Bang Your Head

Morris Jablonski, a junior at Wilmington High School, was the quintessential head-banging pothead, a burner. Long unkempt sandy blonde hair hung passed his shoulders and his green eyes were half lidded, some might say perpetually glazed. A homemade Metallica star tattoo adorned his left thumb just beneath the first knuckle on the back if his hand. A lean 6’3”, he was wearing a faded black and red checkered Mac jacket, cigarette burns on the front and frayed cuffs under a blue jean vest with a giant Sharpie drawn five pronged pot leaf with the words ‘In Bud We Trust’ crudely printed beneath it. There were a dozen different patches and crests bearing band logos and insignias also sewn onto the vest, ranging from classics like Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath to Iron Maiden and AC/DC to Injustice. His black jeans were worn through at both knees and he kept his size 13 high top kicks untied.

First period was a challenge, just trying to focus. He planned to get together with Sly and Tom at lunch and blaze some chronic. He had a big Purple Kush fatty in his pocket just begging to go into session. At the end of the first period class, he knew there was no way he could get through second block without at least taking a couple of hits off the dart in his pocket. Old lady Pembry was possibly the single most boring teacher on earth, perhaps of all time and the prospect of having to sit through her class without the benefit of some herbal assistance was more than he could possibly bear. The solution seemed rather elementary, he could sneak out back, take a couple of hoots off the blunt and be back in time for class altered enough to avoid slipping into a Pembry induced coma from which he might never emerge.

In the back of the school, overlooking the sports field were a set of painted metal and wooden bleachers. Rising up twenty four rows, the bleachers ran from twenty yard line to twenty yard line. The area under the bleachers provided enough cover for him to spark up without drawing any unwanted attention from anyone who might wander by.

Pulling out the reefer, he grinned and slipped it between his lips. A quick furtive glance around, no one in sight, he sparked it up. The Purple Kush was good, smooth as he took a long drag and held the smoke in his lungs. Closing his eyes, he luxuriated in the feel of the narcotic in his body before opening his mouth and blowing two smoke rings. Oh yeah, this would definitely make Pembry at least tolerable.

The sounds of voices, female, disrupted the serenity of his solitude. Concealed from sight as he was beneath the stands, he watched four people walk out near the end of the bleacher on the sports field, three girls, one boy.

Even at a distance, he immediately recognized all the people, the three girls were Kimber St. John, Elisha Harrow, and Susannah Caldwell. They were the ‘it’ girls at the school. All seniors, all incredibly gorgeous. Kimber stood 5’9” with a body definitely built for sin. Long hair so blonde it was almost white, and eyes so incredibly blue everyone always thought they must be contacts. Large round firm breasts, slim waist, an ass designed by the hand of god himself atop two long lovely legs. Morris thought of her as porn star hot, so sexy she could bring you to your knees with a smile.

Elisha was a brunette, dark hair just as long as Kimber’s, but with a slight wave to it. Maybe an inch shorter, she too was constructed as if by some divine plan. Oval face, sexy cupid bow lips and sultry green eyes. Well-endowed chest, slim waist and a perfect teardrop ass. Model hot, like a Victoria Secret lingerie model.

Of the three, Susannah was the shortest, standing 5’5”, head cheerleader, dirty blond hair often streaked with some other color, today it was electric green. Absolutely pretty face and light brown eyes, breasts smaller than the other two girls but sitting firm and high on her chest, trim tummy and sexy legs. Kind of like girl next door hot, if your neighbor just happened to be Hef.

At some point in time, Morris was pretty sure each of the girls had inhabited the masturbation film reel existing inside his head. What he wouldn’t give just to tag one of these hotties.

They were a predatory wolf pack of sexy and they all knew it. They formed a triangle around the male in the gathering, senior Leonard Carswell, middle linebacker of the school’s football team. Besides being a jock, as far as Morris was concerned, Len was just an all-around asshole. He and the other muscle head jocks often called him Morris Jabroni, a play on his last name, but it was Leonard who took it to the next level, calling him Ho-mo Jabroni, or Stony Jabroni. Ass clown.

Standing where he was, Morris could see the conversation appeared heated, the girls definitely not happy, but he couldn’t make out the words. Taking another puff, he surreptitiously moved closer to where they were talking in order to eavesdrop on the quartet.

“Maria told Francine who told me you said I apparently blew you at the party Saturday!” Susannah challenged, jabbing a finger into Len’s chest, her usually pretty face contorted in anger.

Len scoffed and raised his hands, “Bitch is totally lying,” he said, half smirk on his smug face. Just looking at him Morris knew Len was full of shit and enough of a dick to do something like that. Plus Morris had heard the rumor too, that Susannah got liquored up on the weekend at the lake party and sucked Len’s cock.

“Why would she do that?” demanded Elisha, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, I find it odd Maria would concoct a story like this,” remarked Kimber, little smile playing on her full ruby colored lips.

“Who knows, I don’t know, maybe she’s on her rag,” Len replied, same cocky look on his face as he shrugged his shoulders.

Susannah shook her head, “She also said you told her I swallowed your load like a whore!” she confronted.

“Please,” he said dismissively, “She probably just wanted a load for herself,” he added, tone snide.

The girls all looked at one another.

“Is that it? Is that why the Furies wanted to see me?” he chuckled.

Morris let the smoke in his lungs out slowly, trying not to giggle. The Furies. The girls likened themselves to the Three Graces of Greek mythology, beauty, charm, and joy but behind their backs, some of the other students compared them more to the three mythical Furies. He couldn’t believe Len had the nuts to say it right to their faces though, Morris thought that was kind of stupid.

He took another hit off the joint, the cool smoke pooling in his lungs. The school buzzer sounded, signaling the start of second block.

Susannah nodded to Kimber.

“Do it,” said Elisha, tone playful.

“Do what? Fuck now I’m late for class,” Len said disdainfully.

Kimber grinned and stepped toward Len, tapping him with her right index finger dead in the center of his chest.

“What the?” he babbled, a confused look on his face as he took a step backward. Suddenly he just started getting smaller, panic replacing confusion as he rapidly diminished. The girls each took a step back, amused expressions of their faces, like it was no big deal as the watched him vanish into his clothes.

Still holding his breath, Morris frowned. What the fuck was happening? Len kept just getting smaller until there was nothing but a heap of crumpled clothing on the ground. He shook his head and looked down at the half joint held between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

The girls all crouched down almost simultaneously. Elisha reaching into the pile of clothes and pulling a tiny squirming thing out. Morris’s eyes widened. Holy crap, it was Leonard, but really small, like smaller than a finger tiny, maybe two or three inches total. Morris closed his eyes and blinked a couple of times. No way this can be real? Hell no!

The girls arose in unison, Elisha holding him in front of her face by one of his feet and shaking the little youth. “Not quite so cocky now?” she queried.

Morris couldn’t hear what tiny Len was saying back, but whatever it was, all the girls seemed to get a chuckle out it. He wondered if the weed had been spiked, maybe mixed with PCP or something and he was starting to hallucinate, people can’t shrink people, nah, it had to be the dope. He would ask Tom at lunch time. Not only was Tom Garfield was one of his pals, but he was also Morris’s primary hook up. He shook his head again. What the fuck did you slip me Tom?

The girls were leaning in close, examining little Len. Elisha passed him over to Susannah. The blonde had a big grin as she lifted him above her face. “Swallowed your load? Hmm, I think not, I think I’ll swallow all of you instead,” she said, lowering the little struggling person into her mouth. She made a show to the other girls of the little man inside her mouth before tipping her head back. Morris could see her laryngeal prominence bob as she swallowed. She giggled opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. “Gone,” she said, looking down and patting her stomach.

Morris’s eyes widened, he had been holding his breathe, and now the smoke in his lungs definitely wanted out. He opened his mouth and tried to expel the smoke slowly, but coughed instead, a wracking loud cough. The three girls turned their heads and looked in his direction.

Bad Trip

Morris wasn’t sure if the girls had seen him or not, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out. Pivoting, he moved with haste through the metal support beams to get out from under the bleachers, his long legs eating up real estate with each stride. Crossing the distance leading back into the school, he passed through the doors, heart pounding. Turning back to look through the window, he could see the girls coming, moving casually in his direction but still a way off. Skipping up the stairs to the right, he darted down the hall to Mrs. Pembry’s class.

The aged teacher with curly silver hair frowned when he burst into the room and glanced up to the clock. “You’re late Mr. Jablonski,” she admonished in her monotone voice.

Some of the students snickered as he crossed the room and walked up the row to the end and dropped into his desk beside Tom Garfield. Tom and he were best friends, had been since they were in Ms. Dickenson’s grade three class. Like Morris, he shared a love of heavy metal and pot, but he was far more discreet in the declaration of his adoration. Standing an even 6’, medium build, short brown hair parted neatly to the side, he was dressed in a light green button-up shirt and jeans and white leather running shoes. The only outward indication of his shared love of old rock, a small AC/DC lightning bolt drawn in blue pen ink on the outer side of his left runner.

“What the hell dude?” Tom asked, scowling, grey eyes narrow.

Morris shook his head, heart still racing from the exertion of running and mind still trying to grapple with what he may or may not have seen.

“I thought we were going to, you know, lunchtime,” he hissed.

Mrs. Pembry turned around, sour expression on her withered face. “Please be quiet Mr. Garfield,” she instructed before turning back to the chalk board.

Tom frowned. Morris spent the remainder of the class head down, the Kush inveigling his senses.

The lunch buzzer sounded. Tom stood up. “Come on man,” he said, patting Morris on the shoulder.

Morris looked up, eyes bloodshot.

“Fucker,” whispered Tom.

Morris used the desk and pushed himself onto his feet.

Walking out of the class, “You should’ve waited man, I don’t have any more of that stuff,” griped Tom.

Stepping out into the hall, they could see Kimber standing abut twenty feet distant. She saw them, her lips curled into a smile as she moved toward them, capricious grin still on her face. The students separating the girl from the boys parted before her like deer before a wolf as she sashayed her way toward the duo, long hair swaying from side to side opposite the movement of her hips. The air itself seemed to heat up and her every move oozed sensuality, almost like that slow motion approach you sometimes see in movies. Both boys stood agog, in awe of the creature approaching.

“Morris, right?” she asked, reaching her right hand up to cup his left cheek.

He swallowed hard, an audible noise, eyes wide, unable to find his voice.

She raised an eyebrow, little coy smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“He’s Morris,” croaked Tom, mouth agape. “Jabberwocky,” he added, sharing the nickname he and Sly used for Morris.

She turned to look at Tom and held his eyes a moment in her azure gaze. Intimidated, he broke eye contact and examined the condition of his running shoes.

She slowly drew her hand back, manicured blood red fingernails barely grazing his downy cheek as they passed over his skin. She chuckled softly, a pleasant sound as she turned from the pair. She seemed to glide away and meld back into the throng of students, as quickly as she had arrived she was gone.

“Dude, did that just happen?” asked Tom, an incredulous expression on his face. “What happened?” he asked again, looking after her, then to Morris, eyes searching his friend’s face to explain the event.

Morris nodded, heart in his throat.

“Kimber St. John just said your name and put her hand on your cheek, DUDE!” exclaimed Tom, looking back down the hallway in the direction of Kimber’s departure.

Morris also stared down the hall after the girl.

“Do you need like fresh underwear? Because I would have come like three times if she had done that to me, just saying,” Tom stated, facial features miming an orgasm.

Morris turned to face Tom, “Serious Tom, I think I saw something man, something crazy earlier,” he said.

“Yeah, like Kimber walking right up and putting her hand on you, like that is crazy. The only thing on earth that might have been better would be if Eddie Vogel gave you a guitar pick straight from his own hand,” Tom said, still not believing what had just transpired.

“Come on, I need to talk you outside,” urged Morris, tugging at Tom’s arm, and now looking in the direction opposite Kimber’s departure. Had he actually seen the Graces shrink Len down and swallow him whole? He was no longer sure. Seemed real enough at the time, but…  He frowned.

Tom nodded. “Sure,” he said, allowing himself to pulled along.

Maneuvering out of the school, Morris took Tom to the far side of the band room, near the faculty parking lot.

“Why would Kimber do that? Like did you win the lottery or something, like I don’t understand,” Tom said, head shaking.

