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 _Liz: Hell Hath No Fury_(Part II)by the Poison Pencopyright 1997            And now the playing's stopped in the playground now            She wants to play with her toys a while            And school's out early, and soon we'll be learning            And the lesson today is how to die.

                                                                                    Bob Geldof, "I Don't Like Mondays"Liz laid sleeplessly in her bed. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, though shesaw only the images that flashed through her mind. Alone in the dark, thegoblins that infested her thoughts ran amok, gibbering and laughing.

The knowledge that she was losing her mind did not seem to matter as much as Lizhad hoped it would. In the silence, Liz could hear the wash of blood in her earsand the gurgle of her digestion. She imagined the colourless pulp made from theshattered bodies of hundreds of people oozing snail-like through her intestines;imagined the skeletal remains of what had once been her best friend and theobject of her desire being slowly kneeded through the twists and turns of herdigestive tract.

Liz's mind tried to retreat from the horror of her actions and found the wayblocked. Each time her racing thoughts bounded down a dark alley of her mind toescape the blazing light of reality, they encountered a chanting mob ofteenagers.

"Liz the lez! Liz the lez!" they jeered, their faces twisted out of true intoblack mockeries of amusement. Liz groaned and pressed the heels of her handsagainst her eyes, creating bright blue and red splotches of colour thattemporarily erased the images from her mind. The brief respite allowed her toorder her increasingly erratic thoughts.

The evening news had been full of special reports about the vanished researchinstitute. According to the reports, one thousand eight-hundred and fifty-threepeople had vanished into thin air along with the building, including some of thebrightest lights in several fields of science. Liz, of course, knew what thereporters, standing wide-eyed in the muddy field that had once been covered bythe office tower, did not: that what remained of the tower lay in a small pileof rubble in her basement. And that the whereabouts of most of the people,including Liz's own parents, could be expressed in terms of Liz's anatomy. Somewere snaking their way through her alimentary canal as a nutrient-filled mush;some were dead and staring sightlessly in the wet blackness of her womb, drownedin her excretions or crushed by the action of muscles spasming with lust; andunknown others lay smashed in the powdered remains of the institute, down in thebasement.

Almost unnoticed in the panic and excitement was the brief disappearance of aconvenience store. According to witnesses, it had simply disappeared in a brightflash of light. Less than an hour later it had materialized in the same spot.

Several people unfortunate enough to have been standing in the area where itreappeared had been spattered in a gory spray of blood and bone across half astreet, as if they had been run over by a train. People were already linkingthis bizarre occurance to the disappearance of the insititute, some reportersspeculating that some experiment must have gone awry. Mention was made of theinfamous Philadelphia Experiment.

Strangely, Liz found herself amused by the unexpected return of the conveniencestore she had briefly stolen. She imagined the authorities finding the roof tornoff and all the people missing, and wondered what they would make of it.

Sitting in the living room listening to the reports as they came in, Liz hadfelt immensely powerful, knowing that no one would ever discover what hadhappened except her. She had rubbed herself nearly raw gratifying the constantlow-grade sexual charge this caused. There was no doubt or remorse in her whilethat arousal lasted. It was only now, laying in bed and continously aware of herparents' empty bedroom nearby, that she was wracked by the conflict between thetatters of her conscience and her need for vengance -- and power.

"Mmmm, like the taste of sushi, Liz?"Liz jerked upright in bed, her heart hammering, the taunting voice still ringingin her ears. One of her classmates had said it to her three days ago whilegrabbing her own crotch in a lewd pantomime and licking her lips. For a secondthe voice had seemed right in the room, but Liz realized that she had dozed offand conjured the voice herself.

Shame flushed Liz's cheeks and she hid her face in her hands until she felt thecrimson glow fade. Samantha. Rich, popular Samantha. Sexy Samantha whose long,elegant legs, bared by an expensive skirt, Liz had often stared at over a bookin class. That's who had said it, Liz remembered. The people nearby had laughed,even the ones Liz didn't know. The laughter was like a physical blow but Liz hadlet her face go blank, turning on her heel and walking away with the laughterstill coming in waves at her back. She was careful not to let them see the tearsthat slid down her cheeks.

"Bastards," whispered Liz into the darkness. "Bastards. Bastards, bastards,bastards!"The remembered feeling of helplessness at the time was almost palpable. Itseemed all the more so in juxtaposition to the power and control Liz now knewand craved. No one, not one person had spoken up in Liz's defence. Not astudent, not a teacher, not so much as a janitor had thought to offer Liz a kindword. Fury burned like an inferno in Liz's chest.

Well, she'd make them sorry. All of them. Let them feel weak and helpless beforeher, unable to defend themselves. Let them cry and scream their fear andhelplessness. She'd laugh at them the way they had laughed at her, only herswould be the best laugh of all.

Liz dressed and rose from her bed, her face set and purpose in every movement.

In the kitchen closet she got her father's cordless shop vacuum and went to thebasement.

With a push of her thumb, the small handful of rubble which still lay on thereceiver bed of the Machine was sucked up into the vacuum. The very fewminiscule people who had lain moaning and dying through the night in the rubblewere silenced at last as they were vacuumed up through the howling air.

While the computer went through its warm-up routine, Liz pulled out a phone bookand scanned down with her finger, stopping at a name. Then she pulled out thecriss-cross directory and cross-referenced until she had a specific location ona specific street. With unhurried patience, Liz began running through thechecklist beside the computer. It was almost morning, but she knew she still hadplenty of time. Her preparations would be complete long before it was time to goto school.

 * * *The first students to arrive at school were treated to the odd sight of Lizcounting off paces as she walked alongside the school.

"Whatcha doing, Lizbo?"Liz stopped and made a jot in her spiral notebook, then looked up distractedly.

