#t: twister | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

entomolog-t · 1 year ago

Text

INSTAЯ (3)

Multi Prompt Post; Mirror, Forlorn, Hush

Who else has ever thought, "You know what charades is missing? Angst."

In case the remark above wasn't clear, this chapter deals with some decent angst- you have been warned.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 2755

CW: Mild body horror, Panic/angst, Unintentional dehumanization, Adult language

I gasp as the weight in my hand thrashes- jerking up and scrambling back in my open palm.

It- it’s alive?!

As if I’d been given a handful of burning coals, instinct yanks my hands back and the… thing clatter onto the floor with an audible clink.

What the fuck is -

Before my brain can follow, a not quite human form stumbles to its feet and bolts away and at an unnerving speed. Within a matter of seconds the kitchen erupts into chaos. Honey’s barking reverberates against the walls as she follows suit- bounding after it as if it were one of the numerous elusive squirrels frequenting the property. Mouth open, she lunges, in an attempt to grab it but the creature dives out of the way, letting out a strained noise- a high pitched wail followed by a series of clicks as it darts under the kitchen table. Like a bull in a China shop, Honey continues her pursuit, carelessly shoving chairs aside without a second thought as she gives chase to … to what?? Its almost as if my brain stutters, stumbling over dots it’s struggling to connect.

The creature- as fast as it was- was no match for Honey, especially in the open expanse of the kitchen. Their frantic chase lasts all of 10 seconds before Honey has it cornered.

The creature squeaks- crying out as Honey pounces from side to side, yipping at it as she urges it to play in her very one sided game of chase- daring it to run. I stare blankly, having barely moved since my initial fright.

I couldn't quite see the creature from my vantage point behind Honey, but the glimpses I had gotten were telling; the iridescent sheen, the strange limbs…

There was no way…

The strained chittering from the corner jolts me out of my thoughts. Honey playfully nips at the creature not unlike the way she used to annoy the neighbors barn cat, blissfully unaware she was just torturing the poor thing… until he had swiped at her- The thought sends a chill through me. Would it bite her? Memories of its horrific mouth and those clawed finger tips are pulled from my mind… Sure, it was small, but that certainly didn’t mean that thing wasn’t dangerous- especially now that she had it cornered.

My mind was racing, searching desperately for some sort of plan of action. What was I supposed to do? There was no way I was letting that thing escape somewhere in my house- but its not like I could just let Honey maul some… Alien..? Monster? I still had no clue what that thing was, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be touching that thing myself. I shuddered as my brain conjured up various gore filled movie scenes of parasitic aliens burrowing themselves into a host. Was that what it was? Some juvenile alien looking for a host?? My eyes hastily dart around the kitchen, looking for some kind of solution- and then I see it.

A whiskey glass.

On the counter I spot one of the fancy glasses Clyde had insisted on bringing over the last time we drank. At the time I thought he was being pretentious, but at this moment I’m filled with nothing but thanks.

I take a wary step forward and watch as both Honey and the creature’s head are on me in an instant. I give a sharp whistle.

"Off." Honey tilts her head, reluctant to give up her new plaything, but upon making a noise of disapproval, she relents, trotting over behind me as she would when out hunting. I quickly take her spot- not letting the creature leave the corner.

There's an audible squeak from the creature as I kneel down. It chitters frantically, all four of its arms raised up in between us as it takes a step back.

Its antennae twitch in a way that almost seems ... nervous. It’s tail- I furrow my brow- it had a tail? Aside from the drastic change in size, the creature looked slightly different than it had before. For one- it had a tail; whip-like and bristly, almost like a porcupine with its spines folded back. It’s antennae seemed thicker, club-like near the tip, and its shell, no longer an inky black, had taken on a deep bluish green tone. It stares up at me, eyes wide and unblinking as it continues to chitter, head turning to look at the glass and back to me.

I raise the glass over its head and the creature stumbles, falling backwards in a much too human-like motion- a fearful little action that nearly makes me feel guilty. As the glass comes down over it, the creature ducks its head forward, clambering to its hands and knees- the whiskey glass too shallow even with it sitting.

For a moment, we both stare at each other, until the reality of the situation seems to settle in; I had caught some tiny creature maybe-alien in a whiskey glass.

Just what the Hell was I supposed to do now? Should I call some? Who would I even call??

I caught myself right before starting to chew on my thumb, trading in the old habit for occupying my hands with fidgeting instead. My eyes scan the countertops for my phone, finding it in its usual place at the corner opposite to me, right between my notepad and truck keys.

I hesitate- not too keen on the idea of leaving the creature unattended even for a brief moment, lest that thing get loose in my house. Wracking my brain for any sort of plan, I start taking a mental inventory of anything I could possibly use within arms reach.