Putting his hands up between them, “Listen, I saw, I think I saw something totally fucked up, like some Twilight Zone shit or something,” he said.

“This must be the Twilight Zone because in what world does Kimber smooth up on a guy like you, I mean, no offense, you’re my friend and all, but one of the hottest girls ever to put feet on God’s green earth, why would she do that?.”

Morris grabbed him by the shoulders, “Dude, just be quiet a minute and let me explain.

Tom nodded his head, “Sure, whatever, go ahead.”

Say What?

“Okay,” Morris said, “So I was taking a little siesta before Pembry’s class, under the bleachers, and the Graces come along, then they, well, they sort of shrunk Leonard Carswell.”

“That guy is such a turbo douche,” Tom commented.

“Did you hear what I just said? They shrunk him!” repeated Morris.

Tom screwed up his face, “What?”

“No, it’s true,” he protested, “I swear.”

Tom’s phone made a sound. Holding his left hand up, he pulled out his cell with his right, “It’s Sly, he’s under the bleachers waiting for us,” he said.

“Forget about him for the moment, they shrunk Len down because of the rumor going around about him and Susannah Caldwell,” he explained.

Tom snickered, “I heard she blew him.”

“They shrunk him to this big,” he said, demonstrating the size using his thumb and forefinger, “And then she fucking ate him.”

Tom laughed, “Dude you are tripping balls!”

“And I think they saw me see them do it, that’s why Kimber was being all nice and weird and shit,” he added.

“You must be really high right now man, because you are hilarious,” chortled Tom, shaking his head.

Morris frowned. He knew he was high, but he was pretty sure of what he saw, well maybe. Shaking his own head, he now wasn’t as sure as he thought he was a moment ago.

“People can’t just shrink other people dude, that’s fucking awesome, tell me you got some of that blunt left, please, I want to take the same trip,” Tom said, big grin on his face.

Morris was confused, trying to recall the details of what he saw through the narcotic induced haze fogging his brain. Tom was right, it did sound crazy, like some paranoid hallucination. He started to laugh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the remaining half of the joint he had been smoking and handed it to Tom.

“Come on,” Tom said, “Let’s meet up with Sly,” he urged.

Morris nodded slowly, it had to be the weed. He felt kind of stupid now thinking back, shrinking somebody that was dumb. He continued to chuckle to himself sporadically as they made their way around to the bleachers by the sports field. The third member of their group, Sylvester Selwynn, Sly, was there, an angry expression on his handsome face. Between Morris and Tom in height, his dark hair swept back, dressed in jeans and a shirt, hands on hips.

“What the hell? I been waiting here like ten minutes,” he complained, irritation dancing in his blue eyes.

“You will never believe what happened, Kimber St. John came up on Jabberwocky here and just rubs his face,“ Tom said, demonstrating by doing the same thing to Sly.

Sly pushed Tom’s hand away, “Fuck off,” he scoffed. “Why would one of the Graces do that, eh?”

Tom spread his hands, “And she says, ‘You’re Morris, right?’ and he’s just like gah, can’t talk or make an intelligent noise, just standing there stupefied,” he explained.

“Kimber St. John?” Sly asked, shaking his head, “No way, not a chance in hell, not buying that bullshit,” he stated, dubious.

“Dude, like I was standing right there, saw it with my own eyes!” avowed Tom, “My lips to god’s ears.”

Sly snorted. Looking at Morris, “You got that spliff?” he asked.

Morris shook his head.

“He smoked like half, maybe more than half during block break,” Tom said, producing the unburned portion of the joint.

Sly frowned and shot a Morris a cold look. “Spark it,” he said.

Tom put the remains of the roach in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple of puffs on it before passing it to Sly. “Fuck this is good shit,” he said without letting any of the smoke out his lungs.

Sly took the joint between thumb and forefinger brought it close to his mouth, taking a couple of hoots before offering it to Morris. Lost in his own world, Morris waved it off. Tom let out a cloud of smoke and took the smoldering nub back from sly, sucking in a quick lungful.

“That’s not the best part, go on, tell him,” encouraged Tom, handing the tiny roach back to Sly, holding his breath while he talked.

“No, it’s stupid,” Morris said abashedly.

Sly took the last hit of the joint before putting the little piece of resin laden paper into his mouth and eating it. “What?”

Morris shook his head.

Tom breathed out, laughing, but coughing in the process. “No he says Susannah shrank Leonard ‘fuckstick’ Carswell and ate him.”

Tom looked at Morris and started laughing, breaking into a hacking fit of his own. “Ate him?” he guffawed.

Morris frowned. “Swallowed him,” it did sound ridiculous even coming from his own mouth. Shaking his head, “I thought she did,” he replied weakly, embarrassed.

“According to the rumor mill, she certainly swallowed something of his on the weekend,” said Sly, big grin on his face, clapping Morris on the shoulder. “I’d certainly let her swallow me,” he added, clutching at his groin with his free hand.

Tom laughed, snorting in the process, “Me too,” he said.

“In your case, hopefully she doesn’t choke on small bones,” chortled Sly.

“Come on guys,” pleaded Morris.

Both Tom and Sly surrendered to a case of the giggles as the trio moved back toward the school. Once inside. Morris’s feeling foolishness all but forgotten, the early bell rang signifying the end of lunch. Parting ways with his friends, he went to his locker and after a moment of trying to remember his combination and three unsuccessful attempts, he was finally able to open it. Standing there, he had the strange prickly sensation on the back of his neck that he was being watched. Turning slowly to his left and looking casually over his shoulder, almost nonchalant seeming, he espied the sexy brunette Elisha standing several lockers down, looking directly at him. The next buzzer rang, sending frenzied students scurrying in many directions, but not Elisha, she just stayed where she was, watching him, amused expression on her pretty face. Clearing his throat, he grabbed his books and closed his locker before turning and walking away from the girl. After only maybe a dozen paces, he could hear the sound of shoes clicking off of the floor as she started walking behind him. Was he being paranoid? The footfalls were drawing closer. He swallowed hard. Risking a look back over his shoulder, instead of Elisha Harrow, he saw Ms. MacKenzie the socials teacher walking behind him, eyes down on a paper she held in her hand, it was her shoes he heard clicking. He laughed silently to himself. Purple Kush is awesome he thought, slipping into Ms. Mackenzie’s class just ahead of the teacher.

After Lunch Special

Leaning back in his desk, Morris chided himself, eyes half closed as the soporific inveigled his senses and his mind began to drift. He laughed quietly to himself he must have sounded half demented when he was explaining what he had thought he saw to Tom and Sly. Like OMG, the Graces shrank Len and ate him, he chuckled some more.

A single thought, a lone strand of reason twanged inside his head like a discordant guitar string out of tune and deserving attention. Why did Kimber come up to him? He frowned. Why had she bothered to learn his name? He was no one in her world, a spectator in the nose bleed section of her seemingly idyllic life. So why would she approach him the way she did? Didn’t make sense. Ms. Mackenzie sounded far away, words no longer intelligible.

What if, for arguments sake, Susannah actually swallowed Len, taking him down inside that magnificent body of hers and into the pit of her gut.

He closed his eyes, the darkness coaxing him to dream. It was as if he could imagine it, the sensation of feeling the muscular rings of cartilage undulating around him as she swallowed, pulling inexorably into the blackness of her interior. There was a brief moment of weightlessness as he passed through the cardiac sphincter and dropped into her stomach, the muscular ridges within writhing around him. The atmosphere inside was hard to breather, hot and acrid, a humid death chamber.  Blind and unable to see, he needed his other senses to define the nature of his confinement. The sound of her heart, pumping blood throughout her body, and other sounds, wet noises, gastric secretions and the movement of materials through her system. He could feel a sensation in his fingers, his toes, tingling at first. A warmth escalating in intensity and spreading over the entire surface of his naked skin. While he couldn’t see it, he knew her body was beginning to break him down. It was hard to gain any sense of footing in the changing dynamic inside her. Was she moving? The slippery spongy interior of her stomach slimy and coated with mucous. He pounded his fists against a wall imprisoning him. He thought he could hear her laugh, a muffled sound.

Morris jerked himself awake suddenly flopping back against the built in chair of his desk, a shout dying on his lips as the classroom came into focus and twenty seven pairs of eyes gazed upon him in askance of the nature of his outburst.

Several other students laughed out loud, Ms. Mackenzie looked up from her desk and frowned.

Somebody mumbled “stoner”, more snickering.

“Something wrong Morris?” asked the teacher.

He paused a moment, considering. Shaking his head from side to side, “No, sorry,” he replied sheepishly.

“Then perhaps you should return to page thirty four,” she encouraged, a half smile on the side of her face.

He nodded. The remainder of the class he tried to interpret the dream he had, being swallow alive and the horrific end that might follow.

Exiting the room, Ms. Mackenzie held him up, “A moment Morris?”

He looked at the door then the teacher and then smiled. She was probably in her thirties, he wasn’t sure. Medium height, long hair kept back from a very pretty face. The second hottest teacher at the school, he had fantasized about her on more than one occasion. “Sure,” he mumbled, crossing the space from the door to her desk. She pointed to a vacant desk in the front row. He sat.

Getting up, she walked in front of her desk, leaning her butt against the edge and crossing her arms under her perky breasts, “I am concerned for you,” she said, looking down, “You seemed to be somewhere else today.”

He nodded, blonde locks bouncing, “Yeah, just had kind of a rough night last night is all,” he lied.

She pursed her lips, “You are a very bright and intelligent young man, but you are letting your grades slide, I just don’t want to see you stumble and have to repeat,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking down at his hands.

“I’m sure you don’t want to have to sit through this class again next semester,” she chuckled, leaning to the side to try and make eye contact.

He looked into her eyes, kind of a blend between green and blue, pretty, almost mesmerizing, “I’ll try to be more attentive,” he assured.

She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “That’s all I wanted to talk to you about,” she smiled, “But you should get along, you don’t want to be late for your next class,” she stated, removing her hand.

He watched her return to sit behind her desk before he got up, “Thank you Ms. Mackenzie,” he said, bobbing his head.

She smiled. “You’re welcome, now off you go,” she encouraged looking to the door.

Shuffling through the door, Morris entered the hallway into the throng of milling students. Deciding to forego visiting his locker, he turned sideways and knifed through the crowd to toward Mr. Tiergarten’s shop class. He didn’t even notice Susannah until he felt her hand on his arm. Startled, he jerked his arm back and dislodged her grasp.

“Did I give you an electric shock?” she asked, smiling up at him.

He shook his head, “No, just startled me is all,” he babbled, thoughts of Len screaming back into the conscious portion of his mind. Was he somewhere inside this beautiful girl, still alive, still aware? He shuddered as she held him with her eyes.

“You were out by the bleachers earlier today right?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

He brought a hand up and ran his fingers through his hair and frowned, “Yeah, maybe, I don’t really remember,” he said, feeling his pulse accelerate.

She smiled then licked her lower lip, “Did you see me there?” she asked.

He chuckled, “I don’t know, I was, you know, paying homage to Mother Nature by indulging in some of her finest herb,” he said, very much wanting to be away from this girl nearly a foot shorter than himself.

She nodded slowly, smile crossing her lips. “See you around,” she said, winking at him.

Coming Back Down

In his mind, shop class was an easy cruiser course and an excellent way to finish an otherwise completely bizarre school day. Moving over to his work station, he put his school books in the shelf and laid a mat for his mahogany end table project.

The effects of the Kush all but gone, leaving little stray bits of seemingly disconnected information coalescing in his head. He frowned as he moved the orbital disc sander back and forth over the side of his woodworking project.

“With the grain of the wood,” said Mr. Tiergarten, shop teacher from somewhere behind him, “Don’t push down on the sander Morris, you won’t get an even sand and you could damage the bushings in the tool,” he urged, circling around into Morris’s field of view.

Morris looked up blankly and nodded.

Mr. Tiergarten took the hand held sander from Morris and demonstrated correct use, slow circular motions moving parallel to the natural striations in the rich colored wood. “See?” he asked, turning the machine off and handing it back to the boy.

Morris nodded and mumbled some words of thanks.