She added the name Craig Sherwood to her growing mental list and began herpacing again. "The school's four hundred and seventy feet at its longestdimension," Liz called over her shoulder. "Right now, anyway."Craig looked puzzled for a moment, frowned, then turned to his friends andtapped his temple meaningfully. His friends snickered and they all entered theschool together, leaving Liz to her eccentricity.

In the hallway, on the way to her homeroom, Liz felt many pairs of eyes lookingat her. Those of the girls held mostly disgust, while those of the boys heldmostly leering lust as some peurile lesbian fantasy played in their heads. A fewmade comments and Liz ignored them beyond making note of their names. Someseemed genuinely surprised at Liz's apparent calm.

The homeroom was all abuzz with news of Ashley's disappearance, and thestrangeness of it. Rumours had everyone from UFOs to secret government agenciesresponsible for it. Unsurprisingly, no one suggested that someone might haveeaten her in a fit of sadistic lust, which was actually the case.

I guess they haven't heard the very latest news, thought Liz. Well, they'd soonknow, one way or another. The thought made her feel smug and superior, and shewatched the activities of her classmates with detachment. With her fingers shelightly stroked the crinkly brown paper of her bag lunch. Soon there would bedebts to be paid. Very soon. Liz felt untouchable, already distant from thepeople around her, as if they were less than human, almost beneath notice.

A small knot of people had formed around one desk. This was not unusual, for theperson at the centre of the cluster was Samantha of the long legs and red hair,whose every word was a pearl of wisdom to be savoured by her sycophanticworshippers. What was unusual was Liz rising from her desk and approaching theband of courtiers. They fell silent as Liz approached, detecting with teenagesensitivity her state of pariahdom, parting for her.

"Hey Lizzy," said Samantha with a sneer. "Eat anyone lately? Shut your mouth, Ican smell your last victim."A few people tittered, mostly girls. Liz was thrown into panic and confusion fora second that turned her cheeks pink until she realized in what sense Samanthameant. Samantha laughed at the discomfort she had caused and turned away. Theaudience with the princess was over.

Liz, infuriated, clenched her fists. She had come to taunt the bitch and hadbeen humiliated again instead. Liz slunk back to her desk, muttering under herbreath. "Yes I have, you numb cunt. Oh, yes I have..."The bell rang and the students left for their first class, English. The teacher,Mrs. Matheson, was away and the replacement managed to cover only a single cantoof the Orlando Furioso, the book the class was reading. To Liz's acuteembarassment the whole canto was only thinly veiled, being about lesbianism, andeveryone kept giggling and turning to look at her, much to the puzzlement of theteacher, a stodgy bald man who looked like the nearest he came to sex was racyquatrains by Shakespeare.

After class, the students filed out into the corridor for their next one,pushing and shoving good-naturedly in the crowds. Several times Liz felt a handgrope at her breasts or buttocks, but the crush of the students around her kepther from finding the culprits. The rage mounted in her.

"Liz! Hey Liz!"Liz nearly ignored the voice and the beckoning arm, but she caught a glance atthe face of the girl hailing her, a dark-skinned senior with tight, kinky hair,whom Liz did not recognize. The girl's expression was grim and tight-lipped.

Curiosity piqued, Liz entered the classroom the girl had entered at Liz'sapproach.

The classroom was empty save for the girl, who sat herself on the top of one ofthe desks. "Close the door," she said.

"I'm going to be late for class," said Liz. hugging her books and her lunchbagto her.

The girl got up walked over to the door, sticking her head out. Most of thestudents had vacated the hallway. She closed the door. "We got to talk, Liz.

It's real important. Have a seat."Liz eyed the girl suspiciously but sat down at one of the empty desks. It wasn'tas if being late today was going to matter in a little while.

"My name's Lonnie," said the girl, pulling at a kink of hair in what Lizsupposed, correctly, was a nervous habit. "First let me say, you ever tellanyone we had this chat and I'll call you a liar. No one'll believe you. You getme?"Liz nodded and narrowed her eyes.

"Good." Lonnie seemed to relax a little. "That was some stupid stunt you done,letting that blonde piece of shit get hold of your diary. I suppose you ain'ttoo sad she's gone missing."Liz said nothing.

Lonnie looked like she was searching for the right words and, not finding any,grimaced. "Look, you think you're the only rugmuncher in this school? We all gotour kinks. Some of us are smarter than to write them down where idiots can seethem, that's all. You catch what I'm saying here?"Liz blinked a few times in surprise. It took a few seconds to register whatLonnie was saying. "You...?""Yeah, me, and a bunch of other folks too," said Lonnie. "You know what youdone? It was tough enough around here without this 'Liz the lez' shit goingaround. This school isn't exactly progressive. We keep to ourselves and we keepour heads down. Some of us even date outside of school."All of this came as a revelation to Liz, who knew intellectually that there hadto be people like her out there, but never credited the idea in her heart, whereit mattered. "I didn't know. I...""You didn't think either. Shit," said Lonnie disgustedly. "Okay, catch this. Idon't go in for all that pink triangle bullshit and I ain't gonna hold yourhand, but I know how tough it is. You feel like you're going to pop your cork,you give me the signal and we'll go somewhere and talk. Maybe when all this diesdown I'll introduce you around. As it stands, you got some pretty pissed-offdykes ready to smack your silly head for stirring up the shit."Liz's face turned grim, her eyes slitted with anger. "I don't think you're goingto have to worry about how you get treated around here any more. Listen to whatI say very carefully. You go to everyone you trust, and you tell them to go homeat lunch and don't come back for anything."Lonnie frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?""If you value your life, go home at lunch," said Liz. Her voice was icy. "Don'tcome back this afternoon. You've got fair warning. You let them treat me like Iwas diseased, but I figure I owe you at least this much. Go home at lunch. Gotit?"Lonnie looked like she wanted to say something, but Liz stood up, grabbed herbooks and her lunch, and left the classroom. There was something Lonnie foundchilling in Liz's eyes, and she shivered. Maybe she was feeling a little sick,she thought. Maybe she'd best go home this afternoon after all...

