"Woah!"
Janet wretched away from the shoes, the teeny petal shoes fluttering to the ground in a pinkish glow. Squinting, her knees weakened as the scent of roses rolled over her. Stumbling away from the strange, concentrated light, she slumped onto the dressing room chair, Janet feeling the cold touch of the mirror against her neck. As the shoes shined, her eyes glued to the shoes, the vine laces and tulip-like ankle guards flailing with a phantom force. Janet's breath stifled, her whole body caressed by an unearthly freshness. She gasped, reminded of the same feeling of first touching the flower shoes.
"Wh-...what's going on?!"
She turned her head, the mirror revealing a strange sight. Janet tried piecing the reflected image to reality, but failed. Her eyes, hairs, faint makeup, all that was the same. She blinked, her clothing seeming too large; she would have laughed if she saw another girl dressed like some wannabe plus man attire with a baggy shirt and jeans. If it wasn't for the strange sensation, she might not have noticed. But, there, in the mirror reflection, she saw her jacket sag and fold, her body deflating.
She spun, her underwear and shirt swimming around her. Lifting her hand to her face, she saw the sleeve sagging up to her knuckles before sliding down to her elbow.
"Everything's so big! How did..."
She swiveled around, her clothing ready to escape her body's grasp. Her arms tired from the constant weight of her sleeves. Looking down to the ground, she felt vertigo as the distance seemed to have double. Not only that, but feet had disappeared, the edge of her jeans free-floating. Janet wiggled here toes, feeling only the tug of denim atop her feet as an abnormal anthill of motion echoed through the exterior of the knee.
"Help," she whispered, escalating in ferocity.
Her legs faded into the growing crumpled mess of the dangling jeans. Her torso lifted out of her seat, the coat no longer yielding to her weight. She began squirming in a vain attempt to deny these changes. Her dwindling stuttered, her body lifted for a moment by her sleeves. She kicked and screamed, feeling the edge of her pant legs clamp down on her feet.
"Help. Help! HE-," she sputtered, the collar of her jacket rising above her head.
As she descended into darkness, she saw the rear of her top still glued to the leather jacket interior by sweat. Grasping for anything to stabilize her constant descent, the gargantuan blanket of her t-shirt peeled itself off and flopped over her, drowning her cries. The fortress of her leather coat, still buttoned snug, teetered under its own weight. Like a skyscraper without its metal support beams, Janet and her now cavernous clothing tipped over the edge of the chair, spilling onto the floor.
As the clothing settled, a bulge of writhing mass dwindled even further from the confines of jeans. Janet, thrown about in the temporary weightlessness, rolled into the lower recesses of her outfit, her former jacket and shirt acting a tunnel to the cushion of her pants and underwear. As she continued struggling, her strength sapped away with her size; before long, she gasped, inhaling the feint remains of her own sweat as the blue lingerie encompassed her. Her sobs and cries for help silenced, the tiny woman traced her fingers across the fabric of her pants and underwear.
"I'm-...I'm dreaming. This has to be some...some dream. I took too much Nyquil, and now I'm having a weird dream. I-"
Despite the mounting agitation on her skin, Janet continued. Just as her faith that she wasn't just transported to some denim hell, she saw the fading twinkle of the shoes, followed by the return of the dreary white stall light. She heaved herself onto the edge of her jean pant leg, sliding out and onto the frigid floor.
She stood, knees wobbling from exhaustion. Peering behind her, she gaped at the mound of clothing, the jacket like a snow-caped mountain during the winter. Beneath that, on greener pastures, the faint glimpse of her peach t-shirt. Finally, sprawled all the way from inside the leather top, the edge of her jeans snaked out. Janet froze.
"O-oh. Oh no. No. No," she whined, clutching her hair.
The tight dressing room now dwarfed her greater than an airplane hanger. With her feet padding across the newly uneven checkered tiles, the light presence of dust and grim like a half-step. She staggered away from the jean tunnel, turning as she stumbled across the formerly familiar landscape.
Janet wrapped her head around her bearings to little avail, the sudden and disorienting magic confusing the now 3-inch tall woman. After wracking her brain, she came to one conclusion.
"The shoes! Those little-"
She huffed, grasping at the course fabric as she began her crawl away from the center of her panties. She strained against the weight of the denim, worming her way down the right exit. Her underwear out of sight, she continued her trek. She labored as she went, taking a moment to rest.
"It's worse than crawling through rocks. Everything's so...so hard."