. I didn't tell him the rest. Grandma getting run over by that freak, and what happened to Robbie and Kath. Or any of the rest of it. He didn't give me a chance to explain!"
Jordan sat down on the bed and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "C'mon, Cammie, you can't blame Diane for--"
"It's not her!" Camille cried. "It's all of it! Handicapped people! They should be sent away! The rest of us normal people shouldn't have to deal with them! Now I lost my boyfriend because of them! Why don't they just leave me alone?"
"C'mon, Cammie, if you just talked to Diane, you'd see she's nice. The things she's had to deal with in her life...it's just amazing she's even here at all! I can see why the sisters picked her!"
"Oh, sure you can," hissed Camille. "It's a trick! Don't you get it? They want sympathy! That's all the crips ever do! They lull you in, get you to feel sorry for them, and they milk it for all it's worth! Well, I'm not going to share my house with one of them! Either she goes or I go!"
"Don't say that!" Jordan argued quickly. "Please, Cammie, don't make a decision like that in anger! Maybe you had too much to drink--"
"I'm not drunk! I'm seeing things more clearly now than I ever have! I know what I'm saying!"
"Then sleep on it," Jordan pressed. "Please, Camille, you're my best friend! I don't want you to move out because of some stupid pledge! Get some sleep and maybe things will seem different in the morning, okay?"
"No!" Cammie argued, but she could see the urgency in her friend's eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that! Okay, fine! I'll sleep on it, but I'm still going to feel the same way tomorrow! Don't expect anything to change!"
"I'll bet they do," Jordan insisted. "You'll see. When you get up tomorrow, I'll bet you find you can look at this whole thing from a totally different point of view."
"We'll see," said Camille doubtfully. "We'll just see about that!"
Chapter 3
Camille could hear Jordan's voice saying something, but didn't care. She was too sleepy, the dream too enticing. Like most such dreams, she wouldn't remember it after awakening, and the content didn't really matter anyway. What was important was sleeping a bit longer.
Just another minute...was that too much to ask?
Jordan stomped into the room and shoved her drowsy friend. "Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get up! You don't want to be late to class, do you? Don't forget, we have to meet the pledges beforehand!"
Cammie rolled over, yawned, and gave a protracted stretch. "Okay, whatever," she groaned. "I'm getting up, already."
"You'd better," insisted Jordan, turning around quickly and heading back out the way she came. A swath of waist-length brown hair swept around her like a cloak as she disappeared into the hallway. Camille sighed and sat up, shaking her head to clear away the cobwebs. Sometimes she really hated the way her friend seemed so perky in the morning.
Just as she was about to stand up, she paused, trying to get her still-foggy brain to work. Wait a minute, she thought wearily. Where did Jordan get the long hair? What happened to the pageboy, and where did the highlights go? Is she wearing a wig or something?
That wasn't the only thing wrong, either. Camille immediately realized she wasn't in her room, nor was she in her own bed. This one was smaller and less springy than her own. Plus, where was her furniture, and decorations, and curtains? Where were all her stuffed animals, school supplies, and pictures of Matt? Not only that, but there was something wrong with the walls and floor. They didn't look normal, but seemed to shine and glisten in the weak light coming through the window.
Curious and confused, Cammie got to her feet at last, slipping out from under the strangely rough covers. Immediately she had a new surprise--she wasn't in her own clothes! She normally wore a pair of silk shorts and a teddy to bed, but what she had on now was a long, horrifyingly frilly nightgown. Far from the smooth fabrics she preferred, this one was coarse and uncomfortable. How did she ever get through the night in something like this?
Putting that out of her mind for a moment, she reached out a hand to check out the wall. The surface was mostly smooth, but had noticeable imperfections, as if whoever made it didn't bother to make sure they did a quality job. That wasn't the surprising thing, though. What shook Camille the most was that the wall was made of plastic!
She stepped through the doorway and checked the other side, which was plastic as well. Apparently, it was the same all the way through. Then she noticed there was no door at all. What kind of house was made of plastic and had no doors?
Must be a joke, she thought, moving over to the window. Looking out, all she could see was a wall a short distance away. Obviously she was on the second floor of this strange house, but the ground outside looked like it was made of wood. Some kind of demo home, perhaps?
But how did she get here? All she could remember was falling asleep almost instantly the night before. Strange. With what was going on with Matt, she figured she'd toss and turn. What did that mean? Did she somehow subconsciously want to break up with him...?
No, of course not! She liked him a lot, and she could easily see herself falling in love with a man like that. Maybe she already had. Of course he didn't mean what he said before he left. She'd just call him and apologize. At least publicly, anyway. She still wouldn't change her mind about how she felt about Diane and other cripples. That subject would just have to be taboo from now on, at least around Matt. Of course, if his little brother really was retarded...well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
Jordan suddenly reappeared in the hallway. "What are you doing?" she demanded, hands planted firmly on hips. "You haven't even had your bath yet! Go on, go! We've only got twenty minutes, if that! Geez, I swear, you're such a slug in the morning!"
Camille started to reply, but found herself at a loss for words. Jordan wasn't just wearing long hair for the first time in her life. She also had on a flowery one-piece dress and absolutely no makeup at all. Sure, she generally didn't like jewelry and fancy outfits, but there was no way that Jordan, who'd been Cammie's friend since high school, would ever leave her house without eye shadow and lipstick, much less in a 1970s reject outfit like the one she was wearing. And with tennis shoes on, too!
"What happened, did retro come back into style while I was in bed?" Camille asked with a mocking grin.
"Huh? Oh, the dress! Yeah, it's new. Renee finished it last night while you were...you know. Out." She made a knowing wink, which of course meant nothing to Camille at all, and then continued on the original topic, making a quick pirouette in the hall to show off her new apparel. "Isn't it awesome? It's soft, too! Feel the material!"
Cammie reached out, against her better judgment, and slid her fingers across the horrid-looking garment. Far from being soft, the cloth felt almost as coarse as burlap. She could almost count each ropy fiber in the weave. "Seems pretty bad to me," she scoffed.
"Oh, yeah, only because you've got that silk nightgown he gave you! That Matt is such a great handler! I wish he liked me as much as you."
"Handler?" Camille shook her head, by now totally confused. What was Jordan talking about now? Nothing about any of this made sense! Jordan knew Camille and Matt broke up the night before. Why would she be insisting something else happened? And what was this business about silk? The nightdress hanging on Cammie's shoulders right now felt more like corduroy than anything else she could think of.
"Yeah, you know!" Jordan went on, rolling her eyes. "Matt Collingsworth, remember? Duh! The great big hunk of man who takes us to school every day! Like you don't know that! Come on, wake up, willya? And go get that bath before the pledges get here! You want them to meet you before you've cleaned yourself up?"
Camille shook her head. "Okay, look, I'm still kinda sleepy, but this is starting to get weird. What's going on around here? What happened to your hair, and what's the deal with this freaky plastic house you've somehow moved us into overnight?"
Jordan threw back her head and laughed out loud. Her hair, swirling lazily around her back and shoulders, simply didn't belong. "Oh, you're funny! Good one, Cammie! You know you've lived here ever since we moved on campus! Where else would we live? And what do you mean, what happened to my hair?" She started running her hands through the long, sweeping auburn locks. "Is it sticking out or something?"
"No, no, it's just that it's so--so long! It's a wig, right? Where'd you get it?"
Jordan gave another laugh that sounded more like a snort. "Oh, come on, you know I'd never cut my hair! Would you ever cut yours? Please! We're trying to be companions, y'know. Half our image is all about the coiffeur! Now quit fooling around and go take your bath!"
Coiffeur...? Jordan never used words like that! Camille was starting to wonder if this was really her friend at all, or somebody else taking her place. "Wait! You're not making any sense!"
"Just take the gosh-darn bath!" Jordan interrupted. "Go on! GO!"
Before Camille could interrupt or complain again, Jordan disappeared down the stairs, thumping along on the molded plastic floor. Cammie sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and trying to concentrate. Everything was wrong about this, and yet there was some measure of comfort, too. As if she'd been here in this strange house before.
"This has got to have something to do with pledge week," Camille muttered under her breath as she headed for her closet. "I thought hazing was only for pledges, though..."
Like the entryway to her room, the closet had no door, either. Inside, Camille found several dozen outfits, each one crazier than the next. All were brightly color-coordinated, like the neon green sweatsuit and bright blue business attire. Four dresses, each of varying lengths, possessed varying patterns, all of them exceptionally lame. They didn't look like real clothes at all--more like a parody of clothing, or maybe costumes of some kind.
Worse still, the only shoes were sneakers, save for a single pair of black pumps obviously intended for use with the suit. Curiously, they were all one piece, without laces or straps. Not even Velcro. They seemed designed to simply be slipped on.
Cammie sighed again, longer this time. Okay, someone was playing a joke on her. She could hang with that. Far worse tricks were pulled last year during her own pledge week. She'd get through this, and laugh with the others when they finally revealed the inevitable punch line--which was sure to be a doozy.
She picked one of the shorter dresses--which of course was made with the same rough fabric that seemed to comprise all the cloth in this crazy place--and started searching around for socks and underwear. She found these piled together in a single large box in the corner, alongside the weird laceless sneakers. Grabbing a set of undergarments, she headed out to try to find the bathroom.
She did, but it wasn't what she expected. The room was just for show. The sink and shower were made entirely of plastic, just like the walls. Out of curiosity, she tried turning the crudely molded faucets, but of course they didn't move. A fine layer of dust covered the surface, suggesting that nobody ever bothered to come into this particular room.
So where was the bath? She glanced around, but the only other room upstairs was Jordan's, and it was just as sparsely furnished as Camille's own. She moved downstairs, annoyed by how everything--even the staircase railing--was made of plastic.
In the kitchen, Jordan was sitting at a table, munching on something that looked like a huge purple donut. "Is that what you're wearing?" she scoffed as she saw the dress hanging from her roommate's arm. "Did you forget you wore that one last Tuesday?"
Cammie started to argue, but bit her tongue. Play along, she thought. Just play along. "No, I just like this one," she remarked casually. "Besides, the pledges won't know when I wore it last."
"True, but it's not like you to forget something like that. Oh, well, do what you want! Now what are you talking to me for? Go get your bath!" She made a shooing motion with her hand, towards a door on the other side of the kitchen.
"I'm going," Camille muttered, making her way across the room. Even the kitchen was plastic, she noted. Fake. That's what it looked like. The whole place looked fake.
At least there's a door here, she thought to herself as she tried to turn the knob, finding it locked in place. Molded as part of the door, just like most everything else in this stupid fake house! She pulled, and the portal swung open. She took a couple of steps forward, and came to a sudden, mind-jarring halt.
She was standing on her home's wooden base, the one she noticed before from her window. Only from this angle, on the opposite side of the building, she wasn't up against a wall. This afforded her a perfect view of where she was, which took her breath away.
The wooden platform seemed to stretch ahead of her, ending sharply at a misplaced horizon. Beyond that, a cavernous open space ended at a massive door hundreds of yards ahead of her. Almost as high above, a gray ceiling loomed, punctuated by what looked like iron girders painted white. Several tall wooden towers, connected in pairs by curving struts, occupied the open space between the edge of the plateau on which she stood and the amazingly faraway wall. The whole place reminded her of the inside of a sports arena, except of course for that distant door, and the strange pillars poking up in the open space.
To her right, sitting on the wooden plateau, stood a huge plastic aboveground pool complete with external stairs, diving board, and water brimming with suds. A colossal blue towel, more like a tent than a piece of cloth, lay crumpled nearby as if wadded up and thrown there by a careless giant.
The bath, she realized, staring at the pool. I'm supposed to take a bath in that?
Shrugging, Camille walked over to the huge tub and climbed the short staircase. The water inside was steaming, and she put her hand inside. Very inviting, she thought. How many boxes of soap did they use to make all these bubbles? Somebody went to a lot of trouble for this joke, so I may as well play along a little bit longer...
With a quick motion, she discarded her loose-fitting nightgown and slipped naked into the hot water. The liquid felt invigorating and strangely buoyant. Cammie did a couple of slow laps before pausing to scrub herself as clean as possible. The suds were amazingly effective, and since she had no shampoo, she used them on her hair as well. That was when she finally noticed how long her own black locks were. Now wet through, they hung down past her shoulder blades!
"Okay, this is seriously freaking me out," she muttered to herself, tugging at her hair to make sure it was real. She could buy the fake house and auditorium setting, and even Jordan wearing a wig, but not this! There was no way her hair could grow almost a foot overnight!
Camille started out of the pool when a noise startled her. Immediately, she turned with a start to see the door at the far end of the massive room swiftly opening. She froze in horror as she saw Matt step through, spot her, and give a welcoming wave. Then he started to walk, and the thumping of his footsteps made the water in the pool shake and quiver.
He seemed to grow as he approached, but that was only an illusion. Camille knew from the instant she saw him just how big he really was. He had to be a hundred feet high!
Matt stopped in front of the flat surface that Cammie now knew to be a massive wooden table. His body dwarfed even the dollhouse that was her home. He looked like a walking colossus--a monster with the face of her boyfriend. He bent down over her, face filling her vision.
"Morning, my little doll," the giant said with a smile. The words came from a mouth that could've swallowed her in an instant.
Camille opened her itty-bitty mouth and began to scream.
Chapter 4
At the sound of Camille's frantic yells, Matt backed away in surprise. An instant later, Jordan ran out of the house. "What's going on? What did you do, Matt?" she shouted loudly.
"Omigod! Get away! Get away!" Camille squealed in horror, pushing herself to the far end of the pool and trying to bury herself in suds.
"Cammie, what's wrong? It's just Matt!" Jordan hustled up the stairs and tried to reach her friend, but couldn't without getting wet. "Did he do something to you? Are you all right?"
Camille was close to hysterics. "He's so big! Oh God he's so godamn fucking big! So is everything else! We're--we're tiny, aren't we? We're little dolls! What happened to us, Jord? Did he--oh, God, did he shrink us down somehow? Tell me!"
Jordan paused, and then, to her friend's horrified surprise, suddenly started laughing uproariously. She turned to Matt and very deliberately wiped her hand across her forehead in relief. "Don't worry, big guy!" she called out, ignoring Camille's frantic posturing. "She's been acting weird since she woke up! Must be a hangover or something. What did you two do last night, anyway?"
"Umm, nothing," he insisted, obviously hiding something but not really caring about it. His voice seemed to roll through the room like thunder. "Please, Jordan! You know I'd never do anything, ahem, illegal with one of my charges! I'd lose my job, and none of us want that, do we?"
"Of course not, hon," Jordan answered readily. "Look, she's obviously freaked out about something, so go away and come back later, okay? Besides, you're early anyway! What are you doing here? Trying to catch a glimpse of us getting dressed, you big perv?"
He gave an obviously fake grimace of pain. "Moi? You wound me, my dear! I'd never do such a thing! Truth is, I was hoping to talk to her, well, privately before class, but okay, I'll come back later. You two can have your precious privacy. Seeya!"
With that, the giant that was Matt turned and moved off, his massive form clomping its way across the floor like an immense ogre. At the door, he gave another quick, friendly wave and vanished from sight. The slam that followed rattled the walls, but even so, Camille let out her breath in relief.
"What the heck's the matter with you?" demanded Jordan. "Did you get a whiff of happy weed last night or something?"
"No!" Cammie almost shouted, quickly swimming to the edge of the pool. As Jordan moved out of the way, the nude woman swiftly clambered out and ran to the huge hand towel, where she started drying off hurriedly. "What happened to us, Jord? How'd we get so fucking small? And why don't you care, for God's sake? We can't be more than a few inches high!"
"Girl, you must really be screwed up in your head," complained Jordan, shaking her head sadly. "You forgot about my hair, and the house...don't try to tell me you forgot you're a mini, too!"
"A what?" Camille finished toweling off, which worked surprisingly well on the thick globs of soapy water that clung to her skin. As she pulled on the coarse underwear and dress, she turned to look at her confused-looking roommate. "Look, Jordan, I'm really not...feeling well this morning, okay? Pretend like I don't know anything. Imagine I have amnesia, and I don't remember anything about being shrunk down like this. Just tell me what happened, for Chrissake!"
"Really? Amnesia?" Jordan's eyes brightened. "Oh, I get it! You must've hit your head or something! That's why you fell asleep so fast when you got home!"
"Yeah, that's right," explained Cammie, seizing upon this welcome bit of inspiration and running with it. "I remember you, and Matt, and the school, but I don't remember being small! Tell me what happened to us! Please, I have to know! It's scaring the crap out of me!"
"Okay, okay!" Jordan looked up at the distant ceiling, gathering her thoughts. "Keep your dress on, already! The first thing you have to realize is we haven't been shrunk, like you keep saying. You and I--we've always been like this. We're minis!"
"What? Always?" Camille shook her head. "How is that possible? What the hell is a mini?"
"You know! A person who was born tiny! It's really rare, but that's what happened with us. We're still just like other people, only one-twentieth as big, you see?"
"That's bullshit!" Camille spat angrily. "We weren't born like this! We're normal sized! I went to bed last night in my own bed, just as big as Matt! Well, half a head shorter, but you know what I mean! There's no such thing as a fucking mini!"
"Please, don't swear!" Jordan complained. "No one will ever take you as a companion if you curse like that! And what do you mean, there's no such thing as minis? Little people like us have always been around! All through history! Don't you pay attention in class?"
Camille's head was spinning. Mini? Companion? Tiny people throughout history? What the fuck happened to the world while she slept? Was this the Twilight Zone or something? I swear, I'm gonna kill that Rod Serling if I ever see him...!
But no, that can't be right, she realized after a moment's thought. There's a simple explanation for all this, and I know exactly what it is. I'm still dreaming!
Yeah, that's it! This is a nightmare, that's all! I'm still asleep, and this is a vivid dream brought about by my own subconscious. Of course! I blew up last night about cripples, and now, in my dream, I find myself in the same kind of situation!
"Okay, I get it!" Camille said aloud, holding out her hands in supplication. She looked up at the distant ceiling, as if trying to appeal to a higher power. "I get the irony! I've learned my lesson! Can I wake up now? Please?"
"Wake up?" Jordan rubbed her eyes in frustration. "You're as awake as you're ever getting, girl! Now come on, get your shoes on before the pledges come in!"
"Wait, you haven't answered all my questions," Camille argued, even as she pulled on her socks and shoes. "How do we get back to normal size? There's got to be a way!"
"This IS our normal size!" Jordan replied, as though that explained everything. "Why would you want to be big, anyway? We'd have to work for a living then! You always said the only thing you ever wanted was to be a companion, so some rich person can pamper you for the rest of your life! What's so wrong with that?"
"Companion? You keep saying that, but I don't--"
"Oops, too late! Here they come!"
Jordan pointed at the distant door, which was now opening up again. This time, though, Matt didn't come in. Instead, the sorority president, Lisa Horton, entered, trailed by the same seven pledges she announced at the rush party last night. All eight of the women were giants, and Camille gasped at the sight of them.
So big! They were all so goddamn fucking BIG...!
She wanted to run, but all she could do was stand there, paralyzed with terror, as the massive people pounded across the floor, making the table vibrate under her feet.
"Now, this is the room where our own little ace mascots live," the colossal Lisa was saying as the pledges followed her inside. "Yes, that's right, we have our own minis here at Alpha Chi Epsilon! Not just one, like some sororities, but two! We're the only house on campus with a pair!"
"Oh, look at them! They're so cute!" one of the pledges said upon spotting the two tiny women on the tabletop. She pointed a finger that hung over the table, rotating slightly like a helicopter in flight. All Camille could do was stare in open-mouthed horror.
"Just adorable!" said another, bending over to get a closer look. Camille absently felt their excited breaths sweeping across her like gusts of a warm summer breeze.
"Oh, I've never seen a real mini before!"
"Can I hold one?"
"Yeah, me too!"
"And me!"
"Calm down, everybody!" Lisa interrupted, pushing her way in between the eager pledges. "You can all hold them, if you promise to be careful! The minis are only allowed in the sorority as long as they're treated with respect! They may look like dolls, but they're people, you know, even if they are itty bitty little things!"
"I like their clothes!" somebody piped in. "Did somebody make them?"
"You've got a good eye, Veronica," said Lisa. "Yes, these outfits were all made by aces right here in this house! If any of you can sew, or want to learn how, be sure to tell your pledge trainer. Now, Chloe, since you said earlier you've handled minis before, I'll let you go first. Go ahead and pick one of them up, but remember, be gentle!"
The giantess reached down and set her hand down next to Jordan and Camille, the latter of whom was still too frozen to move. Even from several inches away, she could feel the heat coming off that massive limb. Jordan, though, didn't hesitate for an instant. She rushed forward, put her hands out, and vaulted into the waiting hand with a flourish. Chloe lifted the miniature woman up into the air, and suddenly Camille felt very, very alone on the open tabletop.
"Very good," said Lisa. "You others, did you see what she did? She didn't grab at the mini, or pick her up too fast. Don't ever try to pinch or squeeze a mini! You don't want to hurt them! Now, everyone, this here is Jordan Metzler, and she's from San Diego. Say hi to our pledges, Jordan!"
Camille couldn't hear the answer, but saw her friend's tiny hand waving at the others, who giggled loudly in reply. "She feels so warm and soft," Chloe remarked, reaching out a finger. "Is it okay to touch her?"
"Sure, but remember, gently! She likes to have her shoulders rubbed, but not with too much pressure! Now, Diane, do you want to try picking up our other little mascot?"
"Oh, yes, please!" the blonde woman replied eagerly, setting her hand down directly in front of Camille. The sound of her knuckles slamming onto the table shocked the tiny woman out of her stupor, and she took a few frightened steps backward.
"Don't be afraid!" insisted Diane, obviously noting the fear in Cammie's miniature face. "I won't hurt you, li'l one! Minis have always fascinated me, but I've never seen one this close. Please, can I hold you, just for a minute?"
Camille gulped. The car-sized palm waited, resembling nothing less than an alien ship ready to carry her off to another world. To be picked up like a doll, and held in front of that immense face...studied like some sort of specimen! In amidst the chilling horror of her strange new size, Camille began to feel a little bit insulted.
Then she realized something else, something that hadn't occurred to her until now, because of the terror of the moment. This wasn't just any pledge standing there before her, dominating her world. This was Diane, the handicapped one from the night before.
Standing up. Unaided.
Where was her wheelchair...?
Chapter 5
Camille didn't have time to worry about the wheelchair for long. The huge pledge's hand shifted, sliding right up to her paralyzed little body. "Go on, it'll be okay," boomed Lisa's voice from somewhere close by. "What's the problem, Cammie? You always liked being picked up! Is something wrong?"
Of course something was wrong! Camille wanted to scream it out for everybody to hear. She wasn't a mini or whatever they called it! She was supposed to be the same size as everybody else!
Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one who realized that. Even Jordan was acting like this bullshit giant world was normal! Instead of screaming, though, Cammie chilled for a moment, forcing herself to think. Even through her fear and despair, she recognized that if she complained, they'd think she was crazy. What would they do to a crazy tiny person? Put her in an equally tiny insane asylum? No way! Best to go along with this freaky Twilight Zone scenario for now and try to find out how to fix it later.
Assuming there was a way to fix it...
Camille shoved that unpleasant thought out of her mind and focused on the task at hand. "Everything's fine!" she called out shakily, answering Lisa's question with as much courage as she could muster. "I'm just not, um, feeling well this morning, you see."
"Oh, really? Sorry to hear it," Lisa said in a tone that suggested she was simply noting that fact, but didn't really intend to do anything about it. "Okay, Diane, be very careful when you lift her so she doesn't get sick, all right?"
"Sure," replied the gargantuan blonde, voice tinged with a hint of Southern accent Camille hadn't noted before. "Did I hear her right? Is your name Cammie, you purty li'l thang?"
"Yeah," came the shaky reply. "C-Camille Helmsford, actually." She continued to regard the huge, noticeably trembling palm with a doubtful eye.
"Oh. Well, Camille, please let me pick you up. I'll be real careful. Please? I've always wondered what it would be like to hold another person!"
Cammie closed her eyes for a moment and steeled herself. How hard could this be? Jordan sure didn't seem to mind, did she?
With a force of will, she stepped forward and put her hands on the quivering flesh of Diane's palm. For some reason, the impossibly huge woman seemed nervous, too, but Camille was more concerned with the hand itself than the rest of the giantess. The surface of the skin was rough and pitted, with thousands of tiny grooves that resembled little waves. Three massive crinkles, broken here and there by smaller lines, dominated the intensely hot surface. Camille pushed herself up onto the slick, leathery flesh, crawling cautiously to a point where the three main wrinkles came closest to joining. She could feel the palm shaking under her hands and knees, and when she finally sat down, the vibrations only intensified.
Then, just as she was getting comfortable, the huge fleshy platform rose swiftly into the air. Cammie unconsciously shut her eyes and reached for something to grab hold of to steady herself, but there were no handholds at all. Fortunately, Diane kept her hand parallel to the ground, so her little passenger didn't start to slide out of her hand.
When the elevator-like motion finally stopped, Camille opened her eyes and found Diane's face awaiting her. A trim, slightly upturned nose hung in the sky just an arm's length away, while massive eyes regarded her with wide, undisguised interest. Camille couldn't see Diane's mouth, but she got the impression the immense woman was smiling nervously.
"Wow," Diane whispered. The sound seemed to echo all around Camille, like distant thunder. "This is so awesome! You're the cutest thang I ever did see! Why, I just want to put you in my purse and take you home right now!"