The morning passed quickly for Liz. When the lunch bell finally rang, she feltno nevousness. She had been planning this all day.

The lunchroom cafeteria was packed with students, as usual. Easily the size of agymnasium, hundreds of teens sat cheek-by-jowl with each other, talking andlaughing and eating. A few heads turned when Liz entered, but not many. Shescanned the room, then fixed her gaze on one table, threading her way throughthe crowd with a shoulder.

"Well, look who it is," said Samantha as Liz sat down at the same table withher. Heads swivelled around to look. "It's Liz the lez. Come to seduce me?"Liz ignored the comment and pulled a small Tupperware bowl from her paper lunchbag along with a sandwich and an apple. Seeing that Liz was not going to react,Samantha turned haughtily away. He followers lost interest in Liz soon after.

When no one was looking, Liz filched a packet of ketchup from her neighbour, agirl she vaguely recognized from the cheerleading squad. Carolyn or something.

After opening the packet with her teeth, Liz proceded to squeeze it onto thetabletop, making a small red pool. Then with a steely glance around the table,she pulled the top from her plastic bowl and dumped the contents out in front ofher.

     It's an earthquake.

     That was the first thought that ran through her head as Millicent     Matheson was shaken violently awake. The small two-storey house     shuddered again, the wood frame groaning audibly under the strain.

     Cracks appeared in the plaster of the walls and ceiling.

     "The twins!" cried Millie as she threw herself out of bed. Roger,     a heavy sleeper, was still blinking dazedly on his side of the bed,     trying to clear his head. Millie could hear Cory and Emily in the     room they shared, calling "momeeee" in the panicky voice they used     for middle-of-the-night bad dreams.

     The house gave a sudden lurch, throwing Millie from her feet as the     entire roof tore away from the rest of the structure in a rain of     plaster and wood splinters.

     Oh God, it's a tornado, thought Millie, sprawled out on the floor     with her arms over her head. The twins, I've got to get to the     twins, the thoughts chasing each other like a mantra through her     head. Then she realized that the shaking had stopped. Light from     overhead, blinding and shadowless, filled the room.

     "What the hell?" said Roger. Millie turned and watched him swing     his legs out of bed and shade his eyes against the light, staring     up at what should have been the sky. The colour drained from his     face. "Holy fuck," he whispered.

     Millie looked up and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She     barely had time to acknowledge that an impossibly huge head was     peering down at her before a hand more than twice as wide as Millie     was tall descended into the room and lifted her from the floor.

     The next few seconds were a confusion of motion, nothing clear     except the voices of the twins screaming with fright. When the     world settled down again into some semblance of order, Millie was     half-lying in a jumble with the twins and her husband in what     could only be a giant cupped palm. The heat radiating up from     the gigantic hand made Millie break a sweat. She and her family     held each other as Roger tried to quiet the twins.

     There was a sense of movement. Millie looked up over the tree-     like fingers that arced overhead and saw the giant was heading up     a flight of stairs. This can't be real, she thought. It must be     a dream. It has to be. Then Millie realized with something like     shock that she recognized the face of her giant captor. It looked     for all the world like Elizabeth, one of the girls from the English     class Millie taught.

     The journey came to an end, and Millie found herself falling     through space, landing against a hard, cold surface with enough     impact to knock the wind from her. Roger landed beside her with     a thud and the twins on top of him.

     Millie didn't think of much of anything until she managed to start     breathing again. Slowly she climbed to her feet and found herself     in a round, glass-walled, glass-floored room about thirty feet     across. There were no doors, and the top of the smooth walls     stretched storeys overhead. The room sat in the middle of a great     red-and-white checked plain. Nothing looked right. All the     perspectives seemed to be off.

     And then Millie realized her mistake. Elizabeth, whom she could     see bustling around in a housecoat in the distance, was no giant;     it was Millie, herself, and her family who had shrunk. Everything     seemed to snap into focus with this awareness, and Millie realized     that she was imprisoned in the bottom of an empty glass pitcher     sitting in the middle of a table which sat, itself, in the middle     of a well appointed kitchen. Millie was no more than two inches     tall.

     "Millie," moaned Roger. "What are we going to do?" He had the     twins hugged to his chest. Unlike Millie who had a nightgown     and the twins who wore pyjamas, Roger wore only his briefs and     looked cold.

     Millie never had a chance to answer, because Liz had finished     whatever she was doing and had returned to the pitcher, glaring     at the miniature family through the side. There was no mistaking     the rage in her face, and Millie shivered.

     "You just let them do it, didn't you," said the gigantic school     girl. Her eyes bored into Millie. "You didn't give a damn. Did     you think it was funny? Did you think I was so perverted I     deserved what I got?"     "I don't know what you mean!" shouted Millie. She had a vague     recollection of something about a diary. She hadn't paid much     attention to the gossip of her students, and she wracked her brain     trying to remember.

     "You knew!" raged Liz, her face reddening, her fists clenched.

     Millie felt panic rising in her chest. She could not afford to     make this girl angry, with her family at the girl's mercy.

     "I'm sorry! Oh God, I'm sorry!" said Millie, willing to say or     do anything to keep that dangerous flash from Liz's eyes.

     Liz's eyes narrowed to slits. "Yes, you will be sorry, Mrs.

     Matheson. You will. Oh, not right now, don't worry. I have a     use for you. Him, on the other hand, I don't need."     Roger's eyes widened and he backed away from the furious girl's     eyes, which had turned to leer at him. One of Liz's great hands     reached into the pitcher and Roger turned to claw uselessly at     the glass wall that restrained him. Millie screamed and pulled     helplessly at one of the impossibly huge fingers as Liz scooped     the teacher's husband out.

