The dowdy woman sat at the bar of the diner, sawing a burger apart with great diligence. She was middle-aged and full-bodied, with a round rump planted on a candy-apple red vinyl stool. It seemed important to her that she slice her hamburger into very small, thin bites. Her large purse slumped at the foot of the stool, and a rumpled paper napkin was parked at her elbow.

“More fries?” she asked her husband.

“Maybe just one more.” With both hands, he tugged it off his wife’s plate.

“Look at you, just packing them away.” Grinning at her husband’s appetite, she subtly arranged the napkin to hide him again.

This is what Rachael saw, sitting at her booth with three teammates. She stared rapt at the couple, not understanding at first what she was looking at. She thought maybe the woman had a pet rat beneath the napkin, little pink fingers darting out to seize the food and nibble it beneath its tent. But as the woman shared slices of burger and small french fries, and especially the way she talked to the little thing, the young woman came to realize it was, impossibly, a tiny man on the counter.

Rachael could barely move. Her hands rested on her lap, palms increasingly sweaty, and her eyes never blinked as she studied the man under the napkin. She couldn’t see much of him, just his hands and some discoloration on his arms, as though he were wearing a suit, which made even less sense. How did he get so small? Why did the woman bring him out in public? A thousand questions raced through Rachael’s mind as she gawked.

None of her teammates noticed. They were accustomed to her shyness. Sometimes she just wanted to hang out with other people, silently, while they roared their jokes and sang their songs and accused each other of ridiculous things. They accepted her and when she zoned out, like now, they thought nothing of it.

Rachael hadn’t zoned out, though. She was focused on the little miracle happening at the diner counter. Part of her wondered why no one else had noticed this, and part of her wanted that tiny man. She’d never seen anything like it before and curiosity consumed her. All she had to do was bide her time, wait for the moment to present itself… she had no specific plan in mind, but she knew these things generally worked out, if only she’d wait for the opportunity.

“Awright, ladies,” bellowed their coach, “dinner’s over. Back on the bus.”

The conversational clamor of young women pitched into a roar as they grabbed their leftovers and belongings, wrapped up conversations and thought up new jokes, piling into the aisle like a white-and-blue stampede. Rachael slipped out of her booth and hovered beside it, her gaze unbroken by the activity, as young women flowed around her like a frothing river. She just had to wait for the opportunity.

One young woman tripped and collided with another. The recipient of this turned and shoved her, and the original offender shouted and retaliated harder. The wronged party stumbled over a teammate’s trainers, then kicked the large handbag belonging to the woman at the counter, with a clatter of plastic and glass objects.

“What the hell?” The woman twisted to check on her bag, make sure nothing was being stolen or scattered across the floor. In that half-second, Rachael slipped through her teammates like water around stones, snaked her thin hand under the napkin, and seized anything that felt like a tiny man. She clutched the diminutive being to her white t-shirt and rode the wave of young athletes out the doors of the diner. There and gone again.

She could feel him squirming in her sweaty palms, mashed against her flat belly, as the cool night air settled on her face and shoulders. She even thought she could hear him screaming, a thin, tinny noise barely perceptible above the roar of the visiting volleyball team. When she climbed the steps of the charter bus, the noise fought for space in close, humid quarters and she couldn’t hear anything else as she carefully picked her way to the very back of the bus.

Rachael settled into her seat, hands molded into a protective dome on her belly, and watched the chaos on the bus settle into regular patterns. The players near the front of the bus chatted with the chaperones, brown-nosing to show everyone how adult they were. In the middle of the bus were the regular athletes, the average students, discussing the game and talking about homework or boys or TV shows. They didn’t need to ingratiate themselves with the chaperones, and they didn’t like as much trouble as the bad girls who sat in the back.

The same five always sat in the back—Jenice, Dee-Dee, Ariana, Mona, and the pack leader, Frances—plus or minus the hangers-on of the week. And these young women weren’t necessarily evil, they just had a different sense of humor than their teammates. They liked a different kind of fun, and sometimes that fun resembled abuse, but they all had it in common and that’s what bonded them. Rachael wasn’t one of the bad girls, but they didn’t mind her back there because they knew she was shy. She minded her own business and she didn’t narc to the grown-ups.

Frances sat kitty-corner from Rachael. Each of them had their seats to themselves and were being quiet, for different reasons. Frances was resting, having played hard tonight; Rachael was hiding something and was working hard at avoiding attention, knowing full well that trying too hard necessarily attracted attention.

There was a long, tense span of time between boarding the bus and when the grumpy driver finally started the ignition. During this time Rachael watched the other athletes squirreling around and holding animated conversations, and she kept one eye on the diner itself. She couldn’t see any details in the glowing windows, but the front door flew open and the middle-aged, round-hipped woman came charging straight at them just as the bus’s engine whined at a higher pitch and its wheels began to roll across the parking lot pavement. She was shouting, Rachael could see, waving her arms, and she’d left her huge purse behind, but she shrank into the dark distance as the charter bus took the service road to the highway.

Rachael tried to control her breathing. A lot had just happened—the timing of the steal, hustling aboard the bus, trying to hide her prize from her fellow students—and her thoughts were racing. She had to calm down… all she had to do was calm down.

The tiny man writhed against her skin, but weaker now. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him. Perhaps he was just tired? She waited another five minutes, when everyone else was fully absorbed in their own activities, before she dared peek down at him.

There he was: an actual tiny man. He was wearing a little brown wool suit, just like a regular person but much, much smaller. To Rachael he was an old man, which was anyone twice her age and on up. He lay against her laced fingers, blinking and squinting up at her. The lights of the bus had dimmed once it started moving, so it was hard for her to make out the details of his clothing.

He lay there, gasping, staring up at her. His weight was very light in her hands, but his clothes were warm. He was real. She could hardly believe it. Guiltily she glanced up and around her, but no one cared what she was doing.

“Hi,” she mouthed to the little man.

His mouth gaped as he looked around him in fright. All there was to see was her palms, her volleyball shirt, and her face looming overhead.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He shook his head violently, his tiny heels digging into her hand, trying to push himself away. He even had tiny shoes: how in the world did he get those?

“Can you hear me?” she whispered. “I know the bus is really loud, but can you say anything?”

His jaw worked but she couldn’t make out any words over the tires on the highway and the huge diesel engine. She bent her head down even further and lifted the tiny man to her ear.

The tiny man sounded delirious. “Please, my wife,” he cried, “find my wife. Help me.”

Rachael turned her face to him, cupping him over her mouth. He was only slightly taller than her mouth was wide, and she felt his wool suit brushing against her fat bottom lip. He smelled like fries, and she unconsciously licked her lips right above him.

Breathily she whispered, “Don’t think about her. How did you get so small?” She turned her ear to him again, but he only continued to beg for his wife. She placed him over her mouth again: “Your clothes are so small. Where did they come from?” He gibbered frantically, something about his wife and where they were. “Don’t be scared! You’re safe with me! But how come you’re so tiny?” Then he just moaned quietly, and when she looked at him, he was covering his face with his hands.

“I can still see you,” she said, prying one arm away. Though she was a soft suburban girl a year or two past high school, he was entirely unable to resist her slim index finger and thumb. His expression was horrified, staring up at her with one eye.

“Let me see your jacket.”

His hand fell from his face, and he shook his head. “C’mon,” she whispered, and she started tugging at his sleeve. He tried to keep it on his body, but the large girl jerked him around so violently that he let his arms slip out of the garment. Cupping him in her left hand, she held it up with her right fingers, admiring the detail: it even had little brown buttons. “Is there anything in the pockets?”

He wouldn’t say. He kept going through this little rotation where he wanted to peek up over her hands, but every time he twisted around to prop up his body, he jerked his hands away from her palm as though surprised or shocked. Rachael couldn’t understand why he’d want to escape. It was much more dangerous for him on the bus floor, with all the other girls around. She was keeping him safe.

“How about your pants?” She tugged at his pantleg, but the trousers wouldn’t slip over his shoes or something. Then she spied his tiny little belt buckle. “Take off your pants,” she said gently. “I want to see.”

Again, he shook his head disagreeably. This time he put his wee little hands on one of her fingers and lifted his shoulders over her hand as she cupped him. She let him look around: below him were her pale, smooth thighs on the broad, green vinyl bus seat. Past that was the sticky black bus floor, and in the aisle and under the seat ahead of them there were a selection of girls’ trainers, stomping, twisting, swinging idly. The tiny man stared at these surroundings for a moment, then slowly slunk back down into Rachael’s palms. His face looked tired, and he turned his head to the side.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” She lifted him close to her face and grinned toothily at him, to show him she was friendly. “I’ll take care of you. Now how about those pants?”

He slowly turned his face back to her, flinching at her broad maw of shiny, white teeth. He half-heartedly waved her off, then undid the buckle of his belt and untied his shoes. He pulled them off and set them aside, looking at them dubiously, on the heel of her palm. Glancing up at her once more, the tiny man hooked his thumbs under his waistband and pulled the wool trousers off, tossing them before him.

Rachael smiled at him pleasantly to let him feel better about it. She plucked up the pantleg and raised it to her eye: it was a perfectly detailed pair of pants. Fascinated, she gave it a little shake and watched it sway almost weightlessly. In the dim light she barely discerned a number of objects falling out of the pants. The little man suddenly came to life, crawling around on his knees, scrambling, trying to collect these objects as they drifted in the humid bus air. Most of them caught a slight breeze and tumbled outside of her hand, but they were far too small for her to try to catch.

“Sorry.” She lay the pants across her index fingertip and ran her thumb over the fabric. They looked like wool, but at her size they were so soft as to be nearly frictionless. Her lips parted in concentration, watching the garment slide around under her touch.

Her eyes turned back to the tiny man on all fours in her left palm. Now he just had on a light-colored dress shirt, dark boxers, and a pair of dark socks. He looked like an actor in one of those old black-and-white comedy movies her grandfather always watched. He had the same dopey expression on his face, and he looked like he was caught halfway to getting ready for a big night out, which was when the most awkward things happened in those movies. She smiled at his goofiness; he frowned and retreated into a fetal position.

Rachael just could not figure out what was going on in his mind. Why was he acting so strangely?

“Pull off your socks and underwear,” she whispered to him. She wanted to see all of these little clothes. They were made with such incredible detail, she wished she had a microscope or something to help her study them better. How could they all be so small? Who could have made them for him?

But the tiny man wasn’t moving. He was sulking, resting his chin on his knees, eyes closed. She nudged him in the side with her fingertip, and his body contorted in agony. “Did I hurt you?” Rachael was genuinely concerned: maybe he was very fragile in this state. She didn’t know. He appeared to be gasping for breath, one arm swatting at her fingertip as it hung poised over him.

That seemed rude. He should just give up his stupid socks. Didn’t he know what kind of pressure she was under? Any one of these other girls could catch her at any moment. Impatiently, she pinched his foot and tugged a sock off. It came away cleanly, and she pulled the other off before he could react. She turned them over in her right palm, pressing the little man flat against her belly, and tried her best to make out all the details. She could see they were woven and brown, and she could only just make out a pattern. Yeah, if she had a magnifying glass, they’d probably look awesome.

Without asking, she rolled him to his back with a couple fingertips, then pulled the front of his dress shirt open. He fought against her, predictably, since nothing could ever be easy, but she seized him by his waist and yanked his shirt off backward, and there was nothing he could do about it. The shirt also received her scrutiny: she turned it back and forth in space, and it caught the light of headlights outside. It was so small and fine it was like gossamer, something she’d read about in fantasy novels, so now she finally grasped the concept.

“Gossamer,” she whispered to herself. She released the shirt and it caught some slight, subtle breeze. Rachael and the tiny man both watched it ride the air and float away, turning gently like in a laundry commercial.

She knew he’d be a pain about his underwear, so she just pinned him down with her left thumb as her right hand worked at the garment. It was the softest thing she’d ever felt, and she guessed it was silk which meant it weighed and felt like nothing. She tugged these free and peeked inside them, looking through the little leg holes. She tried to fit them over her pinky finger, but the waistband shredded immediately so she discarded them.

Now there was a wretched-looking, totally naked little man in her palm. He was curled up, trying to hide as much as possible, though she could see his bare butt and a little dark spot peeking out from beneath his thighs. What was that? She ran her fingertip over it as gently as possible.

The tiny man shuddered visibly, and his mouth made a large O-shape. She couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the vehicle. He glanced up at her and tried to scoot away, one hand covering the dark spot. “Were those your balls?” she asked him. “Are your balls sticking out? Is that what they do, behind your legs?” Her public elementary and high school system had avoided the topic of sexual anatomy, so all she knew for sure was what she’d seen on cop dramas, and those weren’t comprehensive in their education.

“Did it hurt? Did I hurt you?” She kept asking, whispering louder and louder, but the little man just wouldn’t respond. He covered his balls under his tights with one hand, his face with the other, and he curled up like… like a baby bird or something.

Well, where the cop shows fell short, she stood to learn something useful here. “Hey, spread out,” she hissed at him. She went ahead and prised one arm away from his head and pinned it beneath her thumb, then used her other hand to tug at his other arm and one leg. He couldn’t hide much with his last leg, though he tried to, as she had him spread-eagled over her soft, pink palm. Her eyes were wide with study and her pupils were huge in the dark, and she brought her lean, angular face in closer to the naked man’s eensy-weensy body to figure him out better. She was entirely unconscious of her breathing, moist winds she gusted over his skin; she could see he was timing his breaths, the way his ribcage pulsed and spasmed, but didn’t figure out it was coordinated with her inhaling.

“Hey, listen to me for a minute.” Both hands occupied, she could only nudge his chest with the tip of her button nose. “Listen. You need to cooperate with me, okay? I’m taking care of you but you’re not really working with me. Spread yourself out so I can see you.”

The tiny little man only shook his head, his whole body shivering. Rachael thought that was strange. Was he colder at this size? Looking at his contorted face, she realized he was crying.

“Don’t be sad. Knock that off, just lower your leg so I can see you better.” Not knowing how else to effect this, she stuck out her tongue and pushed his knee aside.

The tiny man’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, but he allowed his leg to move down and stretch out. His ribs shuddered with a couple gasps, but then he slowly spread his legs all on his own. Surprised, Rachael lifted her finger off of his ankle, and he didn’t retract his legs. He lay there before her, arms and legs spread wide open. His body didn’t look old, not that old: he had a little padding around his waist and belly, but his lean biceps stood out and his pecs were pretty defined. He had good thighs, too, it looked like, and she wondered what he did for a living to work out these muscle groups. She didn’t know much about reproductive organs, but as an athlete she was more than familiar with gross motor function.