Cleaning supplies, baking supplies, paper towels, paper plates-

I pause.

That could work.

Opening the cupboard to my left, I pull out a paper plate. Tipping the glass up ever so slightly, I slip the plate underneath, frantically trying to convince myself this is no different from catching a wasp.

It’s face turns up to lock eyes with me, muffled chittering escaping from through the glass. It seemed to stare daggers at me, squinting at me as if it were… insulted?

Questions of its intelligence resurface once again. There was no doubt in my mind that it was thinking, analyzing my actions as it scrutinized me… It had known how to lock the doors- Just how smart was this thing? More importantly - what was this thing?

As I shimmy the plate underneath the glass, the creature reluctantly crawls onto it, its glare never once relenting. I stand, placing the trapped monstrosity on the countertop near my phone. With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and stare at the screen- my mind once again racing at the bizarre logistics- just who the Hell I was supposed to call about a potential alien I had trapped like some kind of weird bug? Should I call Clyde? The police? They’d think I was crazy, right? Should I lie, or -

Tink.

A sharp clinking interrupts my thoughts. The creature bangs on the glass and I instinctively recoil

“Fat chance I’m letting you out-” I mutter, but my words die in my mouth the moment my eyes are on it. I watch in horrified fascination as the creature gestures frantically pointing to the notepad.

I freeze- heart beating wildly in my ears.

Did… Did it want to write?

An uneasy feeling creeps at the edge of my consciousness, making my skin prickle. As soon as I pick up the notepad it nods vigorously. That simple gesture made my skin crawl. It was communicating…

I feel as the blood drains from my face- a noticeable sinking feeling in my gut at the brief glimpse of this…this being’s intelligence.

I blanche, staring at the being, dumbfounded. Its mouthparts twitch under my gaze, as it continues pointing insistently at the notepad and then to the pen, looking all too human in its frustration.

It’s as though I’m underwater, my movements delayed as I pull up a chair and sit down. Carefully, I tilt the glass, a not insignificant part of my brain expecting the creature to dart off… but it doesn’t. Ever so slowly, it gets to its feet, tail swishing nervously as its multitude of eyes stay locked on my own.

It chitters, raising up its first set of arms, gesturing impatiently for me to hand it the pen. I comply, placing the pen in their outstretched arms, taking note of just how massive the pen looks in their strange grasp; The being no bigger than the pen itself- if that.

I flip the notepad open to a blank page and place it down in front of them. They awkwardly jostle the pen around, trying to figure out how best to hold it before figuring out a relatively steady grasp- the sight would be comical if it weren’t so bizarre… so real. In a motion almost akin to sweeping, bit by bit shaky letters begin to form.

H…E…L…P

I gasp- eyes wide as I read the word… the English word.

“H-help?” The creature flattens its antennae at the sound of my voice, but nods, “How-” I shake my head, wanting my own answers, “What are you?”

Again, it awkwardly dances with the pen as it answers,

H…U…M…A…N

It stares at the word before it moves, standing on the “HU” portion, and gesturing to the remaining letters.

M… A… N

My skin tingles with the pricking sensation of goosebumps as I read the word over again, mouth agape. A nervous laugh escapes me as the apparent not-so-human human points to the word and back to itself- himself. I grimace.

“I got news for you, buddy.”

The least human looking man I’d ever laid eyes on chitters an aggravated series of clicks as he begins to write again, almost as if muttering to himself.

W…A…N…T

My mind reels trying to figure out what he would need.

L … O…O…K

As he finishes his second word he then points to himself.

My mouth goes dry. Were they really human? Worse yet, if he was … what happened to him?

My voice feels hollow as I speak,

“You want to look…? At yourself??”

He makes a chirping sound, responding with an emphatic nod. An uncomfortable thought crosses my mind, Had he not seen what happened to him? I chew my lip, my thigh bouncing wildly beneath me.

“You know, it would have been faster to write mirror.” I quip, trying to relieve some of the tension I felt boiling under the surface.

He chitters in what I assume to be annoyance, sounding oddly similar to a treed squirrel. I hear the jingle of Honey’s collar as she perks up- clearly all too familiar with that sound.

I shoot Honey a stern look,

“Stay.” Turning back to the little being I add, “That goes for you too,” as I get up to grab my purse from the coat rack. He tosses his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation.

It’s as though I’m in a daze, my brain on autopilot as I navigate my way around the carnage of the night prior. The newfound context of the incident with the creature twisting a knot in my stomach. It’s- no, his hands raised in a placating gesture between Honey and himself… pleading to me… looking for help. I exhale- my breath coming out shaky. There were still so many questions- and it seemed like he had questions of his own as well.