     Liz carried tiny Roger over to the counter where a large plastic     bowl sat. With her free hand, Liz lifted the bowl and poured a     thick, white batter into the waffle iron that sat beside it.

     Oh no, she wouldn't, thought Millie, her hand over her mouth to     stifle herself from screaming hysterically and terrifying the     twins any more than they already were.

     She would.

     Millie saw her husband's little two inch body fall from Liz's     fingers, his arms pinwheeling until he landed in the batter that     filled the waffle iron.

     "Don't look!" yelled Millie, pulling the twins to her and holding     their faces against her. "God, no. Oh God. Roger!"     Roger managed to climb to his knees, covered completely in thick,     cloying batter. Liz turned to her teacher and smiled, then slammed     the lid shut on the waffle iron.

     Millie moaned a long, protracted groan that was almost a sigh,     and screwed her eyes shut. Still clutching the twins to her,     she tried to turn off her senses, to lose herself in darkness,     but she could not block it out. The sight of her husband vanishing     under the steel lid played like a movie behind Millie's eyelids.

     And soon she smelled a hint of something like roasted pork. She     was horrified to feel her mouth water instinctively at the     appealing aroma.

     Some time later, Millie opened her eyes. A few tears trickled     down her cheeks. The twins looked forlorn, unsure how to react.

     Liz was seated at the table, a plate with waffles in front of     her. Millie could see a dark patch in the middle of one waffle     and knew instantly what it was. Liz added butter and maple     syrup, and soon was tucking into her meal with fork and knife.

     "Cannibal," breathed Millie. "Cannibal! Cannibal!" she screamed     at the top of her lungs. The twins backed away from her.

     Liz smiled and sawed through the dark spot, lifting a chunk of it     into her mouth and chewing. "Mmm, mmm," she said, licking her lips.

     "Can't be cannibalism," said Liz thoughtfully as she chewed another     piece, obviously enjoying herself. "You have to eat human beings to     be a cannibal. I'm just eating bugs." Liz flashed her teacher a     taunting grin.

     And Millie knew that Liz was mad. What little hope she had     turned sour. She knew Liz was beyond reason, beyond any kind of     restraint. Whatever had happened to the girl who was once her     student, it had completely unhinged her mind. Deep inside her,     Millie felt her doom with icy certainty. There would be no     reprieve.

     Liz finished the last waffle and patted her lips delicately with     a paper napkin before clearing away the plate, exchanging it for     a bowl, a carton of milk, and box of corn flakes. She filled her     bowl, poured the milk, dipped her spoon -- and paused. A corner     of her lip twitched upward, and her eyes slid over to Millie. A     white-hot poker of terror twisted in Millie's gut.

     "You know, I'm just thinking," said Liz conversationally, "I really     don't need the rugrats either."     Millie's breath caught in her throat. "No," she said loudly,     shaking her head and hugging the twins to her as tightly as she     could. "No, please, I'll do anything you want. Do whatever you     want to me. Not my babies."     "It would be really horrible if something happened to them,     wouldn't it," said Liz, viciously. "The most terrible thing you     can imagine. The pain would just go on and on. And no one would     even know or care. I know all about that kind of pain."     Millie saw the hand reaching and pushed the twins to the floor,     covering them with her body. "Nooo! God damn you! They're only     six years old!"     Massive fingers easily powered Millie aside. The twins, little     more than an inch tall, were easily held between Liz's fingers     and lifted from the pitcher. Millie howled and beat at the side     of the pitcher with her fists.

     "Needs a little something, I think," said Liz, and dropped the     two children into the middle of her cereal bowl with a pair of     tiny splashes.

     The milk was icy cold and reached well over the twins' heads.

     They coughed and sputtered, flailing their arms and legs and     sending soggy flakes flying. Liz stirred the cereal with her     spoon, then used it to push Emily to the bottom of the bowl and     hold her there. "Mommy! Help me!" came the little scream from     Cory as he splashed desperately in the milk, his sodden pyjamas     pulling him down. Millie's hands and face were pressed as hard     as she could into the glass wall of the pitcher, and her eyes were     pits of bleakness.

     Liz lifted the spoon and Emily bobbed to the surface, coughing     milk and screaming. The spoon came down again and this time it     was Cory who disappeared below the surface. It was thirty seconds     before Liz lifted her spoon again. Cory popped to the surface, but     he was face down. He wasn't moving.

     "Whoops," said Liz. She spooned up Cory's immobile little form     along with a pool of milk and a large wad of corn flakes. With     a glance over at Millie, Liz shoved the spoon in her mouth. It     came out clean. Liz began chewing, and the crunching sounds were     plainly audible to Millie, lost in a living hell of horror.

     Swallowing, Liz put down her spoon, lifted the entire bowl to her     parted lips and began drinking. Millie could not see Emily, but     she could hear her shrieking. "Mommmeeeeeee!"     Liz's face filled Emily's whole field of vision. Emily struggled     and clawed at the floating flakes that surrounded her as she slipped     closer to the yawning cave of Liz's mouth. Emily wanted to scream,     but every time she opened her mouth cold milk poured in. Then     suddenly Emily was caught in a current so fast she hadn't even     time to try and hold on and she was in hot, humid darkness, and the     flow of milk and cereal pushed her back over Liz's tongue, and Emily     screamed and then she was sliding over the edge and falling and Liz's     throat worked and Emily was screaming and her little feet scrabbled     for purchase and failed and Emily went tumbling down, down into the     fleshy, ululating pit gaping beneath her, and...

     And Liz put down the empty cereal bowl. "I can feel her, you know,"     said Liz. "Paddling around in my tummy. Think she'll drown first     or smother?"     Millie face was blank. She felt distant from herself and from     the horror she had witnessed. Somewhere in her mind she vaguely     registered the fact that she was in shock and nodded to herself.