At the sound of that statement, Camille gasped and shied away, glancing around for some way to escape. There was nowhere to go, of course, so she hovered on the verge of panic. What if Diane really tried that? Cammie didn't want to become a pet for some giantess! But there was nothing she could do, was there? She was too damn small...
"Don't be so scared, darlin'!" Diane insisted quickly. "I didn't mean it! You know I'd never take you away!"
"Now, see, you've frightened her," Lisa interrupted, calmly but firmly. Even huge as she was, she still had that noticeable, comforting tone of leadership and command in her voice. "I know you were just trying to be friendly, Diane, but you have to be careful what you say. Abduction of minis is a serious concern, you know. They're so tiny they can't do anything to protect themselves, and even if they do escape from their captors, anyone who finds them is as likely to keep them as they are to help."
"I'm real sorry," Diane insisted honestly, slowly lowering her hand back to the tabletop. "I didn't mean it, Camille, really! I swear I'd never try to take you away!"
As soon as she had the chance, Cammie hustled off the giant palm and scooted away, taking a few deep breaths to recover from the frightening journey. Diane's promise seemed sincere, and Camille felt better once she felt the reassuring solid wood under her feet. "It's okay," she managed to yell once she gathered her composure. "I just...well, like I said, I'm not feeling well today. Don't worry about it."
Lisa's face appeared over the table. "I'm sorry, Cammie," she said in a low voice. "I shouldn't have let her pick you up if you're under the weather." Her head retreated, and Lisa turned to address the other pledges, who by now had handed off Jordan between themselves several times. "Now, let me explain some more ground rules about the minis," she continued as if nothing untoward had happened. "You might see them roaming around the house, along the clearly marked paths in the halls or along the edges of the rooms. They shouldn't ever leave those paths, but make sure you watch where you step just in case. Everybody understand?"
They all nodded in agreement, while Jordan climbed eagerly into Diane's hand. "Sorry, she's not like that usually," the tiny brunette insisted, flopping down prone in the middle of the giant blonde's palm. "We both really like to be held. Your hands are really warm, and we love back rubs. Really!"
Diane grinned and started running a fingertip in between Jordan's shoulder blades. In response, Jordan sighed in satisfaction and closed her eyes while Lisa continued to lecture the pledges.
"Now, you can pick up and play with the minis, but only if they agree in advance. Also, before you take one, you have to get permission from one of the senior class, because ultimately we're responsible for their safety in the house. Under no circumstances are they allowed to leave the building! The only one who can take them out is their licensed handler, Matt Collingsworth, the really cute guy we passed on our way here."
At that, the pledges giggled and exchanged glances, causing Camille to frown, but before she could say anything, the sorority president continued her instructions. "Of course, if you do meet a mini outside these walls, either these two or any of the others on campus, you're not to touch them under any circumstances. Is that clear?"
The seven other women agreed to that as well, nodding as if they already knew that part of the lesson. "Okay, then, time to move on to the rest of the tour," Lisa went on. "Go on, Diane, put Jordan down so we can go."
"Awww," Diane complained. "Can't I hold her a bit longer? I think she fell asleep!"
"No, she didn't. She just wants you to think that so you'll keep giving her that massage! Besides, she has companion class in half an hour. Put her down, please."
Diane didn't argue further and set Jordan down. With a resigned whimper of complaint, the tiny woman slid off the palm and hopped away. "Thanks!" she squeaked happily, hurrying over to join Camille, whose heart was still pounding from the events of the past few minutes.
"You're welcome!" answered Diane. "Nice to meet both of you! Oh, and I'm really sorry, Camille! I'll make it up with a back rub later, okay?"
"Um, sure," Cammie agreed with a weak shrug.
Jordan waved goodbye eagerly as the huge pledges retreated, most of them casting intrigued glances back towards the minis on the table. Seeing those immense eyes watching her, Camille couldn't help but shudder. Just the previous night, she was glancing at those same women from across the room, barely paying any attention to them. Now they couldn't be ignored or dismissed. They were too huge. Any of them could reach down and pluck Cammie off the table as if she were a bug. Fortunately, there seemed to be plenty of rules in place preventing such things from happening, but that didn't make Camille feel any better about her predicament.
As soon as the giantesses exited, Jordan turned and smacked her friend on the shoulder, hard. "Owww!" Cammie complained at once. "What was that for?"
"What's the heck's the matter with you?" Jordan hissed. "Why did you embarrass us like that?"
"Like what?" Camille rubbed her arm absently, trying to figure out what Jordan was talking about.
"What do you think I mean? Pretending to look scared! Diane was just trying to be friendly! Like anybody would ever actually try to take us away! Sheesh!"
"I hate to break this to you, but I really was scared," Cammie insisted. "Jordan, I don't know what's going on! I tried to tell you this earlier, so listen this time! When I went to bed last night I was normal sized. Well, big, like those others! I had my own room in the house, and so did you. There weren't any such things as minis. Now it's like everything changed all around me, and the world's really huge all of a sudden. I don't understand any of this, and when she said she was going to carry me off, I thought she meant it!"
"Oh, geez, you're serious, aren't you? You really don't know!" Jordan looked horrified. "I thought you were playing around!"
"No, I'm not! Please listen, Jordie! You think it's normal to be tiny, but I don't! I've never seen people that big. I've never been...picked up like that. Like--like a little insect or something. I was terrified! What if she dropped me? What if--oh, God, I just don't want to think about it! I just want to be big again!"
"I--I don't know what to tell you," Jordan replied after a moment. Gathering her thoughts, she leaned back against the side of the huge plastic pool, which Camille now suspected was really just a Barbie-sized kid's toy. After a moment, during which she appeared to convince herself to take her friend seriously, Jordan continued. "You were born like this, Cammie," she said slowly and carefully. "So was I. This isn't like one of those movies where a mad scientist has a ray that can turn people into minis and back again. We're small because it's in our genes to be like this, don't you see? There's no magic growth formula you can take to become a maxi. I wish I could help you, but I can't."
Camille sighed, as much in resignation as in frustration. "Don't take this wrong, but I don't believe you. Something happened to me, and changed me. Either that, or it totally wiped out my memories and replaced them with other ones. Or else maybe the world really did grow overnight. I don't know. Either way, something happened last night, something I don't understand, and somehow I need to find a way to make it right again."
"You may not believe me," said Jordan honestly, "but no matter what, you and I are friends. We've known each other since high school."
"Yeah, at least that hasn't changed," Cammie replied gratefully.
"Then you must know I'd help you if I could, but I don't know what to do. For me, everything's the way it should be."
"I know that, Jord." Camille sighed and ran her fingers through her uncomfortably long hair. How could everything change like this? How could the entire world be different? There really seemed to be one answer, so she voiced that thought aloud, a tone of uncertainty drifting aimlessly through her words. "The only thing I can think of right now is that I'm dreaming, and eventually I'm going to wake up and have a good laugh about this."
Jordan chuckled. "When that happens, be sure to tell me all about it so I can laugh, too."
"Oh, don't worry, I will," Cammie agreed, "but you'll never believe me. Hell, I wouldn't even believe me. This whole thing is nuts. Totally nuts."
"Well, like I said, for me, it's normal. You know, Matt's going to come back any minute to get us. Are you ready to go? Can you, um, handle getting carried all the way to class?"
"I hope so. Look, Jordan, I need you to help me with this, okay? Remember, I don't know any of what's going on. I don't know what it's like to be this size. You need to tell me what to expect."
"I'll try," Jordan replied with a nod. "This sure is weird, though. You're still my friend, Cammie, but you seem like a stranger, too. Are you sure you aren't, like, an alien in her body or something?"
Camille started to laugh. "No, I'm still me, but it sure doesn't feel like it sometimes. This whole room looks alien to me. Everyone, and everything, is so huge! I wonder what the rest of the world is going to look like?"
"You'll find out in a few minutes," said Jordan, pointing at the distant door, which was now starting to open. "Don't look now, but I think our ride is here!"
Chapter 6
Once again, the giant Matt entered the room, a bit more cautiously this time. He approached the two tiny women on the table as if they might explode at any moment.
"Is everything cool now?" he asked, noticeably concerned. "I passed Lisa in the hall, and she said Cammie was acting strange or something."
Jordan gave her a nudge with an elbow. "Say you're all right," she muttered, keeping her lips as immobile as possible. This made her voice sound somewhat strained, but there was no way Matt could've heard it.
Camille looked up, up, UP at the man that until today had been her boyfriend. Now he was her "handler," whatever that meant. "I'm fine," she called out, automatically raising her voice to be heard across the distance that still separated them.
He sat down suddenly, so that now only his head and the top of his shoulders appeared over the edge of the tabletop. Camille started momentarily at his motion, for she hadn't yet realized there were chairs in the room at all. That's what the strange pillars were, she now understood. They were the support beams holding up the backs of chairs. Until that moment, Cammie had dismissed the poles as one might ignore a distant building or meaningless billboard.
"Good, I'm glad you're all right," he rumbled, obviously relieved. His breath, smelling distinctly of mint toothpaste, ruffled her hair slightly. "I was afraid, after last night, you were, um, having second thoughts."
Jordan giggled. "What did you two do...?"
"None of your business, nosy!" Matt insisted, reaching out with a finger to make a playful poke in her direction. Jordan jumped nimbly aside, spinning away and laughing at the obviously false attempt to strike her. Camille gulped, knowing full well he could've hit her easily if he wanted to.
He could do anything to them, Camille realized. Anything he wanted. Nothing could stop him, he was so big. And, apparently, last night he DID do something. But what? How could she ask without giving away her own ignorance? She had to play along, for now, until she found out more about what was happening.
"Anyway, I assure you, I didn't violate my oath as a handler," Matt said with a sly grin on his face. "Now come on, class is in ten minutes. Do either of you need to use the restroom or anything before we go?"
"Nope," Jordan replied, shaking her head.
"Camille?"
"No," she answered after a moment, narrowing her eyes. With everything else that was going on, she hadn't noticed, but she really didn't need to go. In fact, she hadn't felt the urge all morning. Normally she had to empty her bladder when she woke up, and had done so on that schedule all her life. What was different now?
There wasn't time to ask. "Okay, then, get in my pocket," Matt said, leaning forward so his shirt dangled in front of the two tiny women. The buttons on the shirt hung slightly open, so Camille could see the bristly, yellow-tinted hairs on his broad, firm chest. Hairs she'd run her fingers through many times. Only now they looked thick enough to swim through...
Next to her, Jordan reached out and pulled the edge of his shirt pocket to herself, then vaulted inside in a single quick motion. Her head reappeared a moment later, and she waved eagerly to Camille. "Come on, let's go, slowpoke!" she called out, almost sounding thrilled to be where she was.
"Um, okay," Cammie replied nervously, stepping over to the open pocket. Jordan seemed at home inside, so Camille cautiously entered one leg at a time. Jordan helped her in, and the instant she was safe, Matt stood up from the chair. Naturally, Cammie instantly fell on her back, while Jordan, expecting the move, simply held on to the pocket's edge, laughing all the while.
"You all right?" Matt's immense voice boomed from high above. His ridiculously big fingers were holding the pocket open, so only his eye and the bottom of his nose were visible.
Camille struggled to rise, finally doing so inside the shifting interior only with a helping hand from Jordan. "Yeah," she agreed. "I guess so. Not so fast, okay?"
"But I have to go fast," he complained. "We're going to be late, and the last time, Dean Randolph was pretty pissed off. I won't run, though, unless I have to. Hang on!"
Before Camille could protest, Matt started to move, first walking across the room and then heading towards the Alpha Chi Epsilon house's exit. Although he was clearly walking at an ordinary, if brisk, pace, the movement seemed incredibly fast and uneven. With each step he shifted from side to side, threatening to throw his two passengers around as though they were weightless. Surprisingly, though, Jordan didn't seem to mind, keeping her feet and anticipating every motion as if it came naturally.
Suddenly, they began to plunge downwards, obviously going down the stairs towards the sorority house's exit. Camille started to scream, but decided to hold her breath--and the pocket seam--instead. Meanwhile, Jordan was shouting gleefully, yelling "Whee!" at the sudden drop and the sharp turn that ended their descent.
"How can you be enjoying--ouch!--enjoying this?" Cammie demanded once Matt leveled off and started moving straight again.
"Are you kidding? This is fun as heck!" Jordan replied excitedly. "I love every time we get to go for a ride! Look how fast everything's going by!"
Camille stretched herself to her full height, maintaining a death grip on the edge of the pocket, and looked outside. The rest of the world was difficult to focus on, primarily because the light seemed so bright. Then Matt walked out the front door, and the sun was almost blinding. She felt like she was on a high-speed helicopter ride at ground level. Walls, trees, parked cars...they all moved by so fast!
And, of course, they were all so goddamn big...
Cammie shut her eyes and sank down into the depths of the pocket. She didn't want to see any more. She didn't want to be reminded about how small and helpless she was now. This sucks, she thought ruefully. Why is this happening? Why can't I wake up? Please, let me wake up!
"You okay?" Jordan asked, her voice barely penetrating the rustling of Matt's shirt and the other sounds from outside. Camille hadn't noticed how loud everything was until just now.
"This is so wrong," she replied sadly. "We're not supposed to be like this. We're big, Jord. We're normal! We shouldn't be riding in people's pockets!"
"You should just enjoy it," Jordan replied. "This is great! I love when he goes fast like this!"
"Yeah, it's like a roller coaster," Camille replied with a shake of her head. "Big deal. I get sick on roller coasters. I don't even know why I haven't thrown up yet."
"Roller coasters? You've been on one?" Jordan looked aghast. "How? When? Omigod! Is that where Matt took you last night? You could've been killed!"
Cammie sighed. "No, he didn't, at least I don't think so. I don't know! I already told you, last night I was normal-sized. Well, you know what I mean! I was a...a maxi, I guess you call it. Look, Jord, I've been on roller coasters lots of times, and so have you. At Disneyland, and Six Flags. You love them, but I can only take three or four at a time and then I get sick. Last time we went, I only rode two."
Jordan shrugged. "I really can't tell if you're fooling, you know. I want to think you're screwing with my head, and then you start saying stuff like this. Tell me what a roller coaster's really like, and then maybe I'll believe you."
"Okay, fine. You get in the car, and they seal you in with a harness or bar or something. Then there's a long ride to the top of the hill where the cars fall over the edge, like you're on a sled. The whole thing operates on gravity after that. You take a long dive, which just about wrenches out your guts, and then you start curving and looping, and the whole time you just hold on and scream and pray the wheels stay attached so you don't fly off to your death. It's a lot of fun, if you can keep your stomach from going totally nuts on you."
Jordan listened carefully. "Hmm, well, it seems like you know what you're talking about, but I don't know...this could be some kind of thing you and Matt dreamed up."
Camille threw up her hands. "There's no way I can convince you," she said, frustrated. "Nothing I can say will prove it, and it's not like I have any pictures of myself in my purse. I don't even have a goddamn purse!"
Jordan winced at her friend's expletive, just as she had every other time Camille had used one since she awakened this morning. In fact, Jordan hadn't cursed at all, not even once, but managed to avoid such language by using words like "heck" and "darn." That wasn't like Jord at all. "You shouldn't swear," she insisted. "Really, Cammie, don't do that, okay? Companions never curse! You lose points for that, and if you fail the class, you'll never graduate!"
"Graduate?" Camille scoffed. "I was going to be a journalist, for Chrissake! A reporter. How can I do that now? Oh, yeah, sure, I could sneak into places, I guess, but I'll get stepped on, or a rat will eat me or something."
Jordan chuckled. "You couldn't be a reporter, anyway. Silly! They don't let minis take maxi jobs. We'd get hurt or killed, and the company would be out of business just like that! Being a companion is really the only thing we can do, unless you want to spend your whole life getting taken care of by your family."
"That's it, then." Camille frowned and closed her eyes again. "My life is over! Everything I ever went through school for, all that fighting and struggling to get where I was, all of it wasted. Now I'm just a doll, destined to become a toy on somebody's shelf."
"Companions aren't toys!" Jordan argued vehemently, almost surprising her friend with her intensity. "We're friends and confidants! We help people, and they take care of us! Oh, what am I arguing with you for? You should know that better than I do! You wanted to do this more than me!"
"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't remember that!" Camille covered her face with her hands, sucking in a gasping breath as Mark went down another short staircase someplace. "Look, it doesn't matter if you believe me, Jordan. I really don't remember. Now tell me, before we get to companion class, just what the hell is a companion, anyway? I think I can guess, but tell me all of it, okay?"
Jordan sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get defensive, but you sounded like my mother there for a minute. I guess you don't know, but she really didn't want me to do this. I just had to get away. Companion is the only job we minis can take that gets us away from home, but even then I wasn't sure, until you convinced me."
She seemed to stare off into space for a moment, lost in thought, and then continued. "Okay, it's hard to explain. I've never had to explain it--everybody just knows. I'll try, though. We're in school right now to teach us all the things we need to know. When we graduate, we get a companion license, which is what lets us do the job, you see? Then, our sponsor--the American Companion Placement Society--finds us a suitable host who takes care of us, and in return, we provide companionship and friendship to somebody who needs us. Most hosts are invalids, or shut-ins, or just lonely people with no families of their own."
"What kind of people? I mean, how do we know they won't--" Camille sucked in a deep breath. "Treat us poorly," she finally concluded.
"Oh, don't worry about that! They all have to pass psychological and personality tests to make sure we won't be abused or mistreated. It still happens, but it's so rare, we're more likely to be kidnapped out of our homes than get hurt by our host."
"But what do we do? I mean, other than just hang around and talk and stuff, what are we good for?" Camille looked directly into Jordan's eyes this time, intent on getting a straight answer. "What are we supposed to do for these people?"
"Talk to them, yeah," Jordan answered. "Be with them. Share their lives. Be someone they can love."
"Love?" Cammie raised an eyebrow.
Jord rolled her eyes and grinned sheepishly, as though embarrassed by the unvoiced question. "Yeah, love, but not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter! You and Matt have got to stop hanging out together, you know that?"
"I can't help it," Camille replied. "I was big until this morning. And Matt...he was my boyfriend."
"Oh?" Jordan's brows went up. "Oh, I see. I think I get it now. That's what this is all about! You're having dreams about him, aren't you? About you and he being the same size. Imagining what it would be like in bed with him!"
"I don't have to imagine it, I've lived it," Cammie replied with a knowing smile. "He's great, you know. Best sex I've ever had."
"Sex? Real sex?" Jordan laughed. "Look, you can tell me all the bullcrap you want, but there's no way you're going to convince me you know what real sex feels like! There's no way you could."
"Huh? Why the hell not?" Camille looked at her friend with an expression of confusion that seemed pretty much the status quo for the day.
"Oh, yeah, you don't know, do you? I guess if the story you keep feeding me is true, you wouldn't, huh? Pretty good thinking there, Cammie. Very good."
"Just tell me, would you, please?"
"Okay, if you insist. You see, the thing that makes us minis, well, it's a super rare gene, that's why there are so few of us. I don't really understand how all that genetic stuff works, but I do remember the only way it can possibly take effect is in women."
"So what you're saying is..."
"Yep, you guessed it. There are no male minis!"
Chapter 7
Camille nodded slowly. Well, of course not. There wouldn't be, would there? That would be too easy. Too bad. If only Mark were her size, maybe she could stand being this small.
"It's just as well," said Jordan. "I mean, as long as we can't, you know, breed...well, that's what keeps us protected, you know? That's why the laws are the way they are. It's not our fault we were born like this. If we could have children, though...then we'd be another species or something. People might force us to--"
Jordan shuddered, and Camille shook her head sadly. She could imagine that scenario. Little people, forced to bear children to be raised as slaves, or whatever other twisted use someone could have for them. With no way to predict a mini birth, any such event was treated as it came--as an accidental misfortune of chance.
"Anyway, let's not think about that," Jordan continued after a moment. "The point is, like they teach us in class, we're very rare and special. That's what being a companion is all about. We're the only ones who can do what we do."
"Special?" Camille immediately frowned. "Please don't talk like that! I don't care how tiny I am, I am NOT handicapped! I'm just as capable as I ever was!"
"Handicapped?" Jordan flashed her a curious look. "I've never heard that word. What's it mean? Why should a cap made out of a hand, anyway?"
"What? Oh, I get it. Ha, ha. Very funny, but you know what I mean. Somebody with a disability."
"A disability? Like a broken leg or something? Okay, I know what that is, but I've never heard it called 'handicapped.' What a silly word!"
"Well, I was referring more to somebody who was born with a problem, like cerebral palsy or that sort of thing. Or Down's syndrome, like Matt's brother Stephen has."
"Down where? Oh, come on, you're just making this stuff up now! I've met Stephen and there's nothing at all wrong with him. Heck, in a couple of years he'll be a teenager, and I can already tell he's going to be as cute as his brother!"
"Huh? How can that be? Matt said it himself, but..." Camille let her voice trail off. He said that last night, not today. Back in the real world, where she was big and there wasn't such a thing as a goddamn mini, unless you were talking about a skirt. So that meant that for some strange reason, Stephen wasn't handicapped any more. Why would that be?
Come to think of it, that wasn't the only difference along those same lines. Cammie suddenly remembered that Diane didn't have a wheelchair any more. "Are you telling me there are no handicapped people in this crazy world?" she asked, but in her mind the hypothesis was already proven.
"I'm telling you, I never even heard that word before."
Cammie nodded, already accepting the inevitable. Of course there weren't other handicapped people. The minis were the ones who were handicapped on this insane alternate universe. Which meant she was now the very thing she hated most.
Yep, I'm in the Twilight Zone, all right, Camille thought sadly. Damn you, Rod Serling! Damn you to Hell!
Outside the pocket, their giant bearer started to move up a staircase, causing Camille's weight to suddenly seem to increase twofold. She gasped for breath while Jordan cried out happily, still enjoying the ride. "Too bad we're almost there," she commented. "I love these long walks! Now, listen, Cammie, I seriously don't know what you drank last night, but for the love of God, don't talk about any of this stuff in front of Dean Randolph! She's always looking for a reason to disqualify anybody for mental reasons, and I don't want to go through the rest of class without you!"
"Fine," said Camille, "I'll just keep quiet and try to listen. When you say Dean Randolph, is her first name Amy?"
"Yeah, of course. She's the dean of the School of Companionship."
"Huh. Well, in my world, Amy Randolph is just a journalism instructor. She used to be a reporter for the Boston Globe. Are you telling me she's a mini, too, like you and me?"
"Of course! You think they'd let a maxi teach us minis? What good would that do? Miss Randolph was a companion for thirty years, you know, until her host Mr. Owens died and she came here. I get tears in my eyes every time she starts telling another one of her stories about that lovable old guy. I sure hope I wind up with somebody so wonderful. Uh-oh, this is the last turn! We're almost to class. I hope we're on time."
Mark seemed to know his passengers needed some time to get ready, because he slowed to a comfortable walking pace. Jordan stood up and started straightening her dress, so Camille did the same. Once the wrinkles were gone, she pulled herself to her full height and looked outside, seeing only the inside of a hall with a couple of doors passing by on either side. Placards on each indicated by color that this was the inside of Beauford Hall, which in Camille's world was part of the College of Liberal Arts. In fact, despite the strange angle, she could remember coming this way for English classes her freshman year.
Mark passed room 210, the only one Cammie recognized, and continued on to a door at the end. Here, he paused and entered a number on a security lock. From her vantage point, she could see the code: 4542. He didn't seem to mind that she could eavesdrop, but why should he? Exactly how the hell was she ever supposed to get up high enough to push those buttons?
After he punched the last one, the door popped open and Mark stepped inside. The room didn't have much in the way of furnishings, just a series of dividers blocking off Camille's view. A single bare table awaited, and Mark leaned down over it, using his hand to pull the pocket open. Jordan jumped out, and Cammie followed much more carefully. Once they were both standing on the tabletop, he backed away slightly. "Good, Dean Randolph's not out here waiting, so we made it on time," he told them, waving. "See you after class." His immense, perfectly white teeth flashed amiably in Camille's direction. "I hope you feel better by tonight."
"Thanks, Matt!" Jordan called out, elbowing her friend as she spoke. "Catch you later!"
"Yeah, thanks for the ride," Camille muttered insincerely.
"Bye," Matt concluded, finishing his wave and turning to go, heading out the door he came through. He seemed disappointed by Cammie's response, but she really was at a loss. She had no idea what the two of them did last night, if anything--after all, he kept denying any wrongdoing every time Jordan brought it up. Maybe it was entirely innocent, or maybe not. Still, what could the two of them possibly do together? He was twenty times her size, for Chrissake!
"Now what?" Camille asked. "Do we just stand here on this table all day?"
"No, we go to class," Jordan replied in a hushed whisper. With a hand, she indicated a mini-sized door cut into one of the dividers lining the back side of the table. "Through the door right over there. The others are waiting for us, probably. I'll bet we're the last ones here. Now come on, and remember, don't ask any more stupid questions! Just pretend like everything's fine, all right? And keep your mouth shut--we never talk in class. I'll try to cover for you, but I can only do so much."
"Okay, okay," Cammie replied. "Let's go, I guess."
Jordan led her over to the door, and Camille followed, trying to keep her chin up, as though everything was normal. Of course, she was as far from normal as possible. Trapped in this bullshit world, where the only future she had was as a companion for some old guy or invalid or whatever who needed the kind of help only a tiny woman could provide.
In other words, Camille thought, somebody who needed a pet. A teeny little pet woman to take care of. Why? Wasn't a dog or cat or hamster good enough? Maybe they didn't have any other kind of animals on this ridiculous planet.