I return to the kitchen with my purse, finding him sitting down on the countertop, staring blankly at his hands. Upon my approach his antennae perk up, and he stands to meet me. I can’t help but stare. He looks so small. I rummage through the mishmash contents of my purse, pulling out a compact with a mirror. Part of me wants to warn him- but what was I supposed to say? Heads up, you’re fucking horrifying? Surely he would have some understanding about his situation. It’s not like they couldn’t see their own body… Or my reaction to him last night. Without saying a word, I pop the compact open, placing it in front of him.

At the sight of his reflection, he stumbles back- his strange mouth hanging agape. That is, until he catches sight of his mouth- his hands flying up rapidly to cover it from view. For a moment, everything is still. He stands frozen in front of his reflection, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Soft chittering fills trinkles into the silence. In an agonizingly slow motion, his first pair of limbs reaches upwards, while his second remains wrapped around his waist, as if covering himself. His hands move across the hard surface of his face. He grazes clawed fingertips around each eye, hands trembling as they come up to feel the horn like protrusions at his crown.

He drops his hands, gaze falling to stare at them, before returning to his reflection once more. His movements at first slow and timid, increase in speed. He grabs at his face, twisting his head left and right before trembling hands grope at the gaps in his exoskeleton- frantically gripping and tugging at the edges. The groping becomes more violent- almost mauling- as he starts to pull at the edges of his shell as if wanting to rip it from his body. My hand twitches, ready to intervene. He chitters, and his attention gets pulled to his mouthparts. Motions far too violent, he yanks at the insectoid appendages covering his mouth, peeling back the appendages to stare at the horrific expanse of his oral cavity. I flinch at the pained squeak they make as he sees the grotesque sight of his inhuman maw. His chittering grows frantic- pained even.

Hands shaking, he scrapes at the hard shell of his face with clawed fingers, reefing on any gaps in his armor while making a strange shrill sound, like a bird simultaneously whistling and hyperventilating. The sound came forth rapidly and without rhythm, hitching and catching at random intervals as his chest heaved-

Oh.

He was sobbing.

My heart aches at the sight, and without thinking I reach my hand out in an attempt to break him from his panic. He flinches back staring up at me with too many wide wet eyes. I hesitate- hand hovering just before him, my heart wrenching in my chest.

Ever so carefully, I curl my fingers around him. He stiffens, freezing in place. I brush my thumb across his cheek, gently wiping away a trail of tears dripping down the too hard and too smooth surface of his face. He goes rigid under my touch, but doesn't pull away- instead he looks away, turning his head to avoid my gaze.

I will my hand steady as I hook my finger under his chin, softly guiding his face back to meet mine.

"Shh." I hush, "I.. I don't know what's happening, but I'm here to help, okay?"

As I speak, clawed hands grip onto my finger as his tiny form hunches forward, burying his face against my hand. My skin crawls as I feel his second set of arms unfurl, gripping onto my fingers. The sensation of the far too insect-like texture of their shell and two too many limbs against my skin made me wince- both disgusted with the sensation, but more so with myself for having the disgust cross my mind at all.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Almost as if to spite my own thoughts, I wrap my hands around him, in the closest approximation comfort I can think to provide- resenting the way I suppress a cringe as he returns the embrace.

Muffled chirps spill from between my fingers, his body trembling under my touch. My throat constricts- thigh still rapidly bouncing against the chair. What was I supposed to do? How on Earth was I supposed to offer any comfort? I stroke his side with my thumb, ashamed that fidgeting action was more to comfort myself. I told them I would help them… What am I supposed to do? Is there even anything I can do? My heart wrenches. Fucking useless. In my hands I held a pitiful sight, and there was nothing I could do, no words I could say, no solution I could offer.

All I could offer were hands to hold him.

69 notes · View notes

sweetsmollthings · 7 months ago

Text

So I saw the shrinking twister idea by @tfnonsense and I couldn’t help but want to write something for it. I’ve seen shrinking games as a concept before, but it’s always tricky to balance the game aspect with the story aspect, particularly since most of the time people go with board games, which have like…dice rolls and cards that dictate the effects, which you tend to want to be different every time so you end up describing every turn, and everybody has to reach the end, amongst other issues…but twister gets around a lot of that because the effect is constant so you don’t have to describe every turn because nobody is missing anything if you do a time skip. And since the game is about elimination, losers can just go off and do other things while the rest of the players continue in the background. It’s a very elegant solution. Though, it’s still hard to really maintain the balance……..

Anyways, sorry for rambling, here’s the story, hope it's enjoyable...

“Shrinking Twister?”