As the fog lifted from his mind, the event from under the bleachers replayed in his mind’s eye, so vivid. Rationally, he knew it wasn’t possible, but the way she jerked her head back and swallowed. It had happened. Never in the time he had been at the school, had any one of the Graces even so much as given him a look and now twice in one day, they were interacting with him. He frowned, pondering. Nine students missing from both local high schools over the last two years. One teacher and school principal abruptly gone already this year, two others mysteriously retiring right at the end of school last year. Was it somehow connected? Did these people perhaps run afoul of the Graces and wind up on the wrong end of their ability to shrink people?

A random thought drifted across the top of his mind, if by sharing what he saw with Tom and Sly, had he unwittingly exposed his friends to some type of retribution from the Graces? If Susannah pulled a Jonah, not that Susannah was a whale, far from it, but if she swallowed Len whole for saying she had blown him, what would the Graces do to him and his friends? Who would possibly believe such a fanciful tale? The thought of it was incredulous. Even now, he was sure he had seen it, but he wasn’t. He muttered to himself.

By the end of the day he was convinced of one thing, this had been one of the weirdest days of his life. Dropping his books off at his locker, he went out the back of the school by the bike rack and lit up a cigarette while waiting for Tom.

Sly’s older sister, a senior, Silke walked up to Morris, arms cradling her books across her chest. She was very pretty, dark hair held off her face by a hair band and loose down her back. Both Morris and Tom had confided in one another that they could never tell Sly they both lusted after his hot sister, though the joked which in of itself drove Sly mental.

“Hey Morris,” she said, a curious expression on her lovely face.

“Silke,” he said, taking a drag off the smoke. “I haven’t seen Sly,” he added, knowing her brother usually caught a ride with her to and from school.

She shook her head, “He knows where I’m parked, I wanted to talk to you,” she said, kind of semi smile on her face.

“Oh?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, you know Kimber St. John,” she rolled her eyes, “Duh, of course you know Kimber, anyway, she interrogated me earlier today about you,” she stated.

Morris choked and coughed. “W-what?”

Silke chuckled, “I know, weird right?”

He nodded.

“I thought maybe you scratched her car or something, but then I see Elisha and she comments about you, how she thinks you’re cute,” she said, nodding her head.

“Cute?”

“You know, got that whole Brad Pitt Legends of the Fall thing working for you,” she said, reaching up and touching his long hair. “Anyway, she wanted to know if I had your cell number and whether or not you were seeing anybody, or if you lived nearby,” she added.

“What?” he sputtered.

Tom appeared. “Hey Silke,” he said as he walked up, eyeballing her butt and shaking the fingers of his right hand, sly grin on his face.

She turned, “Tom,” she acknowledged.

“I saw Sly heading to the student lot,” Tom said, looking back in the direction where the cars were parked.

“I know,” she said, “I was just telling Morris that Kimber and Elisha were asking me about him,” she added.

“Like totally!” said Tom excitedly. “Kimber came up on him earlier today and gave him a cheek pat,” he stated, moving his hand up close to her face to demonstrate the gesture.

She turned away, scrunching up her face, “Why does your hand smell like that?” she asked, sour expression.

Tom pulled his hand back and sniffed then shrugged, “I don’t smell anything,” he commented.

“Did you see Len Carswell today?” Morris asked.

Silke seemed to ponder a second, “I think so, like maybe first block but I don’t think I saw him after that. Don’t know, really wasn’t looking for him. He’s a pig anyway, told Maria that Susannah gave him head or something. Real class act,” she said sarcastically.

Tom extended his hand to Morris and took the cigarette, taking a drag before handing it back.

“But not after first period?” clarified Morris.

She shook her head. “Anyway, I got to go,” she said with a smile, “Just thought you might like to know you’ve caught somebody’s eye,” she said, turning and walking. “Later Tom,” she added without looking back.

Both boys watched as she walked off. “She is smoking,” commented Tom, shaking his head. “Maybe not Graces hot, but real close.”

Morris nodded, appreciating the sway of her hips and tight butt, “Uh huh,” was all he said.

Once Silke was out of sight, the two began to walk home.

Tom reached his hand up near Morris’s face, “My hand smell funny?” he asked.

Morris jerked his head away, “Dude, like bad goat cheese or something,” he commented.

Tom pulled it back and sniffed it again, “I don’t smell it,” he said, looking at his mitt.

Slipping through the opening in the fence, the stepped on to the sidewalk.

“That’s weird, I don’t know why it would smell,” Tom commented, again shrugging his shoulders.

They ignored the sound of the car approaching from behind as they tried to unravel the source of Tom’s odiferous hand. When the car didn’t pass, Morris looked over his shoulder and saw Susannah’s Austin Mini Cooper painted in the style and colors of the Union Jack trailing behind them. Susannah was driving, Kimber in the passenger and Elisha in the back behind Susannah. Morris stopped followed a beat later by Tom to see what had halted his friend. The car drove slowly passed, all eyes inside the vehicle on the two boys before driving off. Lost in his own thoughts, Morris almost ignored Tom as the other boy babbled about the significance of the drive by, how their social status would improve simply by being noticed by the Graces as they resumed walking. Dropping Tom off at home, Morris plodded toward his own place.

Homefront

Circling around to the rear of the house, Morris ascended the three stairs at the back door and let himself into the small single story house he shared with his mother. She wasn’t home, would be working until five. Kicking his shoes off, he went down his room in the basement. Curtains three quarters drawn, posters decorating the panel board walls, bed unmade, the room had a dingy quality.

Flopping on his bed, he grabbed his headphones and cranked up some heavy metal music. He didn’t hear his mother come home.

“Did you eat?” she called down from the top of the stairs as she removed her shoes. “Morris?” she called. Frowning, she made her way downstairs and rapped on his door. She could hear off key singing coming from the other side of the door.

Opening the door and poking her head in, Morris lying on his bed, hands raised doing some kind of air guitar and lip synching.

“Morris?” she said, voice loud enough to be heard over the headphones. He didn’t move. She shook her head, stepping through the door she crossed the floor of the messy room and grabbed the big toe of his left foot through his sock with her left hand.

He jolted upright, yelling an incoherent noise, eyes impossibly round, headphones sliding off his head and falling back onto his pillow, “For fuck’s sakes Mom you scared the crap out of me!” he said, voice shaky.

A smile crossed her pleasant face and she chortled some.

“It’s not funny,” he defended, mildly embarrassed.

“Did you eat yet?” she asked, eyes assessing the condition of his room.

He shook his head. Reaching over he picked up his iPod and turned it off.

She nodded. “I’ll go put some soup on and whip up a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, you should maybe tidy up this crime scene here while I’m doing that,” she suggested, moving her hand in a circular motion to indicate his room, and smiling at him.

Twisting, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. “Okay,” he said, heart rate returning to normal.

Navigating through the mess on the floor, she paused at the door, looking back, head tilted to one side, “What did I say about smoking down here?”

He frowned, “No smoking in the house, I know,” he conceded.

“I mean it Morris, it smells and if this house fire waiting to happen room of yours ever goes up, it would probably burn down the whole house, so please, no more smoking,” she said.

He nodded sheepishly. The top of empty Coke can on his night table littered with ashes.

“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she advised. “I’m going to leave the door open to try and air out your man cave,” she added, vanishing back up the stairs.

Grumbling, he got off the bed and started trying to bring order to the chaos of his room. When supper was ready she called down and he went upstairs. Sitting in the nook off the kitchen, she had a bowl of soup and left him with the pot atop an insulated holder on the table. They each had a cheese sandwich cut diagonally on a small side plate.

“How was school today?” she asked, taking a spoonful of heart vegetable.

Shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know, you know, the usual,” he said, taking a bite of the golden brown sandwich. Should he tell here? ‘Oh by the way, I saw this really gorgeous girl eat a guy at school today, oh wait, that sounds kind of odd, first she shrank him down, then swallowed him whole, other than that, pretty much just a regular day. No wait, the girl and her two friend who shrank the guy have been stalking me all day, so other than that, just another day.’

She nodded and smiled. “Homework?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“After the dishes, I want you to finish cleaning up down there,” she instructed.

“Dishes?” he complained.

She nodded, “I cooked, it’s your responsibility to do the dishes,” she reminded.

He grumbled around another mouthful of sandwich. After eating, he hastily rinsed off the dishes under hot water and set them in the dry rack before returning to his basement domain. Grabbing his waste basket, he began sorting through the accumulated clutter in his room, separating things to keep from things to throw away. He had piled his dirty laundry in one corner, and it appeared as if he were making a dent in the condition of his room.

His cell phone lit up. Tom. Parking his butt on the bed, Mo swiped his phone and answered the call.

“Totally figured out why my hands smelled like ass, formaldehyde,” said Tom.

“What?” Mo asked.

“My hands, we cut up a frog in biology,” explained Tom. “I reached into the bucket to get a good one. They were in a formaldehyde solution. We were working with the critters the whole block, I guess I just got used to it, but that’s why my hands smelled,” he said.

“You called me up just to tell me why your hands stank?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” Tom answered crestfallen.

Morris laughed, “Knob.”

“You’re a knob. What are you doing?”

Mo let out a sigh, “Mom’s got me cleaning the pit, you?” The pit, the term he used to describe his room.

“Got the house all to myself and just chilling, fucked around a little on the PlayStation, but then I started to notice the smell on my hands, you know, just figured you would want to know,” he replied.

“Mystery solved. I’m am hoping you washed them?”

Tom laughed, “Duh, of course, but I had to use my Dad’s citrus cleaner to get it off, now smell like I been crushing oranges.”

“You holding right now?” Morris asked, hopeful.

“Nope, all tapped,” lamented Tom. “Oh, doorbell, someone’s at the door, I’ll catch you later ‘Jabberwocky’,” he said, the last in an English accent.

Setting his phone down on the table beside his bed, he looked at the Herculean task before him. Sighing, no bud to blunt the onerous chore, he returned to trying to instill order where only chaos existed.

No Rest for the Wicked

After a few hours of trying to reorganize his room and feeling satisfied he had made a dent, Morris decided to grab a shower, cleaning the day from his flesh. Shower done and wrapped in a towel, he popped into the living room to give his mother a goodnight kiss before turning in.

Back downstairs, he pulled on some clean underpants and climbed into bed. Connecting his phone to the charge cord on his night table, he swiped it. Usually he and Tom or sometimes Sly would banter back and forth, but there was an odd missive from Tom, it just read, ‘Sweet dreams.”

Morris typed, “Are made of these,” as a response before setting the alarm and putting his phone down on the table. What a weird day. Sleep came quickly.

In his dream, it was vague, kind of hazy at first, but he knew he was small, like very small, maybe just a few inches tall. The broad open space about him seemed immense, like the inside of some gigantic room, except the décor was very pink and girly. It took him a moment to orient himself as the dream became more and more lucid. He was seated on a warm, smooth, rounded surface, like skin, a light ultra-fine down on the firm unblemished flesh. It was an ass, a girl’s butt he was sitting on, looking toward her feet, long legs together stretching out and away. Whoever the owner of the wonderfully shapely ass upon which he sat appeared as if they had kicked off their blankets and was completely naked lying face down on a bed.

“What the hell?” he murmured, pushing himself up onto his feet. Turning, he looked up toward the head of the gigantic person, just realizing he himself was naked. He laughed. Must be residual subliminal messages seeping out of his brain from what he had witness earlier in the day. Which way to go? Snickering, he walked a few steps over the gorgeous bum in the direction of the enormous woman’s feet, trying to sneak a peek at the juncture of her butt and thighs without sliding down into the hollow. Unable to catch a glimpse at what wonders must surely lay nestled there, he turned back toward the woman’s head. Long dark hair pooled around the girl’s head on the pillow, obscuring her face so he couldn’t tell who it was. There was a faint scent of something flowery about her skin, a body wash or something that made her smell great. Who was she? He chuckled to himself, he meant to find out.

There was a slope and dip, two small depressions, dimples in the small of her back waist narrowing, a small channel in the center of her back. Getting low, he carefully eased himself down the slope of her ass, passed the dimples and into the small of her back. Whoever she was in magnificent shape. Her upper body moved in rhythm with the long deep breaths she was taking in. Following her spine, he began to walk up her torso toward her head. He wanted to know who this was.

“Mmm, that tickles,” said the woman dreamily, shifting a little. The motion minor to her but enough to cause Mo to lose his footing and tumble part way down her back. Getting back to his feet. Her voice sounded familiar, yet not. He frowned and again moved toward her head. She turned laterally, the sudden movement pitching him sidelong off her back where he landed uninjured in a fold of the plush blanket below.

