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"Below the Belt"
By CLH

Chapter 1

When Drea stepped into the room, the first thing I noticed were the freckles on
her knee. If her round, right kneecap were a face, the freckles were situated
roughly where the eyes would have been. Both the color of cinnamon and the size
of flecks of pepper, one was an oval and the other a semicircle. It was as if
her knee was winking at me.

I'm not sure why I focused so closely on the paired freckles at that moment. Her
right leg was closest to me when she entered the room, and since her kneecap was
exactly at my face level, perhaps it was the natural place for my gaze to land.
Maybe it was also my mind's way of dealing with the sheer scale of Drea -- to
look at something close and relatively small, before trying to take in the
entirety of her. Her body just kept going UP.

Above her freckled knee and its unblemished twin, her columnar legs rose into a
black skirt, the hem of which was just over the top of my head, but probably not
out of my reach. Further up, at probably twice my height, the edge of the
skirt's waistband encircled Drea's wide hips. Between where her skirt ended and
her sweater began, I could glimpse an inch or two of pale abdomen. Drea's tight,
burgundy-colored sweater clung close to her arms and the roundness of her
breasts. From my lowly vantage point, it was harder to see her face or where the
sweater's v-neck exposed her throat, but I could see the smoothness of her chin
and a halo of short, dirty blonde hair at the summit of her head, at the height
of the light on a lamp-post.

In the past week I'd seen many impossibly huge people, but all were strangers,
mostly towering medical professionals, EMTs and hospital employees. I don't
think I'll ever get "used" to seeing a person so enormous, but I was at least
growing accustomed to it. Or so I thought. Seeing Drea again, but with such
incredible proportions, almost as big a shock as the first time. Because this
was a person I knew well -- and, in fact, the last person in the world I wanted
to see me like this.

At first Drea didn't notice me, not expecting to see a human being so close to
the floor. She saw Dr. Rosamund sitting on the low stool nearby and walked
toward her, and for a moment I thought I was going to have to leap out of the
path of her massive black ankle boots. I felt a surge of panic -- maybe I could
hide, duck into a cabinet, and Drea would go away. Then Drea followed Dr.
Rosamund's gaze, glanced down and saw me. When our eyes met, I felt smaller than
ever. "Holy shit!" she exclaimed.

Drea took a breath, then crouched and leaned closer. Even on her haunches, she
loomed over me with her broad, soft shoulders and wide face. I wondered if it
was as strange for her to see me so reduced, as it was for me to seeing her
familiar features so enlarged. Her sweater gaped before me, giving me glimpse of
impossibly deep, creamy cleavage, but I tried not to stare. Instead, I looked
back up and tried to get used to the new proportions of her deep green eyes and
slightly upturned nose. Her wide, ripe-lipped mouth was slightly agape, and I
could see the thin, endearing gap between her two front teeth.

She brought a big hand up and moved her long, long index finger close to me, as
if she was going to touch my face, but I backed away from it, shaking my head.
"It's really you, isn't it? Un-fucking-believable," Drea breathed, the barest
hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

She looked at Dr. Rosamund. "It's like, I knew he was going to be small, but
THIS..." She looked at my clothes. "What's that you're wearing?"

I felt even more self-conscious than I already did. I was wearing a long-sleeved
white T-shirt that was much too loose on me, hanging down past my knees, with
sleeves that would've hung past my hands if I didn't keep pushing them back. And
some white socks that fit even worse. They came from the maternity ward and
featured a cartoonish version of the medical center's logo. "This is what we all
wear. It's not like they make stuff in our size," I said, petulantly.

"Your voice, it's so different!" Drea said. "But it's actually not as high as I
was thinking it would be. For all I knew, you'd sound like Mickey Mouse or
something."

The doctor stood up. Dr. Rosamund was a black woman about my age, athletic
looking and tall. Although, of course, all normal people are so tall next to me,
that judging their relative height seems pointless. She was my favorite of the
scientists and medical professionals I'd gotten to know so well in the past
week. So many of the researchers treated us like experimental subjects, or at
best, puzzles to solve, that Dr. Rosamund's compassion made her stand out. She
never made me feel like less of a man. She extended a hand and said, "I'm
Beatrice Rosamund. Thank you for coming, Mrs. Savan."