Marge continued brandishing the box proudly, seemingly ignorant of the three doubtful looks sent her way. “It’s great. Saw it at a frat party, but I didn’t get to play—too many people. So I figure, why not get it myself and play it with you guys?”

The box cover was pretty standard, depicting a few figures in various positions on the game mat; the only difference was that the figures were also in various sizes. Jennifer peered at it from behind her glasses. “‘The classic game that ties you up in knots—with a shrinking twist!’ Cute.”

Lana twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger, frowning. “How does that even work?”

Marge blinked, then looked at the box herself. “I dunno.”

“You go back to normal afterwards, right?” Katie asked.

“Of course!” Marge scoffed, easing the box open. “It’s just a game, guys. You grow back like an hour after it’s over. Anyways,” she continued, taking out a clunky device, “we need to input our names and height into the spinner.”

The “spinner” reminded Katie of a Speak and Spell with the old-style LCD screen and the touch keyboard; the major difference being, of course, the round spinner in the center, and a large, gaudy button in the corner that excitedly encouraged you to Spin!!!

As Marge finished typing her information and handed it to Katie, Jennifer started skimming the rule booklet. “Ah. So once you spin, you shrink one percent of your height for every second it takes to complete your move.”

“This is unfair,” Lana grumbled as she accepted the spinner next.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Katie’s so much taller than me! She has more reach, and even if she goes slow, she still has so many inches to spare—meanwhile, I’ll be a speck before you know it!” Despite her griping, she also began to type.

“I’m not that tall,” Katie mumbled.

“And we’re working off percentages, not inches per second,” Jennifer pointed out.

“Yup!” Marge pulled out the mat and laid it on the floor. Besides the normal rows of dots, it also had much smaller ones crowding around the circumference of each dot. “Since Katie’s six feet, she’ll be losing 0.72 inches every second. You’re five foot two, so you’re shrinking 0.62 inches. Right now, you’ve got a ten-inch difference. After twenty seconds, Katie would have lost 14.4 inches, bringing her down to 57.6, and you’ll have lost 12.4, so 49.6, making the difference eight inches instead of ten, which is a decrease of—“

“Okay okay, enough with the math,” Lana sighed, passing the spinner to Jennifer, who quietly typed her information in. “So I’m guessing standard rules, except you shrink?”

Marge shook her head. “Actually, instead of everybody going at once, we all take turns to spin. Otherwise the game can’t differentiate between who’s already put their foot down and who hasn’t.” Taking the spinner from Jennifer, she pulled out a wire from it that Katie hadn’t noticed before and plugged it into the mat. Then she held up the spinner and pointed to the display at the top. “It’s got all our names up here and the percentage height we have left. When we punched in our information just now, it…well I dunno exactly how it does it, but it like, recorded our bodies so it knows which ones to shrink? But it’s not smart enough to tell the players apart, so it just bases it on whose turn it is.” She set the spinner carefully on the floor, then paused in thought. “Oh, by the way, you can’t use the smaller dots until you’re small enough that your entire hand can fit in them.”

When Marge made the first spin (“Left foot, blue!”), Katie stared intently at her—out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lana and Jennifer leaning forward too—but Marge didn’t seem terribly different as she stepped onto the mat. It was a little disappointing; but then again, one percent wasn’t really much of a difference.

Katie pressed the button, and as soon as the spinner landed…

“Oh—!” she gasped, unconsciously stiffening as a strange sensation ran up her spine, as though some sort of ethereal hand was trailing—

“Katie!” Marge snapped.

Katie shook her head. “Huh?”

“You may want to keep an eye on the time,” Jennifer told her with a wry smirk.

“What?” Katie blinked, then realized with a start that the world around her was noticeably edging ever upwards. “Agh!!” she yelped, practically lunging for a red dot. The sensation ceased once her hand touched it.

“Damn, I really wanted to measure myself against her,” Lana said with a laugh, crouching next to Katie. “You just stood there for like, three seconds.”

“C’mon, stop wasting time!” Marge complained, shooing Lana towards the spinner.

“You were really looking forward to this, huh?”

When Jennifer joined everyone else on the mat, she commented, “It’s a little crowded.”

“Pretty sure that’ll change,” Lana drawled as everybody continued cycling through the turn order quietly while they conversed.

“Well, the rate is still slow, so not for a while—‘scuse me, scootch that spinner over here.”

“In that case, stop being so quick.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re flinging your feet around like bullets.”

“I gotta keep what size I can!”

Katie squeezed an arm past someone’s leg to start the spinner, but right before it stopped, the leg suddenly leaned in front of it. “Lana!” Katie wailed, trying to see around the leg and ignore the tingling that spread through her body. The arrow had slowed down at the right foot section, but what color was it?! She aimed at a yellow dot and groaned in aggravation when her appendages still slid against the mat as they contracted. “That’s cheating!”