     There would come a time for screaming but that would be later,     much later. Now there was blessed calmness. Millie curled up     on the floor of her glass prison and stared distractedly at     nothing at all. She didn't react even when Liz reached in and     grabbed her.

     "I used to have a crush on you," said Liz, poking at the tiny     woman curled in the middle of her palm with a finger. "You never     knew. No one ever knew. Not until..."     Millie watched Liz blink repeatedly in rapid succession. The mild     surprise Millie felt at seeing a single, fat tear roll down Liz's     cheek penetrated even the fog of her shock. "I didn't mean to,"     said Liz in a whisper. "I'm out of control and I don't know how     to stop and no one can stop me."     Even as she was speaking, Liz's fingers seemed to move with a life     of their own. They effortlessly tore the flimsy nightgown from     Millie.

     "Please help me," said Liz, hoarsely. "Please."     And then Liz pulled open her housecoat, and Millie was pressed     into the soft flesh of Liz's breast, having the breath squeezed     from her each time she slid over Liz's erect nipple. Liz thrust     her chest out, massaging her breast with her fingers while her     palm pushed the little woman against her. Millie's mind remained     mercifully numb through the whole ordeal, and finally there was     a short, sharp gasp from her captor.

     "Mmm, that was nice," said Liz, languidly, as she lifted the     teacher from her breast at last. She spent a few seconds toying     with Millie's own minute breasts with a finger, then sighed. "I     better get ready for school," said Liz. It's going to be a...

     big day, today."     Fetching a round Tupperware container from a cabinet, Liz dropped     an unmoving Millie inside and closed the lid. Millie could not     see through the translucent plastic but after her eyes had adjusted,     she found there was enough light to see. Not that there was     anything to look at; the container was sealed, and Millie was     naked. After a while, the container was jerked violently. There     was a brief instant of freefall, and then painful impact. The     light vanished.

     Over the course of the next few hours, Millie slowly emerged from     her daze as her new prison bounced her violently around. There     would be periods of calm during which Millie could dimly make out     voices like the distant mutter of cannons and knew that she was     at school. Then the class bell would ring and the world would     begin bouncing this way and that again, as Millie tried vainly     to brace herself on the slick plastic. The air became noticably     staler.

     Once, between classes, a corner of the lid was thumbed open and a     shaft of light burst in, blinding Millie. It stayed open just long     enough to replenish the air, and then everything went dark again.

     Finally, Millie heard the lunch bell ring, followed by the     thunderous clatter of hundreds of people moving. The usual bouncing     followed and then a short period of calm while the sound of dozens     of conversations both near and far filled Millie's ears.

     Suddenly the container was moved again and the lid was unexpectedly     torn off. The container tipped, spilling Millie out onto a hard     surface, covering her stinging eyes with her hands against the     bright light.

No one seemed to notice at first. The tiny two-inch woman laid still for a fewseconds, her little hands rubbing at her eyes. Then Millie sat up and lookedaround with astonishment written on her face. She was in the school lunchroom,on the cold, plastic surface of one of the tables. All around her, as far as shecould see, were titanic forms, like what she imagined a conclave of the gods ofOlympus must resemble. And yet, these beings that awed her to stunned silencewere no more than the students she had taught for year after year. The trueminuteness of her scale began to register to Millie.

Carolyn, seated immediately opposite Liz at the table, was the first one tonotice the little pink creature on the table. At first she thought it was amouse or a gerbil but as she leaned closer to look her jaw dropped open, and hersandwich fell from numb fingers. "Ohmigawd," she blurted, causing several peopleto note the alarm in her voice and turn to look.

Liz heard several sharp intakes of breath and smiled. Like a ripple movingoutward from a thrown stone, more heads at the table were turning to see whatthe commotion was about. One by one the conversations faded away until the tablewas an island of stunned silence in a sea of babble.

The tiny teacher leaped to her feet. "Help me!" she squeaked in a mouse-likevoice. "Someone help meeee!""Mrs. M-Matheson?" said Carolyn in a shaky voice.

Millie took a step in Carolyn's direction, and then felt something huge hit herin the back, slamming her to the tabletop. Several people gasped as Liz used afinger to smash the tiny woman down.

"Somebody! Please save me!" Only those sitting closest to Liz could hear thelittle woman pleading, but everyone saw her spread her arms wide insupplication. Millie staggered to her feet again, only to collapse once more assomething cracked her a stunning blow in the side of the head. Liz had flicked afinger at her, sending her sprawling.

"Holy shit." Samantha's voice was loud and clear, but other than saying this shedid nothing but stare, goggle-eyed. Everyone else seemed to follow her lead,staring and gawking, but frozen in place.

Millie had started crawling across the table, her head spinning from the viciousimpact of Liz's finger. Liz pinched the teacher's tiny foot between thumb andforefinger and dragged her back. Millie opened her mouth to scream again, andsuddenly Liz shoved with her thumb against the back of Millie's head, pushingher face first into the pool of ketchup. Millie's arms and legs thrashedhelplessly.

When Liz finally allowed Millie to lift her head, she had time only to snatch aquick breath before having her face shoved back into the condiment which nowcovered most of her. The vinegar from the ketchup stung Millie's eyes terriblyand filled her mouth and nose and ears. Just when it seemed she must surelysmother, Millie felt fingers grasp her firmly by the hips and lift her up.

Liz turned Millie back and forth in her fingers, seeming to examine herminutely. "She's crazy!" shouted Millie as loud as she could. "Someone stop her!Oh please, why won't someone help me!"With a wide grin, Liz held the tiny struggling form up for everyone to see.

Then, very carefully, Liz placed Millie head-first onto her tongue and drew itin so only the wildly kicking legs could be seen. With a wet slurp, the legsvanished.