"Actually, It's Ms. Calhoun," Drea said, standing up to shake her hand.

"Oh." Dr. Rosamund made a note on her clipboard. "At any rate, I'm glad your
here. Do you have any questions right now?"

"Well," Drea looked back down at me, "is it true that it's not catching? I mean,
I'm here to help, but I don't want it to happen to me either."

"I can tell you that nothing we've been able discover shows any sign that Tim's
condition, or any of the other patients, is any way infectious. In fact, they
show no symptoms of any kind, apart from the obvious. Tim's actually a very
healthy man. He's just..."

"18 inches tall," I said. "No sense in mincing words."

Dr. Rosamund continued, "... When just a week ago he was six feet."

"Five foot 11," Drea corrected. "And you don't know what caused it?"

"We have theories -- you wouldn't believe how many theories we have. But no, we
don't know why it happened to Tim, or any of the rest of the people worldwide.
But if we thought there was any foreseeable risk to public health, we wouldn't
be releasing them from quarantine. Besides, so many people were effected --
mostly in North America and Europe, that we can't study them all. There's almost
a thousand, and there's probably many whom we simply haven't located yet."

I looked up at the faces of the two towering women as they spoke. Even though I
was part of the conversation -- in fact, the true subject of the conversation --
I felt like it was going on far above me. Standing so close to the floor -- I
could have run my hands over Drea's firm, bare calves -- I felt like a tiny
child, trying to join in the talk of grown-ups.

Drea nodded. "And isn't there something about a meteor shower?"

Dr. Rosamund rolled her eyes. "Well, we know that there was a meteor shower in
Earth's atmosphere at exactly the same time as the shrinking effect, and it
coincides chronologically and geographically with the places in the Northern
Hemisphere that the effect occurred. The astronomers can tell us all sorts of
things about it -- but nothing that can explain why a relatively small
proportion of the population became, well, approximately one-fourth of their
original size. It could be just a coincidence." Dr. Rosamund glanced down at me
with a kindly expression in her eyes. "As far as it being catching, I believe
that it's no more contagious than being struck by lightning. Only Tim here was
one of the unlucky ones. Him and the other 12 patients here."

For a moment there was a silence in the small exam room -- a room that, too me,
was as big as a barn. "Well, at least I can get out of here," I said, feeling
like I was expected to make some kind of comment.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," Dr. Rosamund chuckled. "I'll still
want to give you a check-up at least once a week. Ms. Calhoun, could I get you
to look at some paperwork?"

She put some papers across the exam table, to high for me to even pretend to
see. Dr. Rosamund pointed out where Drea needed to sign some forms, and Drea
reached forward with a pen. As they leaned over, both women probably didn't
realize what a view they were offering me of their backsides, with Dr.
Rosamund's buttocks stretching tautly across the seat of her white slacks. I
couldn't keep myself from gazing up. Moons in orbit.

"Ms. Calhoun, is the press still out there?" Dr. Rosamund asked, handing Drea
some spares of the little hospital sweaters.

"Yeah, I walked past some TV news vans and some guys with serious-looking
cameras."

Dr. Rosamund sighed and looked tired. "There's about a dozen facilities for
people like Tim up and down the Eastern seaboard -- why do they have to
congregate here?" She lowered herself onto one knee and brought her big, brown
face closer to mine. "Tim, I have a suggestion for the best way for you to get
out here, but you may not like it."

Uh-oh. "Go on."

"If the photographers catch you, your image will be all over the news, and I
know you don't want that. Now, they've been staking out both entrances, but
there's usually only one near the maternity wing. I suggested that Ms. Calhoun
park there this morning. And --" she held up a baby blue swaddling blanket.

I looked at the blanket, then at Drea, who seemed to be stifling a smile. "No.
No way," I said, with rising indignation.

Dr. Rosamund maintained her level tone of voice. "I know, I know, but think
about it. Ms. Calhoun will look just like a young mother. No one will give her a
second glance."

"Besides, it'll probably take forever for you to make the walk on your own, and
people are sure to notice you." Drea chimed in. She was leaning down with her
hands on her knees in a condescending way.