“All’s fair,” Lana replied smugly, finally moving her leg back.

Katie course-corrected to blue. “Funny way to love someone.”

“I was talking about war!”

Marge, the only other one bent low like Katie so far, rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to take games so seriously all the time.”

“That’s what losers say.”

“So,” Jennifer cut in, joining Marge and Katie on the floor. Her glasses were askew from having to squeeze between Lana’s legs. She tried to straighten them, but they continued to slide off her nose. “What are we going to do when none of us can spin the spinner?”

Silence.

“I can spin for you guys if both your hands get full,” Lana said from above. “It’s not gonna shrink me if I’m the one spinning, right?”

“No, like I said, it’s based on turn order.” Marge scrunched her face in thought. “Maybe one of us will get eliminated before it comes to that?”

“Or someone could forfeit for the good of the game,” Jennifer suggested.

“That’s dumb,” Lana scoffed.

Katie squinted up at Lana. “How have you not spun any of your hands yet, anyways?”

“Skill.”

“You better not be cheating.”

“It’s a digital spinner?? How the hell can I cheat???”

“I dunno, maybe you—mmfph?!?!” Katie mmfph’ed as Marge pressed her pudgy stomach up against her face.

“Sorry,” Marge grunted, not sounding particularly sorry. “Just trying to reach the spinner.”

They were starting to reach sizes where the shrinking was visibly noticeable, even in the few seconds that it took to end their turns. Katie stared as Marge seemed to sink towards the floor. In their contorted positions, it was difficult to gauge how their new sizes compared to each other, but Marge’s hand was nearby and Katie was pretty sure that if she set hers over it, it would completely disappear from view. The thought filled her with a strange sense of wonder.

Jennifer squirmed somewhere behind Katie’s shoulder with a strained groan. “Alright, looks like I’m handless now.” There was a sudden clattering sound. “…Can someone get my glasses off the mat, please?”

“No prob,” Marge said, this time swinging her arm so her loose sleeve whapped Katie’s ear.

Actually, was Marge’s sleeve supposed to be that loose?

“Hey, Marge?” said Katie, suddenly aware of how her sweatpants seemed to sag more than usual. “Quick question. Do our clothes shrink with us…?”

“No,” Marge replied in a tone that suggested Katie was being obtuse.

“Huh,” Lana said. “No wonder I’ve been having to re-tie my hair.

Katie stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Alright. I’m done,” she declared, letting herself fall to the floor so she could crawl out of the tangle of bodies.

“Boooooo, wimp,” Lana jeered.

Katie tried not to blush as she pulled her sweatpants taut. “You realize I can see your underwear, right?”

It was true. Although Lana’s jeans were still standing by virtue of its stiffer material, the waist gaped open around her, allowing anybody to just look into it. Lana, her stance wide, just shrugged. “We’ve changed in locker rooms together.”

“Hey,” Marge called out, craning her neck up at Katie. “Since you’re free, tell us how we’re doing?”

Katie tried to roll her sleeves up and crouched by the spinner. Her own name was now crossed out (seemed like the game could tell when someone had left the mat). “I’m at 69 percent,” she announced.

“Nice,” said Lana with a grin.

“And?” Jennifer prompted.

“Umm…Marge is at 76, Lana’s at 80, and Jennifer’s at 78.”

“Haha, damn, Katie! You suck at this!”

Katie rolled her eyes, standing up again. “Well, if someone hadn’t—“

Lana stared at Katie oddly. “What? Why’re you looking at me like…” She blinked. Then, grinned widely. “Well, well, well.”

Katie tried to say something as they stood facing each other, eye-to-eye(!), but inconveniently, she seemed to have forgotten the concept of language. She could only watch in silence, heart pounding in her ears, as Lana rested a hand on the top of her head, slowly comparing their heights.

“Damn, still a tiny bit shorter,” Lana said, though the glee in her voice didn’t vanish. “But I bet if I was actually standing straight…”

Both of them looked down at Lana’s legs. How tall would she be if they weren’t spread across the mat? Would she be level with Katie? Or perhaps…actually be looking down—

“Oh my god stop flirting!!” Marge shouted at them from below. “My arms are getting tired!”

Lana reached down to pick up the spinner, maintaining eye contact the whole time, and stood back up. “Hmm. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find out,” she said, pressing the button.

They looked at the result. Lana’s smile instantly dropped. “Aw nuts,” she groused, handing the spinner to Katie and bending down to join the rest of the group on their hands.

