Obligatory Babysitting Story

Jason fumbled in his pocket and found his wallet, from which he swiftly retrieved a crumpled, decade-old twenty-dollar bill. The sight of the giant money made the tiny girl’s eyes glimmer. “Remember, you tell nobody about what just happened,” Jason commanded. He held the twenty bucks in the pinky finger of his shrink ray hand; with the other hand, he placed Madeline on the ground, aimed, and fired. Instantly, the girl shot back up to her normal height. Once she did, Jason felt the instinctive need to avert his eyes from her near nudity. “Agh, I think my undies are still moist,” Madeline complained. Then she lunged toward Jason. “Alright, gimme gimme gimme!!” Jason held his arm far above Madeline’s head. “I’m serious. You cannot tell a soul.” “Psh, I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway! Ms. Jones hates me,” she said with an air of pride. A particularly strong leap caught Jason off-guard, and she managed to clip the twenty out of Jason’s fingers. He was figuring out how she managed to do that when both of them heard the doorbell chime. “Oh, shit, that’s her!” Jason swore, then he pushed Madeline toward the window. “Time to go, Maddy.” “B-but, my clothes!” Madeline protested. “Just let me grab them real quick!” “No time, pick em up later!” Jason insisted. Madeline tried to overpower Jason, but there was zero chance of her winning this fight, and she relented shortly after. Jason all but shoved the barefoot girl out the still-open window. After nearly falling off the roof, Madeline swiftly stuffed the bill into her bra and gave Jason a mean-looking face before grabbing the discarded baseball glove, scaling down the rope ladder, and dashing naked into the night. Once Jason had visual confirmation she was off the rope, he pulled it back up through the window, shoved it behind Franky’s dresser, and shut the window just in time for Ms. Jones to open the door to Franky’s room. “Oh!” said the woman. “I didn’t see you downstairs, so I assumed…” Her eyes went to Franky. “What on Earth happened to her!?” She dashed to Franky’s bedside and caressed her head. “I, um, er, blackberry patch, chicken pox?” Ms. Jones laid a hand on Franky’s forehead. “No fever… ugh, why didn’t you call me?” “I didn’t want to worry you! I knew you wanted to enjoy yourself at the opera, and, well…” Ms. Jones gave an exasperated sigh. “Not the behavior I expect from an adult, Jason.” She stood up and dug a bit in her handbag before finding a hundred, and handed it to him. “Sometimes I don’t know what Franky sees in you.” Jason was stung, but he figured he was lucky to not be in a police van right now, much less getting paid for his hours of labor. He took his fee submissively. “…Have a nice night, Ms. Jones.” He shuffled toward the door. “Wait!” Ms. Jones’ attention was still mostly on her daughter, and she didn’t avert her gaze as she asked, “What’s that? In your pants?” Crap. The shrink ray! He didn’t want to take it out, but from here it looked very similar to a conventional firearm. He dug the thing out of his waistband, where it looked quite the sci-fi prop. “It’s, ah, one of my old toys from home. Franky loves us playing Cops and Robbers with it. Pew, pew! See?” He laughed nervously. Ms. Jones gave a quick glance at the gun before turning back to Franky. “I don’t like her playing with guns. Please don’t bring that here next time.” She went back to attending to her child. Jason nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he exited Franky’s room, grabbed his things, and left the house. So he wasn’t fired!! But, Ms. Jones had also just put a moratorium on him bringing the shrink ray with him. He’d dodged a bullet, so it might be a good opportunity to cut his losses and cease his game-playing with Franky altogether. As saddening as that would be… But then, Jason thought of Madeline. And he wondered. Might there be an ample supply of pretty just like Franky ready and willing to be shrunk at a moment’s notice? Jason considered this as he walked to his car, hands in his pockets. The truth was, he hoped so. [[End]]

When Jason woke up again, it was to Mrs. Jones’ face. She was visibly exhausted—it was 2 in the morning after all—yet her voice contained no hint of that when she said, “Looks like she gave you quite the workout. So, my little Franky’s in bed, I take it?” Jason looked up at the scrawny woman. His mind went to a number  of places: if there was some sort of solution he couldn’t see yet, if there was a chance he could make a run for it, if he could turn the shrink ray onto her, how so scrawny a woman birthed such a chubby child… but in his sleep-addled brain, he found that the only words he could properly summon were the truth. So, he did. He started speaking the truth. The words fell from his mouth in torrents; he leaned up to make his point better as he described in detail the various activities that he and Franky got up to without her mother’s knowledge. The shrinking, the games and activities, and everything in between, he even brandished the shrink ray for emphasis. When Mrs. Jones balked at the item in bemused disbelief, Jason in an expeditious attempt to keep the narrative flowing aimed the weapon at the coffee table, reducing it to a millimeter tall before flicking the reverse switch and returning it to normal size. Mrs. Jones didn’t interrupt after that. And then, Jason culminated the tale with the girl’s brutal, brief, climactic end. “You… you can’t mean…” Mrs. Jones stuttered. In defeat, Jason held up his hands and stared up in silence. Mrs. Jones set her purse on the counter and wobbled, clutching the edge for balance. “I should’ve known… Franky… Franky!!” The woman dashed upstairs, and Jason wondered if she was holding out hope for this to be a practical joke of some kind. But something about those words made Jason wonder. How on Earth could she have predicted this? Jason did feel a certain freedom at having told the truth, though. As easy as it would’ve been to either run, reduce Mrs. Jones to size and end her, or manufacture any sort of lie, none of those were in Jason’s heart. As tasty as Franky was and as much as he would’ve liked to find out how more shrunken women feel on his tongue… Jason was a big ol’ softie. He felt mortified and ashamed that he’d made such a stupid blunder that led to her death, and the last thing he wanted at this time was to compound this woman’s tragedy be sentencing her to a like fate. When Mrs. Jones came back, Jason was already putting on his shoes to leave, but she was coming in his direction. And holding someth—a book. Not just any book, a diary. She shoved the diary in Jason’s hands, and Jason nearly dropped the thing. “Read it,” Mrs. Jones said, and she turned away from Jason as if to give him privacy. The exhaustion in her voice was now palpable. Jason looked at the cover. The design was very girly-pop; in addition to the rainbow and unicorn cover, there were also Sanrio stickers and My Little Pony characters dancing around Franky’s hand-written name on the front, which was barely legible. Jason opened it up and thumbed through, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Mrs. Jones offered no hints, so he just briefly scanned each page, certain that he would find what he was looking for eventually, until he hit a dog-earred journal entry that had seen more visitations than any other. This was still pretty early in the book, but evidence of repeat visits—additional stickers, revisions and crossed out words like a zombie, Jason thumbed through the leafs until it landed on an entry bordered with a wavy outline of glitter and pockmarked with Disney Princess stickers. Between the affects, the words written were from three months back. Coincidentally, perhaps a week before he started babysitting her: Jason had mostly been standing around uselessly, white-faced, as Mrs. Jones and a few officers investigated the now empty domicile for any traces of where Franky had gone. Exhausted and without reprieve, Jason saw no reason to rush his inevitable departure in cuffs, so he opted simply to wait until the police reached the inevitable conclusion that the only other adult present was responsible for Franky’s disappearance, one way or another. He simply repeated his alibi: “I was asleep on the couch. Franky had already gone to bed… that’s all I know..” It was paper thin and would surely fall apart upon scrutiny. However, for the moment, it was all he had. However. The discovery of the diary changed things. I dont know if this will work so God if Im doing something bad by writing this its an accident and I dont mean it anyway by my heart, I want to shrink; I don’t care if old shoes stink; or even socks, and carpets too; I want to be small, so please make it true!! Whatever it takes, I promise I’ll do. I’ll earn All A’s, and be nice to Mom, too! Life at this size has me feeling so blue, I’ll even eat collard greens if I need to! I’ve seen the videos, I’ve seen the pics. I know it’s possible, it’s there on the clips. What you’ve done for others, I can plainly see. So please oh please, do the same for me? Amen. It was one part mantra, one part wish, one part prayer. It’d also been heavily workshopped—there was a crossed-out section that read “Or on a bird’s wings, I wanna…” Presumably, she was unable to find a finishing word that rhymed with the rest of the main body. The page was pockmarked by dark splotches which Jason reasoned could’ve been tears, or perhaps the smudges from where she’d kissed the paper, not to mention the glitter outline of the page. “I’d seen this so long ago,” Mrs. Jones explained, finally lucid enough to hold a conversation. “I just didn’t think she’d meant it so literally.” Jason was aghast. It was the kind of revelation that came entirely out of left field, and yet… was there really any doubt? Everything about Franky’s behavior told him that this was a well-reasoned desire of hers. She’d harbored I for at least years; possibly the entirety of her life. And it made Jason wonder—if he’d never come around, would she have found some other means of making her dream come true? She was a resourceful girl; the answer to that question was “Probably”, and the guilt on Jason’s heart started to wane. But there was still the question of the mother before him. “So… what are we going to do?” “I…” Mrs. Jones paced. “I… don’t know. My husband’s all the way in Canada, he won’t be back for another three weeks.” She cupped her forehead between her fingers. “I’ll have to break the news to him, somehow…” She paced again, deep in thought. “Maybe… I’ll start by reminding him of how nice it was, back before we had any children,” she began. Jason found it remarkable just how even-toned her voice was as she pondered out loud. “I’ll handle him. As for you…” Mrs. Jones unzipped her purse and pulled out two bills: a hundred and a twenty. She held them out to Jason, who held his hands up. “I mean, I… did I… do I really deserve this?” Mrs. Jones was unfazed. “You gave Franky the chance of a lifetime—if anything, you deserve far, far more. And in any sense, I don’t need it being said that Valencia Jones doesn’t pay her help. Take it, here.” She shoved the bills into Jason’s chest. Finally, he grabbed them both, and clasped her hand into his. “Ah, well… hm. T-thanks, I guess?” This was getting weirder by the minute. “Don’t mention it.” Mrs. Jones collapsed onto one of the bar stools. A half-drunk bottle of Smirnoff was next to the fridge—she reached for it and poured a glass. “I’ll have to unenroll Franky from school… as long as she doesn’t need to be present, it’ll be fine. That ought to give us more time. To figure something out.” She took a sip, and her face twisted into a pursed line. “Flat.” Jason had been shuffling closer and closer to the front door for the past few minutes, but a high-pitched call of “Jason!” made him stand at attention. “Yes, ma’am?” he replied. Force of habit. “I…” Mrs. Jones swirled her drink in the glass. “My, ahm… friend. Single mom, real sweet girl. She was interested in a babysitter for her little one while she goes back to school. And, well… this little one is… I don’t want to say she’s bad. But, she’s not the best. The point is, with that ray you have… I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you had to pull it out a few times to keep her in line, is all. “Hell…” Mrs. Jones’ gaze darkened. “Sometimes, when we’re both pretty hammered, I remember my friend telling me she was in over her head with the whole ‘children’ thing. You know? So, no kid gloves required.” Jason nodded. “Right. You can give me her number, in that case.” “Gladly.” Mrs. Jones gave a smirk. “Don’t be a stranger, Jason.” Jason nodded, finally, once and for all, slipping out the door. When it slammed shut behind him, Jason leaned against the door as he took in the night air. That was, undoubtedly, one of the most uncomfortable conversations he’d had in his entire life. And yet, he’d come out of it relatively unscathed. Not only had he narrowly evaded punishment at Franky’s untimely end, but he also had the promise of additional work later down the line. He didn’t even have to give up the shrink ray. “I guess the truth really will set you free, huh.” Jason’s phone buzzed twice. The first one was a generically female contact card. What followed, however, piqued Jason’s interest far more. It was a picture of a girl, cropped, with a pool party in the background. Jason could make out Franky’s friendship bracelet holding onto the girl’s hand, but this girl looked perhaps a year older, with frazzled blonde hair and a button nose and an expression frozen in mania yet missing a few baby teeth. Her untamed energy made the part of Jason that rejoiced with bringing unruly young girls to heel pulse in excitement—she seemed in dire need of discipline, and so be it if that discipline had to come at the barrel of a shrink ray. Interested? The message came only a few moments after Jason decided that he needed to turn this girl into a dust mote yesterday. His reply followed shortly: Without a doubt. [[End]]