“Is that your penis?” She pointed her nose at his crotch. The little man was saying something, frantically, but still he nodded. “Does it always point like that?” He looked down at himself, then turned his head away, eyes closed.

Rachael brought him very close to her face, until he was too blurry to be seen. She gently blew upon his penis and balls, warm, wet air in a slow breeze. She lowered him and watched his hips roll slightly, watched his minuscule penis slowly rise from pointing at his hip to pointing up his belly. Her friends could probably explain what was going on: she was naturally shy, and sometimes that meant naturally prudish, and she avoided learning too much about this embarrassing stuff.

But now she had a tiny little man all to herself, and she could ask him anything. She could force him to give her answers, too.

Very gently, she rubbed the blunt end of her nose against his crotch. She realized her nose was a little cold, because the tiny man’s body was surprisingly hot. Tilting her head, she ran the tip of her tongue between her lips, back and forth, tasting the last of her soda on them. She parted her lips, fishing a crumb of food from the corner of her mouth, something that had gotten wet and pasty and sticky. She worked at it with her tongue, tasting it, dissolving it, until the corner of her mouth tasted clean. When she was done, she realized the tiny man was staring at her, completely entranced.

She looked back at him. “What?”

He slowly turned his head away.

There was something going on here that she didn’t understand. Experimentally she extended her tongue and pointed it at him, lowering her head until she nearly touched his face. He wouldn’t turn to face her, but his eyes were bulging and tracking her.

“What, do you like tongues?” Her brow furrowed. “Do I have a nice tongue?”

Once again, he refrained from answering. She took the initiative and guided the tip of her tongue to his penis. She wondered if that would feel good, something huge and soft, warm and wet, pressing against his penis. She rested it there, unsure what to do, pressing it against his hips.

When he didn’t react, she tried moving it. She nudged the tip of her tongue down between his tiny thighs. The fit was tighter than if she’d licked between her fingers. His thighs were solid and smooth, but there was something softer up between them. That must have been the dark spot she saw earlier. It must have been his balls. She tried gently rubbing her tongue over his balls a few times, then she ran her tongue over his penis, back and forth.

He wasn’t fighting now. The little man lay so still, she lifted her fingers off of his arms, and he lay there, perfectly obediently. “That’s better,” she murmured, and she traced the entire length of his tiny body with her tongue. She placed her taste buds against the sole of his left… no, his right foot. His right, her left. She ran it up his ankle, over his calf, and she could even feel the bump of his knee. Her tongue flattened out as it dragged over his thigh and his penis, and it spilled over the sides of his belly and chest. She mashed her tongue into his face, just as a joke, holding it there. The corners of her lips curled up in an open-mouthed grin, and her tongue twitched and glistened as plastered his whole face in it. She could feel his head swishing back and forth, which she thought was funny, somehow, and then she felt a slight sharp pain.

Rachael retracted her tongue and peered down at the little man. “Did you… bite me?”

He stared up at her for a moment, then slowly looked away. His penis was still pointing up at his belly. Or his chest, or his head. She didn’t know what his penis wanted.

“Well, it didn’t really hurt, just so you know.” She caught a whiff of his moist skin, where her saliva was beginning to dry, and it was different. She’d sneezed in her own hand and smelled that strong, pungent aroma, but it wasn’t like that with the little guy. Her saliva carried the last traces of her burger, and his skin was a mix of french fries and cologne like her grandfather wore. It was very faint but very familiar.

“You smell good,” she said, and she lifted him once more to her face. She couldn’t see him, just a little blur against her palm. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, nearly shoving the tiny man’s head in her nostril. She slid him down and her nostril flared over his penis. This smelled a little more earthy or meaty. It was hard to say, so she gusted hot air over him and took another long sniff. The tip of her nose barely brushed his soft belly. She wasn’t getting a good scent off of him, but then she remembered how bloodhounds track people, with their snuffling way of smelling things, so she tried that. Her ribs shook as she tried inhaling and exhaling rapidly in short blasts. After a while, though, she wasn’t getting any new information and she felt silly.

She glanced up over her bus seat again. No one seemed to be paying attention to her. It was a little surreal: usually at this point, the other girls would be getting bored and looking for something new, and they’d turn to her because she hadn’t interacted with them all night. But they were just chatting, playfully punching each other, staring into their phones.

So Rachael lowered the tiny little man, tugged up the hem of her volleyball shirt, and carefully slid the man up to her chest. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes to this match, like some girls did, so she was still wearing her sports bra. This she also shoved up and out of the way, letting her breast hang freely.

She wasn’t overly endowed. Between her time at volleyball matches and in multiple locker rooms, she knew what the range of women’s breasts looked like, among her age peers. She wasn’t flat, but she wasn’t stacked either. For the time being she really didn’t care, wasn’t interested in impressing anyone with her curves, so she was happy with the cute little mounds on her chest. They didn’t get in the way, and she’d heard awful things about back pains, so she considered herself lucky.

Regardless, even her boob must have seemed enormous to the little man. She wanted to ask him if that was true, but he was just an oddly shaped lump beneath her shirt. Guiding him by touch, however, she tried to remember where his head was, and she rubbed it around her nipple. Why not go for it, here, alone? Practically alone. She had a tiny little man, and she wanted to know what these sensations were supposed to feel like, so why not practice?

She felt his little hands wiping over her skin. Was he stroking her or pushing her away? It didn’t matter: she mashed him against her boob, completely covering him and probably smothering him, until he held still and she could rub him over her again. Her breast filled her cupped palm perfectly, and she tried sliding the little guy lengthwise up and down over herself.

So far, she wasn’t sure she understood the appeal. Men did this to women in cop shows, and the women seemed to lose control of their bodies when they did, but all Rachael felt was a little ticklish. What was the big deal?

So focused was Rachael on her little exercise, she didn’t notice the snickering laughter until it was right in her ear.

Her head snapped up and she found herself staring into a pair of huge green eyes. She yelped and threw herself against the hard green vinyl seat.

“Whatcha doin’?” said Jenice. In the dim light of highway ambiance, her sharp smile glowed like a knife. Her huge, feline eyes were framed by a shaggy bob of red hair. Shadows moved behind Jenice but Rachael was entirely focused on this troublemaker. Dee-Dee was prone to stupid decisions, and Frances was a natural leader, but Jenice… was a devil. She never seemed to care about popularity or friends or power, but when something went horribly wrong she was usually there, licking her teeth, her huge green eyes glowing with spooky fire.

Stunned, Rachael couldn’t draw the breath to formulate a response. Quicker than a snake, Jenice’s hand shot down the neck of Rachael’s shirt, and suddenly there was a small emptiness upon her left boob. Rachael gaped at her chest in disbelief, then up at Jenice.

Her green eyes were drinking in the stolen prize in her palm. “What the fuck,” she whispered.

“What? What is it?” Dee-Dee loomed over Jenice’s shoulder. The tallest girl on the team, she also had the most exaggerated features: oversized eyes, a broad and wobbly grin with too many teeth, and off the court she was all elbows and knees. Trying to peer into Jenice’s hands, she lost balance and tumbled into the more mischievous girl.

“Goddamn it!” Jenice elbowed the tall and lanky girl in the ribs. To keep from falling over, Dee-Dee wrapped her long arms around her friend, bumped her cupped hands, and only barely managed to snatch the tiny old man out of the air. The two girls struggled to right themselves before either knew just what had happened; Rachael could only stare in horror.

Jenice glanced at her now-empty hands. “The fuck was that?” She looked around the bus seat ahead of Rachael’s, glanced at the floor, but when Dee-Dee recovered she dangled the tiny man by the leg, swinging him through the cool night air. Dee-Dee’s laughter sounded like a donkey with the hiccoughs, and this was enough to gradually attract the attention of the other young women who owned the back of the bus. All eyes trained upon the tiny half-naked morsel Dee-Dee was shaking like a little bell, except for Jenice’s.

Her face, framed in writhing red hair, hovered before Rachael’s like a snake, and though she never lost her smile, Rachael found no friendliness in it at all. “What exactly was that, Rachael? Where did you get it? And what were you doing with it?” She had a way of asking questions that gave the listener the sense that she already knew the answers: it would just be more humiliating to hear the recipient say them out loud.

Rachael gulped hard to keep from crying with fear. “I don’t know what that was,” she muttered. “I found it in the diner.”

“It looks like a little man or something!” Dee-Dee brayed, but the growl of the diesel bus motor and the roar of a dozen tires on the highway muffled her beyond the near perimeter of her friends.

A sleepy-eyed Latina looked up, straightening her sweatshirt. “What do you mean, a little man?” Ariana slurred, coming out of a nap. She could pass out anywhere, and a noisy bus of rambunctious volleyball players posed no challenge for her. She rubbed her eyes, rolled to a mostly upright position, and tried to glimpse what Dee-Dee was waving around in her long, spidery fingers. Rachael could see two tiny arms pinwheeling through space

“Tell them,” hissed Jenice, grinning.

Rachael could only shake her head. Too quietly for anyone to hear, she asked for him back.

Jenice’s smile wavered for a second, then it widened. This was always a bad sign. “Hey, Dee-Dee,” she called over her shoulder, never losing Rachael’s gaze, “Rachael says it’s a Japanese snack, like squid jerky or something. Why don’t you try eating it?”

Dee-Dee’s huge brown eyes rolled horse-like at Jenice and Rachael, and then her own grin widened to a gaping maw. “Sure!” she brayed, and she threw her head back and unhinged her jaw to an uncommonly wide degree. Her hand hoisted the tiny man over her head, and Rachael could almost see him screaming. It wasn’t hard to imagine, the way he was waving at her mouth as though he could reach out and stop this.

“What’s going on?” Across the aisle from Ariana, Mona was shyly peeking around her oversized teammate. Mona had mousy brown hair, parted plainly down the middle, and she was neither short nor tall, fat nor skinny. What she had, though, was a pair of prematurely enormous breasts, and these strained the tank top she favored in warmups and exercises. With her characteristically soft grin, she craned beneath Dee-Dee’s armpit to glance up at the struggling little guy. If she was surprised, she gave nothing away: maybe she blinked less, and her thick lips parted to show the tips of her teeth, but her placid face retained its dull neutrality. She didn’t even ask what Dee-Dee was flinging around in her grip, what she was about to drop down her throat.

“Come on, guys,” Rachael whimpered, “be careful with him. Give him back.” Yet she was so frightened, her voice sounded like she didn’t even want him back. She sounded like she wanted to be a hundred miles away, in bed.

Jenice’s eyes flickered up and down Rachael’s frail body. Rachael could feel her sizing up her own flaws, her weaknesses. It felt like those green eyes could push right through her chest and stomach and ribs, and peer into her very soul. Broken, Rachael looked away first and stared at the inky environment, intermittent highway signs providing brief streaks of light to break up the void of emptiness outside the bus.

Ariana was fully awake and Mona was inadvertently nudging her breasts against Dee-Dee’s side, as the tall girl laughed awkwardly out of her throat and began to drape the tiny man over her long, broad tongue. Her tongue poured up out of her abnormally wide jaw, then folded sharply over her thick bottom lip and stretched down her chin. The naked little man was mopped back and forth over her tongue, flailing ineffectually, screaming into the din of young women and machinery.

“How’s it taste?” called back Jenice.

Dee-Dee jerked the little man aside thoughtlessly. She smacked her lips exaggeratedly and declared him “Salty!” All four girls laughed at this, and their laughter stabbed Rachael down her side as she peered desperately into the darkened landscape.

Ariana kneeled on her seat, her eyes suddenly huge, and leaned toward Dee-Dee and her little morsel. “Hold on a second,” she started. Her tone of voice had no laughter in it: it was deep and serious, with a little wonder floating around it. “What the fuck is that?” She turned to Jenice’s back, where she continued to leer at Rachael. Ariana’s dramatic eyebrows told a new narrative, working with her round, dark eyes and her own slack lips. “Hold on a fucking second! What the fuck is that Dee-Dee’s got?”

Jenice began to shake with laughter, leaning over the back of the bus seat. “Rachael tells me it’s an eensy-weensy little man. Isn’t that right, Rachael?” Rachael could feel Jenice’s words pouring down her neck like ice water. “Didn’t you kidnap a tiny little man from that diner?”

Rachael’s eyes bugged in their sockets and all the breath left her lungs. How did Jenice know everything?

Dee-Dee paused, her untrimmed brows beetling on her broad forehead. “Wait, what the fuck did you say? This is a what?” Never the brightest bulb in the chandelier, the tall girl eventually caught up with current events. She reared back to look at her captive, and that graceful, swan-like neck made it seem like her head reared back a couple feet. And then her eyes went wider than everyone’s around her, and her jaw went slack, and she slowly drew the breath to shriek that yes, holy fuck, she had a little man and everyone should come look at it.

Ariana’s head snapped back, her thick, glossy locks swinging in the air. Mona almost registered an emotion as she bobbed on tiptoe, trying to get a look but succeeding only massaging Dee-Dee’s 98% low-fat abs with her enormous breasts. Even Jenice finally had enough of tormenting weak, wimpy little Rachael and slithered back to look at the shrunken man in earnest.

Beyond thought, Rachael suddenly broke from the window and lunged at Dee-Dee, who slowly turned the naked little man over in her hand. “He’s naked,” Dee-Dee sagely observed, and as Mona and Jenice moved in to confirm this, Rachael shouldered her way through them, and her spindly little arms shot up toward Dee-Dee’s graceless mitt.

“Uh-oh, hold on there!” Ariana, not quite under the tiny man’s spell, was the first to respond. She wheeled around Jenice with surprising grace for such a short, stout young woman, and her forearm planted in Rachael’s shoulder by her neck. It wasn’t enough to cause damage, but it definitely halted Rachael’s forward momentum, and the frail girl slumped back in her seat. For good measure, Ariana hustled around the seat and spun around: she was in possession of a pair of positively planetoid buttocks, stress-testing her ubiquitous black yoga tights to the limits of their tensile strength, and it was this huge, bulbous ass she used to pin Rachael back down into her seat.

Rachael’s cheeks flushed. It was bad enough she had to undress in the locker room, bad enough she had to see her teammates naked. But any time she brushed up against any of them, even casually, shoulder-to-shoulder on the court or chest-to-back in the crowded hallway between classes, her skin shivered and went all goose-pimply. Generally she couldn’t tolerate people touching her, grabbing her, brushing against her. And now, to have Ariana’s tremendous buttocks pinning her down, covering her entire body… Rachael was dizzy with surging, churning emotions.

“Tell me what you see!” Ariana barked at her friends.