She had rolled onto her side, back now to him, one leg still extended, the other bent at the knee and drawn up. From his landing spot he had a clear view of her bottom, near perfect from the angle. Given his size, he doubted he would be able to scale her from behind. Looking from her feet to her head, he decided his greatest chance at getting around to her front was to circle around her extended foot. Navigating over the crumpled sheet and blanket was definitely a chore, the difficult terrain, reminded him of trying to climb over snow as he moved around her foot, easily three time as long as he was tall. Moving up the inner portion of her leg, he passed her shin, then her thigh, coming to stop where her thighs came together. There was the honey pot, a tight, snug, delicate crease in her skin. Moving in close, feeling the heat radiating off of her skin, she shifted again, this time rolling toward her back, her leg moving over his head as she settled herself, arm down by her side, palm up, fingers partially separated.

He looked at her arm, then her body, wondering if he might be able to use the appendage as a means of getting onto top of her. Clambering over the blanket and sheet, he climbed into her open hand. He was just about to start up her forearm, when the hand beneath him moved, travelling upward. He dropped to his knee, panic gripping him as the ground rushed away. The hand was turning, he was losing his footing, sliding off the hand. Flailing, he landed on her stomach, rolling in a neat ball and stopping unharmed. “Tuck and roll,” he chortled, impressed with himself. The footing beneath him was uncertain, the rise and fall of her chest reminded him of trying to walk across the funhouse floor when it was shifting back and forth. From his new perspective, he looked up, her face still concealed by the tangled mess of hair. Gigantic breast were astounding, wondrously shaped, small nipples. Turning the other way, hip bones slightly padded, flat tummy, the swell of her mons crowned a neatly trimmed patch of hair. He grinned. Moving over the plain of her stomach, he moved onto the short hair, decadently shaped like a little lightning bolt. Getting down on hands and knees, he moved over the pubic hair. A shadow fell from above over him, him a rabbit seeing the wings of an eagle. Swiveling his head, he could see her hand descending rapidly, faster than he thought possible, covering him and pushing him against the flesh before he had opportunity to try and dive out of the way. The weight crushed him down against the immense genitals of the woman. Blackness greeted him.

He awoke in his own bed with a sudden start, like when you dream of falling and are woken when you hit the ground, breath coming in gasps, heart racing, sheets dampened by sweat. The room smelled faintly of flowers.

Morning After

Putting the bizarre dream behind him, Mo got up, readying himself for school. He paused to sniff the air in his room. Did it really smell kind of like flowers because now it just held the odor of stale smoke and gym socks? Any trace of flowers more than likely a product of his over-heated imagination. On his way over to Tom’s, walking through the clear cool morning air, he paused and lit a smoke before shambling onward, tired and exhausted from a fitful night’s rest. It had seemed so real, so lucid. Arriving at Tom’s house, he took one last drag before flicking the cherry off his cigarette and putting the butt in the pocket of his Mac jacket before walking up the drive to the side door of the two story home. He knocked politely before letting himself in. Up the short set of stairs to his left, he saw Tom’s mother, a short squat woman with an absolutely radiant smile on her rounded face.

“HI Morris,” she said, flashing him her smile. She was one of those morning people with an irrepressible attitude at the onset of the day, unlike Morris who even on his best day would never be considered a morning person.

“Hey Mrs. Garfield,” he replied with a perfunctory nod. “Morning, Tom about?”

“Actually,” she paused, “I haven’t seen him this morning,” she said, “Usually he’s up by now.”

He moved up into the kitchen and sat at the table in the nook while she disappeared down the hall.

“Tom?” he heard her call from elsewhere in the house. “Tom?”

She reappeared in the kitchen. A slight frown on her face.

Morris also frowned.

“He’s not in his room, the family room, or the bathroom,” she said, looking back down the hallway out of Morris’s line of sight.

“He’s not here?” he asked.

“He probably just went in early, you know, catch up a little on his studies,” she surmised.

 “Um, yeah,” Morris added, it had on occasion happened before, but usually Tom gave him a heads up to tell him not to swing by. Pulling out his phone, he gave it a quick check but there were no new messages from his friend. Tucking his phone away, he got up. “Tom said you guys went out last night?” Morris asked.

She nodded, “Mr. Garfield took me to the movies, you know we’ve been dying to see that one, you know with the girl and guy who get separated by war but find each in the end, oh drats, I can’t think of the name for the life of me, but it was good,” she beamed.

He nodded. Getting up from the table, “Guess I’ll have to fly solo today,” he said, moving to the stairs.

She smiled and nodded. “You have a good day,” she encouraged.

He paused at the stairs, “Tom say who popped by last night?” he asked.

She seemed to consider it a moment, “Not that I think of, not sure we saw Tom when we got back,” she answered.

Mo nodded. Weirder and weirder. “You have a good day too Mrs. Garfield,” he said before letting himself out. Where was Tom? Who had come by last night? Pulling out his phone, he texted, ‘Where you at?’ and sent it to Tom.

Walking back down the drive, he put his phone away and retrieved the half smoke out of his pocket and lit it, drawing in a lungful. A bad feeling gnawed his belly. What if the Graces had come for Tom? Would they do that? He shook his head, jumping at shadows after the creepy day yesterday where they seemed to stalk him all day. Why would they come for Tom and not him? Didn’t make sense. If they were going to come after someone you would think it would be the guy they suspect saw what happened, not the friend. Right? What about the messed up dream, climbing around on some gigantic woman? He really wished he had some chronic to help his brain mellow out.

Arriving at school, he immediately went to Tom’s locker to check and see on his friend, but Tom was nowhere to be found. Sly’s locker was a few down, but he wasn’t around either. He wondered if maybe Tom and Sly were ditching together.

Pushing through the throng of students, he moved toward his own locker to drop off his jacket.

“Hello Morris,” said the voice of Elisha from directly behind him, tone friendly enough but the sound of it startling him nonetheless.

Turning around to face her, he shook his head, “Fuck,” he cursed, meeting her brilliant green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes.

“Fuck? Not at the moment, but maybe later,” she teased playfully.

He blushed. “Why are you girls following me?” he asked, voice rising in pitch, a few students in the vicinity turned to see before she swiveled her head and cowed them to look away.

Moving in closer to him, she smiled broadly, eyes sparkling. “Because you were a naughty boy and spied on us yesterday. I know you saw something you shouldn’t have, that’s why I’m here,” she said, voice low, barely audible.

“No I didn’t see anything,” he said, “I just snuck under the bleachers for a quick hoot is all,” he explained, hastily, feeling incredibly uncomfortable at her proximity, close enough for him to inhale her fragrance.

Putting her hands on his chest, she cocked her head and arched an eyebrow, “So you didn’t see us out there?” she inquired. He tried to take a step back, but bumped into the lockers.

“I mean I saw you guys in the distance, but I didn’t see anything else, you know, like nothing weird,” he chuckled nervously. “You know?”

“Nothing weird you say?” she asked, lower lip pulled in between her teeth as she opened her eyes wider.

He shook his head.

“Nothing weird like what?” she asked, face innocent eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” he babbled. “Like nothing out of the ordinary, you know.”

She smiled again. “What’s really funny is how your friend Tom joked with Silke yesterday. Apparently you were, what were the words she used, tripping balls about something you saw out in the sports field? Something you shared with your buddy Tom,” she commented.

“Nah, you know, that’s Tom just being stupid,” he dismissed. “Silke probably just misunderstood the shit he was going on about is all,” he snorted dismissively.

“Mm-hmm. You know what I think, I think you saw everything,” she whispered leaning in closer, eyes dangerous. “I think you saw us take Len out there and turn him into a tiny little guy, then you watched as Susannah sucked him down her throat into that trim little belly of hers for his just desserts. I also think you’re as scared as a little rabbit right now because you don’t know what to do. Am I right Morris?” she asked, her warm breath on his neck, firm breasts pressing against his chest.

He felt exactly like a rabbit! Taking hold of her upper arms and clearing his throat. “No,” he babbled, shaking his head.

She chuckled. “You know, up close like this, you are actually pretty cute,” she purred, licking her lower lip.

He pushed her back away from him, still shaking his head, heart pounding in his chest like a Tommy Lee drum solo.

She broke contact and moved away from him. “You have no idea how much I want to take you right now,” she grinned. “Make you small and have my way with you,” she cooed.

“Where’s Tom?”

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders, eyebrow raised.

The buzzer rang, “I really need to get to class,” he blurted, pushing away from her to the side.

Two Birds, One Stoner

Tom wasn’t at school and Elisha’s bold approach rattled him, left him completely unnerved. There was little doubt now that he was in the crosshairs of something outside his ability to comprehend. Where the hell was Tom? Or Sly for that matter?

With the normal class block rotation in his schedule, he had shop first thing, more mindless sanding and banal work allowing his brain to meander and fabricate all sorts of possibilities. How could chicks do that, shrink dudes? What other powers could they have? What if they could read his mind? Were they witches or something? What would Aedin Stray do? Probably just rock that shit, he chuckled to himself.

Second block was Dalrymple’s math class. Boring. Despite his lack of interest and laisse faire attitude, he actually seemed quite capable of grasping math and often finished in the top third of the class.

He checked his phone during breaks and at lunch kept to himself, wandering through the cafeteria to see if he could find either Tom or Sly. He did see Silke, but she was sitting at a table with Susannah, and he definitely wanted to avoid that girl. Slipping out unnoticed, he circled around back behind the band room and had a smoke.

Pembry’s class, on the heels of lunch, almost put him to sleep. An hour seemed an eternity. If she were to test him on what concepts had been delivered during the class, he would get a zero, retaining absolutely nothing. Scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles, he walked out of class and made his way directly upstairs to socials, Ms. Mackenzie’s class. He was the second student to arrive, behind perpetual brownnoser Arnold Toblin, she greeted him with a smile as she was cleaning writing from the large green chalkboard at the front of the room. Flopping into his desk, he smiled to himself and watched her. She was looking exceptionally fine today, particularly hot in a dark navy blue knee length skirt, white blouse, hair up, simple earrings, sensible shoes. Tight butt.

Despite his enthusiasm over her appearance, he had difficulty focusing on the class material as she prattled on about the Alaska Boundary Dispute and subsequent resolution in 1903. Looking down at his binder, he idly scribbled on the paper, doodling various band logos and a large smoldering reefer at the bottom of the page with tendrils of smoke weaving between the hand drawn rock and roll facsimiles.

Day was almost done, should he go home? Had he unwittingly put his mother in jeopardy? Elisha told him she wanted to shrink him and have her way with him, sounded sexy but in reality what the hell did that mean? Eat him? He certainly didn’t want to find out. As long as he didn’t allow himself to be isolated with one of them, maybe he would be alright. He sincerely hoped Tom hadn’t been swallowed on account of Mo telling him about the incident he witnessed. Seconds slipped passed, grains of sand draining in the hourglass of the afternoon.

Looking up from her desk, “Would you mind staying a few minutes after class Morris, just a little follow up to our conversation yesterday?” she asked, glancing at the clock and giving him a smile.

He shrugged, “Sure,” he answered, school day clinging to the last few minutes like a condemned man walking up the gallows.

Finally the buzzer sounded and students flocked to get out of the class. He stretched his feet forward and leaned back in his desk, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

Ms. Mackenzie walked forward, hips swaying nicely as she approached coming to stand near his desk at the back of the room. He wondered how old she was, probably not even thirty yet, maybe, hard to tell. Damn fine woman though. Leaning forward on his desk, face expressive, there was a hint of something floral lingering sweetly her presence, something vaguely familiar. “Is everything really okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Where did he smell that before? Why was it so tauntingly familiar? From his angle, he was looking almost directly at her cleavage inside the blouse. Nice boobs. “I don’t know, I guess so,” he replied, playing absently by flicking a pen around in his hand.

She smiled pleasantly, “Girl problem?” she inquired.

He leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling, “You have no possible idea,” he laughed, setting the disposable pen on the desk.

Leaning back and standing upright, “Oh?” she asked, expression inquisitive.

Shaking his head, he chuckled softly.

“Would it have to do with that group of girls that everyone calls the Graces?” she inquired.