A few steps ahead, Jordan opened the door, and Camille followed her into Pet School.
Chapter 8
Most people, upon undergoing something new, at least have some idea of what to expect. For example, a freshman attending college for the first time at least has her high school experiences to guide her along. Even though life at the university ultimately proves quite different and challenging, there is at least a fundamental similarity between the two--close enough that the freshman can feel at least some level of comfort in her new surroundings.
Camille didn't have that feeling at all. When she walked through the door to companion class, she had no idea what to expect. Even having Jordan there to help cover her tracks didn't help. She might as well have walked into a training room on another planet.
Fortunately, no one spoke directly to her upon entering. The space on the opposite side of the door, atop another ordinary table, was populated by about twenty women, all of the same relative size. They were milling about a couple of couches, several chairs, and a small table, all of which were obviously doll furniture. Chunks of what might have been cookies were scattered across the plastic tabletop, alongside a pair of bottle caps filled with some sort of liquid. Two of the women were chatting idly by these objects, which looked like large tubs, while a third scooped a handful of clear, syrupy fluid into her mouth. At first Camille thought the material must be gelatin of some sort, but then she realized it was nothing but ordinary water. How the heck was she supposed to drink that? Very carefully, it seemed, considering how the other mini carefully slurped off a little bit at a time.
Camille realized she was hungry, and in fact hadn't eaten at all since she found herself at this annoying size. She moved quietly over towards the table, hoping no one talked to her. The others seemed caught up in their own conversations, though. She only recognized a couple of them, and then only as someone she remembered seeing once or twice on campus. None of the others were in her sorority, which made a twisted amount of sense.
Jordan followed her friend over the table and immediately picked up a dusty-looking bit of cookie. "Mmm, chocolate chip," she remarked, breaking off a finger-sized crumb and nibbling on it hungrily. "I love these."
"Is this really a cookie?" Camille sampled a bite, only to find it as gritty and dusty as it appeared. The taste was totally unlike any chocolate chip cookie she could remember. "It tastes like crap," she muttered, continuing to eat only because the small chunk of food had awakened a rumbling in her stomach that wasn't there before.
"Are you kidding?" Jordan looked dismayed. "This is awesome! It has more flavor than damn near anything else I've ever eaten. See, that's what I mean about watching what you say. The Cammie I remember loved these things."
Camille nodded in understanding and went back to eating. Jordan eventually knelt down to get a drink of water, and Cammie watched carefully to make sure she knew what to do. Keeping her back carefully pointed at the rest of the crowd, she scooped up a handful of water and sucked down a few sips. The experience was much like eating warm, slippery gelatin. After only a half dozen mouthfuls, she found her thirst completely sated.
A few moments later, Amy Randolph's voice pierced the low-level murmuring going on in the open room, drawing everyone's attention. Dean Randolph looked exactly like Camille remembered--an older woman, with curly blonde hair tinged with white and beginning to thin. She stood with a slight hunch in her back, and when she walked, she limped ever so slightly. Such things were normal for someone pushing seventy.
Amy didn't waste any time hurrying the assembled group into what appeared to be a daily routine. All Camille had to do was keep quiet and follow the others along, hoping she never had to go first. The other students were silent and respectful as they followed along through another door cut in a divider panel. The entire room seemed to be nothing more than a series of tables separated by similar pieces.
A massive boombox dominated the first room, but the women veered away from this, towards a cluster of floor mats apparently made of padded leather. Camille quickly realized that these were for morning exercises. Each of the women disrobed immediately, showing no embarrassment at their brief nudity, and clad themselves in a one-size-fits-all unitard made of the most comfortable fabric Cammie had yet worn--which wasn't saying much. At least she didn't have to work out in a dress, she thought gratefully.
The exercises that followed lasted over an hour, consisting of a few warm-up stretches, a series of aerobics that gradually worked up the heart rate, and concluded with stress-relieving yoga. All of this was set to music that blasted loudly from the radio, changing from soft tones to fast-moving rock and then to soft instrumentals. Apparently, the CD already in the machine was already set up to match the daily workout routine step for step.
After that, everybody took a communal bath in a large metal tub that Camille guessed was actually a baking pan. The water was lukewarm and filled with suds, suggesting a giant must've prepared the pool in advance, but Cammie never saw or heard whoever it was, so they must've left long before Matt dropped her off. Again, nobody seemed to mind being nude, so Camille did her best not to act shy.
After the bath, everyone put their clothes back on and Amy led the group into yet another room, this one containing an immense mannequin lying face down on the tabletop. The instructor announced that the women were to practice doing something called "dance massage" on what was obviously a mock-up of a companion's host. Fortunately, Camille wasn't the first one called, so she at least had a chance to see what was going on. Basically, the mini climbed up on the mannequin's back and began to tap-dance about, gyrating without any apparent rhyme or reason. Meanwhile, Dean Randolph gave tips and suggestions that meant nothing to Cammie. She very much wanted to ask Jordan what was going on, but didn't dare for fear of attracting attention to herself. Besides, other than to answer the teacher's questions, none of the other women ever spoke.
When it was her turn, Camille did her best to climb up on the mannequin and dance with at least a little bit of style. Amy watched silently, occasionally correcting her, pointing at spots on the body that she should've stepped on in a particular order. Now Cammie understood. She wasn't trying to look pretty while dancing--it was all about massaging her host, making him or her relax and unwind. Of course, she thought. This is something a dog or cat really can't do, is it?
She showed some improvement, and then it was another girl's turn. Cammie watched uncomfortably, trying to imagine herself walking across a real person's back. They wouldn't feel stiff and solid like the gigantic mannequin, now would they? No, they'd have warm, yielding flesh that squished underfoot.
Those thoughts slowly drifted into daydreams as she imagined a specific person lying on the table. Matt Collingsworth, in fact. What would it feel like to walk across his broad, muscular shoulders? She smiled slightly as she imagined that, and then frowned almost at once. Don't think about it, Cammie told herself. You're not supposed to be small! There has to be a way to get out of this, get back to normal, so I can run my full-size hands across his back instead of my entire body...
She blinked as Jordan nudged her in the arm. The assembled group was walking again, heading towards another room. Here, lunch awaited, consisting of a small plate of gigantic fruits and vegetables as well as some peanut butter and crackers. The food looked fresh, and again Camille wondered who prepared it, but there was no sign of any giants around. She sampled the lettuce and a handful of banana, but didn't notice much flavor at all.
Eating in silence, she wondered about that and came up with a possible explanation. At her smaller size, she might have a lot fewer taste buds on her tongue. If what Jordan said was true, and she was born tiny, wouldn't that mean she had fewer cells in her body? Maybe that was why lights seemed so much brighter, and distant things were so hard to see--her eyes couldn't distinguish as much as they used to.
To test this theory, she looked closely at her hands. Her nails seemed normal enough, but were noticeably harder and straighter. As an experiment, she tried to break one and couldn't. She also discovered, after a moment's concentration, that she had no discernable fingerprints.
So it was true. She was really born smaller. She was really supposed to be just a few inches high. A doll, really. A helpless creature useful to nobody, except as a pet to play with whenever they got lonely.
For the first time, Camille began to despair. At first, she just thought this was some kind of dream she might wake up from, but as the day wore on everything began to seem more and more real. What if being big was the dream, and this was reality? Maybe something happened to her memory and the dream filled in what was lost. What if this was the way she was supposed to be?
No, she insisted inwardly. This isn't right. I can't believe that. I won't believe it. I'm five feet, seven inches tall, and somehow, some way, I'll be that size again.
No matter what it takes. No matter what...
After a while, the silent pets-in-training finished their meal. Class resumed with a series of lectures on finance and accounting, presumably so the mini could aid her host in keeping a budget. After that, they moved on to physical training in such things as climbing up electrical cords and moving through an obstacle course made up of common kitchen implements.
And so it went throughout the long, slow, excruciatingly demeaning day.
Chapter 9
Only at the end of class did the other students finally open up and talk. Amy gave a final speech, consisting mostly of a brief story about her time as a companion, and then sat down wearily. This appeared to be the signal that school was out, because the quiet dignity the minis displayed vanished instantly. The girls broke up into a half-dozen small and chatty groups, mostly conversing about the lessons learned earlier on.
"So what did you think?" Jordan asked quietly after Camille moved cautiously away from the others.
"That was the quietest class I've ever been in," was the immediate reply.
"Well, of course it was. Why? What did you expect?"
"A little more interaction from the students, that's what," Camille answered vehemently. "I mean, come on! What if I had a question? Don't I get to ask it?"
"Nobody ever asks questions," said Jordan worriedly, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard their conversation. "One of the first things a companion learns is to be silent unless spoken to. Most hosts don't want us interrupting them with foolish questions."
"Oh, my God," muttered Camille. "They're brainwashing you! That's what's really going on here. Don't you get it? This is like a cult or something!"
"Cult? What's that?" Jordan cocked her head. "Keep your voice down, will you? I don't want you ruining this for us!"
"What if I want to ruin it?" Cammie snapped. "What if I don't want to be here? I don't want to do this! I don't want to be a goddamn pet!"
Jordan turned away, a horror-stricken look on her face. Camille fought back her anger and ran her hand through the hair that kept drifting down over her forehead. She didn't regret her words at all, because she only said what she believed. What she regretted was the way she said them.
"Look, I'm sorry, Jord," she finally managed, putting a hand out to touch her friend's shoulder. "I shouldn't have jumped all over you, but this is really hard. I don't know what happened to me, but this is NOT what I want. I was supposed to have a career, you know, and now I've had that all ripped away!"
Jordan glanced back at her friend. She had tears in her eyes, and Camille suddenly felt a stabbing pain of guilt in her chest. "I-I don't care," she whimpered. "This is what I want, Camille. I want to be a companion. I want someone to hold me and love me and take care of me forever. Is that so wrong? Well? Is it?"
Camille hung her head. This wasn't the Jordan she remembered. Her Jordan would've argued against this with just as much fervor as this one was for it. How could everything change so much overnight?
"I guess not," Cammie managed after a moment. "If that's what you want, Jordan, I'm not going to argue any more. Maybe I'm wrong. I'll think about it some more, okay? Just don't cry. I'm sorry I raised my voice at you."
"I-it's okay," Jordan replied. "Please, Cammie, if this is some kind of joke or something, stop it, all right? It's not funny any more."
"It's not a joke," said Camille honestly. "I'm telling you, it's--"
"It's what?" asked another voice from nearby. Cammie and Jordan both jumped, and suddenly the latter stood up ramrod-straight, wiping her eyes and looking for all the world like an army recruit coming to attention.
The speaker, of course, was Amy Randolph. "Don't look so surprised," the aged instructor said with a weary grin. "I may be old, but I can still move quietly when I want to, can't I?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Jordan instantly. Camille didn't respond, only studying the woman who had once taught journalism in a world that seemed to slowly be getting farther and farther away with every passing moment.
"Now, since you two seem to be sharing a secret, why don't you tell this old woman what it is, would you? My hearing's still pretty good, too, you know. Now, don't look so surprised, my dears. Camille, you've been acting strange all day, and don't think I wouldn't notice. By the time you're done with this class, you'll be able to notice things like that, too."
Cammie and Jordan exchanged glances, as if to ask each other what to say. Neither spoke at first, but finally Camille realized her friend would blab if something wasn't done, so she headed her off at the pass. "Actually, it's kind of personal, you see--" she began.
"Okay, then, let me guess," said Dean Randolph. "You had a dream or hallucination that you were maxi sized, didn't you? Now you've forgotten what it's like to be a mini."
Camille's jaw dropped. "W-what makes you think that?" she gasped.
Amy smiled and nodded. "Every now and then, it happens. Usually, there are...certain substances involved. These drugs are made for maxis, you see, and affect our smaller brains with greater intensity. For most, we simply become intoxicated, but for some, a section of our memories are suppressed. For reasons nobody understands, the vast majority of the time these are replaced with false memories of being maxi-sized."
"That must be what happened to you last night," Jordan put in, somewhat in awe of this all-encompassing explanation.
Cammie shut her mouth and furrowed her brow. Amy's theory certainly seemed to fit the situation like a glove. What if she and Matt shared a joint last night or something? The fact that she hadn't said anything to Amy about any of this seemed to be further proof of her accuracy.
Again, though, Camille pushed that solution away. She didn't want to be this size! She wanted to be normal. Big-normal, not small-normal. Besides, she could remember things that no mini could ever have experienced. Roller coaster rides, driving a car, riding a bike...not to mention sex. How could a miniature woman, in a world without miniature men, ever know what real sex felt like?
"I see you're struggling with your false memories," said Amy with a comforting smile. "That's okay. Don't worry, Camille. Those memories will gradually fade and you'll recall your real life. I won't hold any of your failures today against you, considering your condition, but I caution you not to ever try those drugs again. Next time you may lose your memory entirely, and they might take months or years to come back. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Camille heard herself saying automatically, as if the proper response had been drilled into her. A chill ran up her spine as she wondered how true that actually was.
"As for you, Jordan," said Amy, "I'm making it your responsibility to make sure Camille here doesn't do anything foolish as a result of her memory loss. Work with her and try to be patient. She may say things she doesn't really mean. Within a week or two, she'll be herself again and might feel very badly about things she said. Don't take anything personally and make sure she understands that when she's herself again, all right?"
"Yes, Dean Randolph," Jordan replied at once. She had a look on her face that betrayed an amazing amount of relief, not to mention eagerness to comply with those orders.
Amy turned to leave, but Camille stopped her. "Wait a minute! How do you know all this?"
The instructor looked over her wizened, bent shoulder and flashed another toothless grin. "Because, my dear," she remarked almost casually, "when I was your age, the same thing happened to me."
Chapter 10
Camille almost didn't notice when the class started to break up. Loud male voices boomed out in greeting, coming through one of the nearby dividers. One by one, the other minis in the room headed towards the sounds, obviously to be picked up and carried home by their handlers. Cammie didn't really care. Her mind was awhirl with the possibilities.
What if Amy was right? No, that can't be, I'm supposed to be big! But what if I'm not? What if this is my life? Am I going to forget all of that other stuff? I don't want to...or do I?
Maybe it would be better if I just accepted this...
NO! This isn't me! I want my old life back! Goddammit, I want to be big again! I want to hold Mark in my arms, and kiss him, and screw him all night long! I don't want to be so small I can fit into his hand!
The sound of Mark's distant, muffled voice snapped her out of that thought. She wanted so badly to run to him, hold him, and beg him to make everything all right. She couldn't, though. Not like this.
Silently and sullenly, she followed Jordan towards the door, moving with head down like a whipped dog. "It'll be okay, you'll see," her friend said reassuringly, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "You'll be back to normal in no time."
"That's what I'm afraid of," mumbled Camille, but she wasn't sure she believed even her own statement. Not that it mattered--Jord didn't hear her, anyway.
They stepped through the door, and the giant Matt was standing there with his hand on the table. Cammie tried not to look up as she followed her friend into the waiting palm. Silently, she waited for the inevitable lift to chest level and then clambered into the Matt's pocket, where she sat down immediately and wrapped her arms around her knees.
The ride back to the sorority house seemed to take forever. Camille continued to nurse her doubts and explore her memories, doing her best to ignore the bounces and turns as Matt walked slowly across campus. Despite Amy's attempted explanation, things still didn't make sense, and in many ways were even worse than before. Plus, she now had the added worry that her old life might fall away completely, leaving her somebody's willingly conditioned slave. Worse still was the possibility that she might actually enjoy such a fate.
Amy Randolph's companion class seemed more like a charm school than anything else. Camille felt as though she was being trained for an arranged marriage in which she would be someone's servant instead of a wife. The only thing missing was the intimacy. Throughout the entire class, there wasn't a single hint of anything related to physical contact, except for the dancing massage. What if there was more to the host/companion relationship? What if they just hadn't covered that part of the coursework yet?
She turned to Jordan, who was of course standing and looking eagerly out of the pocket, enjoying the ride. "I have a question," Camille asked, getting to her feet.
"Shoot," said Jord immediately. "You heard Dean Randolph--I'm supposed to help you, right? Teacher's orders!"
Camille glanced out of the pocket, saw the giant world rushing by, and immediately ducked down again. The last thing she needed right now was another reminder of her present sorry state. "Sorry if this may sound personal, but this companionship training of ours...how far does it go? I mean, do we ever get, you know...intimate with our hosts?"
"Heavens no!" Jordan insisted, looking aghast. "Of course not! We're not sex toys! Where did you get that idea?"
"Nowhere," Camille insisted. "I was just thinking. Once we're someone's companion, what's to stop them from making us do...well, whatever they want? We're so small, they can just force us, can't they?"
"Oh, sure, if they want to be arrested," laughed Jordan. "There are weekly visits from members of the ACPS to make sure we're being treated well. I suppose a host could abuse us for a few days or something, but that's about it. Why would they, though? They'd never be allowed near a mini again. Besides which, the psych tests make sure they're compatible with us, don't forget."
"Okay, that makes me feel a little better," said Cammie. "What if we wanted it, though? What if we liked it? Would it be okay, then?"
Jordan looked shocked, but then recovered after a moment's thought. "Okay, I'll humor you since you lost your memory and all. You'll remember eventually, but we don't let ourselves get attached to hosts in that way. If we ever do start to think romantically, or sexually, attracted to a maxi, we're supposed to report it at once so we can request a transfer to somebody else. We can't have a relationship like that. We're professionals!"
Camille nodded. Jordan's words were comforting, but she wasn't quite buying it. She seriously doubted any heterosexual man would be able to live with a tiny, attractive woman like herself without becoming interested in her for more than just conversation and the occasional massage. Furthermore, she might be a mini, but she was still a woman and still felt like one. She had urges, goddammit! In fact, standing her in this pocket, so close to Matt's immense beating heart, she could feel herself wishing once more to be holding him tightly. To kiss him, man to woman.
Why, the very scent of him was intoxicating...
A door slammed like thunder. Distant, loud voices called out to greet Matt, and Camille knew they must be back in the sorority building. Sure enough, a moment later he started up the stairs, and she held on tightly as he ascended. After another turn, which drew a laugh of giddy delight from Jordan, he finally came to a stop and lowered the pocket. Both women spilled out immediately, and Camille found herself once again standing next to the plastic dollhouse that was her pathetic home.
"Feeling better now?" Matt asked, leaning down over the two tiny women and smiling brightly. His breath didn't smell like toothpaste any more, and Cammie detected the telltale hint of garlic in the air. Italian, she thought. He had Italian food for lunch.
"I think so," Camille replied, brushing back her hair. "Thanks for the ride, Matt. I really appreciate it."
"Good," he replied, sounding quite happy about something. Come to think of it, he did seem unusually chipper earlier, although she hadn't noticed back then. "I was afraid you might've been sick or something. I've got a real surprise for you tonight. I'll be back after my last class, and then we'll go out, and I'll share it with you, okay?"
"Sure," Camille agreed, trying to hide her reluctance. She could use some time alone with Matt. Maybe he could answer some questions for her, like what happened between them last night. If they really did do drugs, then maybe Amy's explanation was correct after all.
"Can I come?" asked Jordan coquettishly, smiling up at the giant man before her. "I promise, I won't get in the way."
"Nope," Matt replied. "This is between Cammie and I. Let's just say I'm giving her an early birthday present."
"But my birthday's not for three months," Camille pointed out.
"Like I said, it's early," he agreed with a sly wink. "Now I have to head out. See you tonight. And put on your best dress!"
With that, he turned and went back the way he came, moving faster than his massive size would've suggested. Cammie just watched him go, wondering what the hell he was talking about.
Jordan chuckled as she headed back towards the dollhouse. "I'll bet you wish you had your memories back now, don't you?"
Chapter 11
Camille didn't answer the question, instead staring into the distance as Matt retreated. The door eventually slammed shut, leaving her at a loss.
There was no longer any question of this being some kind of dream, or nightmare, or anything like that. There was too much detail, and the experience had gone on too long. Somehow, all of what was happening was real. She was Alice, gone through the looking-glass into a world where everything was twenty times too big.
And she had no idea how she got here, or how to get back.
"Hello, Earth to Cammie," Jordan said from nearby, waving a hand across her path of vision. "You want to go watch TV with me, or you want to stay here?"
"I don't know," Camille replied wearily. The day's experiences had drained her mentally, although her muscles seemed devoid of fatigue. At least in this weird alternate world, she was still in shape. Apparently hosts wanted their pets--no, companions--to be fit and healthy.
"Well, I'm going to go change, and use the restroom," Jordan replied. "If you want to come along, I suggest you do the same."
Restroom? Camille turned to watch Jordan depart, wondering about that for the second time that day. By her estimation it was already at least mid-afternoon. Why was it she hadn't had to at least use the facilities once in all that time?
Actually, now that she thought about it, she did have to go. The feeling of pressure wasn't very intense, but it was there. She followed her friend around to the back of the dollhouse, where a little plastic outhouse waited. The tiny building even had one of those stupid half-moons etched into the surface.
Jordan emerged a minute or so later. "You coming?" she asked. "You know if you stay here, you'll just get bored. There's nothing to do!"
"Yeah, okay, whatever," replied Camille. "If only to get my mind off my...condition. Maybe I can think of some way to fix it."
"Sure, whatever. I'll go change. See you at the ladder!"
With that, Jordan was off, displaying her usual exuberant amount of energy. Except for her unfortunate belief that being three inches high was normal, she still had most of the original Jordan's personality. Still, in many ways she also seemed like a stranger. Camille wished very much that her friend could remember what it felt like to be normal-sized. At least then, Cammie thought, she wouldn't seem so alone.
As Jordan left, Camille entered the outhouse, which internally resembled a plastic porta-potty sitting atop a metal chamber pot about the size of a thimble. A few folds of painfully coarse, fibrous paper awaited her when she finished her business. Oh well, she thought as she headed back towards the house, at least I don't seem to need to go all that much.
Inside, she saw Jordan putting on a rather skimpy pink tank top and bike shorts that looked like the sort of gaudy exercise clothing Barbie would wear. Apparently, getting to the television was going to involve a challenging workout. Camille's mind flashed back to companion class, where she practiced climbing up short lengths of electrical cord while wearing a dress. The ascent wasn't hard, but the clothing made it difficult. She followed Jordan's lead, selected a doll-sized leotard and tights, and followed those up with some socks and more of the slipper-like tennis shoes. The shoes proved to be the most comfortable part of the ensemble, but at least she wouldn't get caught in her clothing while making a climb.
By the time she was finished getting dressed, Camille had lost track of Jordan. "Hello? Jordie, you here?" she called out, but got no response. Moving outside, she climbed up the stairs over the pool, which was now empty. From there, she could see Jordan at the far end of the tabletop, doing some slow stretching exercises.
Cammie headed over that way and found a rope ladder dangling along the wall, tied to a pair of hooks. She hadn't noticed this before because the tabletop itself blocked her view of that part of the room. She looked down over the edge for the first time and backed up quickly, suddenly aware of just how far the floor really was.
She followed Jordan's lead and did a few stretches, thinking about the distance all the while. How tall is a normal table? Three feet, maybe? If so, and now that's 20 times bigger, that's 60 feet! God...I could be killed by falling off a table...
"Ready?" Jordan said eagerly, bouncing up from her final stretch of the afternoon and moving fearlessly over to the rope ladder. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of the top rung and swung into position. Acting as though descending 60 feet on a flimsy structure was an everyday occurrence, the tiny woman made her way down with surprising speed.
Swallowing nervously, Camille gathered up her courage and followed her friend's lead. The descent actually proved rather easy, once she mastered the art of balancing in the middle of each rung before letting her hands slide downward. Partway down, she realized this wasn't a rope ladder she was climbing, but one made of ordinary twine.
At the bottom, Jordan was waiting. "Come on, slowpoke!" she taunted. "You want to miss our show?"
"No, I guess not," Cammie replied, but as she did so she let her eyes gaze outward at the rest of the room. She was now standing alongside the massive table that supported the dollhouse, pool, and her home in general. Several chairs rose like towers into the air. The carpet was a massive sea of golden fibers, the door a monolith along the far wall. She couldn't even see the ceiling any more, it was so high. The light coming in through the distant panels was a diffuse, uneven glow.
Laughing, Jordan started to run across the carpet, towards the door. As she did, she stayed close to the wall, near the right-hand floorboard. Camille tried to keep up, but kept losing her balance in the thick carpet under her feet. After a while she started imitating Jordan, who seemed to be dancing along as she ran, taking care to lift each foot high enough to avoid being tripped.
After what seemed like forever, they reached the door itself. Camille wondered how they were going to get past this formidable barrier, but realized the answer as soon as she saw where Jordan was going. Underneath the lowest hinge, inside the frame, there was a notch big enough to slip through. Obviously, this was a "mini-friendly" house, and in fact, Cammie could now recall Lisa saying something about that this morning. Something about marked places where the minis could travel in safety.
Beyond the notch, she found out what that meant. A painted white line, like the shoulder of a highway, ran alongside the right-hand wall. There was no carpeting in the hall, so she was able to run easily, catching up with Jordan at the corner. There, she saw the reason for her friend's pause--a giant woman was coming up the stairs! Camille didn't recognize whoever it was, because she was more worried about getting crushed underfoot. Cringing in fear, she hugged the wall, gazing upward in obvious terror.
"Don't be so scared," Jordan told her. "It's just Rachel. She knows better than to step across the line! I only stopped just to make sure you were okay."
The giantess strode past, not noticing the tiny minis by her feet, and disappeared into her room deeper inside the house. Camille let her breath out in a slow hiss of relief.