Riiing, riiing! Click! “Yeah, what’s up?” A very conspicuous crunching sound. “Hi, yes, hi, Jason… I was—” PPFFTT. Pwah, pwah. “Mrs. Jones! Hi—I, uh, I mean, good evening! How has the opera been?” “Ahem…” A nervous chuckle. “Long,” she said, with little irony. “I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. Franky isn’t giving you any trouble now, is she?” Jason shook his head. “Oh, no, none at all. She’s just an angel, no trouble here. Well behaved, patient, funny? We’re having a great time here, Mrs. Jones.” A muted sigh of relief. “I’m glad. Is she nearby? I’d love to hear her voice for a bit.” At this, Jason blanched. He looked down at the bowl of cereal in his lap, along with the half-inch figure doing backflips in the milk amidst the Cheerios. Jason glanced from it, back to his phone, and then to the shrink ray sinking between the couch cushions, and he wondered how this was going to work. “Ahm… one sec.” Jason muted the call, and he addressed his bowl of cereal. “Dude. It’s your mom.” “Was that my mom?” Franky called up, oblivious. Jason rolled his eyes, face massive up above the pool of cold milk, and nodded. “Great!” Franky cheered. “Lemme talk to her!” She performed the breaststroke, pushing aside a soggy Honey Nut Cheerio as she neared the gently sloping wall of the bowl, planting her hands on the surface and trying in vain to pull herself to higher ground. “A little help?” Jason rolled his eyes again, and he dipped his spoon underneath Franky as her bare legs and feet continued to tread milk, pushing her from beneath up along the wall of the bowl. The sound of metal on ceramic scraped Jason’s ears, but as Franky was lifted up to the rim of the vessel she couldn’t stop giggling. The preteen girl straddled it, and Jason would’ve been treated to quite the view of her rear in her one piece bathing suit had she been any close to normal sized. As it was, Franky had no indication of precisely how alluring her pose would’ve been had her body been anywhere close to mature enough to match—all she cared about was avoiding falling down either edge. Too far to the right and she’d be sliding back into the milk—which wouldn’t have been an entirely bad thing. The milk was sweet and comfy and thick with crumbs that made it both tasty and an easy medium for her to swim. Too far to the left however, and she’d end up in the crotch area of Jason’s pants, and what girl would ever want to end up inside a college boy’s pants?! Bleh. Jason wrestled with himself over whether it was worth growing Franky back to height for the call, before deciding against it. Instead, he simply shoved the speaker of his phone as close to Franky as possible, and hit the Unmute button. “Hiii, Mom!!” “F-Franky? Are you yelling? That’s strange, I can barely hear you…” “Ummm, Jason and I are playing a new game! Where, um, I’m only allowed to talk to him from twenty feet away or more!! If I come any closer, I’ll lose the game!” Jason let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the incredibly strict set of guidelines Jason gave Franky before letting her use the shrink ray still held sway in the girl’s head. She understood the assignment. “Well… I just hope you finish that game before I get home. So, everything’s going well? You haven’t burned down the house I take it?” “Not yet!” Franky cheered. Even Jason chuckled at that one. Finally, Mrs. Jones seemed able to relax. “Thank you. I’ll be back around 1 AM so just make sure she eats and gets to bed at a reasonable hour. Feel free to grab something from the fridge if you like, Jason.” Franky aimed a playful, accusatory glance at Jason before letting go of the rim and sliding back into the bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with a wet plop! “Will do, Mrs. Jay—er, Jones. See you tonight.” Click. Thank God. Jason cast another look down at the lukewarm bowl of cereal. Anything Franky’s mom said had likely gone in through one ear and out the other—Franky was currently clambering atop yet another waterlogged (milklogged?) Cheerio and shoving her face into the doughnut like a rabid dog. Satisfied, Jason relaxed back into the couch, stretching his legs onto the ottoman as he crossed his socked feet atop one another, and hit Play. The flat screen TV continued its rendition of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith on Disney Plus. “Did you know that Grievous’s ship is called The Invisible Hand?” Jason asked, scraping some of the bobbing Cheerios off the surface of his bowl with his spoon and affording only a brief glance to ensure Franky wasn’t amongst them before stuffing it into his mouth. He savored the sweet flavor, if a bit tepid from the milk reaching room temperature. After reducing the mush to even mushier mush and swallowing, he finally said, “You’re not even paying attention, are you?” Right on cue, Franky surfaced from the ivory-colored pool and spurted some milk out of her mouth. “What was that?” The girl’s pixie-cut hair adhered to her crown, flecked by bits of brown sugar and cinnamon dust. Without waiting for a response, she dived back beneath the surface, kicking her legs like an Olympic swimmer as she tested how long she could hold her breath. Jason’s heart soared watching the girl work, and he once again thanked the Gods above at managing to get his hands on the device. The technology for shrinking had been cracked for almost half a decade now, and better yet, it was somehow way easier and cheaper to do than anyone would’ve guessed. But the risks associated with human shrinking meant that consumer devices were still a long way off. Luckily for him, his university not only had a surplus, but they were also ridiculously easy to use. But the best thing of all? Kids loved them. Jason had been babysitting for several months, and it started out as mind-numbingly boring work, needing to be attentive to a fifty-to-eighty pound rugrat to ensure they didn’t bounce all over the walls in their parents’ absence. But when Jason accidentally let his spare shrink ray slip from his pack, he was instantly met with a barrage of questions. Not everybody reacted with interest—Jason still remembered showing one tween the device and remarking that the kid nodded, said “Cool”, then immediately got a double kill in Fortnite. But for most of his charges, especially on the younger side, they were eager to see just what the device can do on apples, furniture, pets, and eventually, for the more brave among them, the kids themselves. Most were disoriented and soon begged to be regrown, to which Jason would oblige, not wanting a negative Yelp review. A few took advantage of their reduced scale to have experiences they would never otherwise be able to get, such as making an IMAX theater screen out of their regular TV, or having a literal mountain’s worth of ice cream into a ski slope. Even in those cases though, the shrinking was just the means to the end rather than an end in itself. Franky was different. As soon as Jason pulled the device out of his bag while searching for his sandwich, Franky shrieked from across the room, “A shrink ray?!” She was so loud that Jason was briefly concerned her parents could hear from all the way across town. He jumped, and the device went flying out of his hands before landing on a couch cushion. “I wanna use it, can you shrink me, please, please, please!?” Franky begged. Jason was flummoxed as he scrambled to regain control of the device. “I mean… wouldn’t you want to see it used on, like, an apple or—” A shake of the head. “No. I want you to use it on me.” Franky grabbed Jason’s hand and aimed his hand—and the ray in it—at her forehead. “Right. Now.” Jason saw no reason to say no. What followed was the greatest six hours of the girl’s life. She did everything the other kids loved to do, and more. The house—already quite massive for an only child—became an alien world, with Franky as its intrepid conqueror followed closely behind by her eagle-eyed giant protector, thundering in her wake. In truth, it was more of a slow shuffle, but Jason didn’t want to risk overtaking Franky’s pace and smushing her by accident. She pushed her way through the bristles of their living room rug like they were the bamboo forests of Laos and Vietnam; she took hold of the curtains and scaled their heights like they were the cascading sides of mountains; she’d tangled with creepy crawlies on more than one occasion, inevitably driving her sewing needle through their carapaces and howling with primal satisfaction at her victory. Her bushcraft skills only increased, and more than once Franky insisted on being left at the opposite end of the house while Jason went to sleep. Every time, Jason would wake up to a minuscule girl bouncing incessantly on his shut eyelid or pulling at the wall between his nostrils. Any concerns Jason had about her ability to survive were unfounded—the girl was practically made for being small. This made appeasing her extremely easy, resulting in glowing reviews week after week, resulting in the Jones family being one of Jason’s most reliable sources of income. In the ensuing months, Jason’s concerns about Franky’s safety had all but been assuaged. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with her once in a while. Jason scanned the bowl, now bereft of any full-sized bits of cereal. Franky was nowhere to be seen, but the smooth milky surface did ripple in a regular pattern beneath, giving Jason a decent indicator of where Franky was swimming. Just as Anakin and Obi-Wan were boarding the hangar of the Invisible Hand, Jason lifted the rim of the bowl to his lips and tilted his head backward. The sweet soup spilled past his lips and tongue before continuing down to fill his uncharacteristically empty stomach, and Franky had only a moment’s warning before she was along for the ride. Her heart raced, and she suddenly swam with all her might, trying in vain to race against the cascade like a trout before the deluge brought her into Jason’s mouth. [[Down the Hatch (Vore Path)]] [[Saved at the Last Moment]]

Suddenly, Jason heard the doorbell chime. *Crap!* Ms. Jones was back! If Jason were to make a decision, it would have to be now or never. “*Jason*?” Ms. Jones called out languidly. “*Are you upstairs? Is Franky with you*?” “Y-yeah!” Jason chirped. “Just finished putting her to bed. I, I have… um… something to tell you!” Jason closed his fist, made sure the shrink ray was safely stowed in his waistband, and slipped outside of Franky’s door into the nightlight-lit hallway, where he was met by Ms. Jones, patiently tapping her foot. “Hi, Ms. Jones.” Ms. Jones skipped the pleasantries. “I am *incredibly* tired, so as long as Franky is alive, I am ready to get you your payment and go to sleep. What did you need to say to me?” “Well, ah, um…” Jason pondered to himself. Was he really going to do this? Then, with a gulp, he realized this was the only way. “Well… we had… an intruder.” And he held out his palm and opened it. Inside, scrambling desperately, was Madeline. The moment she caught sight of the colossal mom above her, she froze like a dear in headlights. “Oh… my… *M-Madeline!?*” Jason should’ve assumed Ms. Jones was familiar with her, but it was still jarring to know that this thief was apparently notorious around here. He continued, making sure to seed elements of his cover story into the explanation. “Found her in Franky’s room; she must’ve heard that Franky was sick and thought that was a time to make a move. Made her way through the window, somehow, and was rifling through your daughter’s things. When I saw her, I shot her…” Jason paused to dig the shrink ray out of his jeans as Ms. Jones’ face turned to utter shock and fear. “With this.” When Ms. Jones beheld the sci-fi trinket, her shock twisted to confusion. Jason needed no invitation to infodump further. “It’s a shrink ray. It can shrink anything to a fraction of its size.” Any other time, Jason would’ve demonstrated the effects of the device in real time. Now, the proof was in the pudding; Madeline was evidence enough of its veracity. Madeline was dumbstruck, and she looked to and from Jason trying to figure out what his game was. Was she still getting the twenty dollars? “Can… can I see her?” Ms. Jones asked quietly. Jason hesitated, then relented, and he dumped Madeline in Ms. Jones’ outstretched hands. She brought her eye as close as possible to the girl, and tugged at her limbs near to the limit. “Ow, ow, *ouch!!* Quit it, Ms. J!” Ms. Jones rolled her eyes. “Well, you still have that cretin’s personality, at least. Jason,” she suddenly said with deathly seriousness. “Does anyone else know where she is aside from us?” Without thinking, Jason blurted. “No, don’t think so. She came alone. Why?” Ms. Jones looked at Madeline, stuck between her thumb and forefinger. And in one solitary movement, she crushed the girl. Jason’s heart shrieked, and a single yelp was squeezed from Madeline’s lungs before they—and everything around them—collapsed into reddish goo. “Whoa, *fuck!*” Jason exclaimed. Ms. Jones rubbed the remains of the girl between her fingers. “W-why… huh? Why did you… **huh?**” The girl was mostly disincorporated, though it was clear Ms. Jones had underestimated how many Madeline bits would remain. She was hesitant to rub the chunky viscera on her dress, so Jason (seeing no easy way to make this any less awkward) ducked into the bathroom, returning with a short length of bath tissue. Ms. Jones took it wordlessly and wrapped the remains of Madeline into a clump, which she pocketed for the next garbage can she encountered. “I’ve been *fantasizing* about getting rid of that brat for years, now. How was I to know you’d place the opportunity to do so right at my doorstep?” The nightlight from below enhanced the manic glimmer in her eyes, though a part of Jason wondered if that was his imagination. Nevertheless, she continued speaking in measured tones. “Now, clearly, you mention none of this to anyone. Are we in agreement?” Jason stammered. “I, ah, um, u-uh, well, um… sure, totally. Yep.” “Lovely.” Ms. Jones placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. She took his other hand (the one with the shrink ray) into hers. “Rest assured, you’ll have quite the tip coming your way. As for *this…*” Her dexterous fingers wrestled the ray from her grip with ease. Jason hadn’t even realized he’d been disarmed until the woman was examining the ray like a jeweler would an uncut diamond. “Can this shrink anyone? And anything?” “Ummmm… yeah. Pretty much. Any discrete object and any smaller items immediately attached—like, clothes and piercings and stuff.” “Can it grow stuff back?” Jason nodded. “But no larger than the initial height. At least, that’s the way this model works. Can I, uh, have that back, please?” Ms. Jones seemed disappointed, but she sighed and relinquished the weapon. “I’m asking because, well, Franky… she’s had this little fantasy for a while now. It’s weird, and I never thought there would be anyone I could explain it to… but she feels comfortable around you, and I’m realizing… I do too.” Jason’s heart was going a mile a minute. “Whaaaaat are you saying…?” “Jason. Would you mind shrinking my daughter?” Jason’s head exploded. “I, ah, um, it’s… well, that’s—” Ms. Jones shot her hands up conciliatorily. “It was only a request. You don’t *have* to say ‘yes’, or anything. I’d only assumed, since, well… you had one of these on *hand*… and since you’re a responsible adult, you can help make my darling Franky’s deepest wish come true. She’s always enjoyed roleplaying as being tiny. Sometimes as a fairy princess, other times as a wily field mouse, most recently as a ladybug. I thought she’d grow out of it, but I’m realizing she may resort to some drastic measures if we can’t find a release valve for all this pent up energy.” She took Jason’s hand again, innocently. “I think you could be that release. I know it’s a lot of responsibility to keep safe someone so small, but try not to worry about that. If you’re careful, it won’t be much different than your regular babysitting routine.” Jason was sincerely torn. The occasional playdate beneath Ms. Jones’ nose was one thing, but it felt incredibly exposing to engage in their antics with her full knowledge, even with her consent. She must’ve noticed his confliction though, because suddenly she pleaded, “Look. Is money the issue? I’ll double—no, *triple* your current rate. I’m going on a business trip in the spring, and you are the only one I trust with this. What do you say?” In truth, Jason was still thinking about the casualness with which she’d squeezed the life out of Madeline. But $45 per hour was difficult to pass up, especially when student loans were still a thing. Hell, after a week of babysitting, he’d have enough to cover the replacement fee in case his shrink ray were to ‘disappear’. “Okay, okay… I… *might* agree. But, if you can help me with something… then I’ll definitely agree.” [[Like Mother Like Daughter]]

