Every breath of the girl rumbles your world, as you pull yourself upwards inch by agonising inch, clawing your miniscule fingers into the invisible gaps in the fabric. Time has no meaning beyond differentiating moments of pain as your exertions begin to tell.
Impossibly, you haul yourself onto the plateau of the girl's shoulder, remaining on the expansive strap of her bathing suit, collapsing back to haul in breaths. The world continues to shake, each step this gargantuan takes lifting and dropping her form, and you with it!
Still, as you shakily sit, you can scan your surroundings. The mother looms above, so massive and terrifying that you look away instinctively. Ahead, the promised beach-front store spreads before you, massive buckets, spades, postcards, hats, rock and other gewgaws hand from hooks, sit on shelves or are lifted up by giant customers.
All useless trash, no use to your survivalist experience. And with your entire supply camp, your get-out-of-jail-free size machine and more buried underneath relative tonnes of sand, you can't waste time on frivolties.
In fact, you can't really survive on your own now. With a deep breath, you look up in one direction you had not yet dared. Up, to the side, a column of flesh supporting the head of this giant girl. If you can get up there, to her ear, you can contact her, and she can help. She could dig up your machine, contact an adult, gather stuff for you - many options are open if you were just to take the risk.
Ah, why not? If she notices the tiny, quarter-inch you crawling up her skin and swats you away, what difference is that to the ineviable death you currently face? You need not be intimidated by such a big child!
Big, and getting bigger. As you tentatively place your first foot on her bare skin, beside a thick, protruding hair, you contemplate your situation. You are stuck at your current size, but this girl, at her young age, is growing all the time. At an infinitesimal scale, maybe, but she is becoming bigger and bigger every second here.
Pushing it from your mind, you walk forward, and then break into a a sprint as no avenging fingers come to crush your bug-self. You stop short of the neck-wall, and back away as she turns her head, the skin ahead of you smoothly folding as the face ahead of you considers something else. Her voice booms above, unrestrained by thoughts of a passenger, rocking you more than her movements ever did. If you are to communicate with this behemoth, you need to overcome this danger.
Her skin is rougher than the fabric, something you would not have guessed at before you were shrunk to this scale. Handholds are provided by pores, and footholds by the tiny hairs at irregular intervals. Thus you climb, the pulse of lifeblood through her body stronger here, a rushing warmth at odds with the stench of beach sand all around.
She faces forward again mid-way through your expedition, muscles rippling beneath. She rushes forward, no doubt having seen something she wants her mother to buy, and the breeze rips one of your hands free. Dangerous, but while she's distracted she's not scratching you in half.
The ear lies above the line of her crushing jaw, and so you have to deal with an overhang briefly, which would be far more terrifying were you not so light, and her skin so climbable. This will not deter you! More sounds crash above and beyond you, giant conversation that you attempt to drown out, thankful that you're not deafened yet, though your head is ringing.
Up the edge of her face, amidst longer scalp hairs that drape like vines, you change from warm, sensitive skin to cold, unfeeling hair. The chance of her noticing you just vanished, and these strands are as easy to scale as rope.
And soon, the cave of her earhole, dark and forboding. You can get in there easily, but step carefully around the spikes of hair and globs of wax that lie in wait like monsters from a dungeon. Squeezing yourself past the tragus, you lick your lips in anticipation of speaking to a being that - for all intents and purposes - encompasses the entirety of your world now. Your first words will dictate where this goes.
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