Katie fumbled with the spinner—it had been clunky to begin with and it was even clunkier now that she was smaller—and set it back on the floor near Lana’s free hand. “I-I’m getting some water,” she said, walking quickly away, only to stumble over the bottom of her pants. She hiked them back up, ignoring Lana’s cackle, and continued a bit slower.

In the kitchen, out of sight, she was able to calm down. Okay, not all the way down, but at least she could think coherently. Enough for her current situation to really sink in.

Her head was just barely over the kitchen counter. She could still reach the upper cabinets, but it was a bit of a stretch to grab a cup. And the cup itself felt so unwieldy that she held it with both hands, afraid she would drop it otherwise. (At least the water dispenser on the fridge wasn’t too hard to deal with.)

She had basically lost a third of her height. “That’s like, two feet,” Katie mumbled to herself in a daze. She was shorter than anybody she knew. Shorter than any adult she knew, anyways. She brought the cup to her lips and winced when she accidentally knocked it against her teeth, then tried again more carefully as she wandered around.

It was just too bizarre. After years of generally being the tallest in any room, here she was, dwarfed by everyday objects. Hell, her own clothes were threatening to fall off her. (Really getting annoying, having to pull up her sleeves every few seconds.) But it was fascinating, to measure herself against a chair, to grab a drawer handle and feel how it filled her hand, to hold a spoon and find that it could cover half of her face. Even when she heard a yelp, followed closely by a thump (which was then closely followed by Lana whooping), she couldn’t help but stay here, steadily comparing herself to a world that used to be so familiar.

Eventually, she ran out of things to do, and so she headed back to the living room.

Marge was sitting on the floor, the spinner taking up her lap. On the mat, Lana and Jennifer were still duking it out. And once again, Katie was thrown for a loop.

Everybody had gotten smaller, which was to be expected. Katie just hadn’t been prepared for what that would look like.

Marge looked up at her and waved as she approached. “Welcome back! I was worried you got lost.”

Katie stared. “…What percentage are you at…?”

In response, Marge held up eight fingers.

Katie frowned. “You are not eight percent.”

“Huh? No, you’re reading it wrong. I’m trying to say 53.”

“Ohhh.” Katie sat down next to her, feeling much too aware of the fact that Marge’s head was below her shoulders. While Katie was simply struggling with her shirt, Marge was swimming in it, the ends draping easily over her legs. And on the mat, Lana and Jennifer seemed on the verge of drowning in theirs. They hadn’t gotten smaller than their shirts quite yet, but they were getting there. As Katie watched them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sitting on the bleachers, above an arena housing the strangest wrestling match ever. (How was it possible to feel so big and so small at the same time?)

“Lana. Can you please get your hair out of my face?”

“It’s in my face too. Deal with it.”

“It’s getting in my mouth. Do you really want me coating your hair with my saliva?”

“Look, at this point, I can’t tie it up even if I wanted to, so I guess you’ll have to live with my hair in your mouth. And I’ll have to live with your mouth on my hair.”

“Pffbbbph, ppfffeh, bleagh,” Jennifer replied.

“They’re both reaching the halfway point,” Marge informed Katie, beaming. “Right now, Lana’s at 51 and Jennifer’s at 52.”

Katie squinted. For whatever reason, despite her percentage advantage, Jennifer looked smaller than Lana. But maybe she wasn’t seeing things right.

“Marge, spin it already!” Lana cried out, her arms shaking. She was in a slightly unfortunate position; one foot was still on a normal-sized dot, and given her current size, her other foot had to reach quite far to clear its radius. She was also currently arched over Jennifer’s back, and that was clearly forcing her to distribute her weight oddly.

“Right, okay,” Marge said, cheerfully enjoying her role as the announcer. “Oooh, left foot yellow!”

“Oh god finally,” Lana sighed out, moving her foot away from the normal-sized dot.

Katie leaned down to Marge. “Do you want to sit on the couch instead? Hardwood isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Oh man, that would be great. But I’ll probably need your help,” Marge said, getting to her feet, somehow still able to heft the spinner with her.

Katie hopped onto the couch, then reached down to pull Marge up as well. Without thinking about it, she plopped Marge onto her lap. Which…maybe she should have asked first, but it didn’t seem like Marge objected. Katie scootched away from the edge, hugging Marge close. (It was like hugging a large teddy bear.)

“Both of them are below 50 percent,” Marge said excitedly. “They sure are tenacious. You think one of them might break 40? Right hand, red!”

“That would be fun,” Katie said, imagining what it would be like to be twice as tall as someone.

“G-give it up already,” Lana gritted out. “You’re not gonna be able to reach other spots at this rate.”

“You’re the one who sounds like you’ve reached your limit,” Jennifer countered, sounding quite bold despite the blatant size disparity. If Lana collapsed, then Jennifer was quite possibly in danger of getting smothered. Katie set Marge to the side and slowly dropped to the floor again, watching them warily.