Jason repressed his urge to chuckle—it was understandable that the girl would try so hard to escape the indomitable flow of milk into his jaws, but it was equally futile. Once the bowl was emptied and his belly filled with milk, he probed his teeth and gums with his tongue, searching for the tiny little mite among them. He could not find it. “Uhhhhh...” Jason wondered aloud, and he suddenly became quite concerned. Did he swallow Franky by mistake? Franky knew the answer to that question—in a slippery, slimy coating of spit and milk, she’d been slithering down his esophagus for a time period that felt like days, even though it was on the order of less than thirty seconds “What the flip!?” Franky raged, and she bashed her tiny fists at the rapidly peristalsing walls of her tube. They only bounced off uselessly, like bunching a cut of steak. “Don’t tell me that idiot swallowed me!?” And, as if to answer her question, she was immediately plopped into a shallow pool of dank acid. Franky only just reared her head out of the liquid before a subsequent shower of sweet milk dumped on her hair, matting it to her scalp, temples, and forehead. Jason had dumped his bowl in the sink and rushed upstairs to the bathroom, where he immediately shut the door behind him and looked himself in the mirror. Okay, Jason. You have... a... person inside you. He cringed. That sounded weirder than I wanted it to be. Or, maybe... exactly as weird as it needs to be. He was already spiraling. God, why did this even happen? He was smarter than this! They’d done similar stuff for weeks now! There was no way that Jason should’ve allowed something so reckless and stupid to even take place! The moment Franky wanted to swim in the cereal bowl, he should’ve said no. Just like he should’ve said no when she fought that spider hiding in her bookshelf. Or when she snuck a bite from his pasta and nearly got sent to his mouth, hanging onto a noodle like a safety rope. Or any of the countless times she’s fallen asleep in his shoes and failed to realize he didn’t know she was there. Or nearly falling down the garbage disposal while Jason was washing a dish of his. Jason sighed. Come to think of it, the pair had plenty of close calls in the past. Jason was decently permissive, though even he should’ve known that at some point, lines needed to be drawn. So, why didn’t he “Franky?” From inside of his stomach, the natural tones of Jason’s call boomed and reverberated, casting ripples in the pool of acidic soup and inserting his words into her bones like the voice of a god. It was a short enough call that by the time Franky reached to cover her ears, it was over. She wobbled, dizzy both from the noise and the inhalation of digestive fumes, but before she toppled face-first into the muck, Jason spoke again. “Are you... like... alive in there?” That forced Franky to perk up. “Yes, yes!” She jumped, waving her arms uselessly, splashing at the acid, trying her damndest to make a ruckus. “Get me out of here! It reeks, and I think I smell the Belgian waffles you had for breakfast this morning!” “Also, just so you know, I can’t hear you if you’re saying anything, so you’ll need to find another way to communicate your aliveness.” Well, that was just great, thought Franky. The chasm was dark, and the experience of trudging through waist-deep acid as it ate away at the outer layers of her skin wasn’t pleasant... but she had little choice. Franky rotated in place, spying the nearest wall of stomach lining. Once she found it, she started a path direct toward the barrier, curving gently upwards. “Ugh, disgusting. Filthy!” Franky was no neat freak herself, but this was next level. It did suck how unpleasant this was in every way though—otherwise, the experience would’ve been kinda cool. She wagered nobody else on the planet had seen the inside of a boy’s stomach before and lived to tell the tale. Her friends would be so jealous! Once she was close enough to the stomach wall to touch it with her bare hands, Franky reasoned that was good enough for the moment. And so, summoning the frustration, disgust, and anger that had been brewing in her for the past several minutes, she began to fiercely, mercilessly pound at the stomach lining. Each hit did less than nothing, sending a few wobbles radiating through the elastic material that didn’t even return an impact noise. But Franky couldn’t care less. “I’m! Right! Here! You! Big! Dummy!” This was more for herself at this point—she felt grimy and disgusting and she only had her babysitter to thank! She’d never been this mad at him! Jason was about to call this a lost cause; after waiting for about five minutes, his ideas for what could’ve happened to Franky only became more and more bleak. There’s a possibility she didn’t survive the initial swallowing process—did she suffocate in the esophagus? Or maybe the girl’s outer layer of skin and muscle had been stripped away already, leaving nothing but bone. It was a grisly thing to imagine, and Jason had half a mind to just leave the house and ghost the Jones family entirely. But then, deep down, he felt something. A tiny tickling that preceded the slightest hints of an upset tummy. A tickling that felt rhythmic in nature. “Wait a second, Franky! Please tell me that’s you!” Franky heard the exclamation, and though it rattled her, she knew that it meant her efforts were working. So she redoubled them, channeling even more of her frustration into her fists, even if she was endlessly thankful that Jason was aware of her predicament. Somehow, this meant to her that everything was going to be okay. “Oh, thank goodness,” Jason sighed. She was alive, for the moment at least. That confirmed one thing. But then, there was a decision to make, and no choice available to him was easy. The most immediate option was to try and vomit the girl out of him. He’d never tested it out before, but how hard could it be to throw up on command? The other option was decidedly... less... pleasant. That being, he could await for nature to take its course. If Franky had survived this long, a part of Jason wondered if it were plausible she could survive even longer. Maybe even pop out the other end. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight, but as far as he was aware, nobody had ever so much as tested shrinking on humans before, let alone seen the effects digestion could have. For all he knew, the digestive process would only feel like a light tickle. [[Upchuck]] [[Good luck, Have Fun, Don't Digest]]

The end! Would you like to go back to the [[Beginning]]?

*C-cough*… ***cough!*** Madeline had already picked up the rope in preparation for extraction when she heard it. The telltale sound of expelling improperly ingested liquid from one’s lungs. Her head snapped to the source—it was a click due east, or at least that’s what the military men in the movies her dad liked to watch would say. “Franky! Was that you? C’mon, give me a sign!” “*H… help…!*” Madeline wasted no time—rather than trudge painfully through ever more caustic slime, she took a running leap and dove into a breaststroke, covering more distance by swimming than she ever would on foot. “I’m comin’ Franks! Hold on for a little longer!” The choppy waves of the acid lake were difficult to surmount, but Madeline wasn’t a quitter, and before long she’d arrived at one of the stomach walls. Leaned against it and clutching her abdomen was Franky. Her hair was coming out, her skin was covered in pink welts, and she looked like absolute murder. But she was alive, and more remarkably, she had yet to suffer any permanent physical damage that Madeline could see. Franky coughed a pitiful cough and looked up, her eyes mere slits as they beheld Madeline. And with a slow, thin, gentle smile, she spoke. “I… k-knew you’d come for me… *cough*… Mindy.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll just keep that lip balm, I think. It’ll be the ‘saving your life *and* forgetting my name’ tax.” The process of untying the rope from Madeline’s belly and retying it around both herself and Frank took an eternity to both girls, especially since Franky’s immobile body didn’t do much to help. Madeline had no idea how far along in the digestion process Franky was; all she knew was that she was racing against the clock, and the more time Franky spent in this hellhole, the less chance Madeline would have to secure her twenty dollars. Once the two were properly daisy-chained, only then did Madeline heave a mighty tug of the rope. “Okay, Jason! We’re ready to come out!” Madeline knew instinctively that there was no way he could hear her amid the bubbling gurgles of his stomach and the steady beating of his heart. But it felt nice to say nevertheless. [[Madeline and Franky Digest Together]] [[Jason Heeds the Call (Incredible!)]]

After some thought, Jason came to a decision. Then, he looked down dismally at his stomach. “Sorry, Franks. I think we’re just going to have to let… nature take its course with this one.” **“WHAT!?”** The squirming sensation in Jason’s belly returned as Franky unleashed the might of her nine-year-old might against the gently-pulsing walls of Jason’s stomach lining. “JASON, LET ME OUT OF HERE!” For a moment there, Jason had been her hero! Now he was reminding her of his reputation as a great, big dolt. “It *smells*, it’s *hot*, it’s *wet*, it…” For a moment, Franky didn’t want to finish the sentence. She didn’t want to consider the ultimate end that this fate may condemn her to. But… desperate times. “It… it ***hurts!*** It hurts, Jason!” It was true. There was simply no place that she could be safe from the soupy swamp of acid as it lathed the hair on her legs into nothingness before getting to work at the dead skin. It wouldn’t be long until the dead skin was expunged, and the alive skin would be next. Jason could be stupid at times, but he had always come through for him. Surely, he wouldn’t leave her in this stupid hole? Jason, however, had a different plan. Or, well, less of a plan. A *wish* was more precise. He simply would *hope* that she could make it through the stomach, survive the intestine, and ideally get sent out the other end, none the worse for wear. Jason wasn’t stupid—he was quite aware of what stomach acids did to food and other things that were sent through the digestive system. But he also knew that plenty of biological compounds could come out the other end more intact than not, and it’s not as though Franky was a mere piece of meat (despite how delicious she was). She was a *full human*, reduced and compressed to the size of a coin. That was a lot of compressed biomass to strip away. Combine this with the inherent discomfort of throwing up, and perhaps just a *little* petty revenge on the girl for being such a brat at times, and Jason ultimately felt comfortable with his plan. She might even enjoy it! So, he turned down to his stomach and addressed the floundering occupant within. “Yeahhhhhh… no.” **“Jason! JASON!?”** But Jason was already on his way downstairs. The evening was still young, and the couch was calling his name. He had the time to catch a few winks by the time Mrs. Jones got back, and who knows? Maybe Franky would be ready by that point to come out, too. “Ugh!” Franky didn’t like being ignored, but it looked like Jason had made his decision. The lake of acid rippled in gentle waves as Jason descended the stairs, before being upended in as Jason laid down on his back. She tumbled every which way, and when she came to was greeted by a caustic-looking wave that prepared to douse Franky in bubbling goop. The pitiful girl put up her hands in a futile attempt to block the w and merely received stinging burns on her palms for the trouble. “Well…” She repressed a sniff. “At least this can’t get any worse.” Then, her swimsuit failed. Specifically, the strap of her right shoulder. It had been fraying for a few months now, and her insistence on wearing it during her shrunken dips in Jason’s cereal bowl hadn’t helped matters. But her upper body being so saturated with the corrosive slime of her babysitter’s stomach acid was the last straw, and it Snapped, leaving her shoulder exposed. Without that support, the rest of the polyester garment sagged though still barely covered her body. “No… Mom is gonna kill me if this gets ruined!” Franky reached her harm over to toy with the threads that remained. She considered tucking the dangling strap underneath her armpit; hypothetically, at least, nobody would notice. She remained in place for so long that it wasn’t until she felt the burn of the acid on her feet that she was shocked into action. “Right! Gotta keep moving!” Pumping her arms, Franky huffed. Being idle was a perfect way to allow the acid to do its slow work on her body. Movement on the other hand kept the enzymes from getting into the flow of their work. Even if Franky was tired—and she was ***tired***—she couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about her steadily-decaying swimsuit. She would simply have to keep jogging through this goop all night if she wanted a chance of making it through this. All night. Jason’s eyelids fluttered, and in his solitude he saw no shame in letting loose a yawn. But on the way out the throat, it became something closer to a wet *burp* that smelled of sugar and syrup and milk, and though it may have just been Jason’s imagination, he could’ve sworn that riding on that burp was the dismal moan of a distraught, nine-year-old girl. *I think I’ll… ignore that.* The lean Jason gave his potbellied tummy a few pats. “Good luck in there, Franks!” And he went to sleep. [[The Visitor]]