“You could say that, but thing is,” he tipped his head forward and made eye contact, “I just don’t know what, I’m sorry, it’s stupid,” he said, looking away.

“No, it’s okay, I’m sure whatever it is, I won’t think it’s stupid,” she reassured.

“I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a kook, you know? It’s way out there, I mean, even for me,” he replied.

She smiled, “You are probably not the first young man to run afoul of a girl’s pretty smile,” she said. “Which of this school’s little queen bees is wreaking havoc in your head?” she asked with a grin.

“Like all of them,” he responded, spreading his hands wide. “It’s like they all fucking with me on purpose, oh sorry, like messing with my head and stuff.”

“All of them?” she asked, pausing to look back at the door near the front of the room before back to him.

Looking in the direction she had, he saw no one. “You don’t understand,” he said softly, “How could you?” he inquired.

“I was a teenaged girl not so long ago,” she said, “And if there was a guy in school, a handsome guy like you who expressed interest in me, I would have been delighted for him to let me know,” she assured. “Maybe you should just ask one of them out, after all, what’s the worst that could happen? She says no?”

He laughed, “That’s not the worst,” he said humorously, remembering the way Len disappeared down Susannah’s gullet.

She smiled and shook her head, “It’ll all work itself out I’m sure,” she said.

“Listen I got to go,” he said, pulling his feet back and rising from the desk. “I know you’re trying to help, but I really got to try and make some sense of the crap bouncing around the inside of my noggin right at the moment,” he explained.

She smiled, “I understand, it’s not easy being as teen these days,” she commiserated.

He laughed, collecting his books. “If only it was that simple,” he stated, moving passed her. That smell again, that delightful hint of something sweet. The dream. Was that the smell in the dream? Is that where he remembered it from? He paused, turning back to look at her. Dark hair. Was it her he had dreamt about? Why her, aside from her obvious hotness, why imagine her as ginormous? Was she the mysterious giantess from his fevered imagination? He facetiously wondered if he should her ask to see if she shaved her pussy hair in the shape of a lightning bolt like the woman from his dream.

She raised an eyebrow, “Something more?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly and grinned foolishly, “No,” he answered, not worth a year’s worth of detention for asking. Turning he walked toward the door, keenly aware of her eyes as he departed. Stepping out into the hall, it was empty, save for two students. To the left of him was Kimber, about twenty paces distant, the other way was blocked off by Elisha, same distance away.

“Susannah had cheerleading practice, otherwise she would have been here too,” Kimber explained, smiling as she moved toward him slowly, sensuous movement, slow and seductive.

Similarly, Elisha was also approaching, pace slow and without urgency or concern. “Come on Morris, it’s okay,” she offered.

Stepping backward toward the door of Ms. Mackenzie’s room, eyes darting back and forth from one girl to the other, a surge of adrenalin coursing through his veins, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Narrow Escape

Given Morris’s heightened state of panic, when he felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder, he jumped forward and gave out a startled shout of alarm.

Both girls stopped and Ms. Mackenzie appeared through the doorway.

“Kimber, Elisha,” said the teacher, looking first from one girl to the other.

“Ms. Mackenzie,” they replied in unison.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked, holding her hand toward the open door. The girls exchanged looks before nodding.

“Why don’t you run along Morris, we can continue this conversation later” Ms. Mackenzie said to the obvious agitated boy.

He crossed to the far side of the hall, turning his back to the lockers and watching warily as the two girls walked toward the door of Ms. Mackenzie’s room. He wanted to yell out and warn the teacher, tell her to run, these girls were not what they appeared and she was in danger before she disappeared back into her classroom.

Elisha walked into the room first, coy smile playing at the corners of her mouth before she passed through the portal. Kimber followed, but stopped just outside the door, turning back to look at Mo.

Reaching her left hand up, she cupped her left breast through her shirt with her left hand, slowly caressing the front of it with her thumb. He stood there confused. She pulled her shirt out a touch, looking down before meeting his gaze again.

She grinned and mouthed the words, “Where’s Tommy?” before releasing her shirt and turning to enter the classroom, closing the door behind her.

What the hell does that mean? Where’s Tommy? And feeling yourself up, what was that about? Then it hit him. Did she shrink Tom and was he being held inside her shirt? He shook his head. Couldn’t be. He snorted. What about Ms. Mackenzie? While he felt relatively confident that nothing would come of the meeting between the girls and the teacher, he also feared maybe he had put the gorgeous educator in jeopardy. He shook his head. Mo a captive in Kimber’s top, what would they do to Ms. Mackenzie? He paced back and forth a few steps.

The classroom door opened and panic gripped him. While he had been standing there ruminating, the very real prospect he had exhausted time for flight occurred to him. He needed to get away. Running as fast as his long legs would carry, he rushed away from the room and down the stairs, almost going ass over tea kettle and falling down the second flight in his haste.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, nearly bowling Silke over in the process.

“Hey Morris,” she said, startled expression on her pretty face. “Where you going like you got a pack of rabid zombies chasing you?”

He paused a moment to catch his breath.

She put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “You okay?”

He nodded, bent at the waist, still sucking in large lungsful of air.

She grinned, eyebrows raised quizzically.

He shook his head, “Nah, I’m alright,” he said between breaths, “I didn’t see Sly today?”

She shook her head, dark hair swaying back and forth. “He had a doctor’s appointment this morning and some other stuff to take care of in the afternoon,” she informed.

Standing more upright, hands on thighs, “He didn’t respond to my texts,” he said.

“I think mom told him if he was sick he couldn’t play with his phone or something,” she explained, though she shrugged her shoulders in a noncommittal kind of way as if to say she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Have you seen Tom, did he go over to your house?” he asked.

Again she shook her head, “I haven’t seen him all day, just you,” she said, giving him a smile.

“But yesterday, did you talk with any of the Graces about what Tom said I said?” he asked, breathing rate returning to normal.

She giggled, “I spoke to Elisha, she seems quite smitten with you by the way, anyway we shared a good chuckle on account of you got too high yesterday and were hallucinating, but Tom didn’t say what you were tripping about, least I don’t remember anyway,” she answered, taking a glance at the clock hanging down from the ceiling.

He noticed her checking the time, “You stayed late today,” he commented.

She nodded and patted the book at her side, “For history,” she said with an exaggerated eyeroll.

He nodded and turned slightly, “Why don’t you let me walk you to your car?” he offered.

“How very chivalrous of you,” she said in a quasi-formal tone and a slight curtsy.

He grinned. And genuflected awkwardly, “After you milady,” he said, falling in step beside her once she started walking. “Don’t you think it odd Elisha Harrow should take an interest in me?” he asked.

She chuckled, “Why so?” she asked, looking at him in side profile.

“Come on,” he chided, “One of the hottest girls in school, a senior, who could get any dude her little heart desires, starts making inquiries about me?” he asked, snorting in disbelief.

She laughed. “Are you trying to solve the riddle of how the female mind operates?” she asked jokingly.

He shook his head slowly. “I just find it weird is all,” he commented wryly.

“Weird or not, just go with it. There are probably hundreds of guys in this school who would give a nut just to get her to give them a second glance,” she teased.

“She kind of creeps me out,” he confessed, exiting the school near the student lot.

Silke chortled, “Creeps you out? Because she’s maybe holding a candle for you? Morris, you are an absolute idiot,” she accused.

He stopped and turned to face her, “It’s not that, it something else,” he said, tone low and serious.

“Is she carrying your love child?” she asked surreptitiously.

He frowned, “No, but,” he shook his head, choosing not to finish and resuming his walk toward her car.

“But what?” she said, catching up and setting her books on the roof of her Chevy Cavalier before fishing her keys out of her purse.

“If something should happen to me,” he started, voice low, wary.

She shook her head, an inquisitive expression on her face. “Get in,” she invited, slipping into the car and unlocking the passenger door.

Teenage Awkwardness

Climbing into the passenger seat of the automobile, Mo fastened the safety belt. There was a yellow and green air freshener hanging from her rearview mirror, something vaguely floral permeating the air.

“Now what’s all this nonsense, ‘If something should happen to me’ stuff about Mo, come on, tell me?” she encouraged, bright eyes locked onto the side of his face.

That smell? Tantalizing, like his dream, was this it? Was this the same smell? He had thought maybe it was Ms. Mackenzie, but now he wasn’t sure. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him? He turned to look at her, half smile on his face, “Just saying,” he said, chuckling, trying to alter the direction of the conversation.

She stared at him a moment then shook her head and started the car, “You’re being a total spaz,” she said bluntly before slipping the car into reverse and pulling out of her spot before dropping the car in gear and driving out of the school’s student parking lot.

Hands on his knees, he look over at her and tried to imagine how he might ask her if she manicured her downstairs ‘situation’ but wondered what Sly would say if she told him if he asked. Probably not be well received. He did wonder though, did she get creative with her pubes?

He didn’t realize he was actually staring at her crotch until she said, “Um, something down there you need? Though you probably shouldn’t stare directly at it, rumor is you might go blind,” she joshed.

Embarrassed, crimson staining his scruffy blond cheeks, he quickly averted his eyes, “Sorry, I just had a really stupid dream,” he dismissed.

“Oh?” she asked playfully, curiosity piqued. “And this dream of yours, it involved you and my girl business, did it?” she teased, laughing softly.

He could feel the heat of blood in his face. “Not like that,” he sputtered.

“Well do tell,” she prompted, delighting in the colorful blush he was sporting.

He shook his head, silently willing her to drive faster so he could get home and escape the awkward situation.

“Come on,” she cajoled. “Tell me about the dream and why you were ogling my groin.”

He coughed, bringing his hand to his face.

“You’re not getting out of my car until I hear the story,” she threatened,

He shook his head. “Fine,” he conceded. “I had a dream about a girl, I don’t know who, except in my dream she kept her area shaved in a very specific pattern,” he commented, cheeks still rosy.

She snickered, “Go on,” she prompted, “Was this mysterious girl hot?”

“I didn’t see her face,” he answered.

“Like hot bod, nice boobs?” she asked, digging deeper.

“Yes she had a rocking body, big boobs,” he confessed.

She chuckled, “Why couldn’t you see her face? Doggy style?”

He shook his head, “Her hair was in the way, but it was dark like yours, but I saw her patch and, I know stupid dream,” he scoffed, unable to look back at her.

“And you thought it might be me?” she suggested.

Two more streets, please get home, please get home. “I don’t know, I,” he stammered.

“Well what was it?” she asked, curious.

“What?”

“Her whisker biscuit,” she said.

“What?” he asked, perplexed.

She shook her head, “Her pussy hair? How did she have it shaped, what was the pattern?” she asked, slowly, enunciating each word.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he said, “You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Come on, you can’t just open the door on a conversation like that and then leave a girl hanging, it’s not only rude, but very impolite,” she coaxed, trying to inveigle the information out of him.

Covering his mouth, “Like a lightning bolt,” he said, muffling his voice behind his hand.

She laughed out loud, “Did you just say like a lightning bolt? A lightning bolt? OMG, that’s totally like a shocker,” she chortled.

“I told you it was just a foolish dream,” he clarified, embarrassed all over again. Sitting here discussing feminine grooming habits with an incredibly hot girl who just so happens to be one of your best friend’s sister was mega awkward, and to make matters worse, he was starting to get a chub.

She turned her head slightly, mischievous smile on her full pretty lips, “I guess that disqualifies me then, I keep my sweet little precious all smooth,” she taunted playfully, licking at the corner of her mouth with the tip of pink tongue.

He cleared his throat while she laughed throatily as his discomfort.

Turning onto his street, she pulled up alongside the curb in front of his house. “This is you Electro,” she said.

“Electro, haha, lightning bolt, I get it,” he verbalized, fake laugh as he opened the car door and clambered out onto the lawn in front of his house.

“I’m just playing, but I can ask around and see if any of the girls I know are sporting the look if it’s any help?” she offered.

He shook his head. “No, I think it will be alright,” he said. “But could you please get Sly to give me a text when you get home,” he requested.

Giving him a devious grin, she nodded. “I’ll let him know when I see,” she assured.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the door, careful not to slam it too forcefully. Watching her drive off, she reached out her window and waved. He waved back, thinking how much he would give to get an opportunity to get a good look at her downstairs to verify her grooming habits. As she turned off his street, he crossed the lawn, a week overdo for a cut and made his way around the side of the house.