A number of people jerked spastically, as if they had been shocked by anelectrical charge. Liz opened her mouth for a split second, allowing Millie'sgut-wrenching screams of terror to come floating out, then slammed her lips shutagain. For a while, Liz simply enjoyed the feel of the hot, slippery little bodythrashing around in her mouth. Then, when she was certain that everyone at thetable was watching her, horrified, Liz swallowed with an audible gulp.

For exactly one second there was absolute silence in the lunchroom, as if thepeople at the other tables sensed something was amiss. Then Carolyn gave anear-piercing scream and the room went crazy.

In the ensuing pandemonium Liz made her escape. Chairs were overturned andpeople seemed to be screaming everywhere, most of them unsure why they werescreaming, but caught up in the near-riot of panic. Some who had seen whathappened were sobbing openly and others just sat very still as if they did notbelieve what their eyes and ears had told them. At the doors, Liz turned aroundonce and glanced back. Her eyes caught Samantha's from across the room and Lizwas gratified to see terror in them.

Millie screamed in the hot, wet darkness of Liz's stomach, clawing futilely atthe walls of damp flesh that stretched upward around her. Her lower legs andfeet, immersed in liquid, stung with the first hint of the acidic agony that wasto come. Eventually, after screaming herself hoarse, the putrid atmosphere thatstank of rot and decay overcame Millie, sparing her greater suffering. MillicentMatheson toppled into liquid beneath her, and sank into the welcome embrace ofthe oblivion that had claimed her husband and children.

It was fifteen minutes before one o'clock by the time Liz arrived home. Therewas no mail and no messages had been left on the answering machine, so Liz knewno one had had time to contact all the families of people who had vanished withthe tower yet. She wasn't surprised. There were any awful lot of people, andtheir records had vanished with the building.

Ten minutes of preparation and Liz was ready. She had left the computer on, soit was warmed up and ready to go. Mrs. Matheson's miniaturized house, its roofshattered, still sat on the receiver bed. Easier just to send it back, thoughtLiz. Wouldn't give any clues as to what happened anyway.

Very carefully, Liz selected a rectangular box on the city map displayed on thescreen that took in the location of her school. When the computer asked her fora ratio, Liz entered eighty to one. After carefully pacing off the measurementsof the school, she knew that at that scale, the whole school would fit easily onthe six foot receiver bed. After a few minutes, the computer chirped and threwup a window:                              analysis complete                              ratio 80:1                              proceed? (y/n)Liz checked her watch. It was two minutes past one o'clock. Perfect. With hersoul exulting in music that would not have been out of place in the heart of aMongol warrior, Liz pressed the 'y' button, twice, barely registering the "clearreceiver? (y/n)" that flashed briefly on the screen. With a burst of light, theruined house disappeared and was immediately replaced by a large, low structurein a rough L-shape.

     Samantha sat in the changeroom with the other girls, relieved     that Liz was not there. The last thing she wanted was that     pervert staring at her naked body as she changed. After that     trick Liz pulled at lunch -- almost everyone had by now     admitted that it must have been some kind of sick stunt --     Samantha's patience had run out. If the little lesbo wouldn't     do the decent thing and switch schools, she would make life so     miserable Liz would be forced to leave.

     Just as Samantha was pulling her shirt over her head the     lights went out, leaving the room only dimly illuminated by     the red emergency lights that ran on their own batteries.

     For some reason, Samantha found herself unaccountably     nervous, and kept remembering the look in Liz's eyes as she     left the cafeteria.

     That was the last coherent thought she had as the ceiling     collapsed.

Liz examined the school critically, walking around the receiver bed to orientherself. She quickly identified the spot where she knew the gymnasium waslocated. It had a motorized wall that could be moved to separate it into twohalves, one each for the girls and boys. If that was the gym, she thought, thenthe girl's change room had to be right about... there.

Liz's fingers punched through the roof as if it was made of paper. She flung thechunk of concrete, steel beams, plaster, and fluorescent lighting away. Insidethe hole she had made, Liz spotted two dozen tiny girl-shaped forms running orcrawling or staring upward. None of them were quite a full inch tall.

Most screamed at the sight of Liz and made for the door to the gym, but Lizscrabbled about with her fingers, grabbing at them. By threes and fours shesnatched them, gathering them in her other hand where they clutched each otherand cried, terrified of staying, but more terrified still of leaping from thehand and falling what seemed to them to be hundreds of storeys to the ground. Afew managed to escape, but not many. Liz wasn't concerned. They had no place torun.

Leaving the rest of the school for the moment, Liz took her tiny prisonersupstairs to the kitchen, where she dumped them onto the table. One girl dressedin shorts and a t-shirt, whom Liz recognized from the track team though shedidn't know her name, started running the second she landed, and Liz snatchedher up with her fingers.

"Watch carefully," said Liz. "I'm going to show you what happens to people whodon't do what I tell them."Tiny though the girl was, Liz could hear her little chirp of terror as Liz'sfingers began to compress. The girl's fists beat at the tips of the fingers thatwere cruelly crushing the breath from her. Slowly, very slowly, Liz brought herfingers together, holding the girl up so every one of her captives could see. Asribs started to snap, blood started leaking from the girl's mouth and nose.

Finally, she threw her head back and let loose a soul-wrenching howl thatculminated with a geyser of blood that exploded from her mouth. Liz pressed herfingers completely together, and there were small snapping sounds. The girlsagged brokenly, coils of glistening intestine spilling from her ruptured flesh.

With a flick of her finger, Liz sent the crumpled body flying to the tabletopwhere it landed with a wet smack.

Some of the girls were screaming hysterically, some were sobbing. It was toomuch for one, who made a break for the edge of the table farthest from Liz.

Liz's fist came hurtling down on top of her. The impact threw all the othergirls from their feet. The runner simply exploded, throwing jets of blood in alldirections. What was left of her did not resemble anything human.