The sigh of relief that emerged from Jason would’ve been a great final breath for the man. “Oh, thank fuck! D-don’t repeat that, by the way,” he said sheepishly. Franky pursed her lips and gave Jason a cheeky look, but she bit her tongue before a response came out. She got to her feet, eyes still adjusting from the dark, even though the evening kitchen wasn’t much better. “That was awesome!” Franky cheered with a hop, slipping a bit on the slick metal surface. “Like, I dunno, riding Ol’ Faithful! Or the Thunder Dodger at Carnival Land! Did I tell you about the time my mom took me there last summer? It was soooo fun, I didn’t even mind getting food poisoning!” She wiped some of the muck off her thighs and noticed with some annoyance that the seams of her swimsuit weren’t getting any better. The digestive juices were potent enough to visibly eat away at them, to say nothing of the tender welts that formed where they met her bare skin. If this crud wasn’t cleansed from her form soon, she’d need to explain what happened to her bathing suit during the beach trip next week. “A little help, Jace?” “Oh, right,” said Jason. Without paying much mind, he turned on the water, which slammed a jet of high-pressure spray directly into Franky. It was successful at removing the coat of filth, but it had the adverse affect of washing her down the drain with a yelp. “AH, Franky!!” Jason shut the water off, and he jammed his hand down. It was a small drain, but he could barely manage to get his fingers to touch the top of Franky’s head. “I’m okay!!” Franky called, still thoroughly annoyed. “But some help would be nice!!” “I can barely reach!” Jason mumbled, removing his hand to try and get a better vision of where Franky was. “I can’t even see you down there.” “Try turning on the light!” Franky was fuming—out of one smelly hole and right into another one. She clambered up the walls of the drain, but the surface was slick and offensively vertical. She couldn’t even reach the rubber flap, much less lift herself out of the drain. She jumped and jumped, but landed unfortunately on the dull blade of the stationary garburator. Cringing a bit, she shuffled around the circular hole, hoping somewhere else may have a usable handhold. “Check the wall next to the tea kettle!” she yelled out. “Got it!” Jason’s eyes went to the paired light switch, and he didn’t think much as he turned the leftmost one on. A heavy whir began, one that rumbled the rigid body of the sink and the entire counter set-up. Franky’s heart dropped as her world suddenly became a rotating blur of neutral colors. “NOT THA—” GGGGRRRRRRRRIIIIIND. It took less than a second for her puny squeal to be overwhelmed by the mechanical roar of the disposal, and in that time the girl had been so forcefully disincorporated that even her bones became mere powder. No evidence of a discrete human being remained. I… Am so fired. Jason let the garbage disposal run for perhaps a minute, staring down in slack-jawed awe after the tiny red flecks of what was once Franky were spun out from the rotating spokes of the grinder’s blades. After replaying the scene in his mind a few dozen times, he turned the disposal off. Then, his hands slid to the rightmost switch, and he flipped it. Directly overhead, a light bore down on him and the sink basin, illuminating the dust-like scraps of her bathing suit that had been ejected from the disposal as well. He tried reaching his hand down once more, but the drain was just as cramped, and all he got to show for it was some of the red stuff coating his fingertips. After running the sink for a few moments, both to wash his hands and rid himself of evidence she was there, Jason trudged back to the couch. The movie had been paused. He played it again and let the sounds of a film tattooed onto his brain envelop him. Emotionally exhausted, Jason didn’t actually know when he fell asleep, nor the ultimate decision he arrived to. Franky’s fatal final words continued to run through his head. [[All's Well That Ends Well]]

Madeline was starting to get a bit concerned when she felt the rope suddenly tense up. And moments after that, she was lifted off the ground. “*Ooof!!* You okay down there!?” Madeline glanced back to Franky’s limp body, dangling in circles as she dreamed blissfully. Madeline took that as a *yes*, and she held on tight as the pair of them ascended from the lake, up the pocket of air in the stomach, and eventually through the dilating esophageal sphincter. From here, the group was shoved—quite roughly—through the esophagus which rumbled and rubbed angrily at the two who dared defy the natural direction food goes in the body. It felt much longer than the trip down, Madeline noted. But they managed to stay connected and in one piece, or perhaps two pieces, when they finally popped out onto Jason’s tongue. This is also when real light finally reached them for the first time in what felt like years. To Madeline it felt blinding, but Franky seemed unable or unwilling to react to anything. Madeline had to catch her breath on the tongue, but only could do so for a few moments when the tongue aggressively started to probe the pair. *Again!?* she thought. Just as she was about to fight it off, the tongue shrank back, and the mouth ahead of them opened in earnest. “**EW, gross!**” A giant voice blasted the pair from behind, and Madeline covered her ears. Then, unceremoniously, the pair was shoved down the inclining rubbery slide of the tongue and onto Jason’s outstretched palm. They were lifted up to eye level for examination. Madeline was immediately struck by the intense cold—she was covered in spit, and aside from the brief lick she’d just endured, the stomach acid coating her body hadn’t gone away either. But even so, like Jason, Madeline found the condition of her friend far more concerning. “J… *Jason*…?” Franky croaked in a voice that would’ve been impossible for the colossus to hear had it been ghost silent in the room. She coughed, her eyes still barely slits as they beheld the massive man in whose palm she rested. “You… saved me after all…” This made Madeline fume. “Actually, *I* did that!” she yelled, pointing at her chest. “*ME!* I saved you, Franky! And **don’t you forget it!**” Jason and Franky ignored the outburst. Seeing Franky all vulnerable and incapacitated like this was making him feel immense guilt at having left her in his stomach to die. It was useless to run from the reality there would’ve been no hope of survival for the girl had Madeline not arrived in the dead of night to give Jason a brilliant idea. Maddy was the star—nay—the *hero* of this show. She executed her mission with expert finesse. That said, she *was* still a loose end, and a wild card. Jason wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. He pondered this decision as he brought the pair to the bathroom and ran them both beneath a warm and gentle faucet. The remaining acids were washed away, as was the spit. Madeline found the shower refreshing, though Franky didn’t react much to it at all. Once the two were clean and dried off, Jason resisted the urge to taste them again. Instead, he cut the pair loose and threw the junk floss into the trash. Only when he was certain that he’d done as good of a job cleaning them up as possible, Jason laid Franky on her bed and aimed the regrowth ray at her. *ZZZAPP!* And like that, Franky was returned to her normal size. Her chest rose and fell in gradual movements, and she snored softly. Jason let out a sigh of immense relief. It was here that Jason realized just how utterly shredded her bathing suit had become; he covered her with the blanket and chalked it up as a loss. Maybe she got a bit too rambunctious while playing outside and ended up sliding into a blackberry patch. That could also explain her patchy hair. As for the welts, chickenpox would make a decent cover story. Jason was nodding, already planning out how to explain it all to Ms. Jones, when from his other hand he felt some vigorous squirms. “Hey! *Heyyy!* What about me!?” Oh, shit. He actually *did* forget about her for a minute. Jason opened his palm before his face and Madeline rolled out. She jumped to her feet and waved her arm angrily at Jason. “I still haven’t gotten my twenty dollars!” Jason eyed her for a long time. She performed valiantly in the operation to rescue Franky… but every moment this girl still lived was an additional moment she could come clean about Jason’s role in nearly digesting Franky. And considering her eagerness to take credit for the rescue, and the aggression with which she pursued her payment, Madeline was nothing if not transactional. [[A Deal's a Deal, After All]] [[Betrayal! Jason Turns Her In(!?)]]