"There's nothing to be scared of," Jordan told her. "Maxis are perfectly safe as long as they know we're here. As long as you don't do something stupid like wander off where you don't belong, nothing's going to happen to you. Now come on, let's slide down the stairs!"
Jordan hurried off to the edge of the staircase, where she grabbed hold of some kind of apparatus dangling on a wire of some kind. Before Camille could say anything, the eager girl launched herself off into space, screaming excitedly as she disappeared from sight. Cammie hurried forward, wondering what had happened, and saw that her friend had just used a pulley-like device to slide down to the first turn in the staircase. A second such slide awaited Camille, if she wanted to use it. She didn't.
Fortunately, someone had thoughtfully built a mini-sized set of stairs along the wall, complete with its own white border. Camille hurried down these, drawing a shout of complaint from Jordan at the bottom. Cammie didn't care--she wasn't about to take any risks right now! Being small would be bad enough without a broken leg, too.
Getting down the stairs seemed to take forever, but eventually she caught up to Jordan, who was waiting impatiently. The instant Camille hit the last step, her friend took off running again, heading towards the living room. Cammie was amazed at how fast and easily Jordan ran. In the real world--she found herself having to remind herself which one was "real"--Jord wasn't all that athletic. Here, being able to run and climb was a requirement just to get around.
Twice, they stopped to wait for a giantess to pass by. On each occasion, the loud thumping of footsteps warned Camille that someone was coming. She could feel the vibrations in the floor, too. They were quite distinctive. She got the impression there'd be no chance she could ever fail to notice a normal-sized person was approaching.
Then, just as the two minis started moving again, another giantess came around a nearby corner. She spotted them both instantly and came to a halt, looming over the tiny women by the baseboards. This was the first time Camille really got a chance to look all the way up at a giant person from down by her feet, and she could only stare upwards in awe.
The huge woman bent down over the two minis as though they were insignificant bugs. Camille stood frozen, eyes wide, even as a part of her mind recognized the short-haired brunette as Melanie Rivers, a junior. Back in the "real" world, Melanie was Cammie's pledge trainer the year before. Already that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Melanie smiled, hands on her knees, as she bent down over the pitifully tiny women by her feet. Her voice boomed over them like peals of thunder.
"Well, where are you two off to in such a hurry?"
Chapter 12
Camille couldn't answer, even if she wanted to. Her whole body was paralyzed. Seeing someone's head and shoulders over the edge of a table was one thing, but to look upward at such a colossus was inconceivable. She had never felt so insignificant in all her life.
Next to her, Jordan didn't seem intimidated at all. "Just to the living room to watch TV," she answered, raising her voice noticeably so the giantess could hear.
"Oh, yeah, the soap's on, isn't it?" Melanie nodded, head bobbing up and down with more motion than such an immense being should be able to produce. "Well, do you want a ride so you don't miss the teaser?"
"Nope, we need the exercise!" Jordan called out appreciatively. "But thanks anyway!"
"Okay, suit yourself." Melanie shrugged and strode off, disappearing from view in a couple of steps. Obviously, the novelty of having minis roaming the halls wasn't that big a deal, at least not for someone who'd been around them for over a year.
The sudden departure of the walking tower left Camille gasping in relief. "You okay?" Jordan asked curiously. "You look kinda sick."
Cammie swallowed hard and wiped her brow. "I'm okay. I just--well, I hadn't seen somebody from floor level yet. I'll be all right. I can't believe I live like this all the time!"
"Well, you might as well get used to it," said Jordan with a shrug. "Like I said, we're perfectly safe as long as you don't cross the line. Now come on, the show's started!"
Camille followed along at a brisk jog. As she ran, she thought back over the encounter with Melanie again. How could she not? The woman's massive size differential was unbelievable. Twenty times bigger seemed like just a number until you see someone that huge, Cammie thought.
Could she really have lived her whole life like this? What was it like, being so close to the floor all the time? What about other events? How did she get through grade school, or kindergarten? What was it like the first year here at the college? How did the older sorority sisters react to her arrival last August? Camille had no idea, no memory of these things--except, of course, from the point of view of a maxi. She made a mental note to ask Jordan about those experiences later.
The two tiny women continued on, eventually emerging inside the cavernous living room. An impressive entertainment center awaited, reminding Camille of a high-rise office building. The television was already on, and several giant women were caught up in the show, which was obviously a soap opera. The ladies, lounging about in chairs that looked like skyscrapers, took no notice of the minis at all.
From her ground-level vantage point, Camille couldn't see the TV very well, but Jordan led the pair around behind the entertainment center and out the other side, jogging the whole time. Eventually they reached a short table with another rope ladder attached. Jordan scrambled up and Camille followed, feeling a little more comfortable on the swaying twine loops this time around.
At the top, they found a couple of immense pillows, as well as a bottle cap filled with water. Obviously, somebody either saw them coming and prepared the area in advance, or coming here was a kind of daily ritual. Nobody seemed to notice their arrival, so it must not be that unusual.
Camille pivoted around, surveying the room, marveling at just how expansive the normally crowded living area seemed. Big, big, big. That word seemed to define her whole universe now. Furniture like buildings, carpet thick enough to trip over, sorority sisters the size of monsters straight out of a Japanese movie...and yet this was all normal to everybody but her. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
Trying to put her predicament out of her mind, she followed the eyes of most everyone else in the room, and found herself watching the broad, movie screen-sized television. A man and a woman, neither of them very good at acting, were arguing about something. Camille sighed wearily. She never had time for soap operas back in the real world, but here, apparently, they were a good way to pass the time.
Jordan took a glob of water from the cup and sucked it down. Camille, feeling thirsty after the workout, did the same. After that they both ascended onto one of the pillows, which was made of some kind of fuzzy substance that was very comfortable. Jordan settled down on her stomach immediately, her breathing already returning to normal after the long jog. "Nice workout, huh?" she asked rhetorically. "We should do the house loop later, at least a couple of times."
"Couldn't we just have let Melanie carry us here?" Cammie inquired, solely to make conversation. "And isn't there anything better on TV?"
"Well, yeah, we could've asked, but what fun would that be? And you love the Young and the Restless, don't forget! It's the one soap with a recurring mini character, even if she only shows up once in a blue moon."
"Huh?" Camille flashed a curious glance at her friend. "Is she an actress? How's that possible? I thought you said minis didn't have ordinary jobs!"
"They don't," Jordan answered with a sigh. "I'm going to have to explain everything, aren't I? You see, Jacinth Torres is Keith Hamilton Cobb's mini. He's the guy who plays Damon Porter on the show. When he got the job, he asked if he could bring his mini to the set. The staff agreed and they got permission from the ACPS. They did an episode with her in it as a joke, and after that, she crops up every now and then."
"Cool! Does she get into adventures? Spy on people, things like that?"
"What? Oh, no, never! The ACPS wouldn't let that happen. They wouldn't want minis who watch to think that's what real companions do. The laws are really strict about that sort of thing. Remember two years ago when--oh, right, of course you don't. They found out the government had a program to train minis as spies back in the Cold War. Fortunately, the project never went anywhere, but still...a lot of people were worried about that."
"I don't know," said Camille with a sigh, "whether to be glad we're so protected or to be annoyed at being thought of as so helpless."
"I hate to break it to you, but we ARE helpless! Just be glad this isn't the Middle Ages! I shudder every time I think of what they did to minis back then. Heck, even fifty years ago we were still being used for--oooh, never mind, let's not go there!" Jordan gave a visible, obviously exaggerated shiver. "Now stop talking and watch the show!"
"Okay, whatever," Camille replied, turning to the massive television that dominated the far wall like a huge drive-in movie screen. The entertainment center wasn't the same one she was used to--obviously, since "big Jordan" wasn't around to buy the thing for the house--but it was still impressive. Unfortunately, the soap was of no interest whatsoever. Camille very quickly became bored and put her head down, intending to take a nap. Maybe if she fell asleep, she thought hopefully, she'd wake up back at normal size and could forget all this ever happened.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her lift her head quickly, just in time to see another giantess enter the room. Not just any giantess, but Diane, the former cripple, walking as if she hadn't been born a paraplegic. Which, in this world, she hadn't.
"Oh, hello!" she called out the instant she spotted the minis on the pillow. "I was hopin' to find you two here! Is it all right to talk to you outside your room?"
"Sure," said Jordan, sitting up immediately, "but keep your voice down so the others can watch the show."
"Okay. I wanted to apologize for this mornin'," Diane drawled, staring at Camille the entire time, and all but ignoring Jordan. "I didn't mean to scare you like I did. Can I make it up to you?"
"Um, I guess so," Camille replied. Nearby, Jordan rolled her eyes and went back to watching the soap, recognizing at once that she was now out of the conversation.
"Oh, great! I've been feeling bad about it all day." Diane held up a huge, slender finger, topped by a brightly painted red fingernail. "It is all right if I give you a massage, Camille? To show I'm really sorry?"
"I don't know," she answered, not letting her eyes leave that huge digit hovering uncomfortably close to her little body. "I haven't--I mean, I don't--"
"Just do it," muttered Jordan, never letting her eyes leave the TV set. "You won't be sorry!"
Camille sighed. "Okay, I guess. Go ahead. Just...not so hard, okay?"
"Sure thang," replied Diane, reaching out to gingerly touch Camille's back. The mini flattened herself against the pillow, immediately moaning aloud at the pleasant sensation of the immense fingertip gliding along her skin. She hadn't realized until just now how tense the day's proceedings had left her.
Within moments she was totally relaxed, almost gasping at each little circle made by Diane's gentle touch on her back. Cammie's fingers and toes were actually tingling with pleasure. She shut her eyes, sighing delightedly. No wonder Jordan liked this so much, she thought. The soft caress of that huge fingertip stimulated so many nerve endings at once that every simple push felt like a professional massage.
The last thing she remembered before falling into a blissful sleep was wishing that could be Matt's finger traveling along the tingling curves of her tiny little body.
Chapter 13
The sound of movement startled Camille back to wakefulness. She lifted her head, finding any motion difficult. Her entire body was so relaxed that she needed a force of will to convince any of her muscles to work.
All around her, the giantesses were stirring. Their voices, booming like distant thunder, discussed only the soap opera that now appeared to be ending.
"Did you like that?" purred Diana's voice from close by, distinctive in its Southernness. "I guess you did, since you've been asleep for the last hour."
Camille rolled over, unable to keep from yawning. Jordan was sitting up, stretching, and the massive head of Diane hung in the sky. For an instant, the face looked like one of those balloons in the parades on New Year's Day, except that it was clearly animated and alive. Rather than be surprised or frightened, though, Camille only felt disappointed. She hadn't returned to her world after all.
"Thank you," she managed in between yawns. "I don't think I've ever been quite that relaxed by a massage."
Diane's massive face broke into a white-toothed grin. The incredible size of her face weren't nearly as intimidating any more. "I'm glad you liked it. Just rubbing your li'l shoulders like that made me relax, too. I felt like all the stress was drainin' right out of me. Now I can see why people want to have their own mini. You aren't just a novelty, are you? You're a...well, a companion, I guess. The job's well named."
Camille couldn't help but frown. "You could just get a cat or something if you wanted to have a pet, you know."
Large as she was, Diane totally missed the irritated look on Cammie's face. In fact, she laughed aloud at the remark. "Oh, sure, anybody could get a cat, but a mini is so much better! Cats can't talk to you, or share your experiences, or anything like that. God, if only I could afford a companion!"
Camille started to reply, but stopped. The retort she intended died on her lips. This is no time to rock the boat, she reminded herself. "Yeah, that's too bad," she managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth. How much did it cost to adopt a mini, anyway? And who got the money?
"I really like you, Camille," Diane went on unabashedly. "Maybe someday I can find a way to afford the fee. Oh, well! Anyhow, I know I'm only a pledge, but do you think we could play a game or somethin'? I don't know anybody here, and I really like talking to you."
"Uhh, what kind of game?" Camille had a sudden, mind-numbing vision of being forced to race through a maze like a trained rat.
"I'm not sure," Diane admitted. "The sisters were sayin' the pledges were going to play a game after the show for some kind of prize. A board game of some kind. Would you join me?"
From the other side of the pillow, Jordan nodded vigorously and jumped right into the conversation. "Yeah, that's typical hazing stuff. We'll be your playing pieces, sure," she agreed, not bothering to consult Camille at all.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Diane clapped excitedly, causing both minis to involuntarily wince at the loud sound. "Stay here and I'll come back for you once we have the game set up!"
Swiftly, her giant head and body retreated into the distance, leaving the living room empty, save for the two minis on the pillow. "What was that all about?" Camille wondered, blinking the rest of the cavernous room into focus.
"Oh, we play games all the time," explained Jordan, yawning to recover from her own blissful nap. "Backgammon, Trivial Pursuit, stuff like that. You and I make great pieces, like I said, and they let us roll the dice and carry things around. It's a lot of fun, and great practice for when we're companions."
"I guess I can understand that. What about chess?"
"Oh, yeah, sometimes they let us be the queens, you know? The pieces are really too heavy to move around, so there's not much else to do. Not that it matters, since most of the girls like more social games, with more players. Chess takes too darn long, anyway."
"I don't know," said Camille thoughtfully. "I always liked the challenge."
"Challenge?" Jordan flashed her a quizzical look. "Oh, you mean hefting the pieces? Well, sure, if you stretch out beforehand, I guess that's okay, so long as you don't hurt yourself. You're stronger than me, anyhow."
"No, I don't mean carrying anything," scoffed Camille. "I mean playing the damn game! Felicity's pretty good, and Lisa and I can play for hours."
Jordan looked stunned. "You? Actually playing chess?"
"Yeah, what's so strange about that? I play all the time! My father taught me. It's like exercise for the brain, you know?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Cammie, you can't play chess! Sometimes we have to remind you how the pieces move! They don't teach us advanced game rules like that in class until senior year. If you really can play--" Jordan stopped, eyes wide. "Omigod, that would mean you're telling the truth!"
"Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?" Camille grinned. Finally, a chance to prove herself! "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's find a board!"
"Not yet," Jordan cautioned. "We still have to do whatever the pledges want, but then, maybe you can challenge somebody. Wow, wouldn't that surprise everyone if you beat Lisa! She's so good nobody even tries to play her anymore."
"Yeah, she's awfully good. She and I were about even, but either of us could beat anyone else in the house about two-thirds of the time. The best I ever did against Lisa was a three-game winning streak."
Jordan looked impressed, but before she could say anything, Diane's massive form returned. "Hey, we're settin' up Monopoly on the kitchen table," the giantess informed them. "Camille, will you be my piece?"
"Sure," she agreed, seizing on the opportunity, "but you need to do me a favor, okay? If you win, you have to play a game of chess with me."
Diane grinned. "Sure thang, but I'm pretty good," she cautioned. "I had a little brother, y'know? We used to play on rainy days, and it rains a lot in South Carolina. Do they teach y'all how to play chess in companion school?"
"Eventually, yeah. I just already know. Well, I guess we should get started if we want to get to the kitchen when the game starts."
"Don't be silly! I'll carry you. Here." Diane set her hand down next to the pillow--the very same hand Camille climbed into that morning. The first hand that ever lifted her, although Diane didn't know that. This time, the palm didn't look all that intimidating, and in fact, Camille found herself eager to get started. She slid down the pillow's edge onto the crinkly, warm platform, to be joined a moment later by Jordan.
"Well, this should be fun," Camille said as they started to move.
Chapter 14
Holding the two minis as though they were fragile glassware, Diane tiptoed through the house to the kitchen. There, five of the other pledges waited, accompanied by Lisa Horton and a fully decked out Monopoly board. "Camille's going to be my piece!" Diane announced excitedly, setting her tiny cargo down by the GO space, alongside metal sculptures in the shape of a battleship, hat, dog, and other familiar items.
"Really? Cool!" said another pledge.
"Who gets Jordan?" asked another. "Can I use her? Please?"
"No, no, we don't want the two minis to have to compete against each other," explained Lisa in a firm, motherly tone. "She can be the banker, though. Is that all right, Jordan?"
"Sure!" replied the mini eagerly, heading over to the immense rack of play money. At a glance, she saw that the starting cash had already been handed out, so she took up a perch on top of the stack of property cards.
"Okay, as you know, the winner gets immunity from tonight's pledge task," said Lisa. "Diane, while you were gone, we rolled to see who got to go first, and Veronica won. Go ahead and start, V."
The tall, dark-haired woman began by rolling the dice and getting a 2, moving her to the first Community Chest space. The top card provided her with a $100 bonus, so Jordan grabbed the appropriate bill and dashed across the board with it. Seeing how much work her friend was in for, Camille was grateful she was just a playing piece.
Then it was Diane's turn, and to Camille's surprise, she found the dice dropped in front of her. Both of the cubes were big enough to come up to her knees, but it seemed it was her duty to roll them. Trying not to look surprised at this job, she hefted each die, one after the other, and lobbed them over her shoulder towards the center of the board. The total was an 11, so she moved to St. Charles Place and stood there while Diane bought the property from Jordan.
The game went on like that for a while, with Camille basically rolling dice and holding her position for Diane. Cammie found it impossible to get bored, even though she only stood around most of the time. Watching the game from the table level made her feel like she was part of it, unlike any other time she'd ever played Monopoly. When she was on a railroad she pretended like she was an engineer, and upon going to jail, she mimed being stuck behind bars. This never failed to draw a giggle of appreciation from Diane, who seemed inspired by her mini, playing an aggressive trading game that put her in the early lead.
Unfortunately, the later stages didn't play out as well as Diane would've hoped. Obviously a veteran of the game, she was clearly better than most of the other pledges, several of whom were bankrupted early. Eventually, only Vernoica was left, and the positions appeared about even once Stacey dropped out. At that point, Diane was left attempting to block Veronica's purchase of hotels by hanging onto all the houses and producing a building shortage. A pair of bad rolls forced her to sell of all the houses on the light blue color group, enabling Veronica to fill the greens and yellows with hotels. After this it was just a matter of time, and Diane finally surrendered after landing on Marvin Gardens. She still had properties left, but they were all mortgaged. Victory at this point would be all but impossible, so she capitulated to save her opponent the effort of crushing her.
"Well, you played great," said Camille helpfully as Diane picked her up following the loss. "The dice just didn't fall right."
"Yeah, that's how it always is with Monopoly," agreed the giantess. "You can play as well as you want, but if you roll badly, you lose. It doesn't matter, though. That was the most fun I've ever had playing the game, and it was all because of you!"
"Oh, come on," Cammie replied, blushing noticeably. "I didn't really do anything."
"Sure you did. You were like my partner! I wish you could always be on my team, but I know I don't have any claim to you. We'll have to take turns, I guess. Is there anything I can do to show my appreciation?"
"Yeah, you can play that game of chess you promised me," replied Camille. "I know you didn't win, but I still want to try."
"Well, okay, we still have an hour before dinner," replied Diane, turning to address the pledge trainer. "Lisa, is it okay if I play a game of chess before we eat?"
"Sure," came the reply. Lisa raised an eyebrow as she thought about the question a bit more. "Hey, are you challenging me?"
"No, ma'am! Never! I've heard about your chess-playing skills--I know I could never beat you. I owe Camille for bein' my game piece, so I want to play her."
"Huh? None of the minis play chess," said Lisa. The other occupants of the room were now giving the conversation their full attention.
"I do," insisted Camille.
"Since when?"
"I always have," she replied, noticing that Jordan, still on the table, was shaking her head sadly. "I just never worried about it before."
"Hmm. Sounds to me like somebody's been studying for companion school on the side! Okay, Diane, go for it. Theresa, go get the board--it's in the same closet where Monopoly was."
The other pledge fetched the chessboard and Diane quickly set it up, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs adjoining the black pieces. Nobody seemed to argue that Camille, as the mini, got to start as white. The other pledges, as well as Lisa, crowded around to watch while Camille stood on the board, thinking about her opening. Meanwhile, Veronica picked up Jordan and started giving her a back massage.
Camille decided to go with the standard Vienna Game, preferring the king's pawn opening. Knowing nothing about her opponent, she didn't want to risk the King's Gambit. Diane followed up with knight moves resulting in a typical Four Knight's Game, a conservative opening that suggested the giantess wasn't as skilled as she originally said. She understood the game, obviously, but playing against her little brother gave her nothing more than a basic level of training.
The tricky part, Cammie found, was keeping track of what was going on from the level of the table. Normally, she watched a chess game from a position where she could see everything at once. Now, she stood at eye's level to the queen, so she found herself constantly wandering about the board to make sure she could see all avenues of attack.
Nonetheless, she played well. Narrowly missing a threatened knight fork, she managed to parley her position into a defense-crushing assault that left her a rook up in the game. After that, all it took was a few exchanges, and she swept up the last of the pawns. Diane tipped her king in the traditional admittance of defeat.
"Wow, that was some display," said Diane afterwards. "I thought I was purty good at this, but you slaughtered me!"
"Well, it's good exercise for the mind, like my father always said," replied Camille humbly. "You played a good game, too. We should practice, and you'll be kicking me around in no time!"
"I'd love to," Diane agreed. "I sure wish you could be my companion, Camille! You and I have so much in common!"
"I hope I have a host like you," Camille offered amiably. Diane seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her, and the tone of voice she originally interpreted as condescending was clearly misread. "Now I guess we should go back to our room so the rest of you can eat, huh?"
"Not so fast," Lisa interrupted. "I want to try a game, Camille, if you don't mind. You play pretty good...for a beginner. And a mini."
"Fine, bring it on," Cammie agreed. "I've been wondering if you could take me. The only thing I ask is that Diane hold me over the board and move the pieces, okay? I'm used to seeing it from above, not at table level."
"Sounds good to me," Lisa agreed readily. "Let's play!"
This time, the game was much more intense. Lisa, as the challenger, opened with a queen's pawn move, matched by Camille. After that, Lisa moved conservatively, probing her opponent's defenses. Cammie eventually lay down on her stomach, peering out between Diane's fingers and pointing to direct each move. Her bearer gently massaged Camille's back and whispered words of encouragement as the game progressed.
As closely matched as they were, neither player could gain the upper hand right away. Lisa had the advantage of the initiative provided by moving first, but didn't know what to expect from her tiny opponent. Camille, on the other hand, had played Lisa dozens of times--in another reality. Thus, when she saw a particular situation developing, she was able to react immediately, surprising Lori with the speed of her counterattack.
Although the eventual endgame left Camille only a pawn ahead, it was a passed pawn. By the time Lori's king could hunt the rogue unit down, Cammie was able to clear the way for another pawn to advance to the final rank, earning a promotion. At this point Lori resigned, extending a finger as a courtesy. Camille mimed shaking it, as she would an opponent's hand, and grinned with pride.
"Wow, that was some game," Lori said by way of congratulation. "It was like you and I had played before. You seemed to know what I was going to do."
"Yeah, I've seen you play so many times, it's like I know what you think," agreed Camille diplomatically.
"Well, it's good to get some competition around here! You know I want a rematch, but not right now. Maybe tomorrow. Dinner's already late getting served." She turned her head and raised her voice, taking on a commanding tone. "You pledges! Stop sitting around gawking! You know what you have to do--get started fixing our dinner! All except you, Veronica. You won immunity, but I do have one task for you. You have to go to the store and get some ice cream for dessert!"
As the pledges scampered to comply, Diane turned back to face Camille, now getting to her feet inside the giant palm. "Well, you heard the boss," said Diane to her little friend. "I'll take you back to your room if you want."
"Nah, just set me down next to Jordan, and we'll make our own way back," replied Camille. "Thanks for holding me during the chess game. That really helped."
"Any time, darlin'. Thanks again!"
Diane tilted her hand, and Camille dropped onto the tabletop next to an awestruck Jordan. The giantess departed, leaving the two minis alone for the moment.
"I can't believe you won," Jordan said in amazement. "I thought maybe Matt showed you the rules last night or something, but there's no way you learned to play like that overnight. Chess takes years to master!"
Camille was smiling with the satisfaction of one who has just proven her case. "Yeah, like I said, I've been playing for ages. Believe me now?"
"Of course, but you know what this means, don't you?"
"What?"
"It means what Dean Randolph said can't be true. This isn't about a loss of memory. You really were a maxi!"
"Yes, of course!" Camille threw up her hands in exasperation. "That's what I've been trying to tell you this whole time! Now can you help me think of some way to get back to my world? The place I really came from?"
"I'll try, Cammie. I swear I will, but I just don't know how."
"Yeah, neither do I." Camille sighed. "I just went to sleep and woke up like this. I don't know if I fell through a space warp, or what. Maybe something will show up that lets me go home--I don't know."
"Yeah, this sounds like that Star Trek episode," suggested Jordan thoughtfully. "You know, the one with the mirror universe."
"I remember that one. I was thinking Twilight Zone this whole time, but yeah, you may have something there."
"You know what's funny?" Jordan smiled as she led her friend over to the edge of the table, where yet another rope ladder awaited. "If this is really a mirror universe, that means my Camille is in your world right now! I wonder what she's thinking, being big all of a sudden?"
"Hopefully trying to get back here. If she decides to stay, how am I ever supposed to switch places with her?"
Chapter 15
Upon reaching the floor, the two minis found it impossible to go back to their room the way they came. There were just too many giant feet stamping around to risk passing through any of the kitchen entrances. Instead, Jordan led Camille another way--alongside the wall next to the refrigerator. Cammie expected this passage to be dirty or dusty, but it was just as clean as the rest of the floor seemed to be. Another advantage of having pledges, apparently.