"Forget it!" I snapped. I tried to sound emphatic, but the superior size of the
two women only made me feel more childish.

"What else do you suggest, that I put you in my purse?" Drea's eyes narrowed.
"You know, if you curled up, you could probably fit."

Dr. Rosamund leaned close, bringing her lips almost to my ear, and spoke in
close to a whisper. "Tim. I know it's hard for you -- I'm sure it's harder than
I can even imagine. But this is the quickest, quietest way for you to get out of
here, and on your way. So what do you say?"

The idea of Drea handling me like her infant enraged me beyond words, but I
couldn't argue with Dr. Rosamund's reasoning, or her calming, kindly presence.
Her plan was the lesser of two evils. "All right, all right, let's get this over
with," I said, taking the huge blanket and wrapping it over my shoulders.

"That's a good boy. This is going to be no big deal." I almost snapped at her
for calling me a "good boy," but nearly gasped for breath when she caught me
around the chest and plucked me up into the air. "You're so light!" she
exclaimed, lightly shaking me. My dangling legs swayed to and fro like the
clapper of a bell.

"Cut it out!" I snapped. I hated the way being picked up made me feel so puny.

"Now, now. No need to get all cranky, this is going to be easy. Here," she said,
and guided me into the crook of her left arm, so that I was sort of sitting on
the inside of her elbow. "Come on, now lean in," she said, and gently pushed me
so that I was laying against the firm but pillowy softness of her left breast. I
could feel the framework of her bra pressing against my thighs. She pivoted at
the waist and moved her arm to and fro, testing her grip and how I felt. "If you
lay your head down, that'll keep the balance better." She gently pressed my head
until my check rested against her chest, my head just below her collarbone. Drea
tucked the blanket around my body, pulled the end over my face, like a cloak,
then brushed it back again so I could see. "There, how's that?"

"I hate it." It wasn't just feeling so helpless, being wrapped up and carried so
far off the ground. It was the effortless way she held me, curled up in a single
arm, and the heat and bulk of her flesh I felt pressed against her enormous
body. She didn't even have to say or do anything -- her sheer, oversized
presence alone emphasized my ridiculous stature. Plus, I didn't like feeling so
dependent on anybody -- but especially Drea.

"Aw come on, it's kind of snuggly," she said, lightly squeezing my knees with
her fingertips.

Dr. Rosamund helped Drea loop her purse around her other shoulder. "Be sure to
take off your hospital I.D. tag when you leave -- some reporters recognize
them." She looked at me. "I'll see you at your check-up within the week. Be
strong. It's not going to be easy, but it'll eventually get better. I promise
you." Then she brought the blanket down over my face as the women said their
good-byes.

I head the door shut and Drea's footsteps as she walked down the hall. She
greeted someone and I could feel her remove the I.D. tag from her sweater, and
then hear some automatic doors whoosh open. With the blanket obscuring my face,
I could only see the expanse of her neck and shoulder, and just a little bit of
hallway beyond her. She had obviously left the quarantine wing of the hospital,
though -- I hadn't been out here in a week.

"Doing okay?" she whispered to me. "Just tap if everything's fine." I tapped
forcefully on her chest with my little hand. Drea stopped walking, leaned
forward, then straightened up and stood still, tapping her feet and humming a
tune. "Elevator," she explained, and patted me on the back. I wished she
wouldn't do that.

There was a ringing sound and the rumble of elevator doors opening and closing
as Drea stepped in. "Hello," she said, probably to inform me that there was
another person inside.

"Hi. Looks like you've got a little one there," I heard a woman's loud voice
say.

Drea paused, then said "Yep. Just taking him home after his check-up."

"Can I take a peek?" A hand touched the edge of the blanket, as if about to pull
it off my head. I held my breath. I could see the bright red polish on the
gargantuan fingernails, just inches from my face.

"That's probably not a good idea. If we disturb him, he'll get cranky," Drea
replied.

The loud woman chuckled and the fingernails withdrew. "I know how that is. Of
course, a good burp or a good poop can make everything better."

Pressed against Drea's chest, I could feel her body quake with barely contained
laughter. The vibrations made me jiggle in her grip.