It’d been three weeks since the fateful day that Franky was swallowed inadvertently by her babysitter. Three weeks since the serendipitous arrival of her neighbor-turned rescuer saved her life. Three weeks since her rescuer wound up unceremoniously crushed between the fingertips of Franky’s mother. And three weeks since Jason had babysat for the family at all. When Ms. Jones came to understand precisely how sick Franky was, she took a few days off work to administer her care personally. Jason at first was concerned—after all, wasn’t that sort of thing supposed to be *his* job? But the mother reassured him that that this had nothing to do with her freak chicken pox episode on his watch and had far more to do with Ms. Jones feeling disconnected from Franky of late. Her utilitarian drive to simply fill the guardian role with the most cost-effective option was an abrogation of her motherhood responsibilities, and it was something she intended to correct… Starting today. Franky was seated, alone, at the kitchen barstool, with her head on the countertop. She walked two fingers over the granite surface idly. She was also in a new bathing suit, this one a two piece, and pure white. Her tummy spilled out ever so slightly between the bikini bottom and bikini bra, but she insisted that it was comfortable enough for her, and considering the dire state she’d been in over the past weeks, Ms. Jones felt in no position to deny her. Her hair had been too patchy to grow back evenly, so they cut it into what was meant to be a pixie cut but ended up as more of a buzz cut. Her skin had gotten a better deal—once the tender welts had faded, she was left with skin so babysoft and hairless that she might as well have popped out of her mother last week. Speaking of which. Franky heard her before she saw her; Ms. Jones waddled out the hallway, adjusting the one-piece swimsuit that was currently carving between her bumcheeks. It’d been designed for a woman ten years younger, fifteen pounds lighter, and with one less child under her belt. Nevertheless, it was the only swimsuit she had, and while theoretically Jason had made this request in enough time for her to run to the mall and buy a replacement, Valencia’s pathological avoidance syndrome made that impossible. And as the deadline loomed, this was the result. Franky, frankly, couldn’t care less; the girl beamed. “Mom!” She bounced out of the stool and nearly sent her mother to the ground in the tackle she inflicted on her. “You look *sooooo* cute!” This had the added effect of squeezing any self-consciousness out of the woman, who chuckled and rubbed Franky’s newly bald-ish head. “That’s right, your mom’s still got it…” She squirmed a bit in Franky’s embrace, and the girl took the hint and let go. “Is, ahm… Jason here?” The moment Franky opened her mouth, the doorbell rang. She pivoted: “I’ll get it!” and skipped to unlock and open the front door. When it opened, a chilly gust of wind blew into the house, along with Jason. He was wearing gloves fit for the early spring weather, and he wasted no time depositing his backpack in the same stool Franky just occupied. This didn’t stop the girl from giving her nearly as tight a hug as she’d just given her mom. “Wh-hoa! Hey!” Franky buried her face in Jason’s abdomen. “I missed you,” she mumbled. And that made Jason’s heart melt. “Missed you too, little champ! And…” Jason raised his gaze to Ms. Jones, who had taken the opportunity to hide behind the kitchen bar. When they locked eyes, she blushed, and sidled into full view, displaying her body to the young man. “Ms… Jones.” Taking a deep breath, Ms. Jones gave a strut of her hips. “Like what you see?” she asked. It didn’t come naturally to her, and the additional flab of her love handles meant there was a good deal of unchecked inertia that shaved some grace off the maneuver, but this meant nothing to Jason who would’ve had smoke coming out of his ears if he’d been on a TV screen. “Right. Ah, well, um, uh…” When Jason realized he had no way to communicate his feelings in an appropriate way with Franky present, he simply said, “S-so… if you’re ready, this will be easier if the two of you…” He then gestured vaguely in the direction of the coffee table. “Right!” Franky tugged her mother’s hand and pulled her to the living room area. “It’s to avoid getting lost in the carpet. Trust me, you do not want that to happen,” she said, clambering up onto the wooden table. Ms. Jones cocked a brow. “How would you know about—" “*Anyway,*” Jason interrupted. He gestured again, a bit more insistently this time. “Fine, fine,” Ms. Jones relented. She needed only to lift her leg up for it to reach the tabletop. That was enough for her to hoist the rest of her onto the tabletop. Mother and daughter were now elevated about a foot and a half off the ground as the women were on auction. Jason assessed the pair, circling them from every angle, getting a visual on every crevice. Ms. Jones was feeling very exposed, and she crossed her arms and knees a bit. Franky on the other hand found her new bathing suit liberating, and she had no compunctions stretching and modeling for her babysitter. Jason seemed to be taking his sweet time, and finally, the mother let out a sigh. “Are you going to get to the shrinking part anytime soo—” *ZZZAPP!!* In a flash, Ms. Jones disappeared. Franky’s mouth was agape seeing her mom reduced to size, and she had to watch her footsteps; one wrong stumble and the woman would end up as paste between the tabletop and the girl’s toe. That risk was shortly assuaged when, moments later, Franky shrank too. Holstering the shrink ray, Jason crouched next to the table, looking for the two women. Ms. Jones was spinning in place, taking it in as her living room went from normal family dwelling to aircraft hanger levels of massive. She only steadied herself when Franky’s cries of “Mom!!” arrived; the girl was dashing toward her. They’d been only a foot apart at normal size, but now it took a twenty second sprint for one to reach the other. They collided into another hug, and when Franky extricated herself from her mother this time, she asked. “So, how does it feel?” “How, I… well…” Ms. Jones had to ponder. “It’s… overwhelming. I mean, I was only vaguely aware shrinking was even possible, and now I’m I…” “Feels pretty good, huh?” Franky was already nodding in Valencia’s stead. The woman gulped. “After getting used to the vertigo, I must say… y-yes,” she said. And then, as if at once realizing she wasn’t merely agreeing for Franky’s sake, she repeated herself. “It *does* feel… **really** good.” “Isn’t it amazing how it makes the world feel magical again? Don’t you want to go on an adventure around the house with me? In the backyard? Around the block? Doesn’t the thought of it make your heart go wild?” “I… look, Franky. That sounds *terrific*. But it’s all quite dangerous as well; when you’re with Jason, I don’t want to hear about any of that. Don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to him about what you’re allowed to do, and I have faith he shall keep you sa—*AIE!!*” Ms. Jones yelped as she was plucked from the tabletop between Jason’s fingers. She lay in the man’s palm as he lifted her before his eyes. Before it was merely objectifying; now, he seemed to be evaluating her in much the same way a god prepares to pass down judgment. “I-I wasn’t ready! I’m not ready! C-could you hold on for just a bit?” “Hmmmm…” Jason intoned. “Nah, sorry. You’re the control, after all.” And he plopped her into his mouth, shutting his jaws behind her. “Go, go, Mom!” Franky cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “You can do it, you can do it, go, go, Mom!” Her tiny voice had no problem carrying up to Jason’s ears, and they added a blissful bit of whimsy to the situation as he ran his tongue all up and down Valencia’s half-inch body. The tongue rubbed along the exposed small of her back, dug between her legs, threaded the needle in a gentle tread that made the uptight woman swoon from stimulation, before enveloping her face in the most aggressive, spit-saturated kiss she’d had in her life. Jason nibbled a bit on her thighs, shins, and toes, never truly breaking the skin but giving a hell of a massage. She swished her from cheek to cheek, and ferried her to the back of his throat, giving *just* enough of a view into the abyss that it made Ms. Jones shudder with fear… before ultimately pulling her back. His investigation was done; he opened his mouth and unrolled his tongue where Ms. Jones lay panting on her side for air and dear life. “OMG, you survived!” Franky screamed in delight. Jason plucked the woman from his tongue and laid her gingerly on the tabletop, where she shivered in the cold. “How was it? Intense, huh?” “Y-y-y-yessss…” Ms. Jones chittered. But before they could exchange more pleasantries, Jason had already picked up Franky by the torso. “Ooooh, my turn! Wish me luck, Mom!” Ms. Jones was far too out of it to respond in any meaningful way, but Franky had no problem with that. The fact that her mom was participating with her in her special interest was enough of a gift to the rambunctious little girl. “So,” Jason rumbled as Franky hopped excitedly from one foot to the other in his palm. “Science is all about hypotheses. You know what a hypothesis is?” “Ah…a hyper… the… sis?” Her response become a bit of a mutter the further down the word she went. Jason sighed. “It’s like a prediction. Here’s my prediction: I bet your mom tastes better than you do.” Franky balked. “What!? Fat chance! I’m the tastiest girl in this household; I’m the tastiest girl in this neighborhood! I’m the tastiest girl in the WOOOORLD!!” Her voice didn’t carry further than a couple of feet, but she screamed it with such sincerity that Jason could only assume everyone on the planet had heard such a declaration. “Well, for your sake Franky… let’s hope that isn’t true.” And he opened his mouth in preparation to subject Franky to the same rigorous testing standards to which he’d just subjected her mother. As Jason gnawed on Franky, he couldn’t help but notice on at least one count, Franky was correct. She was tastier than her mother. But it was a close call, and he figured it was more a result of them having literally different flavors than the existence of a linear tastiness scale upon which all females exist. Franky was doubtless ‘sweeter’, even if strictly speaking she wasn’t sweet at all. There was something in the sensation her body summoned when his tongue ran over her back and buttocks, where Jason wholeheartedly believed if he were to chomp down hard, a sweet juice would fill his mouth. Valencia on the other hand was more subtle. It was clear she was older, and her flavor was a bit less consistent. Sometimes she gave him sour sensations, other times sweet, other times tangy, and even a little bit spicy. It was, ironically, a flavor profile that only someone with the gustatory sophistication of an adult could enjoy. And Jason did enjoy it. He liked Franky more—he held her in his mouth for a good deal longer than he did her mother—but one thing was clear: if he truly wanted to test the limits of the three laws of Shrinkanomics, he would need to increase his sample size. By a *lot*. [[End]]

Franky sighed and collapsed prone. Not much to do but wait, it seemed. Though… it was possible she could still have a bit of fun. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room. At her size, it was less a room and more a cavern—it seemed unfathomable such a space could even have a roof. It didn’t take long, however, for her to catch wind of Jason’s shoes. They were close, too—right next to the ottoman. “Score…!” Franky enjoyed being tiny for all the typical reasons, but one of the secret reasons she enjoyed it was the potential for pranks. This prank was one that had been stuck in her head for a long while, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she could execute it at least once. It was simple: she would hide inside of Jason’s shoe and pretend to be a spider, roach, or any other creepy crawly. Once he goes to put the shoe on, her presence will make him pick the shoe up and shake it out, where she will fall out and reveal herself and the jape all in one! Fool-proof. Franky slid down the side of Jason’s shin and landed on the ottoman. The uneven ground made her stumble, and she very nearly fell to the ground then and there. It wouldn’t have been fatal—long falls as a tiny weren’t the same as long falls as a human—but it would’ve knocked the wind out of her, and Franky was glad she managed to avoid it. The ottoman was shaped like a domino, and covered in a layer of fine, silky fabric. At her size, this meant handholds galore, and these were what Franky used to descend to the floor proper. Once she alighted on the carpet, Franky became trapped in the tangle of overgrowth and forest that she’d been so keen on conquering these past few months. She knew the heading of Jason’s shoes, but the carpet fibers went up to her chest, and in some cases above her head. She had to physically push many of them aside, and there was no real solid ground to stand on. “Ugh… I should’ve brought my needle.” Her trusty sword made traversing the carpet wastes easier; she could simply stab and slice at the stalks of carpet weave. But the trip wasn’t long, so she would have to suck it up and push forward. Finally, Franky made it to the heel of Jason’s shoe, with a bushel of longer dark carpet threads she’d gathered to hopefully make her insectoid disguise more convincing. The shoe brand wasn’t anything she was familiar with, though Franky didn’t care much for fashion anyway. “Well… here goes nothing!” The heel strap of the shoe hung decently far down, and with a running jump, she managed to grab onto the tassel. She lost a couple of carpet fibers in the attempt, but before long she was pulling herself up over the lip of the opening and tumbling downward. She landed on the rubbery insole with a *thump*. “Ah-ha!” she cheered triumphantly. Franky got up, only slightly perturbed by the everpresent smell of years’ worth of accumulated sweat and wear. She took a few tentative steps across the rubbery insole and remarked the way her feet sunk into the surface a few minuscule inches. “Wicked… cool…” Franky had to wave her hand in front of her nose. The scent wasn’t egregious but it was… potent. It would definitely take some getting used to. She surveyed the rest of the shoe and pondered. Now that the hardest part was complete, the second hardest part had arrived: selecting her hiding space. The heel was arguably the safest bet, since she’d be most visible and had the highest probability of being spotted and hopefully confused for a bug. The ball of the foot was another good call, just deep enough to be a surprise, but still close enough to the mouth of the shoe to abort the mission if things go awry. The furthest end of the shoe at the toe felt like it came with the most risk, but also had the highest potential to *really* put his knickers in a twist. [[The Heel]] [[The Center]] [[The Toe]]

“Jason!?” Madeline gave the rope an experimental tug and then waited. It was rather difficult to be patient when there was a corpse actively dissolving a few paces away in the same goop you were currently standing in, so she couldn’t accurately guess how long she remained before wrapping the rope around her hand and trying to climb back up herself. “Come on, Jason!” she said, and Madeline locked her knees into her hips and shrank her body profile as she tried her best to make her way up the concerningly slack length of floss. “This is very cool, I am not going to lie,” she yapped. “But seeing the half-digested remains of my neighbor wasn’t on my bucket list for today…” Her breathing was getting raspy as more and more energy was expended to the Sisyphean task of ascending even a little bit up the descending rope. The floss languished atop the skim of stomach acid, and when Madeline looked back she estimated the equivalent of thirty or so feet behind was coiled on the lake surface. When her most recent attempt at scaling the rope was for naught, she stomped her foot in a splash. “Dude, what is the deal!?” Madeline said, and she gave an almighty tug with every ounce of strength she had left. Madeline nodded with satisfaction as she looked up at the esophageal sphincter. That’ll show him. Then, the rope ended. It fell from the sphincter and landed in the goop. Madeline looked at the end of the rope in her hands, and then back to Franky’s half-digested corpse. “…Oops.” [[Madeline Epilogue]]

Madeline’s arrival and subsequent unintentional termination had proven to be an unexpected boon for Jason. Had Franky alone disappeared, he would’ve been the prime suspect. He still was, to be sure, but with the rough and tumble Madeline in the mix, the investigators were equally interested in a version of the story where the girl had convinced the slightly more mild-mannered Franky to accompany her on some harebrained adventure around the city or, perhaps, the country. It was a long shot, but as long as Jason didn’t let on that he had a shrink ray, it was admittedly the far more likely scenario. Ms. Jones rejected Jason’s every attempt to talk with her about her child or Madeline, and though Jason was a bit hurt by that (he always liked Ms. Jones) he understood the decision and eventually gave up on it. He did still have a few lingering regrets—chief among which being accidentally condemning two girls to a caustic end in his guts because of his lethargy. But through it all, Jason had to admit the biggest regret? He didn’t take as much time savoring Franky’s flavor as he wanted to. He’d need to test out the second law of Shrinkanomics sometime soon, and though babysitting was out, it wouldn’t be hard to find some unaccompanied women and girls around town willing to participate in a scientific study for the collective intellectual enrichment of humanity. [[End]]

After the first two tugs went unanswered, Madeline glanced nervously at the patiently-dying Franky. “Just an itty bitty hiccup, no worries. ***JASON!!***” she shrieked. She’d only known the boy for thirty minutes and she’d already had it up to hear with the man. “***I AM NOT PLAYING AROUND, COME AND GET ME!!***” And she gave yet another yank. “***YOU DON’T WANNA KNOW ABOUT THE RUCKUS I’LL MAKE IN HERE IF YOU DON’T!!***” “Come!” *Yank.* “On!” *Yank.* “I’m!” *Yank.* “Right!” *Yank*. “*Here!*” *Yank.* “*Don’t!*” *Yank.* “Leave me!” *Yank*. “Down here!” *Yank*. “Or I’ll…” Well, that yank felt a bit different. Then Madeline looked up and saw the other end of the rope drifting blissfully down into the soup, where it disappeared beneath the churning stomach acids. Madeline looked at Franky, whose eyes had been closed for a concerning length of time at this point. She looked at the rope in her hands. She laughed nervously. “Oh! Oh, eh heh… oh *beans*.” And she collapsed into the lake with a splash and wrapped her arms around Franky. “Oh **beans!**” she cheered with another, hearty laugh as she felt the acids eating away at the topmost layer of her epidermis. [[Madeline Epilogue]]