Up against the back wall, Camille discovered someone had built a small doll-sized door. Jordan went through it as though nothing unusual was going on, and the two emerged into a hall closet. Once again, a notch in the frame allowed them both an easy exit into a passageway free of giants. Camille found herself wondering just how much more difficult this would be if someone hadn't made the building mini-friendly.
It's like handicapped access, she thought as she headed back towards the staircase, carefully staying inside the white line near the floorboard. The whole sorority house has handicapped access!
Camille frowned, hating the idea that she was considered some kind of cripple. Being three inches high certainly qualified, though. Oh well, she thought, at least in this reality the modifications to the building were much cheaper.
At the stairs, she found that there wasn't an easy elevator ride or automated service to get back to the second floor. This meant nothing less than a long walk up the mini-sized staircase, which was sure to be an extreme workout. Jordan started running immediately, but Camille followed with a bit more caution. Still, by the time they were halfway up, both were exhausted. They stopped for a rest at the bend in the hall, wiping the sweat off their brows.
"Having fun yet?" asked Jordan with a grin.
"Yeah, this is great," muttered Cammie half-heartedly. "Back in my reality, I'd just dash up these stairs in a couple of seconds. At least somebody built us our own stairs, though. I can't imagine climbing up those huge ones."
"You don't remember, but we did do that a few times," explained Jordan. "When we first got here, the building wasn't set up for us. They made the pledges cut all the holes in the doors, set up the string ladders, and all this other stuff. I think I heard somebody say this year's class is going to put in even more improvements."
"Well, I hope one of them is an elevator," Camille suggested, eyeing the daunting staircase ruefully. "I feel like I'm climbing the Eiffel Tower."
"What, does it have steps?" Jordan looked at her friend curiously.
"Yeah, you and I--oh, never mind, you wouldn't know. I keep forgetting you're not the same Jordan I remember."
"I keep thinking the same thing about you," she agreed.
"I know! Weird, huh? Anyway, you and I, in my world, went to Paris our senior year in high school. We walked up the steps to the first and second levels, and I thought we'd never get there! Still, the view was pretty good. Nothing but buildings all around, as far as the eye could see."
"Wow, sounds like fun," Jordan said with a sigh. "I wish we could travel, but you know how it is for minis. Okay, you don't know, but we can't really go anywhere. Too many worries about our safety. It's too easy for us to get hurt or lost."
"Yeah, the world's a lot bigger for us, isn't it? I wonder what Paris would look like from this angle," mused Camille, trying to imagine herself exploring the Louvre from floor level. The very idea made her chuckle.
"Maybe when we're companions, our hosts will be rich enough to take us on private trips," Jordan sighed hopefully. "Wouldn't that be something? I've always wondered what a beach is really like! Or a botanical garden, with all those flowers and insects around."
"What? You like insects?" Camille shuddered at the thought of a giant cockroach or spider coming towards her. In fact, she was yet to see a real bug, for which she was quite grateful.
"Oh, sure! Well, not dangerous ones, but I love to play with things like pillbugs and beetles. The patterns on their scales are so intricate! Plus I can ride on the really big ones. Remember--oh, right, you don't, I keep forgetting! Anyway, there's one called a rhinoceros beetle that's so huge we were both able to sit on it at once. If you want to, later on, we could--"
"I'd rather not think about giant insects right now, thank you," Camille interrupted. "Let me ask you something, though. You know how my double in your world is probably in mine right now?"
Jordan chuckled. "Yeah, she's gotta be pretty freaked."
"What would you do, if you were there?" Camille was genuinely interested, and wasn't asking simply to make conversation.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Well, I was thinking about that while I was climbing the stairs. Remember when I said I could go up this whole staircase in a couple of seconds? Well, what would it feel like to be this size your whole life, and suddenly find yourself big? A maxi, I mean? I can't really wrap my mind around that concept, but you probably can. What would you think if you woke up maxi-sized? What would you do, and how would you react?"
Jordan looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't really know," she replied after several long seconds. "I hadn't thought about it. I think I'd be curious, but scared too, you know? I mean, sure, I could get around easier, and walk around campus by myself, without a handler. That would be cool, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," agreed Camille. "You'd have freedom. That's one of the things I miss. I can't really do anything I'm used to. This building is kind of like a prison."
"It's not a prison, really," Jordan disagreed. "It's more like a castle, built to keep out all the dangers of the real world. I can't even imagine going outside alone, you know. What if a bird came after us, or a snake, or something like that?"
"If you were big, those things wouldn't be a problem," Camille pointed out. "So you'd have more freedom, and that's my point."
"True, and yeah, that would be sweet, but only for a little while," explained Jordan. "I may not have ever been a maxi, but I know how maxis live. You have to have money to do anything. I could go for a walk, sure, but if I wanted food, or transportation, or entertainment, or even a place to live, I need money. That means a job, and taxes, and worries and stress."
"Yeah, true," agreed Camille, not really sure what to say. She felt like she should be defending her way of life, but couldn't come up with an explanation that could possibly satisfy someone who simply didn't know what she was missing.
"I don't have any of that as a mini," Jordan went on. "That's what would scare me if I became a maxi overnight. I've heard maxis talk about dreams and aspirations and careers, and yeah, it sounds interesting, but it's not for me. I just want to be a companion, so I can share my life with someone. They can take care of me, and I'll give them the love they need in return. That's all I really want. How could I do that if I got big?"
"You still could," said Camille supportively. "There are people who do that sort of thing. Doctors, nurses, things like that."
"But those are jobs," argued Jordan. "If I want to do that, I have to keep track of money, and maintain a home, and all that other stressful stuff. Maybe even raise a family, like so many of the sorority girls want to do. I can't imagine why they'd want to. Who in their right mind would want to raise a baby, anyway? Or have to deal with a husband who might cheat on them, or run off with another woman, like on those soaps? I'm so-o-o-o glad there aren't any men our size! That would be the worst!"
Camille grinned. "You just say that because you haven't tried sex," she chuckled knowingly.
"I may not have had it, but I've seen it," Jordan replied, grinning right back at her friend.
"Oh? Do tell?" Camille wasn't all that shocked, but found herself quite curious despite herself.
"Yeah," said Jordan, starting to redden slightly from embarrassment. "There aren't supposed to be any men in the house, you know, except for Matt, but sometimes they sneak in at night. One time I couldn't sleep, so I went wandering around and heard one of them talking, so I crawled under the door to Sarah's room."
"Sarah Cunningham? In my world, she has a really hot boyfriend on the football team. Troy something-or-other."
"Yeah, Troy Blake. That's the guy. They didn't know I was in the room, and I climbed up on her dresser to get a better look at what was going on. Watching two maxis make out is nothing like how they describe it in sex ed, y'know. I could tell they were both trying real hard to keep quiet."
"I'll bet," laughed Camille. "So how good was he? I've heard the jocks are never as hot in bed as they think they are."
"I don't know!" Jordan was even more embarrassed now. "How should I know how to judge something like that?"
"Well, did she enjoy herself? And how long did it last?"
"I don't remember," Jordan replied, shaking her head. "I wish I'd never brought this up now! Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. He climbed onto her, and--and put his thing into her, like they said in class. What they don't tell you is how much work it is after that! They both sort of...danced, kinda, in a naked, sweaty kind of way. No, it wasn't really dancing. More like fighting, I guess. Struggling. Then, when it was over, and he pulled himself off of her, there was this big mess everywhere. He was, like, really embarrassed, because this gunk got over everything, and Sarah was scared somebody might see and figure out he was there."
Camille snickered. "Yeah, but see, that's half the fun of it," she explained. "Sneaking around, doing it in strange places, or where there's a risk of being caught...that's what makes it so much fun."
"It didn't look fun to me," Jordan argued. "I thought they were going to hurt each other! The looks on their faces--I was sure they were in serious pain, up until the end. Afterwards, though, they got under the covers, and were just hugging and kissing and cuddling and stuff. I guess that's where the romance part comes in, although on TV they always show that part first."
"Don't believe everything you see on TV," Camille said with another knowledgeable grin. "They water everything down on the networks, and spice it up too much on cable. Reality is in the middle someplace."
"Speaking of the middle," Jordan remarked, quickly easing the conversation away from an uncomfortable subject, "we're still in the middle of the stairs. Shouldn't we get up to the room so you can shower?"
"Why? Is something going on later?"
Jordan laughed. "You forgot already? All this talk about sex and you forgot Matt's coming over after he finishes class!"
"Oh, yeah!" Camille started up the stairs immediately. "Sorry, with all these distractions around, I did forget. Come on, what are we waiting for? I'll race you to the top!"
Chapter 16
The "shower" turned out to be the sink in the bathroom. After ascending yet another ladder made of string, the two minis had to work together to turn on the water to a comfortable level. Jordan didn't hesitate to strip out of her workout clothes and descend into the bowl, where she immersed herself in the powerful flow coming out of the faucet.
Meanwhile, Camille waited her turn, pacing around amidst the rather messy countertop. Brushes, makeup, toothpaste, and a variety of other ordinary toiletries lay scattered about, creating something of a maze to pick through. Cammie sighed as she lifted up a surprisingly heavy tube of lipstick, balancing it on the flat end. Already it seemed like years since she'd held one of these to her mouth, dappling her lips in a fetching ruby red color. Such a thing was beyond her now. Minis didn't need makeup, anyway.
She heard Jordan's voice calling out from the sink and went back to peer over the side. "What is it?" Camille asked helpfully.
"Squeeze off some soap for me, would you?" Jordan's dripping arm pointed at a huge liquid soap dispenser rising up next to Camille like a spout-tipped shack.
"Sure thing." Camille studied the dispenser for a moment, which was even taller than she was. How was she supposed to get up there without falling off? Knocking it over might work, but would leave the spout facing the wrong way. Eventually she noticed that the faucet itself was nearby, so she shoved the container over there and climbed up the gentle slope to reach her goal. From there, she was able to throw her weight on the spout, ejecting a glob of milky-white soap into the sink.
"Thanks!" yelled Jordan, scooping up a double handful and slathering it all over herself, even in her hair. Thus lathered, she returned to the shower and rinsed off. "Your turn!" she called out a moment later. "Come on, you don't want to still be in here when Matt shows up, do you?"
"I guess not," replied Camille, discarding her workout gear and descending into the slippery porcelain bowl. The shower was invigorating, so she stood underneath the flow for a few moments, eyes shut and mind working. She was going to see Matt soon. What were the two of them going to do tonight? Was he her boyfriend in this reality, too? Seemingly not, from what Jordan said earlier, but they did seem to have something going on. Matt couldn't wait to see her again tonight, or at least that was the impression she got when he dropped her off after companion class.
In her world, Matt Collingsworth was a real catch. Scion of a wealthy industrialist family, he had looks, money and brains. He appeared destined to take on the mantle of his father's business, making him a spectacularly good choice for a husband. Plus, he was an absolutely wonderful lover. His main disadvantage was that he was a bit too self-centered, but she thought she could cure him of that, given time.
Camille winced at the thought that she'd all but ruined their relationship back in her world. Maybe this was a second chance of sorts, except for her size. She was so small, and minis seemed to be some kind of protected species in this reality. Could she really have a relationship with someone like him?
There was still some soap left, so Camille scooped some up and applied it to her body. The stuff was light and gooey, coating her skin quickly and easily. The smell of it was intense, almost making her light-headed. Once the suds formed, Cammie rinsed it away quickly, leaving her skin fresh and tingly. After she stepped out of the flow of water, the remaining blobs of liquid slid off almost of their own accord.
Above, the flow of water slowed and stopped, obviously Jordan's work. Camille clambered out of the sink with little trouble, and found her friend standing there, holding a doll-sized terry cloth bathrobe. "Where'd you get that?" she wondered. "I thought we were going to have to put those dirty clothes back on for the trip home."
"Right over there," said Jordan, pointing at a small jewel case next to an immense brush bristling with long brown hairs. "There's always a supply for when we need a shower. The maxis take care of washing our dirty clothes, too."
"Not that it's all that much trouble, considering how small we are," remarked Camille.
Jordan headed over to the rope ladder and started down. "Yeah, well, see, that's what I was talking about earlier. If we were maxis, that'd just be another chore we had to do. As minis, that's all taken care of for us."
They reached the floor after a brief descent, which Camille found very easy now that she understood the procedure. This time they didn't run as the two of them made their way down the hall, towards their room. "You've got a point," Camille commented, "but isn't it kinda boring? I mean, all we do is go to class, and then roam around the house all day. We can't go out, so what else is there to do?"
"Watch TV," said Jordan. "Read, use the computer, play games, get massages, sleep. It's really the perfect life, when you think about it."
Camille shook her head. "Don't you ever wish for something more? The Jordan I knew liked a little excitement now and then. A bit of adventure. What happened to the Jordie that went with me to Paris?"
"She's way up there," came the jovial reply. Jordan was pointing up in the air, indicating a much taller version of herself. "She can have all the adventure she wants. I do envy you, though. Going out with Matt tonight, I mean. What are you two going to be doing?"
"I have no idea," replied Camille honestly. By now the two had reached their room and were starting up the ladder to the dollhouse. "I was hoping you could tell me. What is your world's Matt Collingsworth like, anyway?"
"Well," said Jordan thoughtfully, "he's been our handler for about a month now, ever since Kelly McLane quit at the end of summer session."
"Another parallel," put in Camille. "That's about how long my Matt and I have been going out. We met at a back-to-school party at his fraternity."
"Yeah, whatever." Jordan pulled herself onto the tabletop and headed for the dollhouse, followed closely by her friend. "Anyway, Matt was real professional at first, not even daring to give us back rubs, no matter how much we asked. I think he was scared of us, but after a while, we started hanging out and talking. I could tell he was interested in you more than me 'cause he was always staring, you know? Then, last week, he took you out somewhere, and when you came back you smelled like mint chocolate chip ice cream."
"We probably went to the Reuter's down by the corner," suggested Camille.
Jordan entered the house and headed upstairs. "Whatever. All I know is I was real jealous, but Matt brought back a chocolate chip for me, so I promised not to tell."
"Tell? Why would you tell anyone?"
Jordan headed into Camille's room and went straight to the closet, where she started poking through the clothes. "Put on some undies while I find something for you to wear," she ordered, and Cammie found herself complying automatically. "Handlers aren't supposed to develop a relationship with their minis," Jordan continued. "That sort of thing can only end badly. You insisted, though, that you two were just having fun, and nothing serious was going on. I said fine, I'd keep quiet, but if you ever crossed the line, I'd put a stop to it. Here, try this."
Jordan held out a doll's black sundress, one with a frilly lace border across the bodice. Camille slipped the tight garment on, and it fit just fine, but the cloth was so thick she was sure it would chafe her skin. Especially the lacy part, which rubbed her underarms uncomfortably.
"Looks perfect," said Jordan with a smile. "You look stunning, as always. Now put on some slippers and that's that. I bet if you were big, you'd be putting on all sorts of makeup and perfume, wouldn't you? Another reason to be glad you're small!"
"I don't know," replied Camille. "If I were big, I'd be expecting a whole lot more out of tonight."
Jordan completely missed the intent of that statement, rushing the conversation along to say something that was, to her, quite important. "Cammie, I have to tell you, what I said still stands. You shouldn't be getting into a relationship with Matt! I know you were his, uh, girlfriend in your other world, but here, you can't do that. If anyone finds out, he'd get fired!"
"Yeah, I understand," Camille assured her. "Don't worry, Jordan, I'm sure it's not like that. He and I are probably just friends. I'll bet we're just going to a movie or something."
"I hope so," Jordan replied with a nod. "I don't want to see you hurt, and I'm not going to sit around and let it happen, understand?"
"I got it, I got it." Camille smiled appreciatively. "Thanks for everything you're doing to help me out, Jord."
"You can thank me by telling me what you do while you're out," said Jordan with a grin. "Now get ready! I think I hear him coming now!"
Chapter 17
Even from inside the dollhouse, Camille could feel the shaking of the floor as Matt's giant form entered the room and approached. "Hello?" he called out with a just barely noticeable tone of eagerness. "Are the little ladies home in there?"
"Coming!" Camille called out, quickly slipping on the closet's only pair of black pumps and heading downstairs.
"Good, I didn't want to go hunting for you," Matt's voice boomed, almost shaking the plastic walls. "There's sorority girls all over the place downstairs."
"Like you'd mind!" shouted Jordan with a laugh. "That's the only reason you took this job, so you can get a look at all the girls!"
"You wound me," replied the giant mockingly as the two minis emerged onto the table. "I only have eyes for my two little charges. And I must say, you look quite nice this evening, Camille."
"Thank you, Matt," she answered with a smile, immediately flattered by his honest statement. His immense size no longer seemed quite as daunting. He might be huge, but he was still Matt Collingsworth, wasn't he? There was no reason to fear him. No reason at all.
"What about me?" demanded Jordan, who was still in her bathrobe. "Do I look like crap or something?"
"You both look fantastic," said Matt diplomatically. "I was referring to Cammie's dress. May I pick you up, my dear? The movie's starting in fifteen minutes, so we should get going."
"Told you it was a movie," whispered Camille as she headed for Matt's proffered hand. "Don't wait up!"
"Oh, I won't," agreed Jordan with a grin.
Camille climbed into Matt's palm, and he lifted her up to pocket level. "In you go," he told her. "See you later, Jordan."
Jordan waved goodbye and went back into the dollhouse, presumably to put on some real clothes.
After Cammie was safely ensconced in Matt's pocket, he started walking out of the house, not rushing as he had that morning. This time, Camille got to her feet and peered out. Already she was starting to get used to this mode of transportation, and could see how Jordan would like it. Each step Matt took gave Cammie a brief free-fall sensation as she descended towards the ground. Despite the fact that he was only walking normally, the motion seemed amazingly fast, so that the walls and furniture in the building whipped by at almost breakneck speed.
They didn't strike out on foot across the campus, but instead went down to the edge of the street and into a waiting car. Matt's vehicle was a black Trans Am convertible, just like it was back in her universe. He didn't take her out of his pocket, though, so she didn't get a particularly good look at the interior. She found out why a moment later as he started driving, accelerating down the road at an ordinary pace. At her size, though, Camille felt as though her breath was being crushed out of her lungs.
"You all right?" asked Matt once he reached cruising speed. One of his giant eyes was staring down into the pocket at her gasping form. "Sorry, I should've warned you we were about to go."
"No, it's--it's all right," she wheezed. "I s-should've known, but I wasn't paying attention."
"Cool. Well, hold on tight. We've got a couple of turns, and then we'll be at the theater."
The rest of the ride was mercifully quick. Camille knew the route, of course, but the turns and speed changes were extremely violent to someone her size. When he finally came to a stop, she was quite grateful.
"Okay, here we are," he told her. "Now, you know the drill. Stay quiet in there, so nobody sees you. I'll let you on my shoulder once we find a good seat."
Camille nodded and hunkered down in his pocket, curling up against the inside lining. He walked for a bit, climbed some steps, and stopped, obviously waiting to buy a ticket. Once again, Cammie realized she could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. There was something very comforting about that sensation, as though being here was somehow natural and appropriate.
Outside, Matt purchased his ticket and went inside. He shuffled around some, making a few turns, and finally sat down. "Here we are," he whispered, leaning over to let her slide out into his warm, crinkly palm. "There's nobody behind us, but stay close to my collar just in case, okay?"
"Sure," she agreed, and he held her up by his shoulder. Camille climbed out, keeping her balance on the broad perch. All around, the theater was dark, save for a few exit lights. She couldn't see the silhouettes of any other people nearby, which made her feel better. The vastness of the dark room was highly intimidating. If she were to get lost in here, how would he ever find her?
Camille settled down alongside his collar just as the movie started. To her surprise, she realized she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to see. The novelty of going to the movies with a giant totally overwhelmed every other consideration. So what film would Matt pick? Something with fighting, no doubt. "Aliens vs. Predator," maybe, or something along those lines.
To her surprise, the film in question was "Princess Diaries II," with Anne Hathaway and Julie Andrews. Camille glanced over at Matt's huge face, but he pretended not to notice. Still, the faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. Did this Matt know she was a sucker for movies like this? Films like the original "Princess Diaries," and similar Cinderella tales like "Maid in Manhattan" and its ilk, were her favorites. Still, in her world, it would've taken a gun to the head to get Matt to see a film like this one when an action flick like "AVP" was in theaters.
She decided not to question her good fortune, snuggling up to Matt's thick neck instead. To her amazement, she could actually watch as the hairs along his skin stood on end. She ran a hand across them, and they stuck straight out, causing goosebumps the size of her fist to break out.
"Stop that, you!" Matt chuckled softly.
Smiling, Camille pulled back her hand, but the goose pimples persisted for quite some time. She settled back to watch the film, not resisting when Matt reached up and gently massaged her legs. Eventually she turned over, leaning her head across his collar so her long hair dangled down alongside his neck, and the gooseflesh returned. He responded by rubbing her back in slow, satisfying circles.
They didn't speak again during the movie, but Camille couldn't remember feeling so close to anyone in a theater. The fact that she was lying on his shoulder had something to do with that, of course, but there was still something quite intimate about the experience. She just felt totally at home up against his neck, and of course his fingertips gently massaging her skin felt absolutely wonderful. He even seemed to like the film, which was the most surprising thing of all.
Camille liked the movie, too, but there was one feature of the story she didn't expect. The main feature of the movie was Princess Mia's arranged marriage and somewhat predictable choice of marrying for love or politics. To advise her along the way was Mia's friend Lilly, whom Camille remembered from the first film. The unexpected twist, though, was Mia's mini Isabelle.
Being a princess of Genovia afforded Mia many luxuries, among them her very own mini. The scene where Mia met Isabelle for the first time was particularly amusing, since the princess was bathing at the time and the mini was there to help with the washing. Camille laughed out loud at Mia's embarrassment at finding out she wasn't as alone in the immense, luxurious tub as she first thought.
Isabelle appeared several other times during the movie, but only briefly, once providing some needed counsel regarding Genovian affairs that Lilly wasn't able to give. Once again Camille found herself wondering about how a mini, who by law couldn't be an actress, was featured so prominently in a feature film. The ending credits provided the answer, though. Isabelle was actually Julie Andrews' mini! Apparently the former singer allowed the crew to use her mini for a few scenes, although there was this eye-opening note near the end of the credits: "No minis were harmed during the production of this film."
Camille sighed and shook her head. The people in this world were too damn protective!
"So, did you like it?" Matt asked as he scooped her back into his pocket once the credits were over. By then, the theater was empty, everyone else having departed without waiting for the credits to roll.
"Yeah, it was great," Camille answered honestly. "I really liked the way they worked a mini into the plot."
"I thought you might appreciate that," remarked Matt. "I read about that in one of the reviews. Considering how few minis there are in the movies, I couldn't resist bringing you to see it. Besides which, I know you love this kind of flick."
"Yes, that's true," Camille agreed. "So what now? Do we go out for ice cream again, or what?"
Matt got into his car, shut the door, and looked down into the pocket at his tiny passenger. "Maybe later," he told her. "I've got something else to show you, if you want, but...well, it's back in my apartment."
"So?" Camille peered out of the pocket at him curiously. "What's the big deal? Let's go take a look."
He grinned. "Good, I was afraid you wouldn't want to go," he said, obviously relieved by her answer.
"Why? I've been to--" She stopped herself short. In her world, yes, she'd been to his apartment, but obviously that wasn't the case here. "I've been to other apartments before, you know. Why not yours?"
"Well, I was worried," he replied a bit nervously. "After last night, I was sure, but then today, you were all strange and stuff. I didn't know if you'd agree to let me take you home."
That answered that, Camille thought--this was a first, and apparently, taking her to his apartment was very out of the ordinary. Maybe even against the rules of handlers. "I won't tell if you don't," she said with an impish grin.
"Great!" Matt looked very relieved, and a bit excited, too. "Hang on in there, then, and we'll be there in a couple of minutes."
Camille nodded and settled down into his pocket, gasping once again at the sudden acceleration. Was it her imagination, or was his heart beating just a little bit faster now? And what was it he was going to show her, anyway?
Matt drove on, and the anticipation made Cammie's little heart beat somewhat faster, too.
Chapter 18
Matt's apartment was just as she remembered it: very sparsely decorated, nothing on the walls, and no sign of a woman's touch at all. Camille could recall plenty of trips to his place where she considered better locations for the furniture, spots to place houseplants, and quite a bit of cleaning that needed doing. He never listened to her then, so she might as well not bother pointing them out now.
This time, the efficiency apartment looked downright gigantic, for obvious reasons. From the level of Matt's pocket, she couldn't see if the floor needed vacuuming, but at least there weren't any dirty dishes or empty pizza boxes lying about. He apparently made an effort to clean the place before he picked her up. Or maybe this reality's Matt was just a bit more fastidious.
He set her down on the single room's lone table and let her look around. Like the sorority house, with which she was intimately familiar, the place was recognizable, but distorted. From the tabletop, she could see the refrigerator, couch, television, bed, and pretty much everything Matt had in his not-so-little place. All of them were the same items she could remember, only bigger.
"So what do you think?" he asked, waving his hand out at the gigantic expanse of apartment. "Pretty cozy, huh?"
"I guess so," she replied. "Looks huge to me. Why does somebody with your background live in such a pitiful-looking place, anyway?"
"Well, I could get a room anywhere, or stay at the frat house, but I wanted a place for myself that's right next to the university, and this was all they had. Plus, I was never one for grandiloquence. I just don't need any more than this, so why flaunt myself?"
"That's what I like about you, Matt. You're so humble." Camille snickered a couple of times and leaned back against the fruit basket centerpiece that dominated the small tabletop.