As per usual, mom was still working. Going into the kitchen, he grabbed himself a bowl of Honeycomb cereal, splashed some 2% milk on it and retired to his room in the basement.

Unexpected Company

There was a tapping on Morris’s bedroom door. His mother peeked in. “There is a girl upstairs here to see you,” she said, before looking around as if to check for eavesdroppers, then whispering, “She’s is very pretty,” she said, adding “And she looks really smart too,” cupping her hands in front of her breasts, eyebrows raised, coy grin on her face.

“Mom, gross,” he said flatly, then asked, “Did she tell you her name?”

“Elisha,” replied his mother, big grin still on her face.

He shook his head vigorously, “No, tell her I’m not here,” he instructed, eyes growing wide.

She frowned, “I already told her you were down here, though I can see why you wouldn’t want a girl like that down here, despite your valiant effort to tidy, it still looks like a grenade went off in here,” she commented, surveying the condition of his room.

“Please, just send her away,” he urged, icy fingers of panic clawing at his belly.

She frowned, “Morris that’s plain rude, the very least you can do is go upstairs and see what this young lady wants,” his mother encouraged, a hint of reproach in her voice.

He shook his head.

“I’m beginning to wonder about you, is it just because you don’t like girls?” she asked tongue-in-cheek.

He let out a big audible breath and rolled his eyes, “Fine,” he said, glowering at her.

Victorious, she reward him with a smile. Walking back upstairs, she in the lead, he felt a little like a lamb being dragged before a butcher on slaughter day.

Elisha stood in the little hall near the seldom used front door, dozens of framed pictures of Morris at various ages decorating the walls. She stood there, luxurious dark hair loose and hanging down. She looked exceptional, green eyes almost glowing in the weak light, tight top emphasizing her natural endowment and black jeans looking spray painted on. As mother and son arrived, she smiled, plump glossy lips parting revealing small even white teeth.

“There you are my dear,” said Morris’s mother, patting him on the shoulder and grinning at the girl.

Morris shook his head almost imperceptibly, mouth pursed, eyes locked on the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Three’s a crowd,” Mo’s mom commented, “Why don’t I give you two a little privacy?” she said with a knowing smile.

Elisha just smiled, “Thank you Mrs. Jablonski,” she said pleasantly.

“Please dear, Jana,” replied his mother, exiting the room.

“Hello Morris,” she said, meeting his eyes, “You’re mom is super nice,” she commented.

He nodded, heart pounding, palms sweaty, “Why are you here?” he asked directly, choosing not to beat around the bush.

Frowning “Maybe we could go outside and have a chat?” she suggested, turning her head to the side to look at the door.

“You told me this morning you wanted to make me small and have your way with me, why would I want to go outside with you?” he countered.

She laughed and shook her head, “Oh Morris, I was only playing,” she chided, but her eyes were deadly serious.

“What about outside Ms. Mackenzie’s class, Kimber grabbing her boob and asking me where’s Tommy, what was that about?” he challenged, “More just joking?”

Elisha looked amused, “No, that was entirely true, you see when we went into Ms. Mackenzie’s room today, your ‘little’ friend was trapped in the cup of Kimber’s bra, been pinned in there all day poor little guy,” she stated, extending her lower lip in a mock pout.

Mo took a step backward, shoulder brushing against some of the pictures on the wall, eyes wide, “What?” he asked, startled by her words.

“You see, we went over there last night to talk to him and find out what you might have seen, and he told us exactly what you told him,” she informed, moving closer to him. “Everything.”

“So what do want from me?” he asked, glancing behind him. Where could he go? What might they do to his mother? He was trapped.

She grinned deviously and extended her right hand, beckoning him to her by curling her index finger.

He shook his head.

“This really isn’t the right venue for this conversation, don’t you think?” she asked.

She was right, this wasn’t where he wanted to be, especially because of his mother. “I should let my mom know I’m going out, right? So she doesn’t worry?

“Mrs. Jablonski is it okay if Morris and I got out?’ Elisha called out in a loud voice.

“Don’t stay out too late, it’s a school night,” she replied from the other room.

Elisha raised an eyebrow, “Guess that takes care of that,” she proposed.

Nodding, he already knew he was faster than her, so if he could get away from her and out of the house, maybe he could just run, draw her away from his mother. Maybe. “Okay,” he agreed, nodding, slight smile on his face. “But I just need to grab my shoes,” he said, looking back, “They’re at the back door, that’s the one we normally use,” he explained, turning his body.

She slowly shook he head and stepped back toward the front door. “I’m sure it will only take a moment, probably don’t need them,” she said.

Seizing the opportunity to put distance between them, he bolt away from her, out of the hall and through the living room, darting across the kitchen and down the stairs, bending to grab his runners as he passed. Looking behind him to see if Elisha was following, he pushed through the backdoor and out of the house. Seeing no pursuit, he grinned, turning his head back just in time to see Kimber step out of the shadows, bringing her closed hand around, a chain or something dangling from it and striking him across the chest almost like a clothesline wrestling move. The impact and momentum kept his feet churning flipping them up and causing him to crash back to the ground flat on his back, the force expelling all of the air from his lungs. Unable to breathe, he reached out feebly with his hands, flashes of white dancing before his eyes as Kimber stepped over top of him, a foot to either side of his chest, huge grin on her angelic face.

“Hi Morris,” she said, crouching down and straddling his stomach. The lights went out.

Hitching a Ride

Morris awoke, it was dark and he had difficulty breathing, an unassailable weight bearing down uniformly on the front of his entire body, holding him fast against an unyielding surface and eliminating any possibility of movement. In the gloom, he could hear the deep bass tone of a rhythmic beat, strong and steady. What the hell? Grunting, he tried to shift his body, trying to alter his position to see if he could free either of his arms, but finding the only thing he could do was wiggle his fingers and toes. Whatever it was smothering him was very warm and smooth. It was a breast. He knew without a shadow of a doubt, he was on the underside of some impossibly large breast. Swallowing hard, he realized they had done, the Graces had shrunk him. Panicked, he tried to move again, but his feeble efforts netted the same impotent results, he was stuck. There was a sense of motion, he suspected whomever was carrying him was moving.

This must have been what Tom went through, vividly remembering the expression on Kimber’s face when she mouthed the words’ Where’s Tom’. Hers was the last face he had seen before he passed, was this her boob? Or Elisha’s? Where were they headed? Was he going to be swallowed like Len? He really, really, wished he was high.

Feeling large cool fingers, hard nails dexterously burrowing beneath him and curling around his body, pulling him free of the smothering darkness in a sudden jarring motion. The lurching sensation and rapidity of his acceleration wrenched him stomach and he felt weightless for a moment as light assailed his eyes.

“There you are,” said Elisha, holding him close enough to her impossibly large face for him to feel her warm humid exhalation, a hint of cherry mixed in with her breath. Her face was larger than a billboard.

His eyes incredibly wide with fright, he looked up into hers, each of them larger than a jumbo beach ball and so incredibly limpid and luminous, framed by luscious lashes almost the length of his forearms.

“Please,” he croaked, sure he would have trembled if she wasn’t holding him so securely.

She smiled, glistening lips, deep pink in color, parting, showing him the large polished white teeth lurking behind.

Suddenly she moved him away, again the sensation of rapid acceleration and movement reminding him of a carnival ride as she moved her arm. His field of view altered. He was in a room, a bedroom, girly and clean. Kimber and Susannah were seated on a large bed, each looking and smiling as Elisha turned him and set him on the blanket atop the bed.

“Hello little one,” said Kimber, leaning forward toward him, loose strands of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and hanging down.

Swallowing again, he shook his head, flashes of his dream returning to the fore of his mind.

He was scared. But, if they were going to kill him, wouldn’t they have done that already?  What could they possibly want? And why am I naked he asked himself feeling incredibly awkward and exposed before the reigning queens of the school.

“You know you are very fortunate,” Kimber said, sparkling eyes glancing at the other girls before falling back on him, “

He certainly didn’t feel very fortunate right now as Elisha climbed onto the bed and closed the circle of girls around him.

Susannah looked to Elisha, broad grin splitting her generous sensual lips, “You’re right, up close he is kind of cute,” she commented, turning her head to look back down at the boy.

“I know,” commented the brunette, chuckling.

For his part, Morris simply stood silently in place, unsure of what to do, his gaze moving from giantess to giantess, seeing no possible hope for escape.

“Not many boys get to see the inside of Elisha’s room,” Kimber said.

“How many boys have seen the inside of Elisha’s stomach?” his mouth asked before his brain could prevent the words from spilling out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded the brunette, eyes narrowing in affront.

He shook his head, stupid mouth. “Please don’t eat me,” he said.

“Is that what you think Morris? One of us is going to swallow you?” asked Susannah, grin on her face.

He half shook nodded his head in a very noncommittal kind of way.

Elisha chuckled, “Is that a yes or a no?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he babbled.

Kimber held up her hand, “So if we were going to do that, which one of us would you like for it to be?” she asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

This is what they were talking about in English, that story with the goddesses, Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera. One chick throws a gold apple in amongst them with the words ‘To the fairest’ carved in it. The chicks can’t figure out who gets it so they visit the dude on the hillside, was he a shepherd, doesn’t matter, and they make him pick. No matter who he chooses, he gains one ally and two enemies. Moral of the story, enjoy a blunt and let the ladies figure the shit out for themselves.

“Well?” asked Susannah.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to get eaten,” he said. “If it’s your plan to snuff me out that way, I guess it doesn’t much matter.”

“True enough I suppose, though there are certain euphoric physiological responses that goes along with consuming a tiny person,” she added, smiling and closing her eyes as if re-experiencing the sensation.

“I want him,” Elisha said, nodding her head.

Kimber shook her head, “You know what she said. She wants him unhurt,” she reminded.

Who were they talking about? Who was she?

“Not to swallow, just to play with for the night,” clarified Elisha, eyes back on Morris. “Then we can hand him over to her tomorrow.”

Kimber nodded slowly, “She didn’t say anything about not playing with him,” she stated, expression contemplative.

“Who?” Morris asked. “Who said what?”

“Shh,” urged Susannah, touching a finger to her lips, eyes dancing back and forth from Elisha to Kimber.

“I will use the time to ensure he understands the dire consequences of talking,” Elisha stated, eyes still locked on the tiny young man.

Again Kimber slowly nodded, leaning back. “Methodology of cooperation was not discussed,” she said. “Susannah?”

“I think if we decide that he can be toyed with, I say we should all have a chance to help convince him of the necessity for silent compliance,” offered the shorter blonde.

Kimber looked down on him again, eyes studying him, devious smile touching her angelic face, “Agreed,” she said.

Elisha clapped her hands together in front of her, while Susannah bounced on the bed. The motion forcing Mo down onto a knee to steady himself.

Kimber raised her hands, calming the other two girls, eyes still fixed on the tiny youth, “Let me ask you Morris, have you ever been with a girl before?” she inquired, licking her lips.

Frowning, he wasn’t entirely sure he understood the question. Been with a girl? Like had sex? Up until he had awoken in Elisha’s bra buried under a mountain of her breast flesh, he had never even touched a boob before, well except two years ago at Greg Jensen’s party when Veronica had agreed to let him touch her boobs through outside of her sweater.

“I’ll take that confused look on your face as a no,” Kimber said, half grin still on her face.

Morris knew he was in way too deep to get out of this unscathed.

In Over Your Head

Morris wasn’t sure what to do. The girls all got up and began disrobing silently. He shook his head. A week ago what he would have given to have had a chance with any one of the girls and the impression he got is that in a few moments all three were going to ‘play’ with him. He wasn’t sure what ‘play’ meant, but he surmised play was better than eat or crush. He couldn’t get over how incredibly beautiful these girls were, extremely massive, but still way too cute.

Elisha turned toward him, giving him the full frontal view. Moving forward, she walked to the edge of the bed near him, looking down over the rounded globes of her breasts. To his perspective, her vagina was several feet above his head, he had never seen a vagina before, well, in the flesh, lots of pictures sure, but never a real one. The split in her mons was crowned with a narrow strip of neatly trimmed pubic hair. Gazing up, he moved a couple of steps toward her, the fragrance of her privates touching his nostrils, again something heretofore out his experience. He felt a stirring, his own body responding. What was the term? Pheromones? He looked down at his erection, a blush of crimson dusted his cheeks.