Madeline was about to gather the rope in preparation for a mighty tug when she spotted something in the corner of her eye. Something there, bobbing and skimming the surface of the thick goop. “Franky!?” Madeline began to trudge desperately in that direction. “Man, I was beginning to think you’d never show up! I…” As Madeline neared the buoy, what became exceedingly clear was that whatever this was, it wasn’t Franky. Or, at least, it wasn’t *all* of her. As Madeline got close, she saw what she recognized as the scrap of Franky’s one-piece swimsuit wrapped around a pale torso. But there was no face or, remarkably, even a head to speak of. Her left arm had succumbed to the acids and the only reason her right leg remained was due to the baby fat of her upper thigh. It was as gnarly as it was traumatizing. Madeline stared at it for a while. Then, she did a very quick cross with her hands and yanked at the rope. “Jason, I am *ready* to come out now… “Jason?” [[Madeline Digests Alone]] Mission Failed, We'll Get Em Next Time [[Under Construction]]

Jason sighed contentedly, and began to swallow, all the while using his tongue to sample the floating crumbs in his cheeks for any sign of his little castaway. Once he tasted something with the texture and taste of a little human girl, he pinned her to the roof of his mouth before draining the rest of the milky mixture down his esophagus. Once the bowl had been entirely emptied, Jason placed it aside. He parted his lips, and let out an uncouth belch, launching Franky just in time to land on his hand held outside his mouth. Franky sputtered on his palm as Jason observed the girl cheekily. “H-hey!! What was that for?!” Jason gave an affectionate eye roll and paused the TV. “What? Is it a crime now to be a bit thirsty?” As Franky silently fumed, Jason sighed. “But, like, seriously. I’m glad you’re having fun, but you need to start being a bit more cognizant of your surroundings.” “Hey, I’m totally cogni… congo… whatever that word was.” Franky glared at Jason as she scraped saliva-laden strips of sticky milk from her swimsuit. “If you hadn’t been such a meanie, I might’ve beaten my record.” “Listen, Franky, don’t you think it’s about time for you to head to bed anyway? You can’t be small forever.” Franky crossed her arms—being tiny was the best! And this was the longest she’d been tiny in a single stretch since they’d started playing this game. “Do I really have to?” Franky gave a manipulative sniff. If Jason could tell the difference between sincere melancholy and the affectation of it, he showed no indication. He was lost in thought before ultimately deciding, “Okay, how about this. You can watch the movie with me, and when it’s over, then I’ll grow you back. Deal?” “Deal!” Franky immediately perked up. “Can’t wait to watch Return of the Sith!” “Revenge,” Jason corrected. “Revenge!” Franky agreed. Jason sighed, and he reached forward to the ottoman, dumping Franky onto a divot on the cushion that had been worn in by literal generations’ worth of the Jones’ family heels. To Franky, rolling around in that depression felt a lot like returning home in itself, though having the mile-high feet of her babysitter next to her did kill the vibe a bit. And if that killed it, him stripping off his socks and tossing them vaguely in the direction of his backpack buried it. “Geez Louise,” Franky moaned, fanning the odor out of her face. Jason only smirked, angling his left foot down and wiggling his toes over Franky’s head. “Did you forget you’re half an inch tall? I think you should start being a bit nicer to me, wouldn’t you agree?” A wet raspberry was Jason’s answer. You shouldn’t have done that, Jason mused with a mischievous grin of his own, and his wiggling toes suddenly dipped down and grabbed hold of Franky like a claw machine. “Agh, hey! Let me go! Ugh, this is disgusting!” Her words painted a picture of utter revulsion, but they were punctuated by involuntary laughs and giggles as Jason kneaded Franky’s body between the rubbery digits. Jason was glad—he’d obviously never hurt his client on purpose, and besides he liked her! He was glad she felt safe with her… despite her seemingly endless ambition to put herself into the most dangerous of situations. “Alright, little goofball,” Jason said, unclenching his toes and allowing the girl to fall onto the springy ottoman. Franky bounced a bit, and her head rattled as she got to her feet. With a clenched fist, she punched at Jason’s long, slender foot. “Meanie,” she growled. The foot, many times her size, merely twitched at the contact, and Franky huffed as she crossed her arms. She sat down and leaned against the foot—the smell wasn’t intolerable, and she had to admit she enjoyed its firmness and warmth. In response, Jason’s other foot nuzzled the top of her head. She couldn’t see it, but the man was smiling warmly as Franky curled up in the shadow of his sole. Jason’s eyes, meanwhile, glazed as they scanned the subtitles of a film he’s surely seen almost a hundred times by now. His eyelids drifted halfway, nearly closed, before a sudden spurt of panic shocked them open. He’d realize nothing was wrong, relax, and slowly start to doze off before repeating the process. Franky relaxed her body into the concave overhang of Jason’s foot, leaning back on the firm monolith. The smell admittedly took some getting used to, but Franky had to admit, it wasn’t unbearable. With little other choice, she decided to pay attention to the movie. Jason was kind of a geek—though what man between the ages of 20 and 25 wasn’t these days?—and considering Franky’s tomboyish proclivities he’d hoped she’d be into this stuff. The laser sword colors were dazzling in all fairness, and it was definitely fun seeing massive ships blow up and fall apart in blaster fire… but Franky’s enjoyment was truncated by not knowing who any of these people were. “Hey! Weren’t they friends?” Franky called out, pointing at the screen. “How come they’re fighting now?” She stood up to make her point more vocally, leaning on Jason’s foot as she turned to address the young adult. “HEY!” she called again. Jason did not move. “Hmmm…” Franky pondered. Then, she decided. She skirted his foot and began squabbling up his ankle. The thick creases of Jason’s jeans provided handholds aplenty, and Franky had become incredibly skilled at free-climbing over the past several weeks. Once she was safely atop his shin, she had a much better vantage point to look at Franky’s face. Even though the visage seemed miles away, it was unmistakably asleep. [[Scaling Mount Jason (Underwear Entrapment Path)]] [[Lying in Wait (Feet Path)]]

“M-Maddy! Madeline… that’s your name, right?” The girl turned back to see Jason brandishing the weapon. He held the barrel sideways, away from anyone in particular, but ready to be trained on her in a moment’s notice if need be. Jason dragged his fingers along the chrome metal casing of the ray. “I, ah… I know we just met and all but…” Jason’s stomach growled, and he blushed hard, thankful in the low light it was probably invisible. “I need your help. Long story short, I’m going to have to…” Jason’s face curled up into a cringe. “Um… *e-eat* you. Just for a little bit—not, like, permanent! Here’s what happened… so, Franky—” “Okay,” Madeline said. She hopped backwards from the sill and turned to Jason expectantly. The baseball glove had slipped out and onto the roof overhang. “H-huh?” Madeline shrugged. In the few seconds between hearing Jason’s request and now, she’d more than resolved to go through with it. “Yeah! I’m always jealous of the wacky hijinks Franky gets up to without me; I’ve been *waiting* for something like this to happen. So, I’m assuming… *that’s* one of those shrink rays I’ve heard so much about—” she stopped and pointed at the item in Jason’s hand. Without much alternative, he nodded. Madeline smiled and crossed her arms. “And let me guess at where I come in: I need to grab something from your stomach, right?” Jason shuffled from one foot to another. “Er, some*one*, to be precise.” Comprehension dawned on Madeline’s face.“*Ohhhhh*…” Madeline walked up closer to Jason, and she put an ear to Jason’s belly. “Heya Franky! I’m coming to get ya, so just hang tight, alright!?” “*A-alr…ight*…” Neither Franky nor Jason could hear the response, which caused no small amount of concern for both of them. Jason was, for his part, surprised at the speed with which Madeline caught onto the whole affair. Well, if she’s ready to go right now… Without warning, Jason took a step back and leveled the ray at Madeline, who held her hands up uselessly and exclaimed. “Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! Hold on a sec, buster! *Clearly* you didn’t think through your exit plan for *her*, do you have one for me?” It was a salient question. Jason dropped the ray to his side. “Er, not really.” “Exactly. And this is why I should be calling the shots. Hold, please—” Madeline skipped past Jason out of Franky’s room, stopping in the hallway bathroom where Jason had contemplated vomiting Franky out not long prior. “Mouthwash, cough syrup, rash ointment…” She rummaged through the Jones family’s medicine cabinet like she owned the place, and though Jason didn’t have visual confirmation, it didn’t sound like putting those items back was high on her priority list. “*A-ha!* Found it!” She arrived back in Franky’s room holding a generic container of mint-flavored dental floss. She shoved it into Jason’s hands, and he eyed the thing, turning it over in his hands as he examined it close. He could predict what Madeline meant to do with this, and it sounded utterly stupid. Jason looked up. “So, is your plan to use the floss as—” If he were a cartoon character, his eyes would be bulging out of their sockets, and not in a good way. In the scant seconds he’d taken his gaze off the girl, she’d already removed her tank top and was in the process of kicking off her shoes. Once they’d been launched into the junk pile that was Franky’s old clothes, the socks were peeled off next, followed by her pajama bottoms, leaving the girl in just a training bra and underwear. “D-dude!” Jason averted his gaze and covered his eyes with the hand that held the shrink ray. “You could’ve asked me to leave, or something!” “Why?” Madeline sounded sincere. “I don’t really care that much if you see my underwear. And anyway, I wanted to take it off before shrinking so they’d be easier to find later.” *That might be a challenge*. Jason had already lost track of one of the shoes and he was pretty sure the stocking had buried itself in Franky’s clothes hamper, amongst a mountain of other week-old laundry. He shook his head and gestured with the gun toward Franky’s bed. “There, sit.” Madeline did as she was told, getting on her knees as she vibrated in delight. Like this, Jason could more readily make out the bruises and scrapes that wrapped around her thighs and shins. “This is gonna be so *cool!!*” Jason was confused—first Franky, now this girl Madeline. Was it secretly *every* woman’s dream to be reduced to the size of an insect? Was there some inherent validation women got when they were reduced? What implications did this have for female socialization or, dare he say it, feminism as a whole? All great questions to be dealt with another time. For now, Jason simply gulped, aimed the ray, and fired. The light flashed and enveloped Madeline, illuminating her body. She was beaming even as the space she once occupied became empty, and she vanished into nothing. Jason approached the bed, and he scanned for movement or activity. “C’mon, c’mon…” In a fit, he stomped to the wall and flicked on the light before continuing. The newly illuminated room blinded the man who had adjusted to the darkness, but after a blinking fit, he did resume his search and pinpoint her quite easily. She was a few paces to the left of where he’d left her, standing up and waving her hands for dear life. “Over heeeere!!” In full view of the light, Jason now realized just how blindingly white her skin was. Combined with the blonde nova of hair on her head, the girl was utterly radiant; you could probably stick her on a bicycle handlebar as a visibility reflector in a pinch. “Okay, so the plan is simple,” Jason said, putting his hand out for Madeline to clamber atop. He took the liberty of opening the floss cannister, and he placed it on his palm as well for Madeline to joyously tug out from the spool. As she did this, Jason talked. “If Franky’s still alive in my stomach, just grab her and pull. If Franky’s still alive and *not* in my stomach, abandon the mission.” He didn’t want *two* girls dying in his guts on his watch. “If Franky’s dead and still in my stomach… j-just use your judgment.” “Yeah, got it, sure,” Madeline was too busy wrapping the thread of floss around her waist to really grapple with what Jason was saying. She tugged at her knot and called up: “Hey, help me test this out!” Jason grabbed the floss container, tugging the final length of thread from the spool. It came out to roughly ten feet—much less than a full pack, but more than enough for their purposes. Wrapping a decent stretch of the end around his pointer finger, he was left with roughly a foot, and it was with this foot he lifted Madeline up from his palm. “*Oof!*” The rope suddenly was digging its way into her stomach, and Madeline wheezed. As she dangled, she manually loosened her knotwork and scooched the rope a few inches down her hips, which allowed her to breathe a little easier. When her next spin brought her face to face with Jason, she made sure to give him a thumbs-up. “Alright, well… I guess we’re really doing this…” Jason was concerned. Sure, he’d already swallowed one girl. On accident. This would be on purpose, with a harebrained scheme he didn’t even have certainty would work. On the upside, Madeline came alone and in secret; presumably not even her family knew of her presence at Franky’s. If something bad happened to her, Jason could simply deny she was here. It wasn’t ethical, but Jason had enough material concerns to worry about with Franky’s potential digestion, so he didn’t care much about the moral framework. “I’m about to send you down. Remember, give the floss a tug and I’ll pull yo—” “I *know,* I *get it*, just *eat me already!!*” The annoyance in her voice wasn’t enough to mask her excitement—she was even vibrating as she dangled from the rope. *So eager*, Jason thought, and his heart panged with a feeling he’d felt only after successfully (yet accidentally) swallowing Franky. “Welp… bottom’s up.” He opened his mouth, unveiling a moist cavern of salivating, pulsating flesh flanked on top and bottom by twin-crescents of shining teeth. Madeline had taken to the shrinking process unexpectedly well, but for the first time she now grokked the risk she was undertaking. Jason was a reasonable man, but there was nothing reasonable about the teeth and tongue that were about to deliver her into a stomach equally agnostic about Madeline’s status as not-food. She tucked her legs into her sides and took a deep gulp of the last fresh air she’d have for a while as she passed his lips. Warm, wet air moistened her face, and soon she hit his tongue. The rough organ slathered her in his saliva. It was sort of cute and a bit comforting, like getting a kiss from the biggest dog in the world. Madeline didn’t even mind when the tongue found its way around every exposed bit of skin on her body, her armpits, neck, thighs and feet—in fact, she was giggling uncontrollably. “Q-quit it!” she said, pushing the tongue away, but the entire organ was larger than she’d ever grow in her lifetime, and trying to fight it was a losing battle. Madeline didn’t have the opportunity to reckon with the risk associated with that reality before the lips closed behind her, sealing her in darkness that only allowed the faintest traces of red light through the most translucent bits of skin. And *that* didn’t last but for a moment before the tongue, having sampled its fill, dejectedly shoved Madeline to the back of Jason’s throat, where his esophagus undulated and opened. At this point, Madeline couldn’t turn back even if she wanted to; Jason’s mouth had made the decision of where she was going the moment she’d entered this abyss. In an attempt to regain the illusion of agency, Madeline double-checked her waist knot and found it held just as well as it previously did despite the saliva that had slicked it up. So, she put her arms at her sides and succumbed to peristalsis. *God*, Jason wondered. *Do all tiny women taste so goddamn* ***good?*** As Madeline dove down the esophagus face-first, and her body was entirely saturated by the mucus and slime on all sides of the interior tunnel, she was struck by the reality she’d made a mistake stripping down to her mere undergarments. To be clear, the stripping itself wasn’t the mistake—that had been a good idea, and she was glad to have a nice, dry set of clothes waiting upstairs when this was all over. No, the real mistake lies in leaving her bra and panties *on*. As it stood, the garb had been utterly soaked in Jason’s spit, meaning when she got out, she’d need to put her clean clothes on over her dirty ones and waddle back to her home three houses down. Pft. Keeping the underwear on was mostly for Jason’s sake anyway. Adults were always so weird about these things, and boys even more so. Had she simply gone commando like she wanted to, she’d need only wipe the gunk off her body and be good as new, save the scent of his cereal breath that would cling to her skin until Madeline’s next shower. The throat was dark, but as Madeline’s eyes adjusted, she was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t unnavigable—if a one way tunnel with no turns or forks could be considered navigable in the first place. If she were to hazard a hypothesis, perhaps enough ambient light penetrated Jason’s skin to make it inside the body that she could just *barely* trace out the undulating throat walls. Whatever the case, she was grateful, and it would hopefully make finding Franky a good deal easier. Finally, the tunnel seemed to reach an end. Madeline braced herself… “*Gah!!*” The moment Madeline left the esophagus, she *dropped*. A few inches. Those inches may have been about ten feet to her, but still it wasn’t much of a drop. She dangled as her safety rope funneled out behind her. “Whoaaaa…” Madeline whispered in awe as she witnessed the gurgling cauldron of Jason’s stomach. The cereal bits had been reduced to amorphous sludge by now, and there was no evidence of any kind he’d consumed milk in the last several hours. Jason’s stomach was brutally efficient, and from up here it was easy to make out the bursts of steam that jettisoned excess gas from the solution. Madeline felt a chill run down her spine, then stifled it. “*Franky!! Franky!?* You in here, buddy?” Madeline was descending fast. She was almost halfway, and if there’s anywhere she didn’t want to be, it was in the drink. “Franky!! Don’t tell me I came all the way down here for nothing!” Madeline waited for a response. She couldn’t tell if the sweat pooling on her forehead was from the heat, the exertion, the claustrophobia, or just plain ol’ nervousness. Likely a cocktail of the quartet. “I still need to give you back your lip balm!” A geyser of stomach acid splashed dangerously high and close to Madeline’s face. She cringed and tried to dangle out of the way. “I only used up two thirds… that’s still plenty left, I think!” The build-up to getting dunked in the pool was worse than the sensation itself. Maddy’s toes obviously went in first. “Ach, *ach*…” Madeline splashed a bit in disgust as she took a dip in the acid pool, only to remark, “Huh. It doesn’t feel *that* bad.” Once her feet hit the fleshy bottom of the pool, she wiggled her toes. “Sort of like a cross between a wet bounce house and a massage… Hey, Franky! Are you feeling this?” Maddy had momentarily forgotten she had a mission. Her escape rope was still being fed in behind her, becoming more and more slack. The hanging length of rope trailed behind Maddy as she wobbled through the lake, cupping her hands on her mouth and calling out with little rhyme or reason. “Fraaaaaaaanky!!! *Fraaaaaaaaaanky!!!* Where ya at, girl!?” After a few minutes of this, Madeline stopped and put her hands on her hips. The feeling of the acid as it ate away at the dead flesh on her feet and thighs was appealing… but she was over it. She was about ready to go home; if Franky wasn’t down here, she wasn’t down here. … If *All women secretly yearn to be eaten* was Jason’s First Law of Shrinkanomics, then *Inexplicably, all women taste* **really really good** must’ve been the second. He didn’t know what the third one might be, though *Eating tiny girls made him sleepy* was shortlisted as a contender. He’d already dozed off a few times on Franky’s bed—a twin-sized mattress two sizes too small for him—and only seemed to remember to wake himself up when he was moments away from drifting into a sincere sleep. The floss remained tied around his finger, and the thread extended between his lips where it disappeared down his closed mouth, waiting for the signal. But the thread around his finger was uncomfortable, and it cut off his circulation. Surely it wouldn’t be a problem if he untied it and simply held the thread between his forefinger and thumb. That wouldn’t be any trouble at all, he’d just remember to keep it where he could see it. And surely he could catch a few winks. Even though Franky’s bed was tiny compared to the grown adult, Jason was too tired at this point to care. Not to worry, it’d only be for a few minutes. Then he’ll transfer back to the couch after his little catnap. Decisions, decisions. [[Franky is Found All in One Piece]] [[Rest in Piece...s]]