"Very funny. As long as we're trading compliments, I suppose that's what I like most about you. You never hesitate to say what's on your mind. I figured a companion would have to watch what she said, but you never do. At least not around me."
"I just feel comfortable with you, that's all," she explained. "Besides, it's not like you're going to be my host or anything."
"Funny you should mention that," he replied with a sly smile, as though he had won a small victory directing the conversation towards this point. "Ever since you and I started hanging out, I wondered about whether or not I could buy your services. I can afford a companion, you know. My parents had one for a while, before I was born. They used to tell me about her, and minis have always fascinated me. That's why I decided to put in to be a handler here at school."
"Oh really? I wondered about that," Camille said honestly. "So does that mean you're going to try to hire me?"
"Would that be so bad?" he asked with a smile. "You and I are already comfortable together. We like each other, and that's what's most important between a companion and her host. Besides which, I don't want a companion who just says what I want to hear. That's why I couldn't get along with Jordan for long--she doesn't have that spark of independence. You've got a real brain on your little shoulders, though. That's why I want you."
"Ooh, you want me," Cammie laughed. "You know we companions aren't supposed to form relationships with our hosts, right? That's what they teach us, anyway."
"That's all well and good, and I appreciate the reasons, but that doesn't change who we are. You're still a woman, even if you are just a few inches tall. And I'm a man. Why couldn't we have a relationship, even if it's not for marriage and all that?"
"I don't know," Camille replied worriedly. Matt was saying the right things, but she remembered Jordan's warnings from earlier in the day. "I know I want to believe you, but don't you think the size issue is just a bit on the important side?"
"I figured you might say that," Matt replied with another grin, and Camille knew that once again he'd maneuvered the discussion in the direction he wanted. He was so annoying that way! "That brings me to what I wanted to show you. I think I might be able to change your mind."
"What is it?" inquired Camille, a little bit nervous now. What was he going to do to convince her? Or was he going to bring out a cage and take her away? Surely not...but the Matt Collingsworth she knew wouldn't give up easily.
"I'll show you. Here, let me put you on the bed."
Before Camille could react, he swept her off the table in a single quick motion. She let out a gasp, for this was the first time anyone picked her up without her permission. By the time she could recover from the surprise, he had dropped her on the soft bedsheets, letting her bounce there a couple of times while he moved off towards a distant cabinet.
Cammie found herself shaking, suddenly very much aware again of how small and helpless she was. He moved so fast, and his hand was so big, there was no way to avoid his grab. She was in his apartment, too, with no one else around. She was totally in his power. At his mercy, in fact. He could do anything now, anything at all. She felt frightened...but there was something exceptionally thrilling about this, too. Her little heart was pounding a mile a minute.
On the other side of the room, Matt took something out of a drawer and quickly returned to the bedside. The object he held was about the size of a shoebox, and made of richly stained wood. The grains and striations in the container were so prominent she could count them individually. He lifted off the lid, reached inside, and withdrew something purple. A piece of cloth, perhaps? She couldn't be sure.
He was smiling as he pulled the violet-colored item over his hand, and Camille saw now that the object in question was a glove. There was some sort of wristband, which he attached as he would a watch. A single wire led from the base of the band into the glove, out of her view. What was that all about? What was so important about a glove, anyway?
"Do you know what this is?" asked Matt with a very purposeful smile on his face. He clenched his fingers, causing the purple glove to wrinkle and crackle. Then he slowly and purposely pulled on a second one, so that both his hands were completely covered. He brought his right hand closer, and Camille could see that the brightly colored covering was made of something fuzzy.
"A-a glove?" Camille asked, trembling slightly as she backed away from his approaching hand. "You bought yourself some purple gloves, I see. Very nice. Is this a fashion statement of some kind, Matt? What's going on?"
"These aren't just any gloves," he informed her, speaking slowly and deliberately. "They're called pleasure gloves, my little doll, and considering how much I paid--and the risk I took getting my hands on them--they damn well better live up to that title."
"Pleasure?" gulped Camille, continuing to back up until she found herself pressed up against a pillow. "What do you mean, pleasure?"
"These aren't easy to get," he went on, reaching out to caress her face with a furry purple fingertip. Was that velour they were made of, or something else? Camille couldn't tell.
"Fortunately, " continued the smiling Matt, I have resources beyond those of ordinary men. These came from, for want of a better phrase, the black market. If anyone knew I had them, I'd have a lot of explaining to do, so you can appreciate the risk I'm taking."
"I-I understand," she managed, even as he started caressing her exposed neck and shoulders with a fuzzy finger. Her entire body started tingling. Velour or not, the thin, bristly fibers felt wonderful!
Matt slowly climbed onto the bed, lounging comfortably along its length so his head hung over her. With a simple motion, he grasped her in the glove, lifted her up, and opened his hand so she was now comfortably lying in his palm. The furry surface tingled wherever it touched her skin, and Camille shivered uncontrollably.
"Very good," Matt replied. "Now, my little doll, I'll show you why you should agree to be my companion."
He reached down with his other hand and grasped the edge of her dress. Camille knew what he was going to do, but made no effort to stop him. There would be no point, and besides, she actually wanted to see what he was planning. In fact, she was trembling as much from anticipation as from the tingling sensation provided by the glove.
He only needed a moment to pull the doll's dress from her quivering form. Matt smiled and tossed the garment away, licking his lips at the sight of her nearly naked form. Camille could tell from the expression on his face that this wasn't the first time he'd seen her like this. The touch of velour on her back was absolutely incredible.
Slowly, cautiously, he began to rub his gloved fingers back and forth across her bare skin. Camille gasped as wave after wave of glorious tingling swept up and down her spine. This wasn't a simple massage, but a thousand massages rolled into one. She began to moan with pleasure, writhing about in his loose, gentle grip.
"If you're wondering," breathed Matt slowly, continuing to caress her shivering flesh, "the little fibers touching you aren't just artificial fur. They carry a very light electrical current, which is being transmitted to you through this armband. The effect on a mini is supposed to be indescribable. Is that a fair assessment, my little pet?"
Camille didn't even care that he called her a pet instead of a companion. All she could do was nod weakly, wailing and groaning from utter pleasure.
"Good. Looks like I got my money's worth. This isn't the best part, though, Cammie. There's one more thing you need to experience--something no mini can ever enjoy, except like this."
"W-what do you--?" Camille cried as his fingers ran relentlessly back and forth across her body. Somewhere amidst the constant, endless flow of ecstasy, he slipped her out of her flimsy doll's underwear, and she didn't even care.
"Let me show you." His left hand disappeared for a moment, but his right didn't cease its ministrations. Slowly he eased her onto her back, so that she was lying face-up, arms and legs splayed outward, gasping for breath. His thumb and forefinger continued to massage her exposed flesh slowly and gently, and she continued to shiver and moan, not caring in the least how naked and exposed she now was.
His other hand came into view then, and she saw through the tingling fog that something thick was wrapped around his forefinger. A kind of cap, made of rubber, with something sticking out of it, pointing up into the air. Something about the size and shape of a--
Camille knew what it was. There could be only one purpose for that protruding, very specifically molded item.
"Now relax, my living doll," Matt whispered as he drew that huge, terrifyingly desirable finger closer and closer, "and let me show you what a lifetime with me will feel like."
Chapter 19
"C'mon, sleepyhead! Time to get up!"
Camille groaned at the sound of Jordan's frightfully cheerful voice. "Go away," she complained. Her whole body seemed to be quivering, as though hundreds of tiny fingers were poking her all over.
"I said get up!" insisted Jordan from somewhere close by. "You told me last night you'd tell me everything that happened! Besides, he brought you home early, so you've had plenty of sleep. Now get up!"
Cammie rolled over and forced herself to rise. Her skin seemed to shiver of its own accord, as it often did after a great sexual adventure. Never the next morning, though. She never imagined she could feel this kind of afterglow hours after the fact.
What Matt did to her last night...she was almost afraid to think about it. Those gloves alone would've been plenty, but the rest of it--wow! Whoever designed that fingertip apparatus was a goddamn genius. There wasn't just molded plastic and rubber at work--the electricity flowed through that, too, giving her the most intense orgasms she could ever remember. Multiple ones, over and over, for what seemed like hours.
No wonder she didn't remember Matt bringing her home last night. She didn't remember a thing after the sixth wave of total ecstasy. Or was it the seventh, or eighth? What difference did it make?
"Omigod," said Jordan suddenly. "Oh, wow, that look on your face! The last time I saw that was when Sarah and Troy were--oh, geez, what did you and Matt do last night?"
"None of your business," Camille sighed, unable to summon even an ounce of anger or threat into her voice. She was in too much of a good mood to snap at her friend this fine morning.
"Is this what they call a glow? Are you glowing?" Jordan started to giggle. "What did he do, toss you in a bowl of syrup and lick you clean?"
"No," sighed Camille, "but now that you mention it..."
"You did do something! I knew it!" Jordan managed to look both thrilled and horrified at the same time. "What was it like?"
"It was--" Camille stopped, thinking, as her head gradually cleared. She remembered Matt asking her not to talk about it, to keep him from getting in trouble. "It was wonderful, okay? He and I did something...consensual, you know? Between adults. Something very private. I promised him I wouldn't talk about it."
"Not even with me?" Jordan began to pout.
"Especially not with you!" Camille stood up and stretched, and the tingling in her skin gradually began to subside, much to her dismay. Come back, tingly feeling! Where are you going...?
"I'm so jealous," complained Jordan. "It's still just for laughs, right? You aren't getting too attached to him, are you?"
"No, no, we just had a little fun," Camille lied smoothly. "The kind of fun I want to have again. Very much."
"Well, don't let him get too excited. Next thing you know, he'll whip out a pair of pleasure gloves or something!"
Fortunately for her, Camille was yawning and stretching again when Jordan spoke, or she might've given something away with an expression of surprise. Instead, she collected herself and raised an eyebrow curiously, carefully choosing her next words. "Um, what's a pleasure glove?"
"Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you don't know any of this stuff," said Jordan. "I've never seen a pair myself, but they're kind of an underground legend with us minis. Black market items, you know? They supposedly...stimulate us, if you get my meaning. They're designed as the ultimate sexual tool for minis. I've always wondered what they really feel like."
Oh, I could tell you stories, thought Camille, but she kept those words to herself. "Black market, huh? I guess not all hosts are all about loving and caring."
Jordan sighed the sigh of someone about to begin a long story. "Once, when we were having a sex ed session in class, Dean Randolph brought in a guest speaker," she explained. "A mini named Courtney who used to work for the kind of man who'd use a pair of pleasure gloves, and some other tools as well. Courtney and this man, whom she didn't name, had a very, ahem, sensual relationship. They loved each other, and since they weren't the same size, they used other means to...consummate their relationship."
"I think I'm following you," said Camille, intrigued. "Please go on."
"Okay," Jordan agreed. "At first, according to Courtney, they were very happy together. He would use the pleasure gloves on her for as long as she could stand it. Then she'd put on the vibrating bodysuit and climb onto--well, into his pants. I know it sounds sick, but Courtney admitted she really enjoyed that sort of thing. That was why she became a companion, she said. She wanted to share herself with her host, and for her, sex was the best way to do it."
"Let me guess, this isn't exactly the way companions are supposed to act, huh?"
"No, definitely not! Dean Randolph brought Courtney in so she could lecture us on why, you see?"
"I don't get it," Camille interrupted, confused. "I mean, if the two of them loved each other, what's the problem?"
"Minis and maxis don't mix," replied Jordan, obviously quoting some kind of well-known saying. "Sometimes it may seem like they can, but it'll never work out. Maxis have too much else to think about, and too many desires we can never fulfill. Sooner or later, something goes wrong. They get bored, or want children, or find a maxi girlfriend, or anything like that. In Courtney's case, he met a maxi woman, and tried to get Courtney to join the two of them in their sexual liaisons. Courtney tried, doing her best to please him, but they were too rough for her. She got hurt, and asked him to stop, and he wouldn't, so she reported him to the ACPS, and that was that."
"I think I understand," replied Camille, nodding. This was some kind of cautionary tale, made up to scare the kiddies. "Thanks for the story, Jordan. What time is it, anyway?"
"Oh, we have a while before we have to get to class," was the answer. "Please, Cammie, don't let yourself get that close to Matt, okay? You can't be his companion, you know, and if you get too attached to him, that'll just make it all the harder when you graduate and have to go away."
"All right, Jordan, I promise," Camille lied easily. "Now come on, let's forget about that. Where's breakfast? For some reason I'm really hungry this morning."
Chapter 20
Camille amazed herself by how quickly she adapted to the role of companion, or at least a companion wannabe. She couldn't wait to get to class that day, so she could learn about the new career that promised her such an unbelievable reward.
When Matt arrived to take the two minis to school, it was all she could do to keep herself from hugging his finger and thanking him profusely for last night. Fortunately, she managed to control herself, and he watched his words as well, even though they did flash a couple of knowing smiles at each other when Jordan wasn't looking. The promise of another tryst that evening left Camille's heart pounding after he dropped them off at class.
She forced herself to concentrate during the lessons, trying not to think about the amazing sensations provided by the pleasure gloves. The physical effects of Matt's caress were one thing, but the emotional high was quite another. Last night wasn't even sex, strictly speaking, but it still felt like the best she ever had, bar none. She couldn't wait to do that again.
The day passed slowly. Camille listened and learned what she could, imagining how to put the lessons to use in the future. Becoming a companion no longer felt like a waste of her life, but rather an all-consuming passion. Her earlier dreams of getting back to her original size faded into the background, like half-remembered fantasies that could never be experienced. She wanted nothing more than to pass this course, get her companion's license, and go off with Matt to be his forever.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, the long day came to an end. Matt carried his two charges back to the sorority house and promised to return later in the evening, leaving Camille to pine for him. She tried to help the time pass by watching TV and joining the pledges in another couple of party games, but with every sound that came from the general direction of the doorway, she found herself looking that way in the hopes it would be Matt.
An eternity later, he arrived, sweeping Camille off to his apartment again for another evening of intense ecstasy. Once again, he carried her to new levels of total pleasure, bringing her to heights she couldn't even imagine. Finally, when she could take no more, he carried her to the sink, washed her off lovingly, and took her exhausted little body back home.
This pattern went on for almost a month. When she was with Matt, she was in heaven, and the rest of the time, she just dreamt about his next visit. The nights he couldn't come by, for whatever reason, left her feeling hollow and lonely inside, but then all was forgotten the next time he took her in his strong, enveloping hands.
Camille forgot all about wanting to be a journalist, or even about wanting to get back to her old life. Why should she care about that any more? Here, in this world, she wouldn't have to work at all. She could become Matt's companion, and he'd take care of her all the time. He'd fulfill her every need, even sexually. No more stress, just like Jordan said. No taxes, no worries, nothing. Just day after day of hands-on care and endless pleasure from her giant love.
Paradise on Earth. That's what it would be.
Smitten as she was, Camille felt like she was on top of the world. Now this was love, she told herself. The deepest kind of love a person could feel. Total dependence on someone. She was willing to give herself over to Matt without question.
If it hadn't been for the need to get a companion's license by finishing school, she wouldn't have hesitated to let him take her away at any time. The problem was, as Camille learned with a few well-placed questions, all minis were carefully protected and tracked. If Matt took her, even with her permission, he was guilty of kidnapping. Apparently, a mini couldn't even be trusted to decide her future for herself. Of course, there were always other ways, but nothing legal. Matt could always go on the run, but then he lost his own career and fortune, and Camille would never ask him to do that.
So she continued going out with him nightly, after school. They would have dinner somewhere private, or go to a movie or other form of entertainment, talking about the day's events as though size meant nothing to them. Eventually, though, the night would end with Matt taking her back to his apartment, and the intimate phase of the evening would begin. No matter what they did--and they tried many things--the night ended with Matt putting on the gloves of pleasure.
After that he would bring her home. They were never out long--no more than a couple of hours, long enough for a movie and what came after. Even though she was almost always back by ten, Camille was so exhausted she fell asleep immediately.
Now, another weekend had arrived, bringing with it even greater promise. Saturday was theirs to enjoy together, but Sunday was another story. Matt apparently had other things to do, so he couldn't pick Camille up until the late afternoon. As usual when Matt had other business, she paced around the sorority house, impatiently waiting for him to arrive. When he finally did, she rushed to meet him, not even noticing Jordan's scowl of displeasure. Camille no longer cared what her friend thought about this situation. The only thing that mattered was being with Matt.
He seemed nervous this time, but Camille didn't really care about that, either. All she wanted was to spend time with him, cuddled in his hand.
When they got to his front door, Matt stopped, peering through the opening in his pocket. Only then did she finally push aside her breathless anticipation of what was to come and realize there was something else going on. "Listen, Camille, I have something I need to tell you," he said shakily. "Ever since we started getting closer, I've been trying to figure this out, but I can't think of any better way than to just jump right out and do it."
"What?" asked Camille worriedly. "What is it, Matt? You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything."
"I hope so, Cammie," he replied with a smile. "I just don't know how you'll react, but I think you'll be okay with it. You see, I haven't told you everything about me."
"What, are you gay or something?" laughed Camille.
He grinned. "I love your sense of humor, my little doll, but no, that's not it. You asked me once why I live in this little efficiency apartment, and I wasn't totally honest with you. See, I don't actually live here. This is just where I sleep if I have to be close to campus. And when I want to be with you, in private. Most of the other time, I'm...somewhere else."
"Where?"
"Um, that's the part that's hard to explain," he told her. "It's not so much where, as...with whom."
"With...?" A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of Camille's stomach. "With whom, Matt? Are you saying you've been with somebody else? Please tell me it's your family or something, okay? You're scaring me!"
"Not family," he answered. "Not yet, anyway. Please--let me show you, rather than tell you."
At that, he opened the front door and stepped inside. Camille peered out of the pocket, fearful at what she might see. When her eyes adjusted to the inside light, she found her fears justified.
Standing up from the bed was a woman with long blonde hair and a welcoming smile. She was wearing a crisply pressed business suit, a professional designer version of the sort that cost hundreds of dollars. Her hairstyle alone probably cost at least that much, too. She wasn't just gorgeous, but glamorous. Camille barely noticed any of that, though. She was shocked because she recognized this person--a woman who should have no right whatsoever being in Matt's apartment.
Not noticing the paralyzed mini, she strode right up to Matt and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. When she spoke, her words cut through Camille like daggers. "Hello, loverboy," she said in a voice laced with a familiar Southern twang. "Thanks for the key. Y'know, this place is cozy and all, but it really needs some sprucin' up."
"I'm sure it does," he replied, reaching into his pocket to grab hold of the frozen woman hiding there. "Diane, honey, I think it's time we tell little Camille here our special news."
"Oh, did you bring Cammie with you? Yeah, go on, tell her! I want her to be the first one to know!"
"K-know what?" the mini heard herself muttering, despite the fact that she was all but terrified of hearing the answer.
"I thought we should tell you together," said Matt, putting his arm around Diane. "Next summer, the two of us are getting married!"
Chapter 21
The rest of the conversation that followed was a complete blur. Camille muddled through it woodenly, too stunned by what she heard to even think about what she was saying. Her little body was absolutely numb with horror.
Diane. Diane Renfrew. Getting married. To Matt.
Oh, God, how could this be happening?
"We met in the hallway while I was waiting for you that one day, about a month ago," Matt explained, almost babbling with excitement. "You know, the morning you weren't feeling well. She told me she was pledging the sorority. I didn't think much of it then--"
"But then we met again after he dropped you off from school," put in Diane excitedly. "We talked for a bit out front of the house, and that's what reminded me that I owed you an apology. I came back in, and that's when we played Monopoly the first time."
"So you see," Matt continued, "it was you that brought us together. We knew we were right for each other from the very first date."
"Love at first sight," sighed Diane, reaching up and planting a huge kiss right on Matt's mouth. The same mouth that he'd used last night to--to--
Suddenly Camille felt very, very dirty.
"That's why I've been bringing you here so often," Matt went on, the words seeming to pummel their way into Cammie's brain. "Diane, too. We both wanted you to be part of our lives together."
"Y-you mean," Camille managed, forcing the words out through shivering lips, "that you were only nice to me because--?"
Diane shook her head, holding up her index finger. "No, no, I liked you from the start, li'l darlin'!" she insisted. "Don't you remember? I said I would've taken you home if I could. This is the only way I can do that."
"W-what are you saying?" gasped Cammie. "A-are you--are you kidnapping me?"
"No, no, nothing like that!" Matt quickly answered. "Don't you see? Diane and I are going to petition to adopt you as our mini!"
"That's right," Diane replied with a smile. "We want you to live with us, Cammie! We'll take real good care of you, like I always said. You'll be our companion. Isn't that what you want, a family who'll take care of you? Well, who better than us?"
The little mini couldn't respond. She just stared up at the two giant faces, into their happy, hopeful eyes. Diane, who had treated Camille as a friend since that first day, and Matt, who should've been so much more than that. They didn't care about her as a person. They only wanted her as a companion.
No. Not a companion. They wanted a pet, pure and simple. Someone they could play with, when it suited them. A little doll Diane could show off to her friends, and that Matt could use to--to--oh, God, no!
And I would've let him. Let him...
All at once, being there in Matt's huge palm made Camille feel like she was shrinking away. She seemed to be collapsing up into nothing, falling in amidst the wrinkles that lined that giant hand. Could she possibly be smaller than she felt right now? Could she possibly be more insignificant?
"Something's wrong," Diane noted, some of her enthusiasm draining away as she finally noticed the distraught look on Camille's tiny face. "She doesn't look happy, Matt. What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know," he replied, lifting his tiny passenger up to eye level. "Are you all right, Cammie? You look...are you hurt? Did I bump you in my pocket or something?"
Once again unable to speak, Camille just lowered her eyes and shook her head. I'm not going to cry, she told herself. I can get through this. I can...
I can be a bug. An insect. A doll, a toy, a puny little insignificant nothing...
"Oh, I think I get it," Matt said suddenly, snapping the fingers on his other hand with a loud clack. "Oh, Cammie, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd be so surprised by our announcement! Did you think there was something more between us? C'mon, you can't possibly believe that! You're the one who said minis and maxis can't have a real relationship, remember?"
"Y-yes," the mini sputtered, "but I didn't think--but you said--"
"Listen, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong idea, but I specifically said it wasn't going to be like we were married," Matt reminded her. "I said I wanted you to be my companion, remember? That's what this has all been about, Cammie. I was convincing you to agree, and I think you have. After I graduate next summer, Diane and I are getting married, and we very much want you to be part of our family, and help us raise our children."
"B-but, I thought we were going to be--"
"What?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"You know," Camille sputtered miserably. "L-lovers."
Matt smiled patiently. "How could you think that, Camille? We can't be lovers, we're not the same size! I just want you to be my companion. Our companion. Nothing else is going to change--we'll still spend time together, and I'll still use the--well, you know. Plus, it'll be even more fun if we play together as a family."
"I don't want your family," Camille forced herself to say. Everything she wanted, all her dreams built up over the last week, were flushing away as if down the proverbial drain. "I just want you, Matt! That's all I've ever wanted! Can't we just be together, by ourselves? Nobody else, like it was before? Please!"
He shook his head. "Don't worry, Cammie. Nothing's going to change. You'll come to love Diane like I do, if you don't already. Give her a chance, okay? Now come on, we'll all go out to dinner, and then I'll get the gloves and we'll get to know each other better. Together."
Camille hung her head. "No, I don't want to," she said sadly. "Not now. Take me home, Matt, okay? I have to--I've got to think about this. Please?"
"All right, if you insist," he replied sadly, flashing a look of disappointment at his fiancée. "Sorry, Diane, I guess we should've told you about each other before now. Tell you what, we'll stop by the sorority on our way to the restaurant, and you two can talk later on, okay?"
Diane nodded approvingly. "Yeah, I'll stay at the house tonight, instead of at your place."
"N-no," came the reply from the mini. "I-I don't think I want to. Not tonight. M-maybe later. I think tonight I want to be alone."
"Whatever you need," said Matt soothingly, though his tone wasn't helping. In fact, he only sounded condescending now. "Come on, Cammie. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Tell you what, I'll come by tomorrow by myself."
Camille didn't respond to that, so he slid her back in his pocket and led Diane out to his car. The two maxis talked briefly about various unimportant day-to-day issues, leaving the mini curled up and all but forgotten. When Matt finally delivered her to the sorority house, her eyes were wet with tears.
Jordan wasn't in the dollhouse when Matt dropped his passenger off, which was just as well. Camille didn't want her roommate to see her crying. And cry she did, long and hard, like she'd never cried before.
Matt betrayed her, she thought between sobs. He led her to believe she was more than she was, and why? So he could convince her to become his pet! He wanted her, so he used those gloves on her, to make her fall in love with him. He knew what he was doing all along.
Those gloves! Those damnable gloves! Camille cursed them under her breath, wishing she'd never experienced their silky, enticing touch. She still wanted so badly to feel them on her skin, even as she wept and swore she'd never fall under their spell again.
She was fortunate, Camille realized after a while, once reason returned and all emotions were left behind. Matt could've turned her into his absolute slave if he wanted to. Perhaps he already thought he had, which was why he told the truth about Diane when he did. Another couple of weeks and Camille wouldn't have cared a thing about somebody else, as long as the gloves weren't taken away.
No wonder they were only available on the black market! The pleasure gloves turned a mini from a companion into a slave. That was close, Camille told herself. So very close. She could've been trapped forever.
But what now? Camille needed to clear her head, so she climbed down off the table and went to the bathroom, where she took a long hot shower in the sink. She was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice when a giantess came in, used the facilities, and left again.