She also noticed his tumescence, “That didn’t take much” she commented, playful smile. Kimber and Susannah appeared, one to either side of the brunette, each beaming. Kimber’s pubis smooth and sans hair, while Susannah sported a small blonde triangle above hers. Having never seen one vagina, now standing before three, marveling that while similar, each slightly different.

He wasn’t quite sure how this was supposed to work.

“You have the honors,” suggested Kimber, deferring to Elisha.

“Thank you,” Elisha replied in mock ceremony as she extended her right hand toward Mo. He watched the hand approaching, but didn’t bother to move, letting her take him in her palm and lift him up. He extended his arms out over her fingers to brace himself against the sudden rapid motion.

She held him near her face, gigantic lips parted as she grinned at the tiny boy in her hand. Opening her mouth, she extended her tongue. Was she going to put me in her mouth? He wasn’t sure as she flipped him over, holding him by his left calf and lowered him toward her gaping maw, putting him inside her mouth before closing her lips behind him. Lying on her slick tongue, he could felt the textured bumps of the appendage as he was immediately flipped over. He could taste her saliva, the hint of her chewing gum, an essence of her lip gloss as she moved him around. He tried to tuck himself into a ball for fear of getting caught in her teeth and prayed he wasn’t going to be swallowed like Len. Suddenly there was another tongue and he was being buffeted between the two before being pushed into the other mouth, this one holding a near overpowering smell of mint. He didn’t have time to ponder as again another tongue, more movement and he arrived in yet the last girl’s mouth where he was turned and moved for what seemed several minutes. Coughing and sputtering, light finally poured in as the mouth opened and the tongue pushed him forward, passed polished white teeth and into the waiting fingers of Susannah.

The smaller blonde held him out, dangling inverted. Elisha lay on her back, legs parted wide, Kimber on her stomach between Elisha’s thighs, hands on Elisha’s vagina, parting it open. Susannah began lowering him toward Elisha’s swollen and glistening nether lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, startled by the realization of Susannah intention and trying to twist to see the blonde girl.

She giggled, but didn’t respond, instead, pushing him against the hot moist flesh. He tried to scramble, to roll, to somehow dislodge his foot from her grip and as she pulled him slowly through the crease in Elisha’s sex, sticky juice, warm and clinging to him.

“Wait,” he bellowed, as she altered her grip around his upper torso before reversing course and easing him inside Elisha’s splayed sex.

Can she really be doing this? He was alarmed, feeling the delicate tissue parting around his legs as her vagina devoured him, his toes feeling the frilly texture inside the humid pussy. Struggle as he might, kicking and thrashing, his efforts were completely futile as Susannah continue to push him in all the way to his waist, the folds flexing around him trying to pull him in deeper in the process of his exertion. He went limp, feeling like he was mired in a fleshy version of quicksand, every move bringing him close to going under. He yelled out in panic, but Kimber put a finger to the back of his head, driving his face down into the pink tissue near Elisha’s urethral opening.

Kimber’s chin appeared overhead, pink tongue darting out and lashing Elisha’s flesh, spatters of saliva drooling out of her mouth onto Elisha and him. When Kimber released her hands, he thought for sure the gigantic pussy would close around him, swallow him completely, but as fast as Kimber’s digits vanished, Susannah’s were there, the small blonde moving in an nibbling and licking what he thought must most certainly be Elisha’s clitoris. The smaller blonde girl’s mouth opened wide and she drew back before coming forward as if to take him into her mouth.

He closed his eyes and raised his arms over his head, feeling a change in pressure when she closed her mouth over him. He felt as if his lungs were going to explode when it felt like she was sucking him out of Elisha, spots danced his eyes as he was wrestled free of the brunette swollen sex and drawn completely into the blonde’s mouth, tongue rolling him over and making it hard for him to catch a fresh breath.

A second later, he was drooled out onto Kimber’s stomach, where hand clutched and pulled him up, swirling his slippery flesh around a swollen nipple before driving him back down toward her eager sex, smothering him in her flesh and spinning him around, a finger behind his skull pushing him face first into her. Again and again he was in her before being pulled away. Next it was Susannah, her puffy lips welcoming him. He was losing focus, time was beginning to slip as he fought for his life, passed back and forth from one girl to the other. Coated and covered in vaginal secretions, he could only tell one from the other by subtle difference of taste, feeling Elisha climax first, then Susannah, and finally Kimber.

He felt like he was drowning in a warm sea of velvet as darkness enveloped him.

Teenage Rule #12 - Never Fall Asleep at a Party

Jerking awake, Morris found himself in complete darkness, enfolded and wrapped in warmth and practically incapable of movement. Flesh, its flesh his brain registered. He had only recently become acquainted with the natural scents associated with female private parts. Here was a little pungent, sweat with a subtle background tartness of urine. He knew where he was, wedged in amidst the labial folds of someone’s vagina with something pressing behind him and pinning him in place. Panties? Trying to turn his body was extraordinarily difficult, the flesh refusing to cooperate. Shifting an arm through a mass of tissue, he tried to snake it up toward his face. The air was close and it was hard to breathe. The flesh around him seemed to undulate and shift and he wondered if the owner of this particular pussy was walking or moving. Trying to time the movements, he was able to get his left hand up near his face, swiping away damp tangled blond hair from his mouth and eyes. The smell was different, the taste in his mouth was different. Whose beaver lodge am I riding with? Squirming, he tried to get his right arm up, pushing at the dense tissue holding him firm.

Suddenly, the whole area compressed around him, painfully crushing him in place. Any hope of movement other than blinking seemed impossible. Did she just sit down? Is that why everything snugged up? Over the noise of his own beating heart and shallow rapid breathing, he tried to listen for other sounds, voices, some indication of who he was with or where they might be. Other than the biological sounds she was making, there was only muffled white noise, indistinct.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of immobility, his muscles aching from inactivity, the pressure lessened slightly and he was able to draw his right hand up beside his left.

Squirming, he tried to turn the right, pushing against the flesh with his shoulder. It felt as if the ambient temperature in the region was increasing, getting warmer and the tissue around him seemed to, for want of a better word, inflate. He ceased in his movement. She was getting aroused, whoever she was. The scent in the air changed.

Suddenly there was pressure on his back, bearing down on him and driving him harder against the swelling flesh. He was moved in a semi-circular motion a couple of times before the pressure abated. The area around him moistened and the heated air became more humid. The area around his feet felt positively aflame.

Okay, he thought, movement, let alone escape seems futile. He chuckled to himself. Escape to where? He didn’t know where here was. School? Riding in a car? What? What was going to happen to him? Was this ‘her’?

“Who are you?” he called out weakly to the darkness. Nothing.

Frustrated, he tried to thrash against the bonds restraining him, digging in with elbows and knees, even trying to head butt the flesh in front of his face. As before the tissue around him seemed to respond, engorging with blood and getting wet, viscous pre-cum, slippery, coating the front of his body.

“Aargh!” he yelled, half twisted to the left, able to feel the texture of the panties against the side of his face.

The motion of the body and flesh around him seemed to become more animated. She was walking faster, then suddenly it stopped.

There was a moment of some light, then he felt the hard edge of a fingernail, digging itself between him and the fleshy folds holding him, separating him from her and dropping him a short distance into her panties below.

He raised a hand over his face, shielding them and blinking against the bright overhead fluorescent light.

“You’re awake,” she said, grinning down at him lying in the gusset of her panties as she sat down on the gleaming white porcelain toilet.

“Silke?” he asked, recognizing her voice.

She chuckled softly.

Eyes adjusted, he looked at her, taking stock of the surrounding with his peripheral vision, on either side of the girl, two metal dividers. The smell of floor cleaner acrid in his nostrils. They were at the school, girl’s washroom.

“I trust you’re not too uncomfortable?” she asked, he could hear it over the sounds of her piss hitting the water in the bowl as she began to urinate.

Away from her and the warmth of her body, his skin puckered, goosebumps forming all over his flesh, he lay there motionless.

“Trying to get me all hot and bothered?” she teased, arching an eyebrow, half smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Rolling onto his side, “Help!” he yelled as loud as his little lungs could manage, eyes round and full of fear, looking down the length of her leg at the floor many feet below.

She giggled, “Hush now Morris,” she encouraged, placing her right index finger on the side of his face and pushing him against the stretchy fabric of her thong.

He pushed at the finger, feebly, ineffectively.

“Who do you suppose is going to come to your rescue?” she asked, withdrawing her finger and raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he said, “I don’t want to be little.”

Her expression softened, “It’s alright now, everything will be okay, just relax,” she said.

Shaking his head from side to side, “No,” he bleated.

She smiled, drawing a short strip of off white toilet paper from the giant roll inside shiny silver dispenser attached to the wall of the bathroom stall and dabbing the pee from her privates.

“Silke,” he said, eyes petitioning her face for some measure of understanding.

“Shh,” she said smile still on her pretty face, rising to her feet.

“Don’t” he said, putting his hands out.

Bending forward, she pointed at her hairless crotch, “Was I lying? Smooth,” she said with a grin, carefully drawing her panties back up, securing him against her vulva before pulling up her blue jeans and blotting out the light once again.

If she was smooth, who had the lightning bolt?

Extracurricular

Morris made an effort not to squirm too much for the balance of the school day, not wanting to inadvertently elevate her arousal level. Given the period of compressed inactivity he experienced, he presumed he had awaken early in the school day and the long periods of inactivity were when she was seated in class. After what he felt was the last period of the day, he figured she would return home. He was wrong.

When next there was light, he was still trapped in her sheer panties. Turning his head to the side, he was able to see through the lacy material of Silke’s delicate undergarment. Girl’s locker room. At once he understood. Silke was a forward on the school’s senior girl’s field hockey team. He could see other girls in various degrees of undress as the squad prepared for practice until his vision was obscured when Silke drew up the white skirt trimmed in green.

What if he escaped from her here? Would one of the other girls help him? If Silke was connected to the Graces, who else might be?

He wasn’t concerned about falling out, the panties cradling him against her like a hammock, drawing him tight into the groove of her slit, but the violent sudden change of direction motions she was making were mashing him mercilessly against her pussy, which of course, began to swell, getting slick with a mixture of perspiration and vaginal secretion. He found it odd, he could swear he felt her change in pulse through the frilly flesh of her genitals as she ran and played the game.

He could hear the sounds of female voices yelling, cheers. A shrill whistle. Should he call out and try to draw attention to himself? Did girls shrink girls? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know Silke’s intent, what she had in store for him. She had always been kind and friendly, but that was before he was small and he didn’t know what giantess Silke might be like.

Did Sly know about his sister? If he did know why hadn’t he warned Mo about her? If he didn’t, where was he know? Or Tom? Were they out there trapped in other girls panties? Elisha and Kimber both played on the team too. How deep was the conspiracy? How many girls were involved? He was filled with so much doubt. Would his mom raise an alarm over his disappearance, or was she aware of what was going on?

Finally the practice drew to a close, the team walking back to the changing room. He felt sticky and she was not particularly fresh.

She did not seemed very concerned he might draw attention to himself, which reinforced the idea there were far more girls in on the situation than anyone suspected.

Is she going to shower here? What will she do with me if she does? Silke simply grabbed her clothes from her locker and tossed them into her gym bag, skipping toward the exit of the change room.

During the drive to her home, his mind continued to run over the myriad of possibilities, the seeds of mistrust and doubt pervasive in his brain.

Once at the Selwynn residence, Silke parked the car and carried her things into the house. Strolling into her bedroom, she began to strip of the field hockey uniform until she was only clad in her underwear.

Morris smiled wryly, how many times during his visits with Sly had he imagined sneaking into this room and throwing Silke a bone and now here he was, except now, slathered up by her gigantic pussy, he would give almost anything to be somewhere else.

Walking down the hall to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her, pulling out the front of her panties and gently plucking Morris from within, setting him on the countertop next to the sink.

Though familiar given the hundreds of times he had been to the house, the room at this size was alien, foreign and in frightening dimension. “What are you going to do?’ he asked.

“We are going to have a shower,” she replied, moving to the shower and turning it on before removing her panties.

“I mean, well, because I’m small,” he said, trying to ascertain some of her intent.