“Aw *come on!*” How would she get back to normal now? The shrink ray was beside him, nestled between the couch cushion and the backrest, at risk of getting lost within the leather like a TV remote. Not only was it a heck of a trek, but she had no assurance she would be able to operate it at this size. Franky huffed. Then, she cracked her knuckles—or tried to, at least. She hadn’t really gotten the gesture down yet, despite how often she witnessed it in TV or cartoons. Nevertheless, determination filled her. She’s conquered miles and miles of shrunken terrain from the carpet forests of The Living Room to the desert wastes of The Kitchen. Sure, they didn’t sound so impressive when spoken about frankly, but the point remains that Franky had done things most girls her age neither could nor would ever dream of doing; she was plenty capable of figuring out some way to activate the ray by herself. First though, she would need to get there. It may across the human bridge that was her babysitter’s sprawled out body. What started as minor huffs had become all out snores; neither one was worth any mind at normal size, but at the size of a bug they were droning rumbles that made Franky want to crawl into a hole. She ripped a clump of lint away from Jason’s pants and stuffed some into each ear. It was surprisingly effective, and Franky was numbed to the bass tones of Jason’s heaves. Franky was not a girl given to wasting time; on the contrary, she could be brutally efficient when she wanted to. So, she boldly went. She was on the knee of Jason’s pant leg. It would take at least a few minutes to make it to the side of the couch where Jason slept. The construction of Jason’s pants didn’t help matters though. He was wearing blue jeans, and the rough-spun material formed easy creases, casually exceeding Franky’s size in height or depth depending on if she was dealing with a peak or a valley. Every time Franky encountered such a fold, she had to do a kind of mental calculus on if it would be a better use of the very limited energy in her itty bitty body to go over these crests or find some other path forward. Of course, Jason likely didn’t iron these pants (you can jot it down for why boys, even older boys, are much grosser and less clean than girls) before putting them on, meaning there were few avenues Franky could wind her way through that wouldn’t involve overcoming at least a few of these hurdles. It was a workout, but Franky was dedicated. She didn’t want to risk Mom coming back home while she was tiny; who *knows* what could happen then! Her journey took her to where Jason’s upper thigh broadened before transitioning into his hip, and Franky felt she could breathe a bit easier with more ground to crawl on. Luckily, Franky had nearly reached the part of Jason’s body that was on the couch by now. Unluckily, it happened to be positioned beneath… “*The private part*,” Franky murmured with disgust. Where once the pants were an idle collection of stiff and loose fabric paths, that changed upon reaching Jason’s crotch. Between his legs lay a gently-sloping bulge that nevertheless made the outer fabric taut enough to erase the crumples of the pants. Every part of Jason was huge to Franky, but it was often huge in a more abstract, less relatable way. Something about how this part of her babysitter’s body was otherwise quite small compared to the rest of him made Franky gulp at how utterly it dwarfed her regardless. She was as entranced with seeing it in the flesh as she was disgusted by her mere proximity to it. That said, the most direct path to the sofa involved crossing the bulge before hopping off Jason’s body; if she jumped off the train any earlier she’d end up on the floor. Franky took a step forward. The bulge inclined gently, though she wouldn’t be able to see past it until she was closer to its apex. “Not a problem, Franky. I just… won’t… think about it. And maybe hold my breath.” Whatever detergent this boy used, it wasn’t enough to completely mask the scent his body emitted through his clothes. At her size, smells and sounds were amplified thirtyfold, and even plugging her nose she could practically *taste* the potency of that musk on her tongue. It made Franky giggle—after all the times he’d told *her* to shower after a lovely jaunt in The Living Room carpets, she felt vindicated in knowing so intimately how inevitable it was for some parts of the body to become odorous over the course of the day. Daily showers feel like just another arbitrary standard adults force on children that don’t even do anything in the long run! When Mom gets back, she’ll be sure to explain this to her, using her experience sniffing the thing between Jason’s legs as her proof. Surely then, Mom would let her Franky shower only when she *felt* like it. Assured, Franky continued. It wasn’t going to take more than a minute or two to ascend the bulge, and that was only because it was *unusually* squishy, squishier than his shins, feet, or even his thighs. Her feet sunk into it meaningfully beneath the fabric of his pants, and it wasn’t hard for her to grab fistfuls of the skin into her hands. She idly tugged and remarked a bit at the stretchiness before letting go. Even with the buffer of his jeans, whatever skin was underneath snapped back into place like rubber. “Whoa…” So, Franky tried it again… but, wait. Something had changed. She tried to grab another clump of the skin beneath, but she only managed to grab fistfuls of denim. When she tried—like, *really* tried—Franky was able to reach the skin below, but it had become tough and far less malleable. “Huh. Interesting.” She was close enough to the peak that she could peer over and catch Jason’s face. It was still blissfully asleep, and his snores continued to rock his body with their rumbles. Unless he was pretending, his body did that on his own. “Boys… your ways will never cease to elude me.” Franky said in much the same way one might talk about a deep-ocean cephalopod. Franky crawled ahead. The trip down was a lot easier than the trip up, even if it felt like the bulge had somehow grown in size in the interim. Surely it wasn’t *always* that big, was it? Earlier it was the size of a decently large, small-sized hill. Now? It was no smaller than a decently small, *medium-sized* hill. And that toughness made it easier now to see the thick, snake-like coil that formed the hill’s slope imprinted against the jeans. It once again filled Franky with morbid curiosity. Curiosity she had no time to sate—she’d reached the end of Jason’s pants. Franky let out a sigh of relief. Something about being on the bulge just gave her the willies. His shifting in his sleep had pinned a clump of his shirt beneath him, and now a sliver of bellybutton was exposed. It was lightly dusted with brown fibers, but they were fuzzy soft, and provided little barrier for her to dig her hands into his equally-soft skin. A different sort of soft than she’d just encountered on the bulge, but soft all the same. And Franky couldn’t deny that being here on the belly of her big, great, giant friend made her feel safe. Even as Jason’s mouth quivered, and he mumbled something unintelligible, she felt absolutely safe. “Mmmmrmmm… yeahm, it’s… just…” Franky stood up and cocked her head, transfixed as Jason spoke to nobody. A deep groan quaked from his mouth. Then his arm—which had, until this point, been resting peacefully on his belly, started to rub down his torso. Toward Franky. “Oh, beans, oh *beans*.” Franky didn’t have time to think as a hand the size of a house was preparing to steamroll her. She could only act. So she did the first thing that came to mine—turn tail and run. The waistband of Jason’s pants was just behind her, and she doubted his hand would venture down there. What would be the point? Except scratching an errant itch, perhaps. But Franky hadn’t reached the pants before she was swept into the palm. “***WHOA!!***” The wind was knocked out of her just before the hand stuffed itself beneath the waistband—and the underwear. Pulling Franky along with it.