“Left hand, red!”

Lana reached for a red dot, sinking lower and lower until she couldn’t help but rest her body on top of Jennifer’s. As it became clear that her first choice wasn’t getting any closer, Lana groaned and glanced around for another option, when all of a sudden, Jennifer bucked upwards, bouncing against Lana and causing her to lose her balance and sprawl onto the mat with a squawk.

“Jennifer wins!” Marge cheered, applauding from the couch.

Lana sat up, clutching her shirt around her. “No! She totally cheated!”

“You’re one to talk,” Katie said, crouching next to her, casting quite a (relatively) wide shadow. Lana stared up at her, eyes wide. “Hey Marge, what’s the final score?”

“Lana’s at 42, Jennifer made it to 45!”

"Hmm, so not quite half my height," Katie mused, clasping her hands on either side of Lana, feeling a flutter in her chest upon seeing how her hands spanned a significant part of Lana's chest.

"Actually," Marge called out, "in terms of absolute values instead of relative, she might as well be half your height!"

Katie could feel Lana's heart thumping under her thumb. "Is that so?"

Lana smiled nervously. "So, I know I was teasing you before, but—waugh!!"

Lifting Lana up was so remarkably easy that Katie couldn't help but feel a thrill rush through her lungs. And strangely enough, though Lana was the one flailing in her oversized shirt, it was Katie who ended up blushing with embarrassment. Which just made her feel even more embarrassed, because what sort of person would feel—

"Um, Katie? You probably don't wanna be holding her right now," said Marge.

"Huh?" was all Katie managed before, quite suddenly, the floor seemed to disappear out from under her.

The fall was short at least, but she ended up a bit tangled in her own shirt. Somewhere in front of her, Lana also thudded against the floor with an "oof." Katie scrambled around a bit before she managed to claw her way out. "What the heck happened—"

Ah.

Katie unconsciously retreated a bit into her shirt, finding that the world, Lana included, had gotten much bigger. Lana, recovering from her own fall, caught sight of her and pointed. "Ha!!"

"I shrunk again?!"

"Of course," Marge said. It seemed that she had gotten tired of shouting from the couch, as she had begun carefully climbing down. She also had some sort of cloth wrapped around her in place of clothes—looked like she was prepared. "I mean, it doesn't make sense if the loser ends up being the biggest and the winner the smallest. When the game ends, everybody's heights get redistributed. Which means right now, Katie, you're at 42 percent. I'm at 45, Lana's at 53, and Jennifer..."

A long shadow drifted over them, dropping towel-sized tissues. "You may want to have these."

As it turned out, 69 percent of Jennifer was quite large, even when sitting down. Katie jumped to her feet, hastily wrapping a tissue around herself, and she still found her eye level hovering around Jennifer's chin. As Katie continued to gape, Jennifer waved. "Anybody know where my glasses are?"

"Over here!" Marge jogged towards the discarded glasses and flagged her down. With a graceful ease that didn't belong to someone so big, Jennifer reached over and set them on the nearby coffee table.

"Excuse me," Jennifer said, shifting her legs (oh god, she's going to stand up). "I'm going to get something real quick." And with that, she pushed herself to her feet (oh god, she stood up), tugging her shirt down demurely, and headed somewhere else in the house.

"Wait!" Marge shouted, running after her futilely. "No! Hang on! We should all be together for the next part!"

Katie's heart had just about calmed when something suddenly dropped on her head. "Well, lookie here," Lana's voice drawled. From above.

She could already feel her heart start up again before she even turned her head, and yup, that was Lana's arm leaning on her, and yup, Lana was definitely taller.

This time, Katie wasn't so speechless (no height difference was going to be more shocking than Jennifer's). But for some godforsaken reason, the only thing she could think to say was, "How's the weather up there?" Her voice even had the indecency to crack.

Lana blinked at her, then laughed. "Pretty good, I think. Y'know, you're cute like this. Being short suits you."

"Shut up," Katie mumbled, shoving Lana's arm.

"You're so easy to tease. It's too bad you aren't any smaller. I'd have loved to pick you up."

Amazingly, Katie's heart didn't explode. "This is small enough, thank you very much," she retorted, just in time for Marge to trudge back from her failed mission to cajole Jennifer back.

"Oh," Marge said. "Well. Bad news on that front."

Katie's stomach dropped as she looked down at Marge. "...What does that mean...?"

"Sooooo there's another thing that happens after this, which is, Jennifer's gonna grow back to full size," Marge explained, rocking on her feet. "Then, the percentage difference that she grew is gonna, sorta, kinda affect our sizes as well."

"What."

"Oooh, you don't say."