“And getting a little ripe,” she teased, reaching a hand into the stream of water shooting out of the shower head.

He looked down at his flesh. Large patches of his skin were pruned from exposure to moisture, his hair was mated.

“How many of you are there?” he blurted.

“Sorry,” she said, “I couldn’t hear you over the water.”

“How many girls are involved in this?” he repeated.

“Right now the only one you need to worry about is me,” she replied with a smile, tapping a finger to her breast bone.

“Silke,” he said, “Please.”

Curling her dry hand around him, she carried him into the shower, setting him down on the built in soap dish and drawing the curtain before ducking her head under the spray.

Pulling back, she flipped her dark hair back over her head and looked at him, big smile on her face. “Admit it Morris, how many times have you fantasized about me naked? Wanted me?” she asked.

Did she read his mind? “Not like this,” he replied quickly.

She stepped back, allowing the water to spill over her chest, lowering her eyes, she sucked her lower lips into her mouth and looked at him through long lashes. “No?” she asked, beautiful, body glistening.

He shook his head, intimidated by her sheer physical presence.

Reaching toward him, he turned and cowered as she chuckled and picked up the soap, bringing the scented bar to her breasts and stomach before setting it back down beside him.

“Wash up,” she encouraged, touching a soapy finger to his chest.

Using the lather left behind by her touch, he spread the suds over his body, face, and head, rinsing off in her over spray as she washed and conditioned her hair.

Her body cleaned, she looked at him, “Done?” she asked, leaning toward the faucet.

He nodded.

Turning the water off, she pulled back the curtain and took a large fluffy towel off the rack, bringing it to the front of her body. Perched on his ledge, he watched as she dried her body, legs, privates, and bum before wrapping the towel around herself.

Reaching out for him, she took him off the ledge and set him on the counter, dropping a face cloth beside him to dry with before grabbing another towel and drying hair.

Lifting a corner of the cloth, Morris dried the water from his skin, finishing as Silke bundled her head in the second towel.

Turning her head to look at him, she grinned, “Ready?”

“No,” he said.

She laughed and wrapped her warm hand around him.

Silken Embrace

Carrying him down the hall and into her bedroom, Silke set Morris on top of her bed. How many times had he imagined throwing her a bone on this very bed? He frowned, as she removed her towel and sat at her vanity, running a brush through her dampened long dark hair.

Watching her, it was funny, he mused to himself, being here with her was a lot different than when the Graces were stalking him. He didn’t believe she intended him harm, and with the others he just wasn’t sure. Not that he necessarily felt safe, being so small opened up a whole new world of hazards and risk.

He cleared his throat, but she didn’t seem to hear. Summoning his voice, he called out, then again. Pausing in her brushing, she looked over a t him and smiled.

Rising from the chair, she turned toward him, tugging at the folded in corner of the towel and allowing it to fall to the floor.

He stood there mutely, eyes roving over her as he tried to absorb every ounce of detail from the moment. She was spectacular and beautiful. Body in exquisite shape, breast firm and round on her chest, nipples small and erect.

Moving toward the bed, hips swaying as she crossed the distance, her lips parted and she smiled, eyes alight. He had always loved her eyes, blue to the point of bordering on purple, long lashes. She somehow always seemed to have a sparkle of mystery dancing there. He supposed he understood the nature of the mystery now, as he watched the mammoth girl arrive and stop close to the edge of the bed.

“What about Tom and Sly?” he asked, swallowing hard as she stood there.

Spreading her hands apart, she looked down on him, “Right now you stand there looking at this and you want to know where my brother is?” she asked playfully, arching an eyebrow before putting hands on her smooth hips.

He swallowed hard. He imagined even full sized he probably would have been overawed by the girl above him, though now she was like a thousand times more intimidating.

Though feeling somewhat conflicted, he nodded slowly.

“Don’t worry about them. I told you before, the only thing on your mind right now, should be whether or not you perform to my expectations,” she advised.

Expectations? What expectations? He was barely three or four inches tall, what the hell kind of expectations did she have? What happened if he didn’t live up to them? What then? Had he been wrong to not feel threatened by her?

She chuckled throatily, “I want you to relax,” she started, reaching down and taking him in her left hand, “You might even enjoy this,” she finished, bringing him up to her mouth and pressing her soft lips against his head and torso.

Cradling him, she climbed onto the bed and sat with her back to the headboard, knees up, legs parted. She kissed him several more times, before opening her mouth and putting him headfirst halfway into her mouth, holding his waist between her even white teeth as her lips closed over him.

He raised his arms defensively as her tongue swiped at him, a giggle coming up from inside her as they dueled, him hopelessly outmatched by her stronger and nimble tongue.

Taking him legs in her head, she released her toothy hold and removed him from her mouth. Instantly, he brought his hands up and mopped the saliva from her face.

“How’s that for the ultimate French kiss?” she asked.

HE looked at the slobber in his hands, coughing a little, “You’re a sloppy kisser,” he said.

She grinned, right eyebrow arching up, “Cheeky,” she said, lowering him down against the stiff nipple crowning her left breast, dragging him back and forth across it as he turned and struggled to try and grab it. Chuckling again, she lifted him upside down over her nipple, using his long hair to tease the nipple.

Snaking her other hand down her down, she spread herself opening, a thin sheen of pre lubricant oozing from her. Trailing his hair down her stomach and over her navel, she brought him over the pink opening in her genitals and lowered him down slowly.

He found she was warm, smelling nice and fresh as she reoriented him and wedged him against her flesh, pressing him against the waking nub atop her feminine place, rubbing him gently in a circular motion, careful not to grind him too hard against her pubic bone as her pussy began to respond to the pleasurable touches and engorge with blood in preparation.

He could hear her moan as her arousal seemed to intensify, her motions growing quicker and slightly more erratic. Pausing, she lifted him aloft and made eye contact, her cheeks flush with color, “I’ve seen how long you can hold a hoot in your lungs, let’s see how long you can hold your breath” she teased, inserting him headfirst into her slippery hole, twisting him slightly to get him passed his shoulders and deeper inside.

Reaching his arms outward and into her tight pussy, they slipped over the riffled sodden dark interior of her, heightening her pleasure as she, with legs splayed, worked him back and forth, never quite pulling him all the way out as she used the fingers of her other hand deftly across her completely aroused clit, feather light, bringing her closer and closer to coming. Then it was upon, her need reaching a crescendo, closing her eyes, she had to make a conscious effort to not clamp her legs together as she felt the orgasm erupt in her pleasure center. A veritable stream of silky fluid pouring over him and out of her, his legs protruding from her as her vaginal muscles clamped down repeatedly upon him, each contraction threatening to tug him deeper into her moist frilly depths, the juice seeping out of her and across her perineum and over the tight bud of her asshole.

Reaching down, she took hold of his legs, no longer thrashing, pulling him free and bringing his unconscious little body near her face, smiling, she licked her lower lip and then sucked him into her mouth, pulling his limp little body across her tongue.

Coming To

Morris awoke with a jolt. There was a momentary sense of movement and then it was gone. Wherever he was, it was dark, neither cold nor hot and he got the impression he was lying on his back. The surface beneath him was soft, a smooth fabric, like velour. His whole body felt raw, abraded, like taking a wicked spill on a long board and getting road rash, but everywhere. Groaning, he tried to sit up but only fell back down when his head collided with something unseen in the gloom just above his head. Where in the world am I? Reaching his hands up, he touched the low ceiling over top of him, feeling the same texture above him as he was lying on. Putting his hands to his side, he made contact with either edge without even needing to stretch out. The sides of whatever he was contained in also felt rigid but soft. He was inside something long and narrow.  Did I die? Am I in a coffin? He tried to remember the encounter with the Silke, a whirlwind of lust and pussy slobber and blackness. He laughed to himself, mentally reading the bio that could in his school year book.

Morris was voted most likely to get baked. His favorite memory is the time when the hottest girls at school stalked him like a pride of lionesses tracking a Thompson’s gazelle on the Serengeti and then used him as a vaginal handy-wipe for their own amusement. After high school, Morris plans to help legalize marijuana and become a gynecologist.

Blunt and cunt, he snickered to himself, that’s what he could base a business on, call it B&C Enterprises, ‘You can smoke it or poke it’ would be his company slogan. Despite his fear and the rough handling he received from the girls, he had to admit on some perverse level he enjoyed himself. He supposed the prospect of dying, either being swallowed or suffocated or crushed may have heightened the experience, the rush, but still, he smiled in the darkness. He doubted any other student in the history of the world had ever lost their virginity in such a fashion. That little voice at the back of his mind reminded him not to get too comfortable, these girls were not all sugar and spice and everything nice, after all, they had already demonstrated a willingness to kill when they ate Len. A number of other questions chewed away at the back of his mind. He wondered who the mysterious ‘she’ was, the one the girls seemed to take direction from? The first thought that came to his mind was Miss Mackenzie. What was that 80’s movie about teenage vampires? Lost Boys? Except instead of vampires and boys, what if Miss Mackenzie led a group of shrinking student eating hot girls? He also had the nagging suspicion somehow she was the one with the lightning bolt hair patch. He didn’t know, but now that he was an experienced man of the world, he wanted to definitely to try and take a run at her and secretly hoped for an opportunity.

“Hello?” he called out, reaching up and tapping the ceiling of what it was confining him. No response or sound.

He wondered if Tom or Sly were ‘toyed’ with and whether or not they were still alive or were slowly digesting inside the girls as they played with him. The thought made him shudder slightly. What plans did they have in store for him, or did she have in store for him? What about his mother? How would they explain his absence, especially considering how bold Elisha had been?

There was another sense of movement and there was bright light as the container holding him was opened.

“Hello Morris,” he heard the dulcet voice of Miss Mackenzie say. “I see you are essentially none the worse for wear at the hands of the girls.”

“Miss Mackenzie,” he said, blinking and looking up at the lovely teacher. He grinned to himself, “I totally knew it,” he chirped, though still small while she positively loomed over him. Laying as he was, once his eyes adjusted, he also got the impression he was on a kitchen table in a home. Her home? He wasn’t sure. She looked amazing,

“Unfortunately for you young man, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and now we must address the issue,” she stated, leaning back in her and placing her right hand on the table top, strumming her fingers staccato fashion.

Despite the predicament, he found she looked positively gorgeous, her long hair free, a touch of color to her lips.

He didn’t know what to say, what argument he could make to try and persuade her he wasn’t a liability. What assurance could he possibly provide other than as a pothead with limited credibility she ought not to worry about him because who in their right mind would give anything he said credence?

Finished strumming her fingers on the table top, she held him in her gaze a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said, acknowledging some inner unspoken thought in her mind.

“Yes,” he said nodding before pausing and shaking his head and frowning.

She smiled. “You agree?” she queried.

“I don’t know, I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment,” he explained, shrugging.

Seeming to accept his words at face value, she nodded.

What about my friends?” he asked.

“Well it seems Sylvester will be relatively easy commodity to manage, given Silke lives right in the same house as him. Tom on the other hand is a little more problematic, he seems reluctant to cooperate, meaning I may be left with little option other than to have him, shall we say, conveniently vanish,” she explained, lifting her chin and making an audible swallowing noise.

Mo shook his head. He didn’t like that. Nope.

“And then there’s you,” she said, fixing him with a stare, slowly stroking the sides of her throat with her other hand.

Now it was his turn to swallow.

Placing her hand back on the table, she smiled slightly, “You’re a good boy and I’m sure you don’t want to wind up a shapeless lump of mush in someone’s tummy,” she said.

“No,” he blurted, remembering his thoughts on Len’s fate.

She nodded. “So you want to cooperate then?” she inquired.

He nodded, blonde hair bouncing almost as much as if he was rocking out.

“Good,” she said, nodding her head approvingly. “In that case, we can proceed with trying to re-assimilate you,” she added.

“I can keep my trap shut,” he assured, head still bobbing.

“I suppose we shall see,” she said, looking up. “Elisha,” she called.

The dark haired girl appeared, “Miss Mackenzie,” she said, giving the lovely teacher a respectful nod.

“I am assigning Morris to you for the time being. He will need to be prepared,” she said.

She smiled down at him, “Of course,” she said, licking her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

Prepared for what he wondered? Couldn’t they just unshrink him? What did he just agree to and what did Miss Mackenzie mean by assimilation if not restoration?