If Jason slept for more than a few minutes, it didn’t feel like it. “Wha… huh?” He shot up and looked around the living room… when there was nothing amiss, he curled back up in the couch cushions. Was it his guilt at leaving Franky to her acrid fate in his stomach? Certainly not, probably just a fluke. He closed his eyes and laid his head on the throw pillow. Then, he heard it again. A *thump*, the sound of something hard being lobbed against glass, like a baseball or a pebble. He woke again, gentler this time. “What was that…?” Franky was feeling woozy, but she was lucid enough to detect that Jason had left his sleeping position. Sure, it resulted in another deluge of acid saturating her sensitive skin in its corrosive compounds, but it did provide her with a glimmer of hope. “H-huh… Jason…? Are you gonna let… me out?” Her voice was practically a whimper, impossible for the giant to hear from the outside. Jason was no longer concerned with the goings-on in his stomach, as he was venturing upstairs to locate the source of the sound (but not before grabbing the shrink ray and sticking it into his waistband of course). The only room upstairs with a window was Franky’s bedroom. He walked inside the dark abode, careful to avoid stepping on—or even touching—any number of her clothes, gadgets, or trinkets strewn about the domicile. He tiptoed around them and made it to the window, where he peered out.   Nothing. Then, it came. *Plink!* A small stone ricocheted off the windowpane and startled the daylights out of Jason. And this time, it came with a voice. “*Psstt! Franky! Open up! Fran-kyyy?!!*” Jason glanced at his stomach nervously, then back to the window. Whatever the origin of the voice, it was too close to the house for him to get a look past the decorative overhang, though he was reasonably sure it belonged to a girl. Mustering up some courage, Jason unlocked the window and lifted it. The pane scraped up into the house and held in place, creating a gap wide enough for a human to crawl through, if they managed to make it up in the first place. Jason waited for a moment. The pelting had stopped, but so had the voice. Was she waiting on something? “*Well? Throw down the rope! C’mon, Franky, don’t go cold on me! We’ve done this a million times!*” This filled Jason with an additional level of consternation. He really didn’t know what was going on, but considering where Franky currently was, it may be better to simply play along until has an opportunity to quell this girl’s curiosity than leave the possibility she could squeal about Franky’s disappearance. So, he scanned the room and eventually found a coiled up fabric bundle beneath her twin-sized bed. When Jason unwrapped it, he found a firetruck-red emergency rope ladder. Somewhat dully, he tossed the end out of the window, and it unfurled before hitting the ground. Jason hung his end of the rope on the knob of Franky’s bed. “*Thanks!*” The slack rope ladder suddenly went taut, and from here all Jason had to do was wait. Patiently, nervously, the sounds of exertion with every step of the rope became louder and louder before: Her hair emerged before the rest of her. It was a frazzled mess of fibers twice as big as her face, which grit a set of brace-sewn teeth as she grimaced, launching her body onto the shingles of the eaves. Her stomach rose and fell rapidly, and she squirmed forward, grimacing as she scraped her shins on the rooftiles. Now fully visible from the corner streetlight, Jason noticed the rest of her fit: a navy-blue tank top, some short shorts that may have been pajama-wear, a pair of striped shin-high stockings, and a pair of rainbow tennis shoes. “Agh, *finally*,” she said, finally wrapping her fingers around the windowsill to pull her inside, where she collapsed to the carpet with an additional *thump*. “I was starting to think you were never…” For the first time, the girl got a good look at the man who’d let her in. Rather than the nine-year-old neighbor she knew all too well, she instead was staring up at the face of a dorky, lanky young man who was almost twice her size and presumably at least twice her age. Madeline cocked her head and gave a pointed and confused sniff. “You’re not Franky.” Of all the emotions she displayed, Jason noted the chief one to be “annoyance”. “Hi, I’m—” Jason stopped. Was it a good idea to tell this girl his name? “…a friend, of Franky’s.” But no sooner had the words left Jason’s mouth did her eyes bulge in acknowledgement. “Oh, *ohhh!!* You’re the babysitter I’ve heard so much about! Jason, right?” Jason grinded his teeth, and he replied quite stilted: “Y-yes. I… am.” “I’ve heard plenty about you! Don’t know how or why, but Franky can’t stop talking about you. Like, seriously, it’s *all* she talks about. Deborah and I can’t wait for her to shut up. Hey, where is she, anyway?” Without skipping a beat, Madeline skirted around Jason and pulled open Franky’s dresser, through which she rummaged. “Needed to borrow a baseball glove,” she explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to break and enter into a neighbor’s house to search for Little League sports accessories. Jason was aghast. Then, the girl said, “Oh, I’m Madeline, by the way.” As if that made it better. Jason was about to give her a stern talking to about the dangers of sneaking into a neighbor’s house, especially if rather than meeting the neighbor in question, you end up meeting a stranger, but was interrupted when Madeline exclaimed, “*Found* it!” She held the glove with the triumphant glow of a video game protagonist, and she slid it between her armpit. “Anyway, see you soon. Tell Franky I said hi. Seriously, where *is* she? She *can’t* be asleep. Is she downstairs? Watching a movie? *Without me!?*” Madeline didn’t wait to have her question answered as she climbed onto the windowsill in a squat that made it look sort of like she wasn’t wearing pants at all. Jason was disturbed by the ease with which this girl had essentially just stolen from his babysitting charge, and he felt that he had to do *something* before she left. This is when Jason had one of his ideas. And not a mere normal idea, but a *brilliant* idea. An idea that might solve the very problem Franky was encountering in Jason’s stomach. He unholstered the shrink ray and held it in his hands just as Madeline was about to step outside the window… [[Saving Private Franky]]

After taking a moment to mentally psyche himself up, Jason decided that vomiting her out was the best, most immediate solution. Time was of the essence after all. “Alright,” he mumbled to himself. “Here goes nothing…” Jason inserted two fingers into his mouth, above the sink… then suddenly stopped. He’d never done this before, and he wasn’t entirely sure of the strength of the pipes connecting to the sink drain when the time came to wash everything that wasn’t Franky down the hatch. After considering and abandoning the toilet as well, Jason decided to go back downstairs to the kitchen sink. The trip sent Franky rumbling in Jason’s tummy. “Whoa!!” Franky screamed, searching for nonexistent purchase in the deep, dank stomach. “Take it easy!” As she settled and rose back up above the shallow acid pool, she noted with some disgruntlement that her bathing suit was beginning to fray where it was seamed. “Oh come on… my mom just got this for me,” she groaned. Then, she felt something weird. The pool she sat in wasn’t very active, though occasionally pockets of hot gas would collect, building up before they burst into a single, thick bubble that would singe Franky’s eyebrows. But now, there seemed to be a low-level tremor that pervaded the caustic pond. “Wha…?” Up above, Jason was jamming his fingers into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. He’d bailed twice—the sensation of gagging on his fingers was immensely unpleasant. But this wasn’t about him. This was about Franky! He couldn’t give up now, or else Mrs. Jones might fire him! So, he persevered, steeling himself as he resolved against abandoning this next attempt. C’mon, man! You’ve got this! Franky didn’t know what was happening, but she knew that it was related to her. So all she could do was sit back and hope it was something good. “Jason? Whatcha up to, there?” In response, everything seemed to go upside down. Jason’s stomach walls contracted at the same time the stomach gurgled and glorped into a convex shape, before suddenly bubbling upwards into a thick geyser of acid, cereal bits, milk, and a side order of Franky. The girl was jammed upward, through the esophagus, at a breakneck speed before emerging out the pharynx, past the teeth and lips, and into the sweet, crisp air, before landing face-first on an empty sink floor. This was followed up by a goopy helping of acid and half-digested cereal bits, all of which buried her beneath a filthy layer of muck. The girl didn’t move, and in Jason’s panic, he was unsure if she was even alive. “F-Franky…?” Then, she shifted. She sat up, and sent a thumbs-up toward Jason. “That. Was. The coolest thing I’ve ever done!” [[Into the Sink]]

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[[Under Construction]]

After a not-so-great deal of deliberation, Franky decided. The middle of the shoe would be best. She was a risk taker, but the depths of the shoe were dark and dank and didn’t look very fun. So, she found a spot just underneath the overhang where the shoelaces would be tied. From here, she started to arrange the carpet fibers she’d absconded with into something resembling a coat. Her bushcraft skills were getting better, and after almost thirty minutes she had a semi-functional shroud that looked rather convincingly like a spider. “Niiiiice…” Franky swung her new costume over her shoulders, got down on all fours, and waited in a somewhat prostrate position. *This is gonna be so* ***sick!!*** *An hour later.* Jason didn’t feel very rested when he woke up. The movie had ended almost forty minutes ago and the TV had reverted to the selection menu. “Agh, I missed my favorite part,” he said, rubbing his eye with his palm. He leaned forward. “So, that was *Revenge*. What’d ya think? I know it’s probably weird to start with the third one in the trilogy but personally I feel…” Jason took a second look at the ottoman. He knows this is where he left Franky… so why wasn’t she anywhere to be seen? “Franks? *Franky?*” Jason peered closely at the worn fabric of the footrest. It was fine and shallow; even tiny, Franky would’ve been impossible to miss. The carpet, on the other hand, was a thick tangle that felt divine to dig your hands or face into but was unnavigable for someone without Franky’s persistence. If she was stuck down there… Jason didn’t want to think about it. “Franky, if you’re here somewhere… just give me a sign!” Franky, in the shoe, was trying her absolute hardest to hold it in. The spider shroud she’d made was very comfortable, and she’d even dozed off herself after not too long of lying in wait. Luckily she got up around the same time Jason did—his massive body shifting on the couch sent slight vibrations into the floor that her ultra-sensitive tiny body picked up on. “He has no idea where I am!” she whispered to herself giddily. “Just need to wait a little bit longer…” She pulled her shroud in closer to her body, fully obscuring her form beneath the carpet fibers. “Franky, if you’re here…” Jason said nervously, “This isn’t very funny! Your mom could be home any minute!” Jason had yet to leave the couch, but he knew he would have to soon if he wanted to better survey the area for Franky’s presence. He didn’t want to risk stepping on the child, but as long as he watched his footing… it *should* be good, right? “Alright Franky, that’s it! I’m coming for ya!” *Finally!* Franky had to mentally suppress letting out a verbal ‘Whoop’. The little spider’s eyes were trained upward, and she glared through the mouth of the shoe as her deific babysitter, face all twisted up in consternation, made the difficult choice to allow his feet to touch the ground. He stood up, casting the footwear in shadow. He was getting closer! Was this the moment? Was he about to put the shoe on!? Franky’s heart was moving at breakneck pace; it was now or never. Without thinking, she leapt upwards and spread her arms out, delivering a feral screech only a child can manage. Her shroud was flung away, leaving her in nothing but her bathing suit. “You found me!” But she received no response. The shadow that had eclipsed the show only got darker as Jason’s meaty foot stuffed itself into the hole up above. Franky cleared her throat: “I said, you *found m*—**MPHH—!**” Franky was silenced as she received a mouthful of sole. Shoved to the rubber insole of the sneaker, Franky was entirely ignored as the equally rubbery foot filled the rest of the shoe. “**MMMPPPHHHHH!!!**” Trapped beneath the overwhelming volume of the foot, Franky was unable to move or even blink. Her very calls for help were simply reflected back to her. “Gotta check to make sure she didn’t sneak outside,” Jason said absent mindedly as he tied his shoe before putting on the other one. “She’s been getting bad about that lately.” Once both shoes were properly equipped, Jason checked the floor for stragglers. Seeing none, he *hopped* to his feet— *CRUNCH!* “Huh?” Jason felt something collapse beneath his right foot, and if he didn’t know any better, a warm and wet feeling was spreading within. But Jason didn’t have time to deal with that sort of thing, he had to find Franky, and even she wasn’t dumb enough to hide in the worst place imaginable. “Whatever.” He cupped his hands to his mouth. “*Fraaaanky!*” he called again, making his way to the back door. “I’m coming to *find you!*” [[End]]

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