"By the way, can I give you a tip?" the loud woman asked.

"Oh, by all means," said Drea. I could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Now, every mom has her own style, and that's great. But something I learned was
that you don't need to pound a little one on the back while burping him. Instead
of jarring his little bones, try this -- may I? I'll be gentle." Suddenly I felt
the stranger's huge, warm palm, as big as a placemat, against the small of my
back, pushing against me with a slight rotating motion. "Just rub like this, in
circles, between his ribs and his little bottom. That can do the trick."

The elevator rang. "That's my floor. Good luck!"

"Thanks for everything!" Drea called, and as the door shut, she struggled to
stifle her giggles.

"It's not funny!" I hissed.

"Did I say anything?" Drea laughed. "Hold up, this is our floor. Shhh!
Reporters!"

I felt an icy feeling in my stomach as she strode along. I realized that I could
hear her heartbeat, and even feel it thud against the chamber of her rib cage. I
only took shallow breaths. Please let this work.

"Let me get that for you," a stranger said, and an instant later I felt cool,
fresh air on my face.

"We're out," Drea murmured. "That was a near one, but we're home free. We just
have to cross this parking lot, and practically no one's around." Her chest
expanded, pressing her bosom against me as she took a deep breath. As I breathed
easy I couldn't help but notice that it felt kind of comforting, being enveloped
it such warm softness, the blanket and her sweater and the body heat. And I was
especially stunned when I suddenly felt a familiar heaviness in my groin. Being
held against Drea's body, feeling the plushness of her tit, was giving me an
erection. Oh god, what if she noticed?

I was also aware that the neckline of her sweater was just about my arm's length
away. If I stretched out my hand, I could touch her skin, at about the top of
her breast. As much as I resented Drea's presence, part of me wanted to feel her
flesh. Would she notice? I began moving my hand outside the blanket.

"Here we are," she said, coming to a halt. I shifted in her grip and heard a
"clank" as she set her purse on the hood of the car and fumbled for her keys. I
heard a door unlock and she leaned over and sat me down in the passenger seat of
her Honda Accord. I tried to hang onto the blanket but she absently pulled it
off me. Bent over me, her hands and chin were close to my hard-on, but for once,
I was thankful that the T-shirt fit me so loosely -- Drea didn't notice as she
snapped the enormous seatbelt across my waist. My feet didn't come close to the
edge of the seat, and my half-bare legs looked silly sticking out.

I could feel the car rock as Drea eased her ass into the driver's seat. With
smooth, practiced motions, she turned the ignition, pushed the dashboard
lighter, put on her sunglasses and fished out a cigarette from a pack on the
dashboard. It was so weird, being in the familiar surroundings of the car,
watching Drea go through her pre-driving routine -- but having it all be so much
bigger than I was used to. Dangling from her mouth, the cigarette looked more
like the size of Harry Potter's magic wand. She leaned her right elbow against
the arm-rest, which was roughly on the same level as my head. As she worked the
gear shift, I looked at her arm, which looked longer and heavier than my entire
body.

She braked without warning. "Shit -- the parking attendant! Here, put this over
you," she said, tossing the blanket over me with a huge hand. I made sure I was
adequately covered, heard her pay and then drive into traffic.

As I pulled the blanket away from my face, the cigarette lighter popped out, and
she used to it light her cigarette. She took a drag. "Still smoking, I see," I
said, breaking the silence.

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how good I've been. I only smoke when I'm
driving -- I don't even take the cigarettes out of the car. That way I can deal
with my nic-fit, without having to worry about anyone else getting in my face."
She puffed and made an exaggerated noise of satisfaction. "Mmmm," she said,
exhaling the smoke toward the driver's side window, open just a crack. "And
believe me, I needed some the past few days. Did you know that I'm still your
person to contact in case of emergency?" she asked, cocking her head towards me
and regarding me over the lenses of her sunglasses.

"Oh. I guess I never thought of that."

"Me either, but when they called and didn't know where you were, I started
getting pretty worried. And when I found out what REALLY happened to you, I was
really concerned." Some of my irritation with her dissipated, and she shot a
kind smile in my direction. "You're actually holding up better than I thought
you'd be."

