AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re easier to manage when two inches tall,” Tweed’s voice booms again, harming my fragile, tiny ear drums. He gives the teapot a rough shake and I drop back down onto my ass.
“I resent that!” I scream through the spout to amplify the sound. “I’m never easy!” Crossing my arms like an insolent child, I recite my ABCs in an effort to stay calm. I can’t hurt Tweed at this stupid height, but I can let my irritation fester. I’ll find a way to grow four times his size and step on his puny head.
A is for assbadger, B is for bumblefuck, C is for cuntpuddle, D is for-
“Fucking Christ,you’re more annoying small than average size,” Tweed grumbles and I snort. I despise the adjective ‘average’ when it comes to describing me, in any aspect. “Next time, I’ll make sure to use a higher dose and shrink you the size of an ant.” I frown, rewinding back to the last thing I remember. Cash’s head becoming heavy on my chest, the tale of my past that usually sparks nightmares drifting me into an abyss of tranquility. Unless something else did that…
“You spiked me! That’s an abomination against tea!” I scream, bucking out my legs against the great wall of China. It’s then I realize air drifting between my legs, the ruffles scratching at my thighs, the boned corset correcting my usual hunch. That offensive dress I was presented with back in the cabin. Not only is the satin making an unpleasant return, but now it’s onme. Tweed must have changed me while I was asleep and that’snotokay. If I’m going to be dressed up like someone’s forgotten fantasy, I could at least be awake to feel the contact of his fingers on my skin and direct them down to my clit.
This time when I shoot upwards, I don’t stop at just popping out of the teapot. I throw myself over the edge of it. The edge of the skirt becomes hooked on a chip in the rim, tearing as I spiral towards the ground like a corkscrew. Severing from the bodice, I drop to the ground and eye the pair of hot pants banded around my waist. Shimmering red with white hearts stitched over my moo-moo and into each cheek of the butt. White stockings stretch up the length of my legs, spanning over my thighs with delicate lace. Yuck.
A ma-hoosive hand rushes towards the ground, the fingers forming a cage around me as they pierce the earth. Slipping out before they snap inwards to crush me, I roll across the ground and take off in the black pumps clinging to my tiny feet. Each blade of grass smacks against me like bollards, slowing my get away. A pebble hiding beneath a fallen leaf I try to volley over catches my shin and I tumble forward, the rush of heat searing my leg proving I’ve really fucking hurt myself.
Another pound crashes against the ground. A flash of mocha and black rushes at me. Dipping a pink nose beneath my belly, Stan tosses me up onto his back and shoots forward. Clinging onto his fur for dear life, the roaring bellow of Tweed the Colossal shakes the ground beneath us. I peer back through the rush of movement, squinting to see him holding his eye and bent over in pain. Dragging myself up Stan and peering over his face, orange junk leaks from his mouth.
“Did you bite him in the eye?!” I gasp, a smile spreading across my face as I pat the black diamond on his forehead. “You utter legend. Such a good boy.” Adjusting my stance, I straddle Stan properly with my hands wrapped around his large ears. The forest whips past, or perhaps it’s just a garden. From his vantage point, it could be a freaking jungle but the red rose bushes make me think otherwise. If I am where I think I am, I need an exit strategy pronto. Vaulting over the bone of what appears to be a humongous dodo skull, Stan clearly has a destination in mind.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
The ground quakes as Tweed takes chase, my body juddering all over the sugar glider’s back. He nears us in no time, his long strides eating up the distance like a scrummy plate of lasagna on toast. My stomach rumbles but there’s no time to think of anything but an escape plan. The meaty hand crashes into the dirt again, just as Stan dives aside and saves us from capture. I can’t keep avoiding Tweed from this puny height. I need to be tall to stand a fighting chance and something around herehasto make me grow.
Dropping aside with one hand gripping Stan’s ear, I scoop up a handful of dirt and shove it into my mouth. Nope, that’s just mud. Next, I catch the tip of a leaf and snatch it off, chewing on it like tobacco. Ugh, nah that didn’t work either. Where are all the fucking mushrooms when I need one?
One long jump sends a scream tearing from my lungs and Stan’s body flying into the trunk of an oak. Scurrying upwards in a spiral that makes me feel nauseous, we slip out of Tweed’s view as a stream of glistening tree sap enters mine. I’m quickly running out of options so here goes nothing. Yanking back on Stan’s ears, he slows enough for me to lean aside and stick out my tongue. Dragging it up the length of the sap, my insides curl up and die. Have I found a new low point? Quite possibly.
Regaining his speed, Stan leaps onto a branch hidden with lush greenery and I dive from his back. If I’m about to grow, I don’t want to kill him in the process. But hey, guess what? My life fucking sucks and nothing happens. Tweed rushes past the tree, swiping a large hand in the air to shove the branch from his face and in the process, knocks us aside. Stan’s winged arms snap out above me as he descends over my falling frame. I reach for him, refusing to scream and give away our position this time. There you have it folks, this is the way I die.
Softness envelopes me, the kiss of tender petals wrapping around my body and drawing me back into their clutches. Retracting its stem back into a natural position, I freeze as Tweed turns with a curious expression. I’m literally lying here, open and exposed on a rose like a pretty present waiting to be claimed. Bucking, the rose’s petals snap shut like a straitjacket.