Cammie knew one thing for certain--she no longer wanted to be a companion. At least not Matt's companion, anyway. The whole career path was totally soiled as far as she was concerned. How could she possibly continue her schooling after this?
She stepped out of the shower, letting the cool air conditioning draft dry her dripping skin. Suddenly, the fog seemed to lift from her mind. The veil of companionship was swept away. Being a companion was nothing more than agreeing to be someone's pet. She knew that now. If she got a companion's license, it was just like a dog license. Legalized pet status, that's what it was. Nothing more than that.
Well, that's not for me, Camille told herself, heading back to the little plastic building that was her home. I'm never going to be a companion! Not with Matt or anybody else! He can go off with Diane and do whatever he wants with her--I don't ever want to see either of them again!
Camille didn't waste any time wishing she could go back to her old life. That world seemed to have faded away completely, like a lost dream. Perhaps that's all it ever was--she no longer knew or cared. She had to face what lay ahead of her in this reality.
And what would that future hold now? Not companionship, certainly, and she had no intention of going to live with her parents for the rest of her life. She loved her parents--or at least, the parents she remembered--but spending the rest of her days with them would be boring in the extreme. That left only one thing--another sort of job. Perhaps even the journalism career she once worked for, back in that old, almost forgotten life as a maxi. They wouldn't let her, though. Having a maxi's job was against the rules.
She was still mulling that over when Jordan returned to the dollhouse. "Oh, you're back early!" the other mini exclaimed upon finding her friend sitting in the plastic kitchen. "What happened with you and Matt?"
"Have a seat," said Camille with a protracted sigh. "I've got a real long story to tell you..."
Chapter 22
Jordan remained motionless while Camille told her story. The smaller girl's face occasionally showed an emotion--surprise at the mention of pleasure gloves, horror at the news of Matt's betrayal--but she remained silent. She could tell something terrible had happened, and listened attentively as her friend explained everything.
Only when the whole tale came out did Jordan finally speak. "That's horrible," she said, visibly shuddering. "How could he do that to you? How could he? He seemed so nice--!"
"I've been trying to figure that out," answered Camille. "I think I know, now, after trying to see things from Matt's point of view. Matt and Diane, I mean. Both of them."
"Yeah, I never saw that one coming," Jordan agreed. "The two of them, getting married! They haven't even known each other for a whole month! I swear, I'll never understand how maxi romance works."
"I've got news for you," said Camille wryly, "neither does anybody else. Anyway, I know what the problem is. Matt was thinking about me as a pet, not as a person."
"We're not pets, we're companions!" insisted Jordan, but the reply seemed automatic, as though it had been drilled into her. This wasn't the first time she'd used that line, either.
"I know that," Camille agreed. "That's what we're taught, but it's not what they're taught. Maxis, I mean. They have all these laws protecting us, and keeping us from getting real jobs, except when it serves their purposes. As for companionship, they call it a 'profession,' but it's really nothing more than a pet license."
"Please, Camille, don't call it that," Jordan replied with a little whimper. She fidgeted, as if nervous or distressed. "I don't like to think of it that way. I want to be a companion. I want someone to take care of me. Somebody nice, though, who'll respect me, not like that scumbag Matt!"
Camille gritted her teeth. "They won't respect you," she said forcefully. "No maxi can respect us! We're three inches tall, for Chrissake! Don't you get it? We're mice, not women! Being pets is all they think we're good for!"
"Stop it!" Jordan whined. "Don't call me that! I'm not a pet! I'm not a pet!"
Camille reached out and firmly grasped her friend's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jord. I don't mean to be so harsh, I'm just pointing out the facts. I've been a maxi, so I know how they think. Matt wasn't thinking of me as a person when they did what they did. He was trying to train me, like he would his favorite dog."
Jordan began to cry. Turning away, she pushed herself into a corner of the room, sobbing. "I-it's not fair," she wailed. "This isn't fair! Oh, please, no...I don't want it to be like this! It can't be! Nooo..."
Cammie started to speak, but stopped. Something wasn't right about Jordan's reaction. Something else was going on. "Jord...?"
"Leave me alone!" her friend snapped, just before collapsing onto the plastic floor in a paroxysm of sobs.
Camille backed off. What was going on? She silently reviewed what she said, trying to figure out what it was that affected Jordan so much. Nothing came immediately to mind. Jord did start to get misty-eyed when Camille raised her voice, though. Was that it?
Jordan continued to cry, and nothing Camille could say seemed to help. Instead of pushing the issue, she left the room and went down the plastic stairs, eventually exiting the house. The room outside stretched out away from her, an immense cavern built for titans. She didn't belong in a world like this.
All she could do now for Jordan was give her time. Camille could remember her own Jord, her friend in that other universe, becoming emotional like this on several occasions--usually involving boys. Jordan would cry over the breakup, sometimes for hours, and then make peace with herself and move on. That was how she dealt with such things, and Camille often envied her friend's ability to cry it all out in such a short period of time.
Damn that Matt, anyway! How dare he do that? He must've known what he was doing all along. Hell, he even told her as much. He said he wanted to convince her to be his companion. He just didn't mention Diane, and in fact managed to get his girlfriend to keep her mouth shut about it. All those times they played games and watched TV together, and the subject of Matt never came up. Was that by accident, or design? Surely it was no coincidence.
So why didn't Diane talk about it? Because Matt asked her not to, surely. Why? Because he didn't want them to talk about him behind his back, perhaps, or so that Diane wouldn't screw up Matt's conditioning. That's what it was, Camille knew now. Brainwashing.
Did Diane even know that's what he was doing? Camille had no idea. If so, Diane was just as much of a scumbag as Matt. But if she didn't...what would that mean? Camille didn't know.
She looked up, finding herself at the edge of the table. Her mind was so tightly focused on Matt and Diane that she almost walked off into space. I have to stop thinking about those two, she thought firmly, turning and pacing off towards the other side of the wooden plateau.
Jordan could deal with her emotions with an hour or two of crying, but things weren't so easy for Camille. She knew she'd be depressed for days unless she found something else to do or think about. In this place, though, there was nothing for her. She could only play games for as long as there were maxis around. Once the rest of the house went to bed, she'd be left with her thoughts and memories.
She had to do something. But what?
After her second complete circuit of the tabletop, Jordan emerged from the house and walked over to meet her. The smaller mini's eyes were swollen and a few drying tears still dotted her face. "I'm s-sorry, Cammie," she whimpered. "I-I shouldn't do this. I should be stronger, like you taught me, but I c-can't."
"I wish I knew what I said that upset you," Camille said helpfully. "You know you can talk to me, Jord. You always could, back in my old world, anyway."
"I keep forgetting," sniffed Jordan. "You don't remember stuff. When you were big, where did we meet? In high school?"
"Yeah."
"Same here. We were the only minis there. That was the first time my parents let me go to a public school. Everybody treated us like we were something special. They carried us to class, you know. That was the first time anyone ever wanted to carry me."
"What do you mean?" Camille was baffled. "What about your family?"
"You don't remember, but my parents hated me," Jordan sighed, wiping her face and sitting down on the edge of the table, letting her legs dangle freely over the side. "I was an embarrassment. They had to redesign their house for me, and then they made me make my own way around. The only time they carried me was when I had to be somewhere quickly. Mostly they just ignored me."
"That's terrible," replied Camille, sitting down next to her friend and trying not to think about how far it was to the floor. "I wonder what my parents were like in this world?"
"Oh, they were so much nicer than mine," Jordan replied. "They treated you like a princess. They encouraged you to try to be a companion, so you could make something of your life. That's why you were so gung-ho about it when we met in high school. I didn't want to have anything to do with it then."
Jordan wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled her legs in closely, sighing before she continued. "You see, my brothers and sisters were mean. Well, not mean, I guess. Just disrespectful. They didn't think of me as a person at all. I was their little doll they could play with whenever they wanted. I was just a--a pet to them."
"I think I get it now," said Camille with a nod. "That's why you react like you did, whenever I say that word."
"Yeah." Jordan nodded sadly. "You spent years convincing me that being a companion wasn't the same thing as being a pet. Finally, when it got close to graduation, I forced myself to believe you. High school was the only escape I had from my dismal house and a meaningless future, and I didn't want that to end. That's why I petitioned to come to college with you, and go to companion school. I didn't want to be left at home with my parents, or worse, adopted by one of my brothers and sisters, who'd probably put me in a cage for the rest of my life."
"And now--"
"Yes, now." Jordan looked up at her friend, gathering what was left of her self-assurance. "Now you show up, claiming to be somebody else, and start spouting off about us being nothing more than pets! I spent years convincing myself that's not what's going to happen, but it's true, isn't it? That's what they're doing to us. Molding us so we can be somebody's pet!"
"I'm afraid so." Camille nodded. "I wish it could be different, Jord, but that seems to be the way things work in this stupid world."
"There's nothing we can do, is there?" Jordan started to sniffle again, and wiped her eyes quickly. "We're too small. Too d-damn small!"
Camille's eyebrow went up at the sound of a curse from her friend. "If only I could go back," the former maxi mused, shaking her head. "Back to my own universe. I'd take you with me if I could, if I only knew how."
"T-thanks, Cammie," Jordan mumbled. "I'm glad I have a friend like you. W-what do we do now, though? I don't think I want to be a companion anymore."
"Neither do I. Even if I found the perfect hosts, I wouldn't be able to forget that I'm nothing more than a pet to them."
"Me either. So what do we do? What can we do? I don't want to go back to my parents or my brothers and sisters, either. Would your folks take me in, you think?" For the first time since the conversation began, Jordan looked hopeful.
"I don't know. Am I still an only child in this reality?"
"Yeah, your parents were afraid any normal-sized children might hurt you growing up. Too bad mine didn't think that."
"I suppose they might adopt you, if that sort of thing was allowed," Camille replied, "but what good is that? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life watching television all day? And what happens when my parents get too old to take care of us? What if, God forbid, they're killed in a car wreck or something? Where do we go then?"
"One of your other relatives, I guess," suggested Jordan. "I just don't know what we can do! I feel like the whole world is crashing down around me! Everything I ever believed--it's all slipping away!"
Camille paced back and forth a couple of times. "There has to be something we can do," she insisted through gritted teeth. "This isn't fair! I may be only a few inches high, but I can still think. I should be able to do something. They let minis be on TV, and in movies, don't they? Like on that soap you like so much."
"Yeah," Jordan agreed, "but those are special cases. Besides, they're companions, anyway. I'm not going to be a companion!"
"It's these stupid laws," muttered Camille. "They think they're protecting us, but all they do is make us less than human!"
"I know. What are we going to do, Cammie?" Jordan began to cry again. "It's all so hopeless! What can we possibly do at our size?"
"I don't have a clue," said Camille, eyes suddenly brightening, "but I think I have an idea of who might."
"What? Who?"
"Somebody who tried to tell me something, on that day I first arrived here in this crazy universe," Camille replied. "I was still too shell-shocked to recognize the implications, but now that I think about it, I have to talk to her right away."
"Who?" Jordan was looking desperate. "Who are you talking about?"
"The dean of the School of Companionship herself," Camille answered with a smile. "My old journalism teacher, Amy Randolph!"
Chapter 23
"What?" Jordan looked confused. "Why do you have to talk to Dean Randolph? What good would that do?"
Camille was smiling with the satisfaction of someone who'd uncovered a very big secret. "Do you remember when she explained how I could just be a mini who had her memories scrambled by drugs?"
"Yeah, but that's not what happened," Jordan contested. "If it were, how could you know how to play chess, or any of those other things you remember from being big?"
"Well, it could be what happened, sort of," explained Camille. "Let me explain, and this might take a while, so bear with me. Back in my own universe, I hated handicapped people."
"That funny word again! You tried to use it once before."
"Yes. In my world, some people are born with...defects, I guess you'd say. Permanent injuries, like being blind, or missing a leg."
"How horrible! I've heard of people being injured like that, but never born that way! What do they do?"
"Whatever they can," said Camille. "Our society tries to accommodate them, by spending all kinds of money on programs and aid. I couldn't stand all of that. The cripples I knew thought the world owed them a living, and they took advantage of it. A handicapped person caused the death of two of my best friends growing up--he should never have been able to get a driver's license! Never!"
Camille almost spit those last few words, causing Jordan to recoil slightly. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered weakly, not sure of what else to say.
Cammie shook her head and took a couple of deep breaths. "Sorry, my bad," she said after a moment. "I shouldn't get upset over that. It was years ago. Anyway, I also lost my scholarship to a handicapped person. I really hated them, and then one joined my sorority. Actually, if you must know, it was Diane. She's not crippled here, but in my world, she was in a wheelchair. I got pissed about her, spouted it off to Matt, and he broke up with me. All that happened the night before I wound up here."
"You never told me that!" Jordan commented. "All you said was that big you and big Matt broke up."
"I didn't think any of the details were important, but maybe they are. Amy said drugs can make a mini lose her memory. What if they do more than that? What if Matt and your Camille tried something, and that night the effects opened up some kind of gateway between worlds?"
"You're reaching, I think," suggested Jordan. "This sounds like a really bad sci-fi story."
"I can't imagine the drug doing it alone," went on Camille. "Your Cammie must've decided she wanted to be big. Do you remember her saying anything about that?"
Jordan narrowed her eyes, thinking. "She wondered about it sometimes. Every now and then she'd tell me what she'd do if she were a maxi. I can remember her telling me about a couple of maxi dreams, too. We all have those, even me. The only thing I ever remember about my big dreams is how distorted everything looks."
"Okay, here's a theory, then," Camille offered. "What if your Cammie went out with Matt that night, and they...did something. I don't know what. Maybe drugs, maybe not, but whatever it was, it was sexual. I know it must've been, because when Matt first used the gloves on me, he had seen me naked before. He knew what he was doing."
Jordan shuddered. "If you'd told me about those gloves yesterday, I would've been excited. Now...the whole idea just makes me ill."
"I know, I know. Me too. Anyway, think about this. Your Camille comes home that night, having been...pleasured...by Matt for the first time. She's lying in bed, as satisfied and exhausted as I was after the gloves. Well, maybe not quite that much, but pretty close. She drifts off to sleep, dreaming about sex, wishing she could be a maxi so she could experience the real thing. And meanwhile, there I am in my own world, lying in my own bed, feeling small because what happened with Matt--well, no, let's be honest, because of my petty prejudices. Next thing you know, poof! Some sort of ironic wormhole opens up or something, and we switch places."
"Makes sense, sorta," Jordan agreed. "I mean, as much as that whole business can make sense. Anyway, do you think it can be reversed?"
"If it works the same way, probably not. I mean, think about it. Your Camille is big now, and she has Matt all to herself. She's probably loving every minute of that. The only way she'll flip-flop with me again is if we both want it. Or if we both deserve it. Or maybe if the sun turns blue on a Tuesday. Dammit, I don't know how it really works!"
"Anyway, that still leaves me stuck here," Jordan sighed. "Maybe I can switch, too. Maybe my alter ego wishes she was small."
"I doubt that. You were pretty happy back there."
Jordan nodded sadly. "Figures. I still don't understand one thing, though. What does all this have to do with Dean Randolph?"
"Ahhh, that's right, that was the point I was trying to make," Camille recalled. "You remember she said she once woke up with memories of being a maxi, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"What if those weren't memories? What if Dean Randolph was from my world, too? What if she did something mean and selfish, like I did, and wound up crossing over to this place?"
"Oh, I see! Yeah, I guess that's possible, but so what? She told us they were only bad memories. Wouldn't she have admitted everything, if she thought you were from her world? I'd think she'd want to talk to you."
Camille rubbed her chin for a moment. "Possibly. Maybe. I don't know. Think about this, though. Dean Randolph is what, 60 years old? In my world she's a professor of journalism and used to work for the Boston Globe. What if she made the crossover when she was my age? That could've been the mini version in our world that whole time, making the best of being big. Meanwhile, the one who came here is struggling to figure out what's going on. Maybe that's why she became a companion, because it was the only thing she could possibly do. Maybe, over all those years, she managed to convince herself that her old life wasn't real at all."
"I guess I can see that," Jordan agreed, "but what difference does it make?"
"I don't know," Camille answered honestly. "I really don't. She might be able to help us, though. She's a teacher, so that's a job, right?"
"I guess," said Jordan doubtfully. "I never really thought about it before."
"That's why we need to talk to her--she might have some kind of inside information. Where does she go at night? Does she live on campus, or what?"
"I have no idea. I never see her, except during class. Do we have to talk to her right this second? Can't we wait until morning?"
"No, I don't want to talk to her in front of the rest of the students. Besides, do you really want Matt handling us again? Taking us to companion school? I sure as hell don't!"
"Okay, okay, I get the picture, but how are we supposed to find her?"
"We need to get somebody to carry us, I guess. Do you think Lisa would do it?"
"Maybe. She always says only our handler is supposed to take us out of the house, but maybe she'd make an exception."
"Okay, then, let's go find her. Hopefully she's in her room or something--I don't want to spend the whole night searching the house. Come on!"
Camille helped Jordan to her feet, and both headed to the rope ladder leading to the floor. Cammie briefly considered changing her clothes, but decided the loose-fitting dress she was wearing would suffice. Dean Randolph wouldn't be impressed by a nice-looking doll outfit, anyway.
By now Camille was perfectly comfortable moving around along the floor. Keeping inside the line was automatic, and she knew from plenty of practice the easiest route to take to get where she was headed. The first place they looked was Lisa's room, but there was no sign of her there. In fact, they didn't find any maxis upstairs at all. Someone walked by, on their way to the bathroom, but the tiny women down by the floor couldn't get her attention.
So, down the stairs they went, using the hand slides for ease of travel. After a month in the house, this came automatically to Camille. Going up wasn't nearly as simple, but they didn't have to worry about that. From ground level, they could hear maxi voices in the living room, one of which was clearly Lisa's.
A few minutes later they arrived, to find a cluster of sorority girls laughing and giggling about something on the television. Camille and Jordan moved around the outside of the room, heading towards the couch where Lisa was sitting. The problem was, getting close enough to get the maxi's attention required leaving the white-bordered safe zone. Jordan hesitated, but Camille didn't wait, rushing across the carpet and dashing behind the sofa.
From there, she started to climb. Jordan, conditioned to a life of staying in corners and avoiding danger, called out to her friend to stop, but Camille wasn't paying attention. She was sick of being treated like a helpless invalid just because she was tiny. Besides, taking a risk felt good. She wanted to see if she was up to a challenge like this.
As it turned out, she was. Reaching the top of the couch with surprising ease, she then slid down onto the armrest and waved to get Lisa's attention. "Hey! Down here!" she called out as loudly as she could, trying to overcome the sound from the blaring television. "HEY! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"
Camille's frantic waving finally produced enough movement in the giantess's peripheral vision that she glanced sideways reflexively. When she saw the mini, Lisa jumped in her seat. "Cammie!" she gasped. "What are you doing up there? I could've knocked you off!"
"Sorry," replied Camille, "but Jordan and I need your help. Can we get you to do us a favor?"
"Umm, I guess so," replied Lisa, still a bit taken aback by the sight of one of the normally timid minis doing something out of the ordinary. "What is it?"
"We need you to take u to see our teacher, Amy Randolph. Um, right now, actually. Before it gets too late."
"Why can't your handler do it?"
"Well, he's not here," said Cammie, deciding not to bother with the full-blown explanation. "I'll tell you all about it later."
Lisa nodded. "I just hope I don't get in trouble--only your handler's supposed to take you out of the building, unless it's an emergency."
"Come on, those rules are only for pledges," said Camille. "You're the sorority president, for Chrissake. If anybody can be trusted with us, it's you."
"All right, all right! What, are they teaching you how to suck up now in companion school? Oh, well, the show's almost over anyway. Besides, it'll be nice to take a walk. Where's Jordan?"
"Down on the floor over there." Cammie pointed to where the other mini waited, trying very hard to hear the entire conversation from her ground-level vantage point.
Lisa put out her hand. "Fine. Come on, then, climb aboard and let's get going. I want to be back by ten."
Cammie hopped onto the waiting palm and held on as Lisa got to her feet, bent over, and picked up Jordan as well. The two were carried a short distance and then deposited inside a huge purse. Camille and Jordan sat back against a huge wallet, alongside a checkbook and a makeup kit.
"Comfy?" asked Lisa from outside. Seeing the thumbs-up from her tiny passengers, she smiled and shut the purse.
As they started to move, Jordan sighed in the darkness. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said quietly.
"Me too," Camille answered. "Me too."
Chapter 24
The ride went pretty much the same as any trip in Matt's pocket, except the two minis were in the dark this time. Camille found she could tell fairly easily where Lisa went, just by feeling the way the purse swung her around. The giantess took the stairs down, turned right, went out of the house, down the slope, and started to walk briskly. The constant swinging of the purse felt like a ship rolling on heavy seas, but Camille was used to such feelings of distorted motion by now.
Apparently Lisa knew where she was going, because she didn't ask either of the minis for instructions, nor did she stop to find directions. Camille supposed that they were headed for the school, thinking that Amy must have a room in Beauford Hall someplace. However, after just a few minutes, that clearly wasn't the case. The ride wasn't following the same familiar ups-and-downs as a trip to campus, nor was it that short. There was no way to ask Lisa, either. The purse was tightly shut.
Finally, Lisa came to a halt. There was a loud banging sound, which the minis interpreted as knocking on a door. They all waited until finally a gravelly man's voice spoke. "Who is it?" he demanded.
"Lisa Renfrew," came the answer. "You may not remember me, but we met briefly last year when I became president of Alpha Chi Epsilon. I and the other sorority presidents attended a lecture by you on the responsibility of having minis in the various houses across campus."
"I think I remember you," the man's voice replied. "Yes, you're the one whose house has two minis, right?"
"Yes, sir. Camille and Jordan."
"Is there a problem?" he inquired. "Something wrong with them?"
"No, not really," Lisa answered. "I'm sorry to be so late, but they asked to see Dean Randolph, if she's here."
"Oh, you have them with you? Where's their handler?"
"They said they couldn't wait for him. They specifically asked me to bring them by. If it's a problem, we can always come back during regular office hours, I suppose. They seemed quite urgent, though."
"Oh, it's perfectly all right. Come on in." There was a click of a door opening, and the purse moved forward again. "This way, please. She's watching TV, I think, although I'm not sure. She might be asleep. We get an early start around this place."
"Thank you, sir," said Lisa. "I'm sure Camille and Jordan will appreciate this."
"It's no trouble. Well, here she is. Amy? You have some visitors. This is Lisa, and she brought some of your students to see you."
"Oh?" The voice was distant, and barely audible. "This is highly irregular, but I think I know who you brought. Camille Helmsford, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. And Jordan Metzler." The top of the purse suddenly opened, filling the bag with bright light. Camille and Jordan crawled out over the top of the immense wallet and lowered themselves to the ground, finding themselves on a soft rug next to a towering television set. They were obviously inside a home of some kind--a very clean one, too.
Amy Randolph, reclining in a low-lying pillow, crossed her legs and sat up to look them over. "Well?" she asked, staring directly at Camille. "What brings you here tonight? I think I know, of course, but I want to hear it from you."
"It's, um, kinda personal," replied Cammie, glancing up at the two giant faces looming overhead.
Amy nodded and looked up at the still-unidentified master of the house, a balding man about the same approximate age as herself. "Please, Frank, be a dear and get our maxi visitor some milk and cookies, would you?"
"Of course," he agreed. "Come with me, Lisa. I think the minis want to have a private little chat." He chuckled as he led the sorority president away, who departed without so much as a wave.
"Okay, they're gone," Amy said. "Now say what you have to say."
"Wait a minute," Jordan interrupted. "Who the heck was that man?"
"Oh, him? His name's Frank Kitschen. You probably don't know him, but he's--"
"--the dean of the College of Liberal Arts," put in Camille. "Let me guess. He's your host, isn't he? You're still a companion!"
"Yes," admitted Amy with a nod. "You don't think old minis just turn into instructors by themselves, do you? No, this is a little something the ACPS arranged with the university. In exchange for letting me train new companions, the school picked up my contract. I change owners every year, under some bizarre tenure rule I still don't quite understand. Not that it matters--I just go where they send me."
"I can't believe it," breathed Jordan. "I thought you were--well, all this time, I mean, we all just thought you were--"
"What? Retired?" The old woman laughed. "No such thing in this business. Anyway, enough about me. Camille, I believe you were about to tell me what brought you here?"
"All right," Camille agreed. "I think I already know the answer, but I'll ask anyhow. Back when you told me you had your memories replaced--was that a lie? Were you really a maxi, like I was?"
Dean Randolph stood up and climbed off the pillow, managing to look dignified despite her age. She was wearing a doll-sized kimono apparently made entirely of silk. "My dear, to answer that, I would need to understand the nature of reality," she began, walking over to a small cup and drawing a handful of water. Sipping this gracefully, she wiped the rest across her forehead and continued. "What is reality, anyway? It's what we perceive of the world around us. I perceived, for a while, that I was the same size as everybody else, and then one day, I wasn't. I was small, like you and Jordan here. I learned to live with that, and you're going to have to do the same."
"So you were a maxi!" blurted Jordan. "Why didn't you ever tell anybody?"
"Who would believe me?" Amy shook her head and gave a long, protracted sigh. "Did anyone believe you, Camille? Jordan, did you?"
The other mini hung her head slightly, almost apologetically. "No, not at first. She knows things, though. Things she couldn't possibly know if she spent her whole life small."