I didn't know how to answer that, but could see myself reflected in the lenses.
I looked like a man in his 30s, but sitting childishly in an oversized car seat,
wearing floppy baby clothes. In her lenses, I was foreshortened and dwarfed by
my surroundings. That must be how I look to her, I thought. "Thanks for picking
me up. I mean, driving me. Right now, I'm looking forward to seeing my
apartment."

"Sure. I figure we can go by tomorrow and pack some of your stuff."

Pack? "What do you mean? We are going to my apartment, right?"

She paused, concentrating on turning the steering wheel. "Well, we can go by
tonight, if you want, but I think it makes more sense to go home and get
situated first. I thought you'd want to take your time and get used to things."

"Wait, aren't we going to my place?"

She shifted a wide foot from the accelerator to the brake pedal. "I don't think
it makes sense for me to move into your apartment, do you? My house isn't big,
but should have more than enough space for us both. Especially since you don't
exactly take up more space."

I feeling of foreboding sank over me. "Drea, what are you talking about?" I
said, trying to control myself.

A dismayed, annoyed expression crossed her face. "Oh crap, they didn't tell you,
did they? I can't believe it." She took another drag on her cigarette and
glanced around.

"What's going on?"

"Just a minute, I better stop the car for this." She turned the wheel sharply,
rocking me back and forth, and pulled the gearshift into Park. Then she pushed
her sunglasses to the top of her head, turned in her seat and faced me. She
rested her right arm on the back of my seat, far over my head. I still couldn't
get used to her intimidating size. "Okay, have you heard about the executive
order? The one the president signed yesterday?"

Where was she going with this? "I know he made a national address about... what
happened last week, but didn't he mostly say just that it wasn't contagious? And
showed no sign of happening again, like Dr. Rosamund said? We heard rumors but
it's hard to get news in the hospital -- for the first few days, they kept us
heavily sedated."

Drea's huge shoulders went up and down as she sighed. "Okay. Do you know about
the accidents that have happened with shrunken people -- how many have been
hurt? That some have been beaten up by their teens, or worse? That some have
been trapped in their houses and cars? And that old lady who was mauled by a
fucking housecat?"

"We did hear those." When they eased up on the sedatives, rumors ran rampant
through the hospital about disasters related to the shrinking effect. Even
assuming that 90 percent of them were bogus, some of the stories were shocking.
According to the rumor mill, some battered wives and teens took violent
revenge on their now-tiny abusers.

"Okay, what the president said was, given the safety hazards to all the... the
shrunken people, that they would require normal-sized people to help them,
especially when everybody's still adjusting. So according to the executive
order, the nearest living relative of any shrunken person is now, officially,
their legal guardian." She sucked on the end of the cigarette butt and stamped
it out in the ashtray. "And guess who's your nearest living relative?"

No. "Drea, this is not funny."

"Am I laughing? You know it's true. You don't have any parents or siblings, and
your cousins are where, out in the Pacific Northwest? And it's going to be
months before our legal paperwork goes through."

"But, but, this can't be right! There has to be another way!" I looked around,
considering bolting from the car, but the door handles were so big I doubted to
could pull them.

Cigarette smoke undulated around Drea's face and blonde hair. "Calm down. It's
only a temporary measure, and there's going to be an appeals process -- they
just haven't formalized it yet. I'm sure we can set up something where one of
your friends takes care of you, or something. And if they don't find a cure, I'm
sure that eventually they'll lift the requirement altogether. But until then,
you little people can't drive cars for yourselves, and a lot of you won't be
able to do your jobs. And how are you going to shop or do laundry? And somebody
has to make sure you keep your doctor visits."

I couldn't answer her, and she leaned over and patted my naked knee with a huge
hand. "But hey, I'm perfectly willing to do it. I know it's not the best
situation, but for now you're coming home with me." Drea she leaned back in her
seat, put the car back in Drive and we resumed motion.

I looked around the car, sitting too low to look directly out the windows, but
able to see the vast buildings, phone poles and billboards go by above me. It
was unthinkable, but I could clearly do nothing about it. Drea had charge of me.


And my ex-wife was a giant.

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