This choice: Shrinking rays (the men of Earth are shrunk and crushed) • Go Back...Chapter #3Shrinking rays (the men of Earth are shrunk and... by: Yote   It was a youthful experiment into crossdressing that saved your life. There you were - gaily spinning around in front of your sister's bedroom mirror, admiring how the short, pink, polka-dot dress showed off your freshly-shaved legs, when F-Day hit. A series of electric zaps cut through the air as neon light illuminated the room from the road outside. men were screaming, their cries seeming to grow progressively quieter and more shrill, then cut out altogether.
You crouched and crept to the window. What you saw made no sense. A group of women stood on the street corner beneath the window, yet they seemed out of scale somehow. They must have been ten or twelve feet tall. Beneath the heels of their feet grew pools of red.
A car rounded the corner. One of them leveled a pistol at it, firing a bolt of laser energy through the windshield. The driver's scream pierced the air. The car veered wildly, swerving towards the giantesses. They lowered guns of their own, firing shot after shot at the out-of-control vehicle. It started to shrink before your eyes. When it finally rolled to a stop at their feet, it was hardly bigger than a toy. One of their women raised their foot and crushed the car beneath it like a tin can.
From all over the city came the growing sounds of screams and explosions.
"This is not happening," you gasped. Running for the TV, you watch as the local news anchor uses his final breath to warn men to escape the population centers. Moments later, the co-anchor finishes choking the life out of him with the microphone chord wrapped around his neck.
"Rise up, sisters! F-Day is upon us. Take back what is ours!" she cackled madly.
You didn't wait, you just ran. Out of the house, out of the street, out of the city, while lasers flew through the air around you and the world went mad. Women as huge as houses stomped through the streets, while men the size of children or pets or dolls or less ran from the houses, chased relentless by their wives, girlfriends, sisters, and mothers. You're sorry to admit that more than once you felt something squish and snap beneath your bare feet as you ran full-out, but never once dared to stop to find out what exactly you'd crushed. Looking back, you're grateful that you didn't.
It was the vivid pink of the dress that got you almost to the edge of the city. The shooters, from their lofty positions, either mistook you for one of their own or hesitated long enough to allow you to escape.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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