"Anyone else?" asked Liz with a nasty grin. No one moved. "Didn't think so." Theterror of the tiny girls in front of her was almost a physical force, coming offthem in a cloud. The sight of all those fear-creased faces, their eyes staring,their cheeks pale and streaked with tears, was maddeningly arousing to Liz. Mostwere familiar to Liz. Many had joined in her persecution. All were at her mercy,and Liz had none.

"I watched you all in the showers," said Liz. "For years. Gorgeous young bodies,soft and supple, begging to be touched and kissed. None of you knew. You stoodthere with your luscious tits hanging out and your nipples ripe and rosy and Icouldn't do a fucking thing. Carolyn's got such amazing tits. Hey Carolyn, showus your tits."Liz reached out a finger to sort through the girls in front of her, and theyparted like magic. A girl near the back tried to hide herself in the crowd, butno one would let her get near. Carolyn fell to her knees with her face to theground and her arms over her head, her whole body shaking with the force of hersobs. Liz's forefinger easily flipped her over, and when Carolyn tried to crawlaway, the finger pinned her to the table.

"Come on," said Liz. "We all want to see those luscious tits of yours. All thosesoft blouses you wear that show off your nipples. We want to see them. You knowwhat happens to to people who don't do what I say. Take off your fucking shirt."Released by the finger, Carolyn lurched to her feet and, sobbing hysterically,pulled her sweatshirt off.

"Bra too," said Liz, eyes fixed on the little captive.

Carolyn pulled at the athletic bra with shaking hands, managing to get it off,then stood with her hands by her side, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

"Mmm, nice," said Liz. With a fingertip she knocked Carolyn to the floor, thenran the very tip of her finger back and forth over the tiny breasts. "I thinkI'll keep you. You always said you were too cool for me. Guess now it'll betrue."Liz snatched Carolyn up, leaned back, and opened the freezer door on therefrigerator. Carolyn squeaked once, and then Liz flung her in a short parabolainto the depths of the freezer. The door swung shut.

"There. I'll be able to take her out and look at her whenever I like. AndCarolyn will be the coolest kid in school. Now," said Liz, a leer on her face.

"The rest of you. I want to see naked bodies in about five seconds. The last oneout of her clothes gets to be an example."Most of the girls shucked their clothes as quickly as they could and stoodcovering themselves with their hands. A half-dozen were curled up on the groundand would not move. Only one stood defiantly with her hands on her hips, glaringup at Liz. Samantha.

The six who did not move, Liz swept up with her fingers. At her touch, all buttwo shrieked and tried to run, to no avail. Liz lowered her lips to her hand andshoved all six into her mouth. Wails and screams came from the doomed girls.

With her mouth open so those on the table could witness the carnage, Liz beganchewing. Slowly. An arm crushed. A leg. Someone's hip ground between her molars.

A hand severed by scissoring canines. All accompanied by wet snapping noises.

The shrieking was horrible and it went on and on as Liz carefully and painfullyground the six girls to pulp. A dark red drool dripped from Liz's lower lip anddown her chin. There were still moans and sobs coming from within when Lizclosed her mouth and swallowed.

After picking her teeth with a fingernail, Liz extracted a bloodied and tornpair of panties, which she dropped in front of Samantha.

"I was hungry," said Liz. "I didn't have much of a lunch." She laughed at herown joke.

"Go to hell!" screamed Samantha, at the top of her lungs. Liz could barely makeout what she was saying. "You're going to kill us all anyway. I'm not going toput on a show for you, you... sick pervert!"Liz stared at the miniature Samantha, whose terror was subsumed by an evengreater fury. It was too bad Samantha was such a bitch, thought Liz. She couldalmost admire courage like that. Liz broke out in a wide grin as she realizedthat all of Samantha's protests were worth exactly nothing. Still grinning, Lizgrabbed the girl by one leg and began stripping her by pinching the clothesbetween her fingernails. It was tricky work, and Samantha made it as hard as shecould be struggling and squirming.

"Fuck off! You fucking lesbo pervert! Let go of me this second!" screamedSamantha, keeping up a constant flow of abuse.

When Samantha was completely naked, Liz lifted the tiny pink body to her lipsand ran the tip of her tongue over it, from end to end. With her fingers, sheground Samantha's groin over the very tip of her tongue, unable to feel much butbeginning to breathe heavily with the mere knowledge of who she was molesting.

A thought occured to Liz. She lowered Samantha to the table, laying her on herback and pinning her there with her arms over her head with the tip of onefinger.

"Okay, you," said Liz, pointing to one of the other girls. "Get over here."Trembling, the girl obeyed.

"Alright," said Liz, with a wide, sadistic smile on her face. "Get betweenSamantha's legs and start licking."The girl hesitated for only a second, then looked up at the gargantuan formlooming overhead and shuddered. She went down on all fours in between Samantha'slegs.

"No!" screamed Samantha. "Oh fuck! Kelly, you touch me and I swear I'll fuckingkill youuuuuu-- ooh!"Samantha's hips bucked as the girl's lips touched her mons. "You're allperverts! You're all a bunch of God damned fucking lesbo dykes! You--"As Kelly's tongue probed inside her, Samantha's rage grew in direct proportionto her arousal. Shamed by her body's betrayal, Samantha screamed obscenities.

"Rape! Kelly, you fucking rapist! I hope you burn in Hell, you cunt-suckingdyke!"Liz enjoyed the scene immensely. She wished she had a video camera to record it,but guessed that the images would stay with her forever in any case. "You andyou," she said, pointing to two more girls. Most had turned away, but a fewstood staring in shock. "Get over here and help."With weak knees, the two girls did as they were told, each using their hands andmouth fumblingly on Samantha's breasts.