“Shh!” it whispers. I double my efforts and the petals tighten. “SHHH!” the sound comes again. “The oak’s sap has camouflaging abilities. He can’t see you.” Lying still and true to the roses’ words, Tweed twists back the way he was walking and leaves me behind. My body sags and for the first time since I woke, I relax.
“Gee, thanks buddy,” I sigh. The petals don’t feel as tight now and I am embraced like a floral cuddle. The flower wobbles and I peer over to see Stan at the bottom, gnawing on the stem. “Stan! Take it easy, flowers are friends – not food.” He continues nibbling, intent on bringing down the rose that saved me. I twist, realizing the petals are white just as a sharp stinger pierces my side. I hiss, trying to break free as the splinter deepens - that of a rose’s thorn.
“Stop wriggling, little prey. How do you think we make our petals red?” The whisper echoes around the curved petals. Well, that took a turn, but luckily for me, this isn’t my first time in a straight-jacket situation. Lying as flat and still as I can, I wait for the flower to believe I’ve resigned to my fate. Another stab penetrates my body, my teeth biting into my tongue not to react. Rolling my head to the side, I see the field of roses standing tall and proud, most of them with a defenseless creature in their grasp. From door mice to robins, all flustering and fighting to escape.
The petals relax, losing their tension so I hastily throw my arms upwards above my head. Breaking the hold, the flower yells in protest as I wriggle from its clutches, standing tall on the very edge. The thorn protruding from my side like a humongous dildo sticking where it’s not wanted, a trickle of blood oozing from it. Hearing the crack of Stan’s successful chewing, I pre-empt us going timber and scoop up a droplet of blood.
“Here, my leaving present.” Scraping it against the snow-white softness of the petal, the flower twitches and shrieks loud enough for me to cover my ears.
“She’s infected!” it screams and all around, the roses snap shut, shooting back into the earth. This particular rose doesn’t have the chance to shrivel up as Stan breaks through the thickened stem and once again, I’m free falling towards the approaching ground. Stan does his best to catch me but without a real saddle – which we are so getting, by the way – I just roll off his back and land chest-first on a cushion.
Leaving my face squashed against the fleshy feel, I inhale the scent of earth and blink my vision clear. One lone orange mushroom with white spots sits amongst an otherwise baren wood, all the flowers having disappeared from view except the one Stan chewed down. The petals have retracted like an acid burn, the spot where I smeared my blood turned black and bubbling.Weird.
Stan hops up to lick my face with a long scratch of his tongue, protecting me with the length of his furry body. Such a good guard-joey. Gasping, I shoot upright and knock him aside. A fucking mushroom! The only one for miles and it definitely wasn’t here before. Without hesitation, I start grabbing handfuls of its flesh from each side, remembering only one will make me grow and the other will cause me to shrink into a blip of non-existence. How cheery.
Stuffing each lump into the butt of my shorts, giving myself a stunning Kim-K backside, I stand on the mushroom to peer around. A chess-piece castle looms about a mile away in one direction, a wall of green in the other. In between, the jungle I need to navigate.
Hopping down, I pull up a trampled vine laying across the ground and start manufacturing a rein for Stan. Finding a hollow acorn, I thread it through for a bridle, tying a series of sailor knots to hold it in place. Stan’s giant nose sniffs at my ear, probably wishing he could crawl into the nest of my hair while I measure him up. Preparing to loop the harness around his middle, the ground shakes violently.
A boot slams down on top of the mushroom, the blow back from it tossing me aside. I land on my hip, nudging the thorn further into my side. Agony curdles in my gut, the taste of blood and bile rising to gurgle in the back of my throat. Rolling onto my back, I peer up at the giant leering above, his tweed jacket swaying in an invisible breeze. Ahh man, the return of Tweedle Dick.
Slamming my arms down like a starfish, my arms distort from view. With the tree mucus still in my stomach, color trickles from my fingertips to shoulders, blending me into my surroundings perfectly. Camouflage sap, my new bestie. Sparked by my inner admission, Stan darts away, half the harness hanging from his fur and in doing so, attracts Tweed’s attention with the movement.
“Get back in the tea pot, Stan! Back in the tea pot!” I call out, hoping it’s his best chance of hiding his mocha fur and pink nose amongst the greenery. Tweed’s boot lifts in slow motion, passing over my body with a delayed shadow. His shoulders are taunt, the veins in his arms protruding like rivets of lava coursing beneath his skin. Once passed, I hop up and begin limp running as fast as my side will allow. Somehow, I’ll have to hope Stan can hide long enough for me to emerge from the canopy of the trees and guess which piece of mushroom flesh rammed against my ass I should eat. There’s a sentence I’ve never thought before.
“Over here!” a small shout stops me in my tracks. Skidding out, my white stocks becoming thoroughly fucked beyond fixing, I hunt for the voice’s owner and see a hand waving through the grass. A tiny hand the same size and shape as mine. The thorn is unbelievably deep now, deep enough to prove standing upright to be a challenge.
Without much other choice and the confidence Stan can take care of himself, I stumble forward with the support of stones along the way. A girl stands in a doorway etched into the tree trunk, her height matching mine. Her brown eyes dart around the woods, panic etched into their chocolate depths as she refuses to take a step over the threshold.