"So did I, but that wasn't enough," replied Amy with a sad shake of her head. "Whenever I tried to explain, nobody listened. They were too big, and they had their own lives. What did they care about a tiny little thing like me?"
Camille nodded. "I can understand that. I remember the frustration when I first showed up here. How did it happen, anyway? What did you do that brought you over?"
"Prejudice, I think," said Dean Randolph. "You have to understand what was happening in the world back then. It was the sixties. I was white, in the South, and I hated blacks. Couldn't stand them. Then my big sister came home with her boyfriend, and he was a--well, a colored man, to use the phrase from that time. Light-skinned, but still black. I thought my father was going to lynch him. Becky begged me to give him a chance. He was a nice guy, she said. But all I did was spit in his face--and I mean that literally, you know.
"The next morning, here I was, suddenly part of a minority I could never even imagine. Only I didn't have a friend my size, or a sorority of sisters who took care of me. You're very lucky, Camille. I only had my parents and sisters, all of whom were huge. I swear, I never realized how small and petty I was until I had to look up at their faces! God was punishing me, I decided. That was the only explanation I could come up with.
"Anyway, at best, my family treated me like a fragile piece of glassware, or else ignored me entirely. I had to get out of there, so I did the only thing I could do--I became a companion."
"You couldn't do anything else?" Camille begged. "I mean, you're a teacher now--"
"Only because the ACPS sometimes takes old companions who've lost their original hosts and makes them instructors. I'm still a companion in the eyes of the law. I still have a contract and a license, just like everyone else in my line of work."
"So there's nothing I can do," Camille said sadly. "I can either go home and spend my life as a useless irritation to my parents, or I can become a companion and be somebody's pet for the rest of my life. Or at least for the foreseeable future."
"I'm afraid so," said Dean Randolph regretfully. "You know, when I first got here, I tried very hard to find another solution. It was the heart of the Sixties, though. The country had enough to worry about--what with Vietnam and civil rights and all--to think about what was or wasn't fair to the nation's mini population. Best to just pass laws protecting us, sheltering us, keeping us out of harm's way. There was nothing I could do. Minis can't vote, after all. We're a tiny minority, no pun intended. My parents wouldn't listen, and nobody else cared. After I got through school, I hoped my host would help me, but every time I brought the subject up, he just smiled and patted my little head. 'It's not safe in the big bad world for someone your size,' he would say, and then he'd give me a massage and I'd forget all about it."
"I think I know how you feel," said Camille with a shudder, remembering how easily Matt's velvet touch made her surrender to his will. "I don't think I want to be a companion now. Not after what I've seen in the last month. When I was a maxi, I was in your class here at the university, you know. I was going to be a journalist, like you."
"I was a journalist? Really?" Amy nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I worked on the school paper in high school, but I didn't think I'd ever make a career out of it. I guess the mini version of me made it good when she crossed over. You know, ever since you arrived, I've been wondering if you knew what happened to me in my old life. Thanks for the update, Camille."
"Sure." Cammie sighed and closed her eyes. "I know it's foolish to ask, but I don't suppose you know a way back home, do you?"
"No, if I knew, I would've used it in a heartbeat," said Amy. "I tried. I prayed, every night for weeks, hoping to wake up big again. Eventually I made peace with myself--this must be my penance, or if not, it's in God's plan that I be here. I'm afraid it's the same thing for you, so like I said, you have to make the best of it."
"I know. I guess I've made peace with that, anyway, since about the second day or so. I think I can even get used to being so tiny, if I haven't already. What I can't stand is being so damn useless. Neither of us want to be pets, Dean Randolph! Isn't there anything you can do to help us?"
"I wish I could," she answered sadly. "You'd have to find some way to get the overprotective laws changed, I'm afraid. And don't ask me. I'm getting too old to take up crusades."
"Maybe you could still help," Camille replied thoughtfully. "You have a lifetime of experience being small, and you were once big like I was, so you have that perspective, too. Plus you know what it's like to grow up surrounded by prejudice. Would you help me if you could?"
"How could I?" Amy sighed, and her shoulders sagged, making her look older than ever. "I'm just an little old lady with nothing left to offer anyone. Maybe when I was younger..."
"Please help us, Dean Randolph," put in Jordan, somehow managing to avoid whining as she pleaded with the aged mini. "I don't want to be a companion, either. Not anymore."
Camille didn't let up, quickly adding, "And the same goes for any other minis who want to get jobs, and be real people with real lives instead of pets or toys."
"Look, you're asking the wrong person!" Dean Randolph interjected, finally beginning to show some emotion. "Haven't you heard anything I've said? We're too small to do anything, and nobody cares!"
Camille paced around. "This is bullshit," she insisted. "You of all people should know how helpless I feel right now!"
"Believe me, I know," replied Amy. "I know, my dear. I've spent my whole life suffering with that kind of despair."
Camille clenched her fists, fighting down her frustration. There was something in what Dean Randolph said earlier--an avenue that might, just might, be used to reach her. "Look, you said before, you thought you were sent here as some kind of punishment from God, right?"
"That's one theory," replied the dean. "I told you how I got here--because of my prejudice--so I expect something similar happened to you."
"Yes, I had the same sort of thing, only mine was towards handicapped people," admitted Camille, "and I found myself in a world where I was the one with the handicap. I can see where I might blame God for this, but if He was involved, I don't think it was a punishment."
Amy's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, for one, I try not to blame God for my problems," said Camille, "but I was thinking about something you said before. You said maybe it was in God's plan that you were here."
"Yes, I did say that, but even if that's true, how does that explain anything?"
"Well, think about it. Say God did send you here. If it was a punishment, you would've eventually gone home, having learned your lesson, right? Because I don't know about you, but I sure as hell learned mine!"
"Maybe we died," suggested Amy sadly, "and this is Hell."
"What, you've aged in Hell? Come on, that doesn't make sense! Anyway, you're missing the point. If God was responsible, and sent us to this place, it must've been for a reason. Otherwise, why do it? So why are you here, Amy? And why am I here?"
"I don't know. How could I?"
"What if it's to do something no other mini could do? Think about it--we've been maxis. We know what it's like to live from both points of view. Maybe we're here to change the way things are. You and me both. What other explanation can there be for both of us being here, in this place, together?"
Amy started to answer, but stopped. Her eyes seemed to focus on a point in space somewhere beyond the other two minis as she contemplated Camille's words. Nearby, Jordan fidgeted, wishing she could be part of the conversation, but really unable to relate to what the others were discussing. "Do you think she'll listen?" she whispered to her friend.
"I don't know, but I sure hope so," Camille replied quietly.
They waited for a few moments while Amy moved over and took another drink of water, still lost in thought. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. "You may have a point," she stated, seeming to brighten somewhat. "I'm not sure yet. I don't know what it is we can possibly do. What, exactly, are you suggesting?"
"I'm not sure yet," replied Camille. "I won't lie to you, Amy, I don't really know. We--minis, I mean--need to prove to the rest of the world that we can be more than just pets. We're human beings, but I think the maxis have forgotten that. So how do we make them believe otherwise?"
"Small steps," said the dean insightfully. "Very small. We can't even start with them, you know. The first thing we need to do is find out if the other minis think like you do. Would they even want real jobs? I mean, most of them want to be companions so badly. It's all they've ever thought of--"
"--because that's all they can do," Camille interrupted. "Think about it, Amy! It's the only job around. They have no other choice. For most of them, companionship is their way to escape. Otherwise why would they be here?"
Jordan nodded vigorously. "It's true, Dean Randolph," she put in. "That's the only reason I came here, to the university. I had to get away from home. I was just a toy to them. At least a host promised something more, some actual love and affection. Plus, I'd be doing something, instead of just taking up space. If I could have a real job--well, that would solve everything!"
"I'm glad you're here, Jordan," replied Amy with a smile. "It's good to see the real mini's side of things. Still, you don't speak for the others. They're probably going to need convincing. So how do we show them they can be more than just a companion?"
"Actually, I may have an idea about that." Camille smiled and turned to her friend. "Jordan, do you remember earlier tonight, when I climbed up the back of the couch?"
"Yeah?" Jordan looked at Cammie quizzically. "So?"
"Well, I sort of want to do the same kind of thing, only on a much larger scale..."
Chapter 25
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jordan asked worriedly. "This is crazy, you know. Absolutely stark raving nuts!"
"I know," said Camille, looking out the open window at the gradually lightening sky. The world out there was so immense as to be all but incomprehensible, so it was somewhat fortunate the sun hadn't come up yet. If she could see the huge buildings, giant trees, and streets as wide as football fields, she very likely might've turned back before she started.
"Then don't go," Jordan argued. "What if you get hurt or kidnapped?"
"Believe me, I've thought about that a lot these last few hours," Cammie replied. "More than you know. I really didn't sleep much at all last night. This is something I have to do, though. I have to prove it to myself, as much as to you and to everybody else."
"I can't believe I'm letting you do this," Jordan complained, testing the strength of the cobbled-together thread rope. "I should report you or something. If you get hurt or die, I'm never going to forgive myself!"
Camille took her friend by the shoulders. "Jordie, you and I are best friends, right? Then you have to let me go. This is something I have to do, for me and all the other minis in the world. We have to be able to choose what we want, even if it's dangerous. We have to be allowed to decide for ourselves. Don't you see?"
"I think so," Jordan replied doubtfully. "I've tried to see it from your point of view, and even though I don't really get it, I respect what you're doing. Go on, go, before it gets any later, and before I change my mind."
Camille smiled, reached out, and gave her friend a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, you're a good friend. See you on the other side, okay?"
"Okay, don't be late," Jordan replied, hugging Camille one last time.
Before anything else could be said, Cammie leaned back out the window, keeping her hands tightly wrapped around the rope. Then, with a final smile of confidence she didn't really feel, she lowered herself down the wall into the hedges outside the house.
By the time she reached the first street, the sun was up over the horizon. Camille studied the crossing carefully, aware that this was just a two-lane road. The problem was, she could only see so far in either direction. If a car came along at the wrong moment, it might catch her in the middle someplace. Worse, she might be seen...and that was absolutely the last thing she wanted.
She was dressed in a tight-fitting black felt bodysuit, one of the more interesting costumes the pledges made for her during hazing. On that particular occasion they were trying to make her up like a little secret agent, which was right up there in insult level with the ballerina's tutu and the Daisy Duke outfit. Camille remembered feeling a bit embarrassed during the "fashion show," but Matt sure liked the costume later on.
She forced herself to forget those degrading memories. After all, the bodysuit was perfectly suited for what Camille needed to do, even with all the emotional baggage it carried.
In addition to the outfit, Cammie carried a loop of string and a grappling hook, a spear made out of a sharpened bobby pin, and a belt pouch containing some crumbs and a couple of drops of water. She didn't expect to be out too long, but couldn't be entirely sure when she'd reach her destination.
When...or if.
As she hesitated at the street, a gigantic ant crawled by, paying her no mind at all. She shivered at the sight of the massive insect, one of many she'd seen already that morning. None of them seemed interested in a three-inch woman, which was just as well. Her right hand clenched her metal spear tightly, just in case, but the ant kept right on going.
Steeling herself, Camille dashed out across the street, doll-boots tapping softly on the top of each crushed stone. No cars came by--the morning was still quite early, after all. At the other side, she used the grappling hook to pull herself up over the steep curb, dashing underneath a newspaper vending machine to catch her breath.
So far, so good. Nobody had seen her. Just one more obstacle before campus--the main drag.
Creeping along next to the sidewalk, Camille stuck to the poorly manicured lawn. A jogger clopped by, forcing her to hunker down in the untrimmed weeds alongside the concrete path. He didn't notice the tiny woman by his feet--why would he? Who looks for wandering minis, anyway?
High Street was the main thoroughfare going past campus, containing not only the access roads to the various Greek buildings, but also the inevitable "beltway bandits" that served the university. Most of these, including the little pizza joint at the corner where Camille emerged, weren't open yet. Still, there were plenty of pedestrians about, forcing her to remain hidden behind a streetlamp for quite some time.
The corner where she intended to cross had no traffic light, but it did have a crosswalk. Camille decided to wait until a wandering student went by and follow along as fast as she could run. The road was four lanes wide, but she felt confident she could get across if the person in question was slow enough. Plus, despite her small stature, she could still see the traffic lights in either direction. If both were red, there would be no traffic.
Finally, somebody walked up to the corner and stopped. Camille found herself looking out at a pair of high heels almost as tall as she was. Good. The woman wouldn't move quickly in those.
Camille took off the moment the pedestrian stepped off the curb. The drop wasn't far, but the little mini still fell hopelessly behind. She ran as fast as she could, but the sound of a motor made her pause halfway across. To her horror, a car swept by directly in front of her, followed by another. The wind and exhaust made her cough and choke.
Camille looked around, almost in a panic. The yellow line was close, so she ran to it, leaving her squarely in the center of the four-lane road. As long as no one changed lanes, she'd be okay. All she had to do was wait until the traffic light to the right changed again.
She waited an eternity. Car after car went by, but nobody noticed the black-clad mini cowering on the asphalt. Finally, the light changed, and the last vehicle rumbled past. Camille ran, reaching the opposite side easily, gasping for breath. When she made it to the bushes by the sidewalk, she was exhausted, as much from fear as from the exercise and fumes.
The hard part's over now, she told herself, trying to bolster her confidence. Now it's just a long, long walk from here.
Almost two hours later, Camille stood outside Beauford Hall, looking up the immense stone staircase towards the distant door. She was almost completely spent. The journey across campus seemed to take forever, leading her through bushes and long grass, underneath immense trees, and across dangerous expanses of sidewalk. Once, she was almost run over by a bicycle, but so far, she'd avoided being spotted.
She could quit easily, she knew. All she had to do was get the attention of one of the maxis as they entered the building. Class was getting close to starting, and already, standing here in the long grass, she'd watched two different handlers walk by with their tiny passengers. Had Lisa gone by yet? Possibly, depending on whether or not Jordan told her a convincing story that morning.
Climbing the stairs was out, so Camille used the grappling hook to pull herself up to the top of the railing. Doing so almost exhausted her, so she rested again while a couple more handlers strode into the building. One of them was Lisa, she noted, and she was the second one in. What tale would Jordan tell her to explain Camille's absence? Hopefully not the truth, she thought.
The irony of all this wasn't lost on Camille. In her old world, this building had a handicapped access ramp.
The black-clad mini hurried over to the door and waited, knowing full well that Lisa would eventually come back down and exit. A different handler left, and another one entered, but Lisa didn't come out right away. Camille tapped her feet, waiting, and finally the giantess stepped out. The brief moment of her passing left Cammie enough time to dart inside, into the darkened interior of the building.
Two barriers remained, so she started up the stairs, keeping to the side. If a handler came in now, he might spot her by the floor. His eyes wouldn't be adjusted yet, though, so he almost certainly wouldn't notice a black shape so close to the ground. This theory proved correct on two occasions, with Cammie freezing in place each time while the giant strode by on the stairs.
Each step was a tremendous ascent to Camille, but she persevered. The air conditioning in the building made her feel better, and she caught her second wind at the last set of stairs. Once at the top, she didn't even pause as she made her way down the hall, staying next to the baseboard. All she had to do now was get through the final door.
This was the biggest challenge. She couldn't just sneak in like she had the front. Someone would surely see her this time. Besides, by now, the handlers were all gone. She had to get in using the security panel.
Here, the grappling hook served its purpose once more. Camille had prepared carefully, making sure she had more than enough rope to get to the doorknob. She hit it on the fourth throw and made her way upward carefully, knowing full well that if she fell here, her whole journey was for naught.
From the doorknob, she made another throw and caught the edge of the keypad on the first try. Swinging over, she clambered up to the buttons and pressed them in the proper order. With a loud click, the door popped open, sliding inward a few inches--enough of a gap for her to fit through.
I did it, she thought, pausing to take a few deep breaths while sitting on the keypad. All the way across campus, by myself, without any help from anybody! Even though I'm tiny, I can still go places on my own, and accomplish what I set my mind to. All I have to do now is prove that to the others.
As long a trip as this was, she reminded herself, it's only the beginning. I have a whole lot farther to go.
Camille quickly slid down the rope, dropping the last half-foot to ground level without trying to recover her grappling hook. She didn't need it any more, after all. Stepping into the entry room, she looked up to see all the minis, looking down at her from table level, wondering who it was who'd opened the door after class had already started.
Amy Randolph strode over to the side and looked down, an expression of relief on her wrinkled face. "You made it!" she shouted. "Are you all right?"
Wiping the sweat off her brow, Cammie grinned up at the awestruck group. Jordan, looking both thrilled and relieved to see her friend, flashed an excited thumbs-up, but the others were just stunned to see a mini wandering around on her own, in the open and without a handler.
"I'm fine," Camille yelled proudly. "I told you I could do it!"
Amy turned to the other minis. "What you're seeing is real," she said with a matronly smile. "Camille walked to class today--without any help from maxis. She did it all on her own."
"B-but isn't that against the law?" one of the minis whimpered, a bit fearfully. "She could get in trouble!"
"Yeah, shouldn't we be getting started with class?" said another.
"Class is already in session," replied Dean Randolph with a satisfied grin. "Everybody, grab hold of a cord and slide down to the floor. Today, we're going to try something different. As Camille has shown you by her actions, where we're going is perfectly safe."
"What do you mean?" gasped one of the other minis.
"Simple," said the instructor. "We're taking our lesson outdoors, into the sun. Today's lecture will take place on the lawn--in the real world. There's a lot of things we need to talk about today."
The minis looked apprehensive, concerned, and even a bit terrified. "Why?" one asked worriedly. "What are we going to do?"
"Oh, it's very simple. Nothing much, really. We're only going to change the world."
Epilogue
"We're ready here," Camille said into the remote microphone, coolly remaining calm despite the pressure of the situation. "Jordan? Is the camera online?"
"Sure thing, boss," replied Jordan just as calmly, pointing the shoulder-held minicamera at her longtime friend and co-worker. "I've got a signal. Go ahead when you're ready."
In her left ear, Cammie heard the crackling voice of one of the producers through her headset. "Going live in five seconds," the maxi announced calmly from the comfort of the news van. Of course he wouldn't have any reason to be nervous--he wasn't the one who was only a couple dozen feet from several armed bank robbers. If any of them happened to glance up towards the vent--
"Four, three, two..." the voice in her ear counted down relentlessly. Worry and fear slipped away, to be replaced by calm professionalism earned from years of practice.
Camille waited the last two seconds, which were silent by custom, and looked into the red light just above the camera lens. "This is Camille Helmsford, mini-reporter for Channel Four News, on the scene of the hostage standoff. The scene behind me, which you can barely see through the ventilation screen, is live. For those who have been following this story, brought to you exclusively by Channel Four, there are three masked gunmen holding at least ten hostages inside the bank. Shots have been fired, but there's a standoff at present. We're going to move the camera in so you can get a better look at the situation inside."
Camille stepped away as Jordan moved the minicam up to the slats in the ventilation duct and poked the lens through. The three men, wearing ski masks, were pacing about anxiously, keeping their eyes on the terrified hostages. One of the robbers was barking angry words into a cell phone, presumably at one of the police negotiators. Fortunately for the tiny reporters, the thieves had no idea there were minis watching from the air duct, which was far too small for a maxi-sized person to crawl through.
"As you can see, one of the men is talking with police right now," said Camille professionally, keeping her voice low in case any echoes floated out into the bank. "He doesn't appear pleased with the way things are going. Uh-oh, I'm being told now that I need to back off. Something's going to happen in there, I suspect. I'm going to stay here until--ahh!"
A sharp crack split the air, and the man on the phone spun in his tracks, collapsing to the ground and writhing in agony. The other gunmen seemed to freeze, and the front door to the bank exploded in a shower of glass. Suddenly the room seemed to fill with police in riot gear, pointing assault weapons at the remaining robbers. Both of them raised their hands, dropping their guns, and were swiftly collared.
Out of sight of the camera, Camille smiled and sucked in a deep breath. Her head was racing, but she felt invigorated. Now this was the news! And to think, she was going to be content to live her life as a companion, along with Jordan and all those others!
How long ago that all seemed now. That day Camille took her first step out of the house, alone, into a world made for giants--she was terrified then, but also excited with the possibilities of what was to come. The solo trip across campus wasn't the only time she performed such a stunt, either--it was just the first.
Initially, she concentrated on convincing the other minis at the school that they could be something more than a maxi's pet. Under Amy Randolph's direction, class was quickly transformed from structured, saccharine coursework to wild explorations of the outdoors and field trips to places no mini had ever been on her own. They snuck into other classes in progress, climbed trees and poked around in bushes, and even crossed streets to get refreshments at the local cafés.
In this the sisters of Alpha Chi Epsilon helped immensely, taking the minis on even longer trips to improve their spirits and build up their courage. Even Diane Renfrew pitched in, not only out of loyalty to the sorority, but also as a friend. When she finally learned the whole truth about what Matt had done, she ended her relationship with him, for which Camille was truly pleased. None of them had heard from that scumbag since college, which was perfectly fine with them. The minis had enough to do without any interference from him.
As the months passed, the minis became more and more daring in their field trips and exotic excursions. They went to zoos, visited museums, rode on trains and other aircraft, went to football games, and tried dozens of other activities that maxis took for granted. When word of these exploits leaked out--arranged intentionally by Amy Randolph--there were plenty of dissenters on campus. Most maxis didn't like the idea of minis running around without handlers, but the aces were quick to assume that duty. Eventually, what they were all up to drew the attention of the local media, but only as a sidebar buried in the back of the newspaper. The wild exploits of a few college kids were explained away as pranks or publicity stunts. Of course, nobody knew at that time what the ultimate plan was. Only the minis knew, and they all kept that particular detail a secret.
Meanwhile, Camille and Amy--aided by the enthusiastic Jordan--wrote freelance news articles about their escapades. The time they hopped on an unescorted bus ride across campus, for example, or went on a road trip to the beach, or took a hot air balloon ride. These stories were all written under pen names and emailed from sorority computers. When it was discovered that the reporting was actually done by the minis themselves, other journalists finally began to sit up and take notice. Through them, the public at large began to finally hear about Camille's cause.
A cause is exactly what it was, for Cammie had no chance of succeeding in her goal without literally changing the entire system. Still, one doesn't alter the perceptions of a population overnight. They did have unexpected allies, though--other companions! As it turned out, a high percentage of politicians and other powerful men across the country possessed companions of their own, and those minis naturally watched television and read the news in their idle time at home. Virtually every companion in America was thrilled by the actions of Camille's group--and they had the ears of their sympathetic maxi hosts.
Thus it was that slowly, over the course of several years, Camille and others like her convinced those in power that a mini could be useful in ordinary jobs--and without removing the profession of companion, either. After all, for every qualified companion, there were hundreds of other minis trapped in their homes with no real future. As avenues of work opened up to those tiny women, they flocked in surprisingly large numbers to their new opportunities. In time, they became skilled workers, still carefully protected by rapidly evolving laws but now allowed to do things other than just become companions.
There was resistance, of course. Not just from those few whose jobs were threatened, but from those who felt a mini was a helpless thing that ought to be kept locked up for her own safety. Camille and her allies worked hard to change the minds of such people. There were setbacks, of course. Minis were injured or killed while on the job, or just disappeared for one reason or another. Camille felt bad for them, naturally, as did everyone else, but regardless of their fate, they all had one thing in common--they were doing what they wanted to do. They were free to take the risks, and take them they did. By the thousands.
New mini careers seemingly opened up every day. Computer repair, medical technician, dental assistant, forensics analysis...there seemed to be no end to the need for tiny pairs of eyes and hands. The workplace changed, too, with ladders built into walls and safe travel paths available to mini employees. Dollhouse homes began to appear on the market, designed to be placed in or close to a mini's workplace without compromising their privacy. All of this and much, much more.
Camille and Amy were true to their vision. Slowly but surely, they changed the world.
Now, ten years later, Camille and Jordan were one of the first mini reporter teams in the country--and one of the best. Together, the two of them consistently snagged footage no maxi-sized newswoman ever could, like this inside shot of a bank robbery in progress.
Jordan pulled back, focusing the picture once again on Camille. "There you have it," she commented, flashing her trademark smile. "The police have ended the standoff, and none of the hostages were injured. They appear to be moving everyone out front, so we'll return now to the external cameras. This is Camille Helmsford reporting for Channel Four News."
The red light went off, and Jordan gave a thumbs-up. "Perfect, Cammie, that was great!" she exclaimed. "You think we'll get a Pulitzer this time?"
"If not for this, maybe for that hijacking last week," said Camille with a grin. "Thanks a lot, Jordan. I couldn't do this without you."
"No, thank you," she replied. "If it weren't for you, I'd be watching TV on some guy's lap right now. This is so much better than that!"
"It was my pleasure," said Camille. "All I had to do was form my own little revolution. What's the big deal?"
Jordan lowered the camera and grinned. "And modest, too! That's my Camille!" She took a few deep breaths through the open vent, avoiding the dust hanging in the air in the dark tunnel. "Are we done here? This air duct is about the dirtiest place I've ever been."
"Yeah, I don't think anything else interesting is going to happen in there." Camille took one more glance out through the gap at the secured bank interior. Another day, another scoop, she thought proudly. I may be small, but I can get to places no ordinary reporter ever could. I may have limitations, but with a little acceptance from everybody else, I can do damn near anything.
I might be tiny, she told herself, but I'm not handicapped--not by a long shot! Besides, that word doesn't exist in this world, now does it?
"Come on, let's get the hell out of here," Camille said proudly, and together the two minis headed for the exit.