Mona gave no response, only grinned shyly at the Latina with the syrupy affection of a black Labrador. Dee-Dee struggled with her vocabulary but declared that it did indeed look like a minuscule, naked old man. Not in so many words.

Jenice only snickered and licked her teeth.

“All right. Line up, girls, strong defense.”

The act of Mona and Dee-Dee turning away from the rest of the bus and walling off the aisle did more to attract attention to themselves than all their laughing and flailing about with the tiny little man. But it also sent a clear signal to the rest of the bus that the back was now off-limits, and over the past two years they’d come to respect this gesture.

Jenice glanced once at little Rachael, pinned firmly in place beneath Ariana’s considerable butt, then looked over at Frances. The true power hadn’t roused yet: whether she was listening to music, sleeping with her eyes open, or lost in the reverie of world domination, none could say right now. She simply wasn’t in play yet.

Jenice leaned against the rear window of the bus’s emergency exit. “What’s first on the agenda, then? What do we do in case of tiny little men?” Her voice was bright with restrained laughter.

“I wanna get a selfie!” Dee-Dee cried, fishing for her smartphone in her windbreaker. Mona licked her lips but leaned away as the tallest girl arranged her shot. “How should I do this?” She tried holding the tiny man by her cheek, which didn’t fit in the frame. She rested him on her head, but he had no will to cling to her hair and slipped off, where she only barely caught him against her chest.

“You should put him in your mouth again!” Ariana said, shrieking with laughter. She bounced on Rachael, of whom little could be seen but a pair of slender legs hanging off the green vinyl seat, into the aisle before Jenice.

The green-eyed young woman smiled. “Yes, that’s what you should do, Dee-Dee. Pop ‘im on in there. Want me to get the shot?”

Dee-Dee shook her head and extended her incredibly long arm with proportionally long fingers, the smartphone seemingly balancing in space above Jenice’s head. Opening her large mouth extra wide once more, she poured the tiny man from her palm onto her tongue. Mona and Ariana seemed transfixed, and on her screen Dee-Dee could more ably see the old man’s little arms scrabbling for a hold on her fat bottom lip, and then her tongue, as his bare chest slipped out of view.

Her brow furrowed and she raised the camera to get a better shot of the little naked man in her mouth (it never occurred to her to tilt her head down). Her camera flashed just as the tiny man disappeared behind her teeth. She dropped her smartphone to clutch at her throat and doubled over, coughing violently.

“What the fuck just happened?” asked Jenice.

Dee-Dee stopped coughing and cleanly gasped for air, then shrieked. Ariana and Mona immediately looked down to see what made her shriek, and they shrieked too. Jenice, riding the wave of the moment, also shrieked and giggled.

On the corrugated rubber floor, ringed by four young women’s white sneakers and beside Dee-Dee’s smartphone, a tiny naked man sprawled. His head rolled around slowly as he blinked, lying on the cold and filthy runner, and his little legs were spread wide open, exposing his tiny-old-man junk to the girls.

They shrieked to see his junk, they shrieked at the tiny living organism failing sickly before their feet, and they started to stomp and skip in place in panic. He was absolutely no threat to them, of course: it was just gross.

Their clean white sneakers rose and fell around the little man. Mona’s tiny sneakers, Dee-Dee’s enormous white boats, and Jenice’s sporty little kicks as well. She wasn’t panicking, but she was enjoying the chaos and just taking threatening stabs at the little guy with the toe of her shoes.

Rachael was helpless: the shrieking and malicious laughter chilled her, but Ariana was absolutely immovable, at least by her own frail arms. “Don’t hurt him! Leave him alone!” she screamed, uncharacteristically, but she couldn’t see over the bulging thigh of the young woman perched on her like a chaise longue.

She tried hammering at Ariana’s round hip, but her little fists bounced off harmlessly. Ariana glanced at her once, wondering what the steady thrumming was on her thigh, and when she saw what Rachael was attempting she laughed even harder. “Oh my God, you guys,” she called over her shoulder, “you gotta see this.” Dee-Dee had shot her hand out to collect her smartphone, and Mona was already subdued and retiring, so when Jenice rose from the floor she craned over Ariana’s broad and full lap to peek at Rachael, red in the face and flailing helplessly. This made her smile.

She shared this smile with the tiny old man in her cupped hands, now. Rachael could just see Jenice’s dark red bob swing forward, rocking with the struggle of the bus at highway speeds, and the silvery glint of her smile above the poor, helpless, naked little man. She regretted kidnapping him now: she never wanted to subject him or anyone to such torment. It seemed she vastly underestimated the capacity for cruelty in her peers.

“Now… what should happen to you next…” Jenice drew out her vowels as though savoring them. Rachael couldn’t see the tiny man at all, not a swinging arm or kicking leg or anything, just all of Jenice’s hateful attention pouring into her hands like a waterfall.

As though sensing Rachael’s focus, one of Jenice’s moon-green eyes swung up and locked onto her. Rachael felt as though a cold fist had driven up into her rib cage and seized hold of her heart. “Hey Mona,” Jenice purred, “I think this little guy needs a hug.”

Mona’s eyebrows arched, her head tilted slightly. Dee-Dee glanced from the shorter girl to the redhead, waiting to laugh at something.

“Let’s put him in your tits, babe,” Jenice said.

Dee-Dee’s expression widened in all flexible features. “Oh my God!” she shrieked before laughing hysterically. “We should totally do this!” She made eager grabbing motions at Jenice’s little prize, but lacked the outright balls to break into Jenice’s personal zone, much less take anything away from her.

For her part, Mona enjoyed one moment of being demure, turning her face away as though to blush (whether she did or not, no one could see in the dim bus light), but she was used to receiving attention for her large breasts. At first it confused her, and much later it would irritate her, but currently she was enjoying the amount of power her bosom provided her. It was her time to shine, and she stepped forward with a slow, graceful dancer’s stride, chest thrust forward as an offering to Jenice.

Her glowing green eyes flared delightedly at Mona; Mona raised one eyebrow and smirked back. The neck of her tank top scooped especially low, offering plenty of cleavage for her friend. Jenice rolled her shoulders and raised her cupped hands above the plain-looking girl’s chest, and she slowly opened the seam formed by her two hands.

The tiny man’s legs spilled out first, kicking and wheeling in the empty air.

“Is he fighting?” Ariana called up. “Is he fighting you? You can’t take that from him!” She laughed, rolling her hips into Rachael’s ribs. “You gotta go in there, little man!”

Dee-Dee was hypnotized, her throat flexing with low and uneven guffaws as she watched the tiny man’s struggle. Jenice had lifted her left hand completely away: the minuscule old man had both arms wrapped around her pinky finger, clutching for his life while Mona’s deep and shadowy cleavage swayed beneath his bare feet.

“Look at this!” Jenice cackled, making a show of trying to shake him off of her hand, without trying too hard. “I don’t believe it! I can’t get him off!” She looked up with a feigned expression of embarrassment, and when the girls caught on they stammered through jokes about masturbating him through various means.

“He’s not going, Mona, I’m sorry.” Jenice’s smile said anything but an apology. “Maybe he’s afraid to fall again. Can you help him out a little bit?”

Without showing any teeth, Mona smiled broader and slipped her small hands beneath her overlarge breasts. She heaved her mammaries upward, two spherical bulges rising from her chest toward the little man. She rocked them back and forth, slowly, seductively, and her plunging cleavage swayed beneath him. This was not lost on the little man: as hard as he clung to the troublemaker’s smallest finger, his eyes were locked on the churning, rolling breasts only a short distance below him. It would’ve been no risk at all to drop down onto one of her tits or slip securely between them, very little chance of caroming off to the floor once again, with all those clumsy white shoes crashing around him…

Mona didn’t give him the option. With a slight hop, she spread her huge boobs for one crucial second. The soft, creamy flesh parted, heaved, and sandwiched the little old man very securely. Her eyes twinkling, Mona simply plucked the tiny man off Jenice’s finger, pinched between her tits, and she stepped back beside Dee-Dee obediently.

Now all eyes were on the young woman’s huge breasts for a new reason. Jenice stared, her shiny teeth parted slightly, as the left boob and then the right rolled up and sank, rocking the tiny man wholly and bodily. The effect on him was not subtle: every little jostle from the bus hurtling down the road, every playful grind on Mona’s part resulted in a massive flesh-quake that threw the tiny man violently from one side to the other. He whipped back and lay upon one breast; he snapped forward and collapsed face-down upon the other; all this, over and over again while Ariana giggled in an especially high voice, Jenice licked her chops, and Dee-Dee struggled with her smartphone to get some in-focus photos and a movie clip.

Mona let up for a second, holding her tits still, and letting the ocean-like rocking subside. Dee-Dee glanced up at Jenice, who seemed rapt, so she lined up another shot.

The tiny little man paused, waiting for the activity to die down, and then to catch his breath: Jenice could see his miniature rib cage working very hard to gulp down air in his aging lungs. After a moment his tiny head swung up at Mona, then at Jenice (Dee-Dee was too far behind him), and he stretched his little arms out and grabbed onto new flesh.

“What’s he doing,” Dee-Dee breathed, filming.

Jenice licked her canines. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Mona only stared placidly ahead, eyes drifting to the side, as though all her attention was on feeling the activity between her boobs, where the tiny man was attempting to climb out. He groped for skin, dug his tiny fingers in, then slid back. He strained to push one boob away from the other, but her skin was warm and misted with sweat, and his own nude form adhered to her beyond his capacity to break free. As well, when he planted his palms against her soft, sweet boob, they only sank up to his elbows in pillowy breast-flesh.

And yet he seemed to be making a little progress. He was buried up to his chest previously, but after half a minute of filming (Dee-Dee announced the timing), he actually cleared his waist. It took a lot out of him, but he did it.

There was no way the girls were going to let him get away with this, of course: just before he could free one leg, Mona simply peeled her breasts apart, gave them a short jiggle, the tiny man lost his grip and tumbled into the blackness, and Mona let her breasts seal around him once more. This time, there was no trace of the tiny man to see.

The very tall girl whispered that this was fucking awesome.

Jenice stepped forward, her angular face hovering over Mona’s considerable cleavage. “If he’s lost in there,” she purred, “I’m gonna need you to go in there and, uh, fish him out, Dee-Dee.”

Dee-Dee nodded, shut off her phone and pocketed it, and started to reach with long, slender fingers into Mona’s bulging bosom.

“Uh-uh,” Jenice said. “With your mouth.”

“Do it,” smiled Jenice. “Get in there. Get some.”

Dee-Dee leered at Jenice, braying with excitement. She spun on quiet Mona, her elongated hands more fully embracing the shorter woman’s ample bosom, and her eyes rolled in their sockets as she plunged her face deep into her friend’s cleavage.

“Oh my God!” Ariana laughed, pudgy hands on her perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. “She’s doin’ it again! She’s totally into this!”

Mona only canted her head back and grinned at the bus ceiling, her little feet spread on the grimy bus floor, arching her back and proffering her chest to the taller, lankier woman. Dee-Dee even went so far as to hook her thumbs into the neckline of Mona’s tank and tug it down a little—not quite to her nipples—working her jaw and nuzzling her prominent cheekbones into the huge, cushioning breasts.

Against the emergency exit door, Jenice looked much more relaxed. One foot on the floor, one heel pressed just below the emergency release handle, her short blue pleated skirt spilling off her tanned thigh like water, she watched the display distantly. There was no surprise on her face, no thrill, no curiosity: just satisfaction. Rachael was secured and immobile, Dee-Dee was debasing herself and Mona just because she said to, and Frances was letting her have this moment. Her glowing green eyes flickered to the leader, leaning tranquilly against the bus window in her seat. There was no question in Jenice’s mind that this was a gesture of largesse on Frances’s part, granting her second free rein. For now.

Jenice bit her lip and slid her palms down her sides to rest on her narrow hips. Her white Polo lit up occasionally with the headlines of trucks behind the bus: big, muscled, compensatory trucks that had to show the bus driver they were too important to wait behind a bunch of girls at this time of night. The headlights would draw near, illuminate all the young women’s shins and calves, then veer off to the left and darkness would fall once more.

She watched Dee-Dee’s bouncy brown ponytail flail about. The tall girl was making comical gobbling noises, like a bargain-rate Cookie Monster, as she rooted around in Mona’s cleavage. She stretched the joke too long because she had no sense of timing, like a young child repeating the same joke over and over and over untilw22;

“We get it, Dee-Dee. Dig him out already, let’s get this over with.”

Dee-Dee looked over her shoulder with a confused expression that melted into guilt or panic, and she plunged her head down into Mona’s boobs once more.

But the mood changed: where Dee-Dee had been caressing Mona’s huge breasts before, she now gripped them with plain determination, strictly functionally. Ariana’s curvy, expressive eyebrows arched and transmitted concern; Mona even tilted her head down, craning around Dee-Dee’s skull curiously, trying to see what the hell was going on down there.

Jenice’s fine brows furrowed. “Dee? Don’t eat him, we gotta think of more things to do with the little fucker. You okay?” The tall woman didn’t answer, only buried her head more determinedly into Mona’s breasts. Her ears were covered by the shorter girl’s bosom, and it almost looked as though the taller girl intended to climb up and dive into Mona’s chest herself.

Suddenly Mona let out a piercing and uncharacteristic shriek, wrenching hard to the side. Dee-Dee couldn’t keep up: her head popped out abruptly and she stumbled backward, disoriented, collapsing into the seat before Ariana and Rachael. Mona, however, was shaking her tank top out on the seat across the aisle from them… and the tiny little man tumbled onto the green vinyl seat, bounced once, and lay still.

When all the girls fell silent, Rachael knew something was wrong. “Please get off me, Ariana, I needw22;”

Ariana only hushed her, ineptly smacking at Rachael’s face with her pudgy fingers, against which Rachael was unprepared to adequately defend herself. Fortunately, it was more annoying than painful.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” her oppressor hissed. “I wanna see what’s goin’ on.”

Rachael sighed heavily, eliciting no more than a gentle heave of Ariana’s right buttock.

Mona was led aside by Jenice’s firm hand. Dee-Dee started to babble something, but one glance of those fiery jade eyes silenced the tall girl but good. Looking up once at her boss, Jenice strode forward and stood before the seat where the tiny little man lay, battered and dazed.

“You okay, little guy?” She planted two fine fists on two narrow hips and stood straight above him, her thick Dutch girl bob curtaining around her foxy features.

The old man only lay there, naked and exhausted, sprawled most gracelessly upon the vinyl.

Jenice inhaled slowly. The highway rumbled beneath her white canvas kicks, and her firm, lean, tanned thighs swayed gently around the corner of the seat. “Shit,” she said.