"She's growing 31 percent. Second place gets to grow half of that—15.5 percent—third place shrinks 15.5 percent, and then last place—"

"I'm shrinking an extra 31 percent?!" Katie screeched as Lana doubled over, howling with laughter. And at that moment, as if waiting for the perfect timing, the floor fell out from under Katie the second time that day.

She landed in her now blanket-sized tissue (maybe slightly larger? tarp-sized?), feeling like the punchline of a cosmic joke. From another room, she heard a rather loud bang of something else falling.

"You okay, Jennifer?!" Marge called out.

"Yes, sorry! Give me a moment!"

Before Katie could properly wrap herself up, she found herself whisked off the floor, haphazardly bundled in a tissue burrito. She kicked the air, watching as she was lifted up and up and up, until she was turned around and finally came face-to-face with Lana. Or, more like body-to-face.

"Now this is cute."

What had once been a reasonable height difference (if an unreasonable height) was now just ridiculous. Katie clung to Lana's thumb, feeling her face go red. Lana's mouth (bigger than her head) frowned, and she felt the grip around her loosen a bit. "I'm not holding you too tight, am I?"

"Nope," Katie squeaked, and shielded her face as Lana's low chuckle gusted over her.

"Ah, hang on, I should probably replace my tissue," Lana said, reaching behind her for her shirt. Instead of getting put back down, Katie found herself along for the ride, brushing against dark fabric before reemerging in the light. Lana tugged at her drooping collar, pursing her lips. "Well...good enough, I guess."

"Hey!" Marge called up. "Lemme see her too!"

"Sure," Lana said with an easy grin, setting Katie back down on her feet. As she stumbled, Marge caught her with hands as broad as her shoulders.

"Wow, this is surreal," Marge commented. Katie, standing right around her thighs, silently agreed. "Honestly, I didn't expect anybody to get this small. This...isn't too much for you, is it...?"

"A bit late to ask me," Katie said, with only a minor amount of hysteria.

Marge gave her a sheepish shrug, then looked back towards the hallway. "Now seriously, what the heck is Jennifer doing?"

"Jennifer is getting decent," came the response. And a second later, Jennifer reappeared, ducking back into the living room. Not wearing her clothes, though. For whatever reason, she had tied some sheets around her bust and waist. "Sorry Marge. I had to borrow some things," she added, approaching them, and oh my god.

"Jesus Christ," Lana said, taking a few steps back. Marge froze, clutching Katie's shoulders. Which was useful, because without that, Katie was sure that she would fall over from Jennifer's steps alone.

They continued to stare for a while as Jennifer sat down. Jennifer stared back, fidgeting.

"So, is it just 'cause I'm shrunk," Lana said, "or is Jennifer...bigger than she should be?"

"Isn't it just because we're shrunk?" Katie asked, squinting as she tried comparing everything relative to everything else. (The only result she got was, 'everything sure is big.')

"Katie," Marge said, "her head was almost touching the ceiling just now."

"Oh," said Katie, not really able to say anything to that.

"I may have done something a bit silly," Jennifer told them in a measured tone.

Marge sighed. "...Did you put in a different height?"

Jennifer's eyes darted to the side. "Yes."

"Wait, you can do that???" Lana's head whirled between Jennifer and Marge.

"I thought you were shrinking a bit too fast," Marge muttered, rubbing her temples. "What did you put in?"

"Eight feet," Jennifer said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

Jennifer shrugged. "I was curious what would happen. Where's Katie? I can't wear my glasses."

"Over here!" Katie shouted, hiking up her ridiculously large tissue-toga and walking over. Jennifer squinted down at her and lowered a hand. Katie hopped onto it, dizzily noting that it easily fit her whole body.

"Oh wow," Jennifer said, her mouth twitching into a small smile. "This is interesting."

With another sigh, Marge approached as well, trying to hoist herself onto Jennifer's knee, only to get scooped up in Jennifer's other arm. "You do realize that you're stuck at that size now?"

"Mm. I just have to play another game and put in my right height."

"Ooh!" Lana said excitedly, running up and vaulting into Jennifer's lap. "If we're doing this again, I'm gonna give myself four more inches!"

Katie shifted in her seat, feeling the fingers under her twitch reflexively. "Maybe I'll take off two inches."

"Starting to enjoy the short life?" Lana called up, and it was probably a good thing she couldn't see her blush from down there.

"In any case," Jennifer said, "we have about an hour until then...what shall we do?"

#g/t writing #shrinking #shrinking twister #i am. not great at math.#so sorry if something here is off #extremely indulgent. i love girls. i love shrinking. i love. flustered shrinking girls...#ah..........save me shrinking twister...

5 notes · View notes