Sweat was beginning to bead on Liz's forehead. Her whole body vibrated with thepower of her arousal. "You are turning me on like you wouldn't believe,finger-food," gasped Liz, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I think it's timeto move this little party somewhere more interesting."Liz stood, and with her free hand, pulled at her skirt until it puddled downaround her ankles. Her cotton briefs had a damp patch that covered the wholefront, and pulled away in sticky strands when Liz hiked them down. Her labia waspuffed out and drooled a thin stream of viscous liquid at the bottom. The smellof her sex was strong to the tabletop prisoners who cowered away from it,terrified by its nearness and immensity.

Liz dipped a finger inside herself and rubbed gently, then extracted it wet andshiny. She dabbed the finger at the three girls who surrounded Samantha, wettingthem down, then pushed them aside and ran her finger sensuously up and downSamantha's tiny body. At last she released Samantha, and placed her whole handover top of both her and the three other girls, making a jail of her fingers.

Carefully she drew them into her hand and lifted them before her flushed face.

"You morsels are going to make me very happy," said Liz, and blew them a kiss.

"And hey, Samantha... if you see my folks tell them I said hi."Then with a wicked leer, Liz lowered her hand to her pubis and rubbed the tiny,hot bodies against her labia while they screamed and fought with all of theirminiscule strength. Slowly, Liz rubbed them into her folds, working them everdeeper inside herself. When all four had slid inside, Liz used a finger to pushthem in as deeply as she could.

"Uh," grunted Liz as she felt them start to squirm. The little tingles theirstruggling caused were maddening but insufficient to satisfy. Her hand reachedout and grabbed a handful of little pink bodies from the table and shoved themrudely inside. The rest of the girls began screaming and running in alldirections to escape their fate but not one escaped. By ones and twos and wholehandfuls, Liz snatched them up and fed them into her ravenous cleft. They filledher totally in a way Liz had never experienced. Each tiny girl exerted her ownpressure as she writhed in the grip of Liz's vaginal muscles. Liz had to pinchherself shut with her fingers to keep her little occupants from falling out, sostuffed full was she.

Two girls who had the dubious luck of being last and hence unable to fit insidewere held pushed against the Liz's outer labia by her squeezing fingers and werequickly crushed to death, their blood mixing with Liz's juices to make her slickand lubricated.

Unable to remain standing on her increasingly wobbly legs, Liz let herself fallto her knees and then to her back on the kitchen floor, gasping for breath andbearing down as tremor-like orgasms rumbled through her from end to end, slowlygaining force, until it was a full-fledged tower-toppling earthquake thatthreatened to tear Liz's heart apart with its intensity.

"Uhhhhhh!" Liz threw back her head and howled as she let the two broken bodiesin her fingers fall to the floor where her bouncing buttocks smashed them topaste. Shoving her fingers inside herself, Liz pushed and probed, feeling tinybodies breaking under her thrusts.

Half the girls failed to survive Liz's climax when it came. Some had smotheredin the press, but most had simply been crushed by the walls of wet, ripplingmuscle around them, Liz's thrusting fingers, or both. Of those who lived, noneescaped unscathed.

When Liz's final orgasm had run its course, she pulled herself open and beganextracting battered little bodies. Among those that still survived, there weremany broken bones and internal injuries. Few were capable of moving, havingshattered bones poking brutally through shredded flesh. The worst injured simplylaid where they landed between Liz's thighs, moaning softly.

In the heap of dead and wounded, Liz picked out Samantha's red hair andextracted her. One arm was bent at an unnatural angle but she looked, other thanthat, relatively uninjured. At last her nerve had broken and when Liz picked herup, Samantha begged and pleaded, and kissed the fingers that held her. "PleaseLiz, I don't want to die, I'll do anything you want, anything," she sobbed,hugging her wounded arm to her.

Liz eyed her coolly. "So long, bite-sized," she whispered.

Tilting her head back, Liz opened her mouth and lifted the tiny redhead untilshe hung suspended over the canyon of her mouth.

"Liz! No! Noooo!" screamed Samantha.

Liz let go, and the little body tumbled into her waiting mouth. Liz gave herfifteen seconds to get good and terrified -- as witnessed by the shrieks comingfrom inside her -- then swallowed. The screaming faded away and then vanishedaltogether. Samantha spent the last few horrible minutes of her life surroundedby the bloody, mashed and partially chewed remains of six of her classmates.

After fetching a whisk and a dustpan, Liz swept up the pile of dead and woundedgirls and dumped them into the sink. Bloody and mangled, covered in Liz'sjuices, and now brown with adhered dirt from the dustpan, they were anunappealing, not to mention unappetizing, lot. Liz thought for a moment, thenwent to one of the cupboards.

The lucky ones were already dead. The others writhed in unimaginable torment asLiz sprayed the whole lot with oven cleaner. Those who were not already deadquickly followed as the foam dissolved their flesh. Within minutes not much butthe larger bones were left, and these Liz washed down the drain.

Liz's blouse and bra, the only pieces of clothing she still wore, clung to hersweat-soaked skin and she removed them, throwing the damp articles into theliving room. It wasn't as if her parents were going to complain, she thought,smirking.

Padding over to the fridge, Liz opened it and stood staring at the contents,pondering. Her little living snacks had piqued her hunger and, after all, shehadn't really had much to eat for a couple of days. Tiny people were fun to eat,but they weren't exactly filling. As she stood there, it suddenly occured to herthat she still had an entire school full of little, terrified snacks in thebasement. A wide, cruel grin filled her face. The refrigerator door slammedshut, and Liz stalked down into the basement in search of screaming morsels.

She found lots of them.

In the time she had been gone, hundreds of students and a few teachers hadvacated the school and stood staring up at the sheer, steel walls of thereceiver bed. At the first sight of her, a collective shout went up from thelittle people, and the whole crowd began fighting to press their way through thecrush of people into the school. It made it easy for Liz to simply reach outinto the mob and grab a handful of people.

There were maybe twenty people clutched in her hand, and Liz examined thembriefly. She spotted a teacher she knew, and smiled. "Hi, Mr. Edmund," she said,waving to her astonished History