“Is he okay?” Dee-Dee’s concerned voice sounded unfortunately like that of Disney’s Goofy.

Flapping her hand impatiently behind her, Jenice tilted her head, as though pouring all the psychic energy of both her glowing green eyes into one huge iris, and training this with laser-like intensity upon the wretched, minuscule man. “Hey, little guy, snap out of it. Come on now.” The highway roared around the wordless girls in the back of the bus. Resisting the urge to glance back at her crew—sure to be interpreted as a sign of uncertainty and weakness—Jenice instead bent slightly at the waist and slapped the green vinyl seat with a swift palm.

The foam and springs absorbed most of the impact, but some of it heaved the tiny body an inch aloft. The tiny arms and legs jerked and flailed purpose at this: the old man’s wee head twisted left and right, straining to look for something useful to him, presumably, but he only settled back on the cold seat once again. He glanced at Jenice’s huge hand right next to him, and his tiny eyes ran up her forearm, up her bicep, to her white polo shirt, and then up to her suddenly pleased expression.

“You look really worn out, little guy,” she purred, and at this purr Dee-Dee grinned like a donkey and elbowed Mona, whose subtle expression of concern melted into a subdued expression of contentment. “You all tuckered out? Huh? Did Mona’s tremendous ta-tas take a lot outta ya?” She lifted her palm and traced a languid circle around the old man with her forefinger. “I don’t blame you. I understand. Her boobs are a little too much for even us regular girls. But to be as small as you, buried in all that sweet, sweet titty…” She licked her teeth.

“What’s going on?” Rachael asked, earning her a full-on smack against one cheek. The noise made Dee-Dee spin and stare.

Someone else did, too. Now that Dee-Dee and Mona were no longer shouldering unwanted attention away, one of the other players craned over her seat. “What’s going on, you guys?” asked a young woman with frizzy chestnut hair. She was smiling and her eyes were bright. She was leaning right over Frances, Jenice noted with alarm.

Turning her head only slightly, but never breaking her gaze upon the tiny man, Jenice whispered, “Fuck the fuck off.”

The girl’s smile faded away. “What did you just say to me?” she said with the strength of naivete.

Jenice straightened up, then turned on one foot, tucking her leg before the seat with the little man. She reached down to flare her tiny skirt, which fluttered through the air as Jenice threw her ass down upon the tiny man. She rested her forearms upon the seat before her, leaning into Frances’s airspace, and she quietly said: “You shut your whore mouth up and you never open it again.”

The frizzy-haired girl never changed her expression. She glanced at Mona, who only grinned with the sweetness of a Siberian homestead back at her. She looked up at Dee-Dee, who was leering at her and shaking her head in what she thought was a subtle and understated gesture, but which looked like St. Vitus’s Dance. When Ariana pantomimed drawing a thumb across her own throat, the girl simply faded into the background of the activity in the rest of the bus.

Jenice watched her go, and then her expression relaxed. The knife-like grin returned, and her eyes reignited with their playful fire. Added to this, she wiggled and rolled her hips on the bus seat, taking inventory of all the tiny man’s body parts between her ass. She could feel him squirming, but just a little. She couldn’t tell whether this was because he was so tired and shagged out, or because she weighed that much upon him. Whichever: she made a brief game of lining up what she thought was his chest beneath her tight little asshole. That amused her, because she knew she had a bony little ass, not big like…

“Hey, Ariana,” she barked over her shoulder. “How you doing over there?”

The Latina laughed. “No problems, no sweat. Little bitchy-bitch ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Jenice nodded, her dark red hair swinging in the darkness. “Dee-Dee? Why don’t you hold poor little Rachael down with those abnormally large paws of yours.”

The tall girl glanced at Jenice for less than half a second before she hustled over to Ariana’s seat. The chubby Latina got up, and Rachael was too fatigued from being sat on to recover quickly. Dee-Dee had plenty of time to slip before the seat and press upon her with the full force of her straightened arms like pillars. Even so, this gave the frail little girl enough room to breathe properly, which she hadn’t done for about ten or twenty minutes.

“Yeah, Jenice?” Ariana sidled up to Jenice’s seat.

The second-in-command bounced gently upon the green vinyl seat before standing up. “I warmed him up for you. It’s your turn.”

The scene seemed staged, rehearsed, like a special performance for the back of a school bus. Working seemingly with one mind, Jenice and Mona stepped back to make room, but while Mona looked wholesome in a Midwestern way, Jenice resembled a demonic feline, the way her eyes glowed in the darkness of the bus. Dee-Dee, with unusual grace, had slipped around the wide hips and outrageous curves of Ariana, and without a second to spare pinned poor Rachael into the bus seat just as soon as the Latina removed herself.

Rachael looked up pleadingly into the tall girl's face, but Dee-Dee was a slave to the moment and even if she was only a supporting figure, she wanted nothing better than to see it play out. Her eyes were huge and leering, her grin was crooked and toothy, and if she weren't strictly ordered to pin the littler girl down, Rachael wondered if she might unhinge that huge jaw of hers and attempt to swallow her whole.

This is a nightmare, Rachael thought. This isn't what I wanted. I just wanted time alone with that little man, whoever he is. Oh my God, I hope he's okay.

Jenice's voice was a strange combination of honey and venom. "You're in luck, you creepy little guy," she said to the wretched miniature on the green vinyl seat. "If you liked my tight little butt, you're in for a real treat. Ariana's, like, five or six times my ass. Show him, Ariana." She leered at the other woman, her eyes flaring and intense.

That's the only thing that gave Ariana pause: she was totally into a good joke, and she loved to cause trouble now and then, but there was something about this evil-ass white girl that made her cringe inside. But the way she faced that fear was to give Jenice exactly what she wanted, to win her pleasure. You didn't want to get on her bad side. And so Ariana put on her game face for the evil-ass white girl: she arched an eyebrow, she licked her thick lips, and she slowly shimmied across the short space between seats.

"Is that him?" she said theatrically. "Is that the pest that's causing so much fuss tonight? Why, he ain't nothing at all. Look at him." She sneered down her chest, standing as tall as she could over the bus seat. There was the miniature naked man, an old guy, looking helpless and weak and...

Ariana's heart twinged. This isn't right, this can't be right. What the fuck is going on? That little figure was a fully formed old man. It wasn't a toy, it wasn't an animal or something else. It was unquestionably a little man, but people didn't come that small. What happened to him? Was he born this way? Was it a chemical accident or some shit like that? Seeing the tiny, frail, vulnerable little person like this made her pause. But there was one thing that could get her started again, every time.

Jenice's sharp grin started to fade. "Ariana? Is there a problem?"

Ariana felt something like cold water flow down her neck, down her spine. "No, no problem. What you want me to do?"

"Because you look like you're having second thoughts." Jenice straightened up from where she'd perched over the back of a bus seat like a serpent. "Are you having second thoughts? Is what we're doing here wrong?"

Shit-shit-shit! Inwardly, Ariana froze. The one thing you didn't want to do was show any weakness to Frances's second-in-command, especially when Frances wasn't paying attention. She glanced at the team captain: still zonked out, or else meditating to whatever was playing on her headphones. Either way, dead to the world and hanging free rein over to Jenice.

"Nothing's wrong, Jenice," Ariana said, putting on a professional tone. "I'm just wondering if I should, you know, kinda beat him up with some twerking..." She paused, slowly looking up from the tiny man to the sociopathic redhead. "...Or just shove him straight up my asshole." She raised her eyebrows and smirked.

Jenice stared at her, motionless, for a moment or two. Ariana felt the chill spread to her heart, but she had to hold strong. She kept her game face in place.

And the corners of Jenice's mouth spread wider, and her teeth seemed to take on a glow all their own. "You're the shit, Ariana. Every time I think I've got you figured out, you surprise me in the best possible way." She reached out and stroked Ariana's cheek with cold fingertips and sharp nails. "No need to rush things, I think. Just kinda... show him what's coming at him, you know, a little hint. And then?" She licked her canines. "It's all up to you."

Ariana wanted to shit or vomit. That was too close. Instead, she looked over her shoulder at Dee-Dee, who grinned back like a donkey. She raised her eyebrows at Mona, who nodded demurely, almost curtsying. Without looking at the tiny man one again, she slowly turned around and exposed her rear to him.

This was much more than it sounded like. Ariana had two small planets stuck to her pelvis, and her leggings clung magnetically to every square inch of her skin, giving the illusion in this dim lighting that she herself was black as night. The contours hid nothing, absolutely nothing of a young woman's anatomy, and when she rotated to share her copious buttocks with the tiny man, she might as well have been naked. The leggings bulged with each ass cheek, straining and running pale with the exertion. They plunged deep into the crack of her ass, seeming to run up inside her hips and lower cavity. They swelled around her ample thighs and puffed out slightly to indicate her thick labia. On a meager, stick-like girl such as Rachael, these tights were another form of pants, but on an abundant and voluptuous woman like Ariana, the coach of the team struggled whether to ban them due to obscene display. But the news was full of teachers running afoul of telling young women what to wear, and so Ariana was permitted to trot around the court like an anatomical portraiture.

Jenice admired the Latina's physical composition. Each one of these women had developed very specifically, with their own strengths and features, and assembling them together in this little gang made her almost feel like... a team of super-villains. Something like that. So she admired Ariana for her tremendous, impossibly huge butt cheeks. She admired how they defied gravity, how they bounced and danced whenever she walked. There was something about them that made her own fingers flex and tense, as if they were hungry for meat. "You might be the luckiest little man in the whole world," she purred to herself, and then: "Oh, fuck! Ariana, get him!"

Because the wretched little man had recovered while Jenice was ogling her teammate. He had caught his breath, rallied his constitution, and scrambled to all fours. He was sprinting across the vast bus seat like a cockroach. "Crush him!" Jenice yelped. "Crush that fucker!" Mona glanced at Frances, who seemed out of it still, then at the rest of the bus. Anyone who wasn't back here, however, looked scared to look back here, so they were safe for the time being.

Dee-Dee was the only one of them who saw the surprise on Ariana's face, but the plump young woman responded beyond thought: she gave a little hop, and her sneakers cleared the rubber floor. Her short legs stiffened and shot out over the seat's edge, and her gargantuan ass descended upon the tiny man like a massive asteroid. He had no chance, he didn't even have time to look up as the ample twin buttocks descended upon him, overwhelmed him, engulfed and swallowed him.

Jenice cackled with delight, Ariana's only signal that she'd done well. She couldn't feel the little wretch beneath her massive ass, but he must've been under there if the second-in-command was so devilishly gleeful. Keeping her eyes on Jenice, Ariana started to wiggle on the seat, just a side-to-side kind of wiggle, rocking her hips back and forth rapidly. Her huge, round buttocks jostled joyously, grinding into the vintage vinyl seat, mashing anything that might be beneath them.

And the way Jenice's eyes glimmered in the darkness, she must've been doing a good job of it. Ariana tried rolling her hips, stirring her vulva around in a circle on the seat, just to see if she could feel anything beneath herself. There was so much ass between her pelvis and her leggings, sometimes it was hard to pick out the finer details. But she thought, maybe, perhaps, she could feel a little mass between her cheeks. She bit her fat bottom lip and looked up in thought, rolling her hips around in a slow, laboriously grinding circle on the bus seat. Yes, maybe that was him... or else her pussy was just bunching up against her leggings. It was so hard to tell.

"Up." Jenice's voice was sharp. Ariana looked at her: all her mirth and excitement was gone in the space of half a second. Ariana seized the seat back and pulled herself upright to stand in the aisle. What had she done wrong?

In the center of the seat, the tiny man lay motionless. Not broken: none of his limbs were out of joint, but understandably, the wind was knocked out of him. Or squished. Ariana almost laughed to see how flattened and exhausted the little fucker looked, under the power of her glorious butt. There had been a time when she was self-conscious about the way her body packed on fat, where it did and how much. But the women on her volleyball team (and maybe two or three guys in her college classes) made her feel beautiful in a way she'd never experienced before. Like she had a gift, a rare gift that maybe she didn't do anything to earn, but it was given to her and now she had to use it to its greatest capacity. Sometimes that was pinning a weaker girl to the wall in the locker room. Once in a while it meant sitting on a guy's face until he slapped her thigh in panic, trying to breathe. Now, apparently, it meant overpowering an entire human being.

She grinned dreamily, charmed with herself.

Jenice glanced at her with a grin. "You're something else. That was a work of beauty, girl," she said, and there was no sarcasm in her voice. Ariana felt herself blush, then felt embarrassed, then remembered no one would probably see that in the dim lighting. Jenice raised her sculpted eyebrows and said, "How about you kneel on the seat, here? Turn your back to me and climb on up."

Ariana couldn't see where this was going, but why wouldn't she go along with this? She brought her knees up to the cushion and crawled up against the back of the seat. "Like this?" She looked over her shoulder at Jenice, who was reaching down for the tiny man.

"Perfect. Stay there." Jenice pinched the little old guy by an ankle. He flailed and twisted in the night air, musty with ancient bus seats and the metabolisms of a couple dozen young women. Ariana couldn't tell if he was grasping for something or trying to free himself. There was no chance of that: Jenice pinned her fingers around his leg like she was clutching a pencil. It was kind of sickening to see him try so hard, and then he disappeared from her view.

Then she felt Jenice's nails run down her lower back, and she felt Jenice seize her waistband and tug her leggings back pretty far. Obediently, Ariana resisted and leaned forward, holding stiffly in place, letting Jenice create a nice, large gap for... of course. Ariana nearly broke out in laughter when she felt the tiny, wriggling body drop into the very top of the crack of her ass, right above her coccyx.

Immediately gravity took him a little lower, where her massive buttocks began to swell, but it was his own mindless struggling that dug him deeper into her ass-cleavage. It was disconcerting to feel a living creature almost burrowing between her large, sweet buttocks. Her eyes went wide in the darkness, trying to picture what he must look like, his naked legs kicking in the air as his pale, wrinkled body sank into the deep, dark crevice of her ass, swallowed by large, smooth, round mounds of caramel skin. She almost wished she had a picture.

"Dee-Dee, gimme your camera," snapped Jenice. Ariana could hear the smile in her voice.

Gibbering, the tall brunette unlocked her phone and opened up the camera app, handing it over with pride. She would never be a lieutenant in Frances’s army, Jenice owned that role, but Dee-Dee was permitted to hang around and occasionally do favors for the two most powerful women she knew. This was almost as good as being an equal. It was close enough for anyone else’s concern, too: no one would mess with Dee-Dee because they knew who she supported. While she lacked the imagination to truly exploit the possibilities of this favor, she still enjoyed some of the immunity and freedom that came with the association.

Right now, Jenice asked Dee-Dee for her phone to record a video, and everyone on the bus saw it. It was Dee-Dee’s phone that would preserve these events, no one else’s. Of course copies would go to Frances and Jenice, but everyone else had to ask Dee-Dee for a copy if they wanted to see what was going on in the back of the bus, and Dee-Dee had full power to grant or deny the request as she saw fit. Or she would, later, and only if Frances and Jenice gave her permission to.

Ariana had no such liberty or influence. She and Mona were in the strange position of being satellites to the gang, without any power but still called upon for favors. Why did they keep her around? She was a talented libero, spending much of her time bonding with Mona, the defensive specialist. Mona was quiet but plenty observant, and Ariana trusted her opinion on the court implicitly. But in situations like these, when this gang of girls had focused on a target and moved in for the kill off the court, she really wished she and Mona wouldn’t be dragged into the drama. Dee-Dee, the middle blocker, was more than eager to join in any adventure Frances declared. Not that Frances, the outside hitter, often gave them orders. It was her complement, Jenice, the setter, who hovered around her and conferred privately and issued the edicts the rest had to follow. It was Jenice who picked out Ariana for her big, round and Mona for her huge boobs, using these assets to her advantage.

Their little gang was lacking an opposite hitter. This was because Jenice’s rapport with Frances was inappropriately intimate. There were rumors of what happened between them between games, in private, and these rumors were never discussed for long, lest work get back to them. Many skilled players had stepped in over the years to try to work with Frances, but to stay they had to accept Jenice’s manipulation and rigid demand for order, and no one cared to put up with that. There was one, of course, a smart and likable woman who sprang like a cheetah and could take a blast. Ariana was happy to see her join the team, hoping that a neutral party could pull her and Mona out of Jenice’s vortex. Even Dee-Dee liked her, stepping out of the party line from Frances and Jenice. Well, that wasn’t fair to say: no one really knew what Frances’s opinion was, but Jenice did not care for the girl, for whatever reason, and made sure her existence was a living hell until she dropped out of sports altogether. Because of this, Ariana struggled to balance her fat ass on the tightrope of Jenice’s favor, even when it was clearly wrong.

This is probably wrong, Ariana thought, hooking her own thumbs into the waistbands of her leggings and her thong to hold them down for the camera. This doesn’t feel right. Where did Rachael even find something like this? Sitting on the ridiculous little man was one thing. She was worried she’d injured him, but he was perfectly okay. It made sense: there was so much of her ass to go around, all the force she brought down was dissipated over a wider area. If Jenice had tried that, slamming her bony little butt down, she probably could have broken something in him.

But this was a step beyond. She looked down at Rachael, barely seeing her. The mousy girl was saying something to her, but between her sobbing and the bus engine, it was difficult to make out what she wanted. Probably something about the little man, who right now was a wriggling, ticklish little lump in her butt. She rolled her eyes up and away from Rachael, stared at the dim lights racing past the windows in the distance, streaking in the darkness. She had to bite her lip to fight back the instinct to reach back and pull the little man out: living things did not belong in her butt! It was only cute when she lay on her front, reading, and her cat stomped up her thigh with her little paws and curled up on the hill of her ass to doze. Having someone inside her butt was disconcerting: it tickled, it was invasive, and now she was self-conscious about the condition of her ass. She’d showered before the game but the team they played tonight was savage. Her forearms glowed hot pink with all the blows she caught; she could have bruises tomorrow. So the thong in her ass was probably drenched with her sweat, and the sweat that trickled down to run over her butthole had to be especially nasty. That soaked into her thong, too, but the thin fabric was not super-absorbent, leaving most of the moisture still lining her crevice, and that’s what the tiny man was swimming in now.

“No, little dude,” Ariana whispered to herself. “Stop wriggling. You’re just gonna go in deeper if you don’t hold still.”

There was no way for him to hear her, and wriggle-wriggle-wriggle he went, and down, down, down he went. The squirming lump slid deeper between her butt cheeks, and all she was allowed to do was hold her leggings down for display. It was irritating! God, I want to just jerk him out of there and throw him away! The fuck does he think he’s doing in there? She giggled nervously at the strange sensation; her body shuddered, trying to reject it. She grimaced and looked down at Rachael, crouching in the corner of the bus seat she was kneeling on.

The other women were cracking up behind her, paying no attention to the owner of the rump they were gawking at. “This is so fucked, Rachael,” she said. “He won’t stop squirming, and my butt’s so sweaty, he’s just sinking deeper into it.” She giggled again, shocked at saying something so bizarre as a simple matter of fact. “Every time I think he can’t go down any more, he slides another inch! It’s like I don’t even know how big my own butt is. I kinda wish I could see what they were filming, because I really want to know what’s actually going on back there. Like, is he completely swallowed up or is he still sticking out somewhere? I can’t tell.”

Rachael’s bloodless face only gaped at her. “Let him out, please, let him out.” Her nose was running, glistening in the occasional streetlights that flashed by.

“Holy shit, girl, get a hold of yourself. You’re a goddamn mess.”

“He’s going to drown, he’s going to suffocate! Please, please, just pull him out and give him to me.” Rachael reached past Ariana’s hip, one thin, pale arm that took no effort for her to pin against the back of the seat with her hip.

“Hey, you ruined my shot,” Jenice called from behind her back. “Oh well, guess we gotta do this bit again.”

Ariana had no idea what Dee-Dee and Jenice were staging in the theater of her ass. She glanced over at Mona, who had stepped back and was watching everything with a mild grin, then placed a little more pressure on Rachael’s arm. “Don’t be an idiot! If you take him out of there, Jenice will eat you alive.” She glared at the miserable little woman, now making a dramatic yet futile gesture of tugging her arm free. “Seriously, Rachael, you’re being stupid and you’re asking for trouble. You need to calm the fuck down and stop—”

“But they’re going to ki-hi-hill him,” Rachael sobbed. “I shouldn’t have stolen him from that old woman. But I had to see him, and now they’re going to kill him!”

Ariana would have liked to whip her arm out and smack the stupid out of this little idiot. It would have been satisfying to see Rachael’s eyes roll for a second, before her head lolled to the side and her scrawny little body collapsed. She couldn’t think of any way to shut this stupid bitch up. What’s she even doing on this team? She doesn’t have any power as opposite hitter, and her defensive skills are for shit. The team kept finding new roles for her to try, and she kept finding new ways to fail at all of them. Even Jenice, sensing the potential for comedy, let her step in as setter and practice for two weeks before an unimportant mid-season match. Jenice enjoyed servicing Frances as opposite hitter, and it should be noted that the role of outside hitter was never at any point mentioned as a place to try out Rachael. No one suggested it, no one dared. Their coach was lightly disciplined for such an irresponsible tactical error, one which saw the slight, pale girl come away with a twisted ankle and a black eye. There were rumors, again, that Frances herself advocated to keep Rachael on the team, but these were dismissed because they didn’t make any sense. The only explanation for that was abject cruelty.

Yet Rachael remained, and now she was a sobbing, writhing mess on the bus seat. Ariana shifted her hip and Rachael collapsed into the corner once more. “You sit there, and you calm yourself the fuck down, girl. You try another stupid stunt like that, and you get to watch Frances, I dunno, twist that little fucker’s head off and pop it down her throat.”

Rachael wailed at the image. Jenice poked her head into their space, one arm slithering around Ariana’s waist. “What’s going on here? You guys having your own little party? Anything we should know about?” The way Dee-Dee was braying, she was in charge of the camera for the moment. To the side, Mona’s face gave away absolutely nothing.

“Rachael’s just having a little meltdown,” Ariana said. “Way past her bedtime. She needs a cookie and a blanket.”

Jenice laughed, actually laughed at that. This took a load off of Ariana’s heart: a happy Jenice meant an uneventful evening. Well, if a miniaturized man worming his way into your butthole was uneventful… “God, someone get her a box of Kleenex. It’s not like we’re torturing a puppy,” she told Rachael. “Honestly, it looks like he’s having the time of his life. I wonder if he’s ever thought about doing butt-stuff with his wife?”

Ariana did a double-take. “You think he’s… wait. You think he’s actually married to someone? Another tiny woman?”

Jenice shook her head, grinning toothily. “You didn’t see that old woman freaking out in the parking lot when we pulled away?”

“I guess I didn’t notice anyone.”

“And you haven’t noticed the headlights that have been tailing us for the last fifteen miles?”

At that, Mona’s smile faded, and she turned to look out the rear bus door window. Ariana peered over her shoulder to see a car following too closely. “Holy shit, that’s her? What does she think she’s gonna do?”

Jenice shrugged cozily against Ariana’s hip. “Hope she filled up before she took off.” She slunk back to the action, taking the camera from Dee-Dee’s long, trembling fingers. Mona turned back to them, her grin refreshed.

The heart in Ariana’s chest shifted up a couple gears. The hot workout sweat in her ass was nothing compared to the flop sweat that prickled her pits now. The tiny little man had a normal-sized wife! How would that even work out? She scoffed at her own dumb question: it probably went a little like what was happening right now. Except… It was impossible to see the driver of the car behind them, just headlights and ambient glare on the hood, reflected from the rear door. If the driver had had any reason to hit the brakes, then maybe those lights would reveal her face, but he was essentially on cruise control at this point.

It disturbed Ariana to wonder which one of them was going to have sex with this tiny man. Because that was very obviously and inexorably where this all was headed. Jenice needed more and more, greater heights, louder thrills. She wasn’t going to call this off after dunking him in Mona’s tits and her own ass. She had to wonder whether her own fear of Jenice and Frances was stronger than her desire to not get naked, lie back on a dirty bus seat, and stuff a helpless little man into herself. She really wondered.

She looked down at Rachael, who was frozen in fear since Jenice made her appearance. Ariana snorted. “You’re kinda like a tiny little person yourself, aren’t you? Short, frail, weak.” She could almost still feel the bird-like bones of Rachael’s forearm pinned against her ample hip. A little more pressure, and she felt sure she could have snapped them. It was so easy to have any amount of power over someone like Rachael, who seemed almost to hand control out to any half-interested party. “If you had an atom of self-respect… you little…”

For a moment, Ariana wondered what it would feel like to pin Rachael under her huge ass. Not like before, where she just weighed her down in the bus seat. What would it be like to really smother her, to spread her huge cheeks, fit Rachael’s weepy face between them, and just start grinding on her? Those spindly arms couldn’t shove her away, not in a million years. And the pale girl would probably just suffocate between her cheeks. Yeah, her buttocks would slide around her nose and cheeks and over her ears, and Rachael couldn’t do anything to stop it. She wondered what it would feel like to have a young, weak woman like this screaming into her ass, and how long something like that could last.

Ariana stared down at Rachael, who stared at nothing. A tiny man with apparently boundless energy shimmied into the depths of her big, round ass, carried along on a scrim of sweat and body funk. Dee-Dee laughed herself breathless, Jenice announced a new scene with “wait, wait” and “you know what we should try?” Mona only observed the action placidly, and Frances’s pretty skull bounced gently against the window pane as the bus and one frantic car plowed into the night.

Jenice rolled her shoulders. She was in her element: the girls were terrified and compliant, Frances was probably passed out (no one else knew how much she liked to drink), and no one else on this big, stupid bus dared to fuck with them, not even the driver. She clenched her jaws with excitement: this was as close as she ever needed to get to complete, total, unfettered control.

She wrapped her slim fingers around the waistband of Ariana’s tortured leggings. “Hold right there. We gotta get this just right.” It took some effort on her part, but she managed to yank a couple fistfuls of waistband down around the Latina’s broad hips, exposing ever more bulging butt cheeks and deep ass crack. The headlights of the persistent car behind them only made her cheeks look rosier and the crack even more shadowy. “You getting this, Dee-Dee?”

Ariana had no idea what there was to “get,” and Rachael was a wet, sobbing mess. Jenice watched the tall, goofy woman fumbling with her smartphone until the bright LED light bleached the broad landscape of Ariana’s butt, bringing into high contrast the tiny, pale legs that wriggled in the ass-cleavage. The rest of the hapless shrunken man was lost within the depths of the Latina. Jenice cupped her hand behind the struggling figure, grinning at Dee-Dee’s camera. “And there he is, ladies, the last traces of this ridiculous little fuck getting swallowed by this big, beautiful ass. Get a good look, because it ain’t gonna last!” She drew her hand back and hauled off with a sharp, resounding CRACK that got everyone’s attention.

Ariana sucked breath through her teeth, blushing against Rachael’s messy hair—there was no way for Jenice to know how much she liked a good slap, but this was not the time or place. As she recovered herself, savoring the burning sting on one round cheek, she felt the struggling diminish. “There you go,” Jenice said behind her, cackling. “Hey, Ariana, if you’re done making out with your girlfriend there, you wanna help out here? I need you to spread your cheeks.”

Ariana closed her eyes. This was getting to be too much… but how many times had she said that in the past? And that suggested she’d keep on saying it, while going along with the evil redhead’s every whim endlessly into the future. There had to be a line somewhere. “Uh, I can’t really do that right now. I’m holding this whiny bitch down with both hands. Don’t want her running up to the chaperones or anything.”

Jenice’s head bobbed as she weighed the merits of this flimsy excuse. “Fine, right. Mona, c’mere please.” Within seconds, it was the shy, smiling woman’s hands that planted upon the Latina’s broad cheeks and struggled to pry them apart: her friend was bent over, proffering her rear to the bus aisle. Muscles and skin were already pretty well stretched in this position, plus the apprehension of her round thighs by these surprisingly enduring leggings. But Mona put some good effort into it, trying this grip and then that one, replacing her little hands to find the best place to pull the fleshy spheres apart and then lock into a comfortable position for whatever the gang’s lieutenant had in mind.

“Goddamn it,” Ariana muttered, hanging her head almost into Rachael’s chest. “This is so fucked up. Goddamn it. And this is all your fault, you ignorant bitch.” She turned her blushing cheeks toward the sobbing girl. “If you would’ve kept your damn hands to yourself, not go grabbing any shiny fucking object you see, neither of us—neither of us—would be in this position. I promise you that.”

“I’m sorry.” The frail girl choked, gasping for air between sobs. “Just save him. Don’t hurt him, this isn’t his fault. Why won’t you save him?”

Ariana really wished her hands were free, but she knew Rachael would hop up and cause some stupid trouble. Rachael had no idea what it felt like to have your close friend groping your own backside, pulling it apart, feeling the cooler air filter down there while a tiny little man wriggles into your butt like some idiot worm. And all the while you knew that fuckin’ Dee-Dee was filming the whole thing, and fuck if Dee-Dee could keep a secret if she thought she could crawl up the social ladder a little bit. And this bitch is just whining and sniveling about some fucked-up little guy she stole in a diner? Frustrated beyond words, Ariana swung her head like a mace into the smaller girl’s face, knocking her back into the bus seat. She only stopped crying for about two seconds, before collapsing against the rattling bus window. In another couple seconds, Ariana was about to be pissed enough to go after Jenice… She sighed, gritting her teeth, knowing that would never happen.

Jenice laughed as she watched the little feet kicking away, kicking until they could only struggle against the curves of the libero’s vast cheeks, spread apart by her buddy, the defensive specialist. Within seconds they were totally gone, disappeared, subsumed into the young woman’s crack. Jenice glanced at Dee-Dee, who nodded vigorously and shut off the camera. There was nothing else to film: what happened next was only for them.

“All right, get up,” Jenice said, making a show of laboriously hauling the taut waistband up over Ariana’s hips once more, snugging them left and right until they looked like they were in place. She admired her work, then leaned in to grab the huge cheeks with both hands. “Ooh, I love ya!” she squealed, planting a comical kiss next to the deep ass crack before helping Ariana back out of the seat and stand in the aisle. Immediately Dee-Dee flowed into position, pinning wretched Rachael down just in case. Jenice was a little surprised at the show of initiative. “Can you feel him in there?”

Ariana thought for a moment, then nodded. She futzed around with straightening her hair, hoping her cheeks would cool down soon: the slap and the kiss from a hot, dangerous girl like Jenice was too potent a combination for her to think about for very long. Such a fucked up evening.

“All right, this part’s easy. No point in video because no one’ll be able to see it. But we’ll know he’s there, right?” Jenice tilted her head and grinned at Ariana. “I just want you to walk around a little bit.”

The Latina frowned slightly. “We pulling over or something?” She looked out the window to see the rest stop, but the bus was trucking along unabated.

“No, just right here, up and down the aisle.” Jenice glanced at Mona, who backed up to block the seats ahead of dormant Frances. There was no risk of anyone else messing with the gang now: most women were asleep or chastened after watching the frizzy-haired girl get torn into. Mona smiled at Ariana warmly, for no reason Ariana could understand. Did she not know what the fuck was going on right now?

Ariana glanced at Jenice, who sat down behind Frances and nodded at her. She took a couple tentative steps up to her friend, stopping just short of her massive rack. Mona was a few inches taller than Ariana, so the sultry young woman grinned down at her over the hillside of her massive bosom, and her ass still smarted from Jenice’s flat palm… Such a fucked up evening. Ariana was going to have to think about this for a long, long time.

She turned and faced the back door, met with a feline grin from Jenice on the right and Dee-Dee craning to gawk at her over her shoulder on the left. She felt two enormous boobs gently nudge against the back of her neck and shoulders, which got a raised eyebrow from Jenice, so Ariana decided she’d better start walking.

It was a surreal exercise. No one could see the tiny man in her ass, but everyone knew he was there. Ariana couldn’t see him, but she could feel the little lump of mass between her cheeks, stuck a few inches above her poop hole, probably. Hard to tell. She couldn’t always feel him there, either. His body was so thin and so small, if she just stood there for a while her butt got used to having him in there and he disappeared. She walked toward the back door, taking long, slow strides and rolling her hips exaggeratedly, like a comical sashay or something. Jenice said something encouraging and Dee-Dee guffawed, but Ariana was intent on this overly stylized strut. One foot in front of the other, swinging one hip and then the other, putting her shoulders into it. She liked this, the syncopated step-swivel-step. She always wanted to be a dancer, but the formal classes her mom paid for ended with some haughty instructor telling her she was too short, she was too plump to ever come to anything. Which was dumb for her mom to enter her into ballet rather than ballroom rumba. She taught herself salsa on YouTube, just some basic steps, but she loved it. It would’ve made more sense.

Abruptly the tiny man started struggling again. No teeth or nails, just a little knot of a person writhing deep in her butt, like if she’d stuck her finger in there and wriggled it a little bit. Probably weaker than that, actually. She gave her ass a clench, but it didn’t calm him down or anything, so she finished her strut right up to the emergency door in the back. There were the headlights, two lights on either side, a dingy yellow like some older car. She couldn’t see the person driving the car, with the headlights catching all the dust on the bus’s back windows. Just some woman, driving endlessly into the night, never knowing when this bus was gonna pull over.

Some woman, trying to get her husband back. That’s what Rachael said, she swiped this tiny man from a woman at the counter in the diner. Ariana tried to peer into the windshield and see what the woman looked like. Was she as old as the man? How old was he? Was she mad? Was she crying?

Ariana turned from the window on her toes, like in ballet, and started to jog up the aisle to really make her ass bounce.

“Go, girl! Look at you!”

“Ha ha ha, omigod!”

Mona only smiled sweetly at her friend as Ariana hopped and bounced up the aisle. Jenice liked watching her little monkeys dance for her, and Dee-Dee was elated by anything that Jenice approved of. Frances was off in her own world, and only a couple women up in the front broke from their conversations with their handlers to glance at what was going on in the back. Everyone else had drifted from homework or listening to music to dozing lightly, if they could on this rattling bus.

Rachael only turned her head miserably toward the darkened wasteland outside, broad horizon with occasional lights in the far distance below a clear sky. They were far enough from any city that the stars stood out prominently, but she couldn’t make them out through her tears. Once in a while she tried to jerk her arms free or to slip them slyly away, but Dee-Dee’s grasp was firm. The only blessing here was that she didn’t turn back to Rachael and swear at her or threaten her. She just wanted to see all the action and laugh her fool head off, so she’d only tighten her huge mitts around the smaller girl’s forearms and keep her locked in place. Rachael had no idea what kind of person Dee-Dee was outside of the group, away from Frances and Jenice. She knew that Ariana could be a good person sometimes, and she thought that Mona looked kind but her behavior… the fact that she never said anything made her seem sinister and unpredictable. Jenice was clearly evil. Frances was evil, but in a different way. Jenice liked to set people up for failure, or she liked to hover around a disaster or an accident and gloat about it, but Frances wasn’t so underhanded.

Frances would bring the disaster to you. She was active and responsible. Jenice just snickered while things went to shit, but Frances was brutal. Rachael didn’t know why Frances kept her on this team, instead of transferring her to one of the other squads. Rachael’s presence lost this team several victories, but Frances never kicked her off, only moved her to a new position to watch her fail there, too. Her bottom lip crumpled and she turned to the window again. She couldn’t even wipe her tears away on her shoulder, because the middle blocker held her down so solidly. If her vision were clearer, she wanted to look around her lap or her seat or the floor to try and find some of Harold’s clothing. It was stupid of her to undress him like that, she thought too late. She should’ve waited until she got home. There was no privacy on the bus. Now, not only did she lose all those fascinating little garments and things, she lost the little old man, too. Ruining everything again, like always. Why wouldn’t Frances let her go…

Despite all the attention of some truly nasty young women focused on her, Ariana found some solace in getting to dance around like this. It felt good to move her limbs and be sexy, even if her team was encouraging her for the wrong reasons. She walked up to where Mona blocked the aisle, blew her a kiss, then trotted back to the emergency door. She shimmied her way down, slamming her hips into each padded green seat back as she went. And she, like the women watching her, wondered what this experience was like for the tiny man in her butt. Surely he must have felt the thunderous collision, despite the padding around her hips and the foam padding around the steel seat backs. She wasn’t sparing with the hip check, either: even Jenice whistled at the force Ariana was banging away with.

“You’re gonna feel that in the morning,” she said, which was less a warning and more a hint at hoping to enjoy Ariana’s pain in the morning.

“Ha ha, do it! Do it!” Dee-Dee was hysterical, shaking with laughter. What it was Ariana was supposed to do was unclear, but Dee-Dee clearly wanted more of it. She was long enough in all her limbs that she could hold Rachael down in her seat, and her head still easily cleared the seat back to watch Ariana swinging her mighty buttocks down the aisle. In many ways, when she bothered to think about it at all, she was unalike anyone else on her team. She was the tallest by far, but Frances felt taller due to the force of her personality. She was long and lean, and she liked to see her own muscle tone when she worked out, but she didn’t have tits like Mona or an ass like Ariana. Hell, no one did. And most of the time she didn’t want that, she liked being… her father called her a giraffe, and an ex-boyfriend described her as a gazelle. Long, thin animals from around the hottest belt around the world. Animals… Dee-Dee didn’t feel like an animal. She didn’t feel brutal or competitive, even when her team went to championships. She was awkward and uncoordinated most of the time, falling up staircases rather than down, moving too fast and knocking things over at home. All that changed when she stepped into the court: suddenly her body tightened up and she was in control of every last joint. The ball glowed and commanded her vision, with an extra-sensory awareness of her teammates. She wasn’t even afraid of Frances or Jenice at those times, she was only lost in the sense of being a team all doing the same thing.

Except for Rachael. Now she paused in her braying laughter and looked down at the frail little woman below her. Except for Rachael. Everyone moved together on the court, everyone shared thoughts, everyone acted in the trust of everyone else being where they should and doing what they should. Except for Rachael.

Dee-Dee’s head hung over the little woman, her thick lips numb and slack as the wheels churned in her mind. Why couldn’t Rachael do that? Why was she always fucking up? It’s like she wanted to be a victim, like it satisfied her. Frances would move her to another position, either to give her a break from working too hard in one area or to try and explore what she was good at in other positions. But it always ended up the same: Rachael knocking the ball offsides, Rachael catching a spike in the face and getting a bloody nose, Rachael missing the bump and losing a point.

She stared at Rachael now, with her reddened, wet cheeks and bedraggled hair. She wasn’t laughing at the ridiculous little man. She wasn’t watching Ariana shake her big round booty, dancing up and down the aisle. She was just whining and crying, and didn’t she know that was gonna piss Jenice off?

“Hey. Hey.” She shook Rachael’s forearms. “Why aren’t you watching this? It’s hilarious.”

The little woman tried to control her breathing in a very sobbing way.

“Check it out.” Dee-Dee shifted her arm to give Rachael room to see the sensual globes in stretched, smoky tights swinging by. They nearly defied gravity, sticking out in their fullness with clean, deep creases where they met the round backs of Ariana’s thighs. Dee-Dee grinned hugely to watch them bobble like that, knowing that somewhere inside, a tiny naked dude was squished flat and shaking right along with them. She said as much to Rachael.

Rachael turned her ruddy face up to the taller, longer woman arching over her. “We have to get him out of there! He can’t breathe!”

Dee-Dee snorted. “He’s fine, he’ll be fine. Just think about how lucky he is to be in there.”

“Lucky? He’s going to die.”

“Yeah, lucky. You ever hear the guys talking about her butt? She tells me she tried dating a couple guys, and they couldn’t keep their hands off her ass. Like, they’re all trying so hard to get at her ass, and here’s this little guy who can actually go inside it!” She laughed in her awkward, self-unconscious way all over Rachael. “Yeah, lucky! Don’t you think all those guys would love to be where he is? Shit, she could probably fit five tiny guys in her butt like that. Ten, maybe. That would be amazing!”

“There aren’t any other tiny people. There’s only one, and he’s going to die, and it’s because of me.”

The hilarity melted from Dee-Dee’s face. “Yeah, that’s true. Maybe you shouldn’t have stolen him. Why’d you do that, anyway? You, like, kidnapped a whole person.”

Rachael collapsed in on herself in misery. “I know, I wasn’t thinking about that. I just saw him and I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It’s impossible, you know? So I had to see for myself, and we were leaving and there wasn’t time to ask the woman.”

“So you just took him. All right, I guess. But why’s he naked?”

Rachael froze. She had no ability to lie, especially when she was intimidated, and even if Dee-Dee was being sociable to her now, she was still one of Frances’s hounds. “I don’t know.”

“But that’s weird, right? That woman, bringing a tiny naked man to a truck stop? Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What were they doing when you saw them?”

“I dunno, just… eating dinner?”

“And he’s naked? Why didn’t the waitress say something?”

“I don’t know! Get him out of Ariana’s big butt and ask him yourself!”

Dee-Dee paused. That was actually a pretty good idea. She wanted to know how the old man got so small, or if there were any others like him. If he was the only one, and if they killed him on this busride, that would be the end of the story and probably no one else would have any answers for her. Maybe the woman following them. She looked back at the emergency door, glowing where the headlights lit up all the dust coating the back of the bus, watching Ariana’s long, dark hair fly up as she twirled at the end of her little runway.

But she didn’t like Rachael’s tone. Someone that small should know better than to talk like that to someone much bigger than herself. Now, it would’ve been easy for her to tighten her fists and hurt Rachael’s arms a little, or to wrench them and her them a lot. She could’ve kneed her in the chest with the full force of all the muscles it took to haul her long, strong body around. She could even have taken a large, horsey bite out of Rachael’s shoulder. But she didn’t know if Jenice had plans for Rachael or what, and she didn’t want to find out the wrong way.

She twisted her head back and drew a long breath. “Hey, Jenice! Rachael says we gotta let him out!”

Like three cats hearing the same strange noise, Ariana, Jenice, and Mona all looked at her, and Dee-Dee wondered if she fucked up somehow.

Jenice said, “What are you talking about.”

“She says the li’l guy’s dying in Ariana’s butt.”

Ariana interrupted her routine to regard the rumpled pile of little woman beneath Dee-Dee. “I’m not doing anything to him.”

“Maybe you’re farting on him. You farting on him?” Dee-Dee laughed while Ariana’s frown deepened.

“Why should we let him out?” Jenice’s voice was cool and neutral.

Without thinking, Rachael yelled, “You’re killing him! He can’t breathe! There’s no room for him to move, you’re crushing him to—”

Dee-Dee’s knee rammed her soft ribs. “Hey, not so loud. You’re gonna get us in trouble, and then you’ll have to deal with Frances.” She looked back at Jenice. “Sorry about that, she’ll be better now.”

Slowly Jenice rose and knelt on the seat in front of the captor and captive, folding her arms gracefully upon the seat back. “Okay.”

Ariana’s eyebrows shot up. Mona looked at the back of Jenice’s head, then at Ariana. Dee-Dee looked like someone had given her a story problem. But Rachael stopped sobbing and tried to peek around the taller girl to see Jenice’s expression. She was too afraid to even ask if Jenice meant it.

“Sure, he can’t breathe in Ariana’s butt. It’s all cramped and sweaty.”

“Hey,” Ariana started, going no further.

“Let her up, Dee-Dee.”

The tall girl did, slowly, then backed out of the seat and sat across from Rachael, openly staring at the gigantic ass-prison of the strange little man.

Rachael wiped her eyes and crudely smoothed her hair back, self-conscious now that those glowing green eyes were fixed upon her. “What’s the trick?” she croaked.

Jenice’s cheekbones swelled with a big grin. It was one thing to torment a person; it was something else when they knew they were about to be tormented and walked right into it anyway. “You’re gonna go in there and get him.”

There was silence in the back of the bus. A semi signaled to pass, casting a pale orange strobe upon Jenice’s face for a few seconds, as she regarded Rachael. Her expression was motionless, porcelain. Jenice knew the value of letting a moment hang without words being said, and she trusted the other women were soaking in it.

Behind her, Mona hovered in her traditional silence, giving nothing away in her expression, any trace of thought or opinion locked securely behind that honey-sweet Pakistani half-smile. Surely she had to have some feelings about this, one way or the other, but no one on her team would ever know about it.

Ariana froze, processing the proclamation. She hadn’t been consulted about letting this pathetic little girl in her butt, and she knew that protest wouldn’t go very far. One of these days…

Dee-Dee just stared at Ariana’s ass because it was there, right in her face. Lights raced outside, highlighting the outrageous curves and perilous depths to her crack, wherein somewhere lay a tiny little naked dude. She hardly thought about him, could only focus on the merry, ripe spheres that quivered excitedly, inches away from her nose. Happy Birthday to Dee-Dee. She might not have heard Jenice at all.

And Rachael? Her underdeveloped body wasn’t suitable to contain the raging conflict between relief, yes, the little old man would be freed, and… disgust, horror, humiliation at having to dig into her teammate’s bottom and look for the little man. In front of everyone, too, and Dee-Dee would probably record this, which meant the whole team would have copies of it tomorrow, and if distribution was restricted to them, she’d be lucky. She could only look back up at Jenice, floating over the green vinyl seat back like a spirit, swaying slightly with the bus’s rumbles, devoid of joy or anger or anything. Just looking at Rachael, waiting to see what would happen next, like Rachael was doing right now. And she knew she didn’t look as cool as Jenice while she was doing it.

Dee-Dee was the one to break the spell. It seemed the lieutenant’s words sunk into her skull at long last. Her jaw nearly unhinged as she threw back her head and howled with laughter. “Omigod, that’s perfect! Yes! Absolutely, that’s what has to happen.”

Mona’s expression shifted from mildly bemused to cheerful, with just a shade of anticipation. Ariana glanced at her, and she felt a little dismayed that Mona wasn’t more disgusted with the suggestion. This was Ariana’s body, after all. Jenice just suggested that someone else should have access to the private recesses in Ariana’s body, and Mona was just smiling about it? That should be wrong, she knew it should be wrong. But Mona was so lovely and so remote, which was an entirely different channel of influence from the terror of Jenice and Frances. Maybe Mona wanted to see Ariana vulnerable for a different reason? Maybe, but was this the time and place for that: the back of a college shuttle bus, in the middle of nowhere? The Latina sighed heavily, frustrated with herself that she couldn’t stand up against Jenice just announcing, out of nowhere, that Rachael should get into her own butt. And yet she knew that’s exactly how it was going to go, so she might as well just get it over with. Why did Dee-Dee have to laugh so fucking loud, though…

Jenice broke into a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s it, then. Places, everyone, take your spots.”

Rachael was a little awed to see everyone do that, without any instruction or guidance. She realized it wasn’t “everyone,” technically. Mona stayed standing, blocking the aisle, and Jenice remained where she hovered like a vulture. It was Dee-Dee who sprang up to the seat behind Rachael’s, activating her damned camera like she knew she would. All Ariana had to do was slowly turn around and present her impressive rear. She stood there in the aisle, feet together, arms hanging by her side in the light sweatshirt she cut off at the waist, big round hips tightly packed into the smoke-tinted leggings that stretched to transparency. Rachael was face-to-face with her butt, the two huge spheres of caramel flesh that mashed together under the leggings, setting her ass crack as a thin, dark cleft. It was a long crack, too, starting just under the waistband, running the entire arc of her proud, plump buttocks, and converging between her thighs with the tuck under each cheek, the grand curve of her thighs, and the lines of the legging’s fabric. Everything drew down into that crack, physics pulled down into it, light was trapped and compelled into that tight valley. Rachael couldn’t blink, couldn’t tear her eyes from it, now that the fearful symmetry of Ariana’s legendary backside was presented to her like a buffet table.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. Slowly she tore her eyes from the impressive rump to Jenice’s frozen facade of delight. “I can’t do this.”

Jenice arched a fine eyebrow. “What? You can’t what?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t go into Ariana’s butt.”

Ariana, for one, was relieved to know at least one girl on her team had some fucking respect.

“But you have to. You have to go into her ass, if you want to save your little man.”

“I can’t, it’s private.”

Jenice grinned wider. “You don’t mind, do you, Ariana?”

Ariana swore under her breath, biting her lip. Motherfucker. “Hey, whatever ya gotta do. If she don’t get him, then I guess he stays.” There. Did that sound cool and defiant?

Jenice turned back to Rachael. “There you have it. I’m not getting him. Dee-Dee’s not getting him, she’s busy with filming. Ariana’s not letting him go if she doesn’t have to. How about you, Mona?” She turned to face the silent woman behind her. “Would you like to go into Ariana’s ass? I mean, to rescue the little guy… or whatever.”

Everyone looked at Mona. Jenice had asked her a direct question, but Mona’s motif was silence all the time. How would she handle this?

The back of the bus flashed with light as a brilliantly lit billboard raced past. When their eyes adjusted, all the women were gently illuminated in the service lights running along the corrugated rubber flooring in the aisle and the dim glow of the sparse overhead dome lights. They still stared at the dusky defensive specialist.

Mona only stared back at Jenice for a few seconds, apparently thinking, then raised her eyebrows, grinned, and tilted her head with the shrug of one shoulder. Expertly done.

“It’s not her jurisdiction, Rachael.” Jenice smiled down at the wretched young woman. “This is all you, girl, unless you’d like me to wake up Frances.”

Rachael’s blood turned to ice. She couldn’t breathe, much less say anything.

“Should I do that?” Jenice looked genuinely concerned, as though she’d committed some foible of polite convention and needed to remedy it, right now. “Should I ask Frances to rescue your little friend?” She peeled herself from the back of the seat and smoothed her pleated navy miniskirt. “I’ll do that. You wait right here, I’ll go wake up the team captain and tell her she has to dig around in Ariana’s ass to find a tiny little man. She’ll understand.” Dee-Dee exploded with snorting laughter behind Rachael.

“Please don’t,” the little woman finally coughed.

“You sure? She’s sleeping right there, she hasn’t been doing anything all night. I’ll just give her shoulder a shake.”

“No, stop, stop.” Rachael was very close to breaking through the terror and simply being tired of Jenice’s condescension and abuse. “I’ll do it. I’ll get him.” Slowly she unfolded herself from her slumped form, muscles and joints complaining at being asked to do something after all this time. “I’m sorry, Ariana, I don’t want to do this.”

The Latina rolled her eyes. “Whatever, shithead. This is your mess, you gotta make it right.” So saying, she gripped the corners of the two seat backs in front of her and thrust her hips challengingly into Rachael’s space. The smoky leggings turned glossy and pale under a white LED light when Dee-Dee started recording video on her phone, making Rachael flinch. She partially knelt on the green vinyl seat, stood on the floor with one leg, as she crept awkwardly toward the enormous, plump butt. When she reached for the straining waistband, Jenice stopped her.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Rachael looked at the long, deep ass crack then back and Jenice. “I’m going to get the little man.”

“How’re you going to do that?”

Rachael reared, surprised by the question. “I was just gonna reach in there and get him.”

She was rewarded by one of Jenice’s most feline grins. “Nuh-uh. We haven’t talked about that yet. We have to figure out the best way for you to go in there and get him.”

Rachael’s heart stopped beating briefly. Dee-Dee laughed and swore lightly about jerking the camera, but that’s only because this was so great. One corner of Mona’s lips twitched slightly, betraying a fractionally brighter grin for a second. Out of everyone’s sight, Ariana’s eyes widened with surprise. She totally thought Rachael was just going to dig around for a bit with her little hand and then this whole fiasco would be over. Of course Jenice had to complicate things and make this as humiliating as possible.

They were surprised when Rachael spoke up first. “I don’t want to stick my face in there.”

Jenice broke her normal coolness with a rapid sequence of fluttering blinks. “What?”

“You made Dee-Dee stick her face into Mona’s boobies to get the little man out.” Rachael’s stomach sank, realizing she was giving them ideas. “I don’t want to stick my face in Ariana’s butt to look for the little man.”

Passing lights flashed across Jenice’s teeth. “But maybe that’s perfect. Maybe that’s the best way for this to go. How many of you want to see this little girl shove her head into Ariana’s butt?”

“Please don’t,” muttered Ariana.

Jenice looked sidelong at her for a second. “For that matter, Rachael’s so small, she could probably climb up and crawl in there her-damn-self.” She grinned at Rachael. “Could you do that? Could you just hoist yourself up over that waistband and crawl into Ariana’s huge fucking ass and go looking for your friend?”

“I don’t think so.” Rachael looked so seriously at Ariana’s rear that Jenice cracked up, despite herself.

“All right, then how else should she do this? Dee-Dee?”

The tall woman was visibly rattled at being picked out. She was good at focusing on one thing at a time, so she had to shut off her camera and think about the question. “I dunno. I thought she’d just reach in there and get him, too. I like the idea of her shoving her face in that crack, trying to get him out that way. Shit, I’d love to see that.” She glanced longingly at the back of Ariana’s head, oblivious to the glint in Jenice’s eye. “I mean, Mona spread her cheeks before, I guess she could do that, except then he’d just fall out, that’s no fun. Except…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe then Rachael has to get her little friend before we step on him. Like, we start stomping and everything, not trying to get him, just stomping around, and she has to get him before one of us steps on him.” She looked up at Jenice. “Is that an idea?”

Rachael immediately imagined her teammates purposely stomping on her fingers to bend them out of shape and shatter her little bones, and then stomping on the little man when she was helpless to save him. She whimpered and sat down on her leg on the bus seat. “Please, he’s going to die in there…”

Jenice closed her eyes and inhaled long and deep through her nose. “Fine, fuck it. Rachael, just fucking go in there and get him however you want. You’ve got ten damn seconds. Dee-Dee, start recording. ONE.”

Shocked, Rachael sprang up again and clutched at Ariana’s waistband with both fists. It was stretched so tight, though, and Ariana had a real hourglass figure but her hips were so broad.

“Two.”

She repositioned her hands and tried tugging down one hip, then down the other. She wasn’t making much progress, moving the leggings down only a couple of inches.

“Three.”

She shot a worried look at Jenice, who only shrugged and nodded at the huge ass. Rachael spread her hands and tried jerking back, leaning fully back toward the side of the bus, as hard as her little body could tug. That widened the access to Ariana’s butt crack, but Rachael couldn’t reach in there in time to do anything.

“Four.”

She returned to trying to tug one side down over one massive hip and succeeded in lodging the waistband halfway down the curve. It bit into the soft, smooth flesh and created two new bulges, one of bare flesh and one coated in translucent charcoal tights. Carefully she crept her grip along the waistband, holding down where she’d been while encouraging the rest of it to pull down, and she slid that down to a similar latitude as well.

“Five!”

“She’s fucking doin’ it,” murmured Dee-Dee, angling herself to get a shot of Ariana’s ass around the cascade of Rachael’s hair. Mona, behind Jenice, said nothing but raised to her tiptoes, hoping for a glimpse.

Heartened, Rachael pulled the waistband completely down over one hip, exposing a massive round hill of hairless, youthful flesh. It shivered briefly in the cool bus air, catching the ambient glow of passing highway lights. Rachael went for the other side and tugged it almost as far down over the exaggerated hip before Jenice ordered her to stop.

Ariana blushed at all the hard work happening behind her. Surely she wasn’t that big, was she? Likely Rachael was just a weak little pussy, but it was a unique sensation to experience another person straining so mightily to undress her. It was… empowering, in a strange way. All of the little woman’s strength wasn’t enough to pull her leggings down. Her mind drifted back to dominating that weak little shit with her ass, drilling into her, pounding into her if she wanted in there that badly. How big her ass must seem, not just to the shrunken man, but to this little weakling as well. Damn.

“That’s far enough. Work with what you got. Six.”

‘That’s not fair! Come on, I need a little more room to work with!”

Jenice shrugged. “Seven.”

“That wasn’t a whole second,” Rachael muttered, but gave it up and studied the deep crack between the huge bulging buttock and almost-as-huge partial buttock. Her hands were small and fine enough to jam right down in there, but Ariana’s cheeks were so full and firm, she probably wouldn’t be able to move her fingers. And then would she just bonk the little guy in the head? Bend it the wrong way, snap his neck?

“Eight!”

And that’s if he was even alive. Grimacing, Rachael tried to form her fingers into a long, narrow spearhead, and she really put her shoulder into it when she jabbed it down into the other woman’s ass, plunging until half her forearm was absorbed. Now she couldn’t look at the mocking, curious faces around her: she clenched her eyes and tried to “see” through her fingertips. So far, all it was, was a tight sandwich of moist, rubbery flesh compressed on both sides of her hand.

Ariana sucked in a long, shocked breath through her nostrils. She did it, the little woman was inside her ass. And it was disgusting, this violation, this intrusion… or it should have been, but Rachael’s hand was so small. Hand? Her whole arm was in there, just about! Shit, Rachael’s arm was smaller than some dicks she’s seen. And now it was lodged deep in her cheeks, and it was… squirming. Oh, dammit. The little lump of the shrunken man had long gone still and she couldn’t feel him anymore, but Rachael’s arm was active and alive and curious, and Ariana’s butt was so much bigger than her arm, than her head… She felt something clench, deep within her womb. Goddamn it.

“Nine! Watch this, Dee-Dee, if she doesn’t fucking make it in time, then…”

Rachael wanted to know what would happen then, but she also knew Jenice said that to make her wonder, so she gritted her teeth and rose up in her seat, and she thrust harder, deeper into her teammate’s huge ass, and when she felt nothing she retreated to jam herself into another direction, and then her pinky brushed something. She formed a fist between the walls of flesh, forcing a little space, and her pinky hooked a tiny arm, and she shoved her fist toward it, and her fingertips probed the outline of tiny ribs.

“Ten! That’s it, Dee-Dee! What do we have for our losers?”

But before she finished the question, Dee-Dee turned the camera to follow little Rachael slumping into her seat, cupping something against her chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into her hands. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve got you now, I’ll protect you now, no matter what.”

Jenice pursed her lips, watching the little scene, then signaled for Dee-Dee to end the video. “All right, I guess you did it.” She leaned down to get into Rachael’s face, and also to see if she could espy the tiny man she clutched possessively. “You happy? I’m letting you have this one. You won, you did it. Hooray for you. How’s the little fucker doing?”

Rachael only shook her head, praying over the shrunken figure. Dee-Dee couldn’t see him, Jenice couldn’t see him, and Ariana had taken a seat across the aisle and was fanning herself, thighs clamped tightly. Mona stared at Ariana instead of Rachael.

“Come on, lemme see,” said Jenice. “Is he breathing? Did he die, like you said?”

“He’s fine,” Rachael murmured. “Please leave me alone for a minute.”

Jenice was beside herself with excitement. He did almost die, and Rachael thought she could protect him from everyone else here! That was a fucking scream. She licked her teeth, thinking about how to play this, when a hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her aside.

“What’s all the commotion,” said Frances.

The tall blonde captain stood like a sinuous statue in the aisle, earbuds dangling over her collarbones. Her mouth was a little slack from slumber, and there was a fading red spot on her left temple where she leaned dozed against the window, but otherwise she was the warrior-goddess they all knew from practice. Bold she stood, traffic lights flashing over her cut abs, exposed below an expensive sports bra. She tossed her long, golden ponytail back off her shoulder with an imperious swing of her skull and looked expectantly at Jenice. Because Frances did not repeat herself.

The flare of resentment Jenice felt at someone on this bus daring to touch her was gone so quickly, the atmosphere might have popped in the abrupt vacuum. “Frances! Welcome to the party. How’re you feeling?” She glanced at Mona who, quite reasonably, never said anything when she saw the domineering blonde unfold from her seat and approach. Still, Jenice found it irritating that Mona didn’t have her six. Ariana scooted backward to the window, sitting behind the statuesque woman, and Dee-Dee gabbled helplessly, reaching over the seat back to pick up the smartphone that practically jumped from her fingers once she saw Frances. She sat back, couldn’t find a comfortable position for her long legs and arms, and jumped up to stand at a respectable distance from her captain.

Frances looked down at Rachael, who peered up at her through strands of dark hair. “The hell happened to you? Someone do this to you?”

Unable to speak, Rachael shook her head and hunched a little more over her cupped hands.

Frances turned back to Jenice. She did not raise an eyebrow, she did not bark talk at her. She only stared, half-lidded and cool, pitting personal motif against personal motif.

As usual, Jenice cracked. “You’re not going to believe this, Frances. We’ve been having a little fun with something Rachael found in the diner. Show her, Rach.”

Frances did not move an inch. “I asked you.”

Heat flushed in Jenice’s cheeks. Right here, in front of the others… She sucked in a breath and smiled. “When we stopped for dinner, Rachael found a tiny naked person beside some housewife at the bar. She’s in the car behind us, has been for like half an hour. Rachael stole him, brought him on the bus, and we’ve been passing him around, checking him out.”

Frances took this in, watching her lieutenant steadily. “A tiny naked man. Show me.” She swung one toned arm down and opened her palm to Rachael.

Rachael flinched at the gesture, staring at the long fingers, sepia in the poor ceiling light. She looked away from Frances and shook her head.

Frances held her position for what felt like a long time. Her chest rose and fell slowly, but she did not take her hand back, and Rachael could feel the heat from it on her shoulder.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Quicker than thought, Jenice seized a fistful of Rachael’s hair and slammed her head against the vinyl seat back. Her other hand darted in and pulled two fingers on one hand farther back than they were supposed to go. As Rachael cried out and yanked her hand free, Jenice plucked the shrunken figure and placed him carefully into Frances’s palm. Ariana winced behind the captain, unable to see but not liking Rachael’s cry. She glanced at Mona: expressionless, restraining her own curiosity.

Frances brought him up to her chest, and Dee-Dee leaned in, panting, to get a look at the little fellow; she retreated at Frances’s glance. Frances lifted him closer and planted her index fingertip in his chest to get him to roll to his back, but he wouldn’t spread out. Her brow furrowed, and she used two fingers to pin his arms aside, but then he curled up his legs, covering his shame.

“Hm,” she said. Jenice started to add further notes. Frances silenced her with a slight shake of her head.

Rachael was beyond waterworks. All she knew was fear now. Her voice was hoarse. “Please, give him back. I have to take care of him.”

Frances curled her fingers around the little man and stared down at Rachael, hard. Jenice glanced between the two of them, wanting to savor this moment but remaining subdued until she could read her leader better. Rachael reached out for the man, lying in the loose cage of Frances’s fingers. Frances raised her eyebrows and Rachael retreated, covered her face, and packed herself into the corner. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Frances opened her hand and turned her face toward the little man. “Hang on,” she said, tilting her palm and clapping it to her right breast.

A quiet voice beneath her hand said, “I don’t know what you want me to do,” but when she pulled her hand away, he figured it out. The shrunken man clutched at her sports bra, losing grip in one hand and finding it again quickly, and hung down like a capital Y over her tit, his hips over the region of her nipple. She let her arms hang down, pushed out her chest, and slowly turned toward each of her teammates. Jenice lit up and grinned at the sight, the little guy clinging for his own life to the boob of the team captain. He tried to hide his face, but no matter how he turned, he was looking at some gigantic woman’s face or another. Frances nodded slightly, and Jenice produced her own smartphone, framed three shots from three angles: left, straight on, and below. She put her phone away and winked, looking at Rachael once Frances turned away.

Mona broke into a warm smile, as well, dimpling cutely and glancing at Frances’s expression. Frances turned toward Ariana, trying not to look like she was cowering like a mirror image of Rachael. She looked at the little man, his bare butt glowing in a passing flash of light, then nodded at her captain.

Frances displayed herself to Dee-Dee, who nearly stumbled over her own feet in the shock of being acknowledged. When she recovered herself, she gawked open-mouthed at the spectacle, and then her face lit up with hilarity. “That’s perfect! Oh, that’s so cool! Hold on, I’ll get a picture of that.” Instead, Frances nodded to the side and Dee-Dee collapsed into the last bus seat.

Now the captain stood bathed in the headlights of the car that tailed them. She stepped toward the rear exit, shoulders back, compact and efficient muscles rippling beneath her futuristic-looking volleyball tights. The tiny man stared up at her, saying something that couldn’t be heard over the engine, calling up to her finely cut, proud jawline.

Frances reached up and placed her palms upon the upper corners of the emergency door. The girls saw her glow brilliantly as the car flashed its high-beams at her once, twice, three times. She tilted her head down to stare dead-on at the driver’s side of the windshield, absolutely stone-faced, then slowly pressed her chest against the glass.

The shrunken man cried out, first at the shock of cold tempered glass against his backside, then at being crushed against the window. France’s boob pressed into him, swathed in the sturdy sports bra, and spread around his sides and drove his head back into the glass. He shrieked until the wind was forced from his lungs, and he let go of the fabric, squirming in pain as Frances pressed on. Her boob swelled to cover his head, and the dense fabric was difficult to breathe through. “Please,” he coughed, looking up at the chiseled features of the blonde goddess far above, but she only stared unblinking into the car behind them.

From Jenice and Mona’s view, the light around their captain seemed to dim slightly. Jenice climbed onto the bus seat and strained to peer over the last row, to witness the car slowly backing off. Not leaving, not abandoning the chase, just reluctantly putting some distance between itself and the bus’s broad black rear bumper. Part of Jenice admired the hell out of her leader’s charisma or influence, whatever you wanted to call it; part of her was ready to murder everyone on this bus to possess it.

Drawing a long, slow breath, Frances let her arms drop and slowly peeled herself from the rear window. The tiny man yelped in terror as the huge breast lifted away, and his fingers scrabbled desperately to find some purchase in the smooth, tightly knit fabric. At the last moment he spread his arms out a little too wide, finding a seam to hold onto, and now his face butted against the dominant woman’s nipple; his legs dangled freely, like a sparse tassel, to the delight of the other women as she turned back and walked up the aisle to Rachael’s seat. She looked down at him then, as though casually noticing a stray thread, and brushed him free with a row of glossy fingernails. He cried out in the cacophony of the aged bus’s mechanics, spinning slowly through space until he smacked once more upon the green vinyl bus seat. “Stay” was all she said.

Dee-Dee sprang up to watch, perched like a cartoon owl upon the seat back. Mona dared to step forward just enough to see, brow raised and eyes wide, and Ariana leaned to peek around her captain’s hips, unable to resist following the shrunken man’s further adventures. Rachael shivered in her corner, peering through her fingers.

Jenice only stood at attention, in the seat ahead of Rachael’s, smartphone in hand, grinning at her leader.

Frances had padded over from her seat in low-top sports socks; her shoes were tucked under where she’d been sleeping. Now she balanced perfectly upon her left foot to bring her right heel to rest on the seat. Slowly she peeled the sock off, tossing it expertly to her seat, and lowered her foot to rest an inch from where the tiny man lay. He stared at her toes, twitching slightly, touched with white lint here and there. Her toenails shone in the crappy bus lighting, flashed with the odd street light. He looked up at her, sitting up and covering his junk. He looked back at Rachael, who hid her face from him and shook, then back up at the team captain.

Frances crossed her wrists upon her knee and leaned down, her flaxen ponytail settling beside her calf.

“Worship me.”

“Worship me,” said Frances, the picture of calm. She watched the tiny naked man seated before her pretty toes.

He looked up at her. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said, though no one could hear him. Behind him, Rachael’s pale hip shuddered with the bus trundling down the interstate. She’d drawn up her legs and hugged them, terrified of the dragon that had awakened and crushed that she was helpless to defend her little kidnapping victim. She certainly couldn’t hear the shrunken man, over the rattling window on her right and her own hyperventilating sobs. She could barely look at him, such was her shame.

Frances’s gaze bored down at the tiny man who was sitting there, slumped, legs spread, clutching his genitalia as he stared dumbly back up at her. “I said, worship me.”

Jenice knew better than to underscore her point, and she cut off Dee-Dee (who didn’t) with the shake of her dark red bob. Dee-Dee looked confused but complied and rested her chin upon the seat back, watching the little old man seated before the team captain’s bare foot.

The tiny man could only look up at the immense young giantess before him, the imperious expanse of her shin, reaching up, up, up to the cuff of her volleyball tights just below her knee. Bare calf glowed in the age-dimmed bus lights, glowed hairless in the bright display lights of the occasional billboard. The vinyl seat was cold on his ass, and he wasn’t enough to warm it. It was hilly and curdled with decades of use, so his position was precarious: with a hard bump in the road, he might pitch forward and tumble into the huge bare foot. He looked at the foot. It was pretty as feet went, in its own way, and it was life-threatening by dint of its size and mass. A cute girl’s foot like this should have been a pleasure to glimpse, a brief moment of cuteness quickly appreciated and forgotten. Instead, as he stared at the gently curving toes and the smooth bridge of skin stretched over strong bone, it was a monstrosity more than equal to him. With her mere foot, this capricious young woman of questionable emotional balance could snuff him out, cleanly or messily. He backed over the callused ridge of old vinyl upholstery, preferring distance between him and this large, lethal paw.

Frances watched him inching away, unsure of what he was doing due to the inadequate lighting, and convinced as he nearly tumbled backward over the ripple in the seat. “I won’t tell you again. Come back here and worship me.” To emphasize her point, she raised her toes.

He saw the long, curling digits rise up and flare, spread slightly. The big toe crooked twice to wave at him, in a way; the other four ended in darling little pearls, soft and cute with the glow of health—naturally, as this young woman must have come from a background of financial security, judging by her clothes and self-confidence—and it was tempting, yes, even at these dimensions. Despite the fact that this precious little foot could shift slightly and crush his bones…

The tiny man nodded and rolled to all fours and crawled up to her toes. Frances did not lower her toes, leaving them raised for his devices. She watched him, motionlessly, soundlessly, as he crept closer and closer to her toes. He rose to his knees, almost lost his balance, stabilized himself, then reached out to gently stroke her second and third toes. His tiny hands wrapped around her nails, his fingers stumbled over her cuticles, and his grip slid down the sides of her knuckles, then back up to the tips. If he was saying something, there was no way to hear it, and it was difficult to see his face. For that matter, Frances could barely register his gentle touch. The two minuscule hands ran up and down her toes a couple times, and he looked up at her.

“Not enough.” She lowered her toes and he tumbled out of their way. “Kiss them.” The tiny man shook his head and she only raised an eyebrow in response, prompting him to dip his head and kiss the polished nail of her middle toe.

“Omigod,” said Dee-Dee, her voice crackling with restrained laughter. “He’s doing it! Lookit him!” She looked at Rachael and told her to look, but the smaller young woman was more interested in crying quietly to herself, so Dee-Dee shrugged and tried to focus on the shrunken being making out with her captain’s toes.

“Why do you have to do this right next to me,” wailed Rachael.

This did not even earn a glance from Frances, who told the little man this was not enough. “Worship my foot.” The little man kissed his way up her second toe to the smooth skin that led up her bridge. He spread his arms as though to do push-ups, ducking his head repeatedly to kiss this or that centimeter of lightly tanned flesh, and crept slowly over her toes. His tiny butt stuck up in the air as his knees struggled to balance upon the large toes, sometimes slipping between them and getting stuck. He never stopped smooching, though, working his way upon her foot until he could lie down and spread his arms to hug it. His legs shot back over her toes and his privates fell between her second and third toes, as if it were possible to fuck her toe-cleavage, and he reached his arms out as far as they could go to embrace the young woman’s foot.

Ariana stared around Frances’s toned thigh, unable to see much around the calf mounted on the bus seat. She knew Frances was telling the little guy to do things, but she wasn’t sure if she was doing them. Dee-Dee was cracking up and Rachael was catatonic, neither of which were very informative. She looked up at Mona, who winked at her and continued striving to peek at the action on the bus seat. As for Jenice, she knelt upon her own seat and crouched, slinking around the seat back to strategically capture the clearest video of the little man rubbing his disgusting little body upon her captain’s pristine foot. Better than Dee-Dee ever could have done: Jenice let Dee-Dee capture the shaky-cam footage of everyday caprices and stunts, but Frances relied on Jenice to record film-quality documentation of important, perhaps damning events. The videos she took were not shared among the gang: they were deployed only when it was advantageous to Frances. Even in this moment, after two years of aiding and abetting, Jenice hadn’t figured out a way to leverage this against her, so she figured she might as well go along with it until an opportunity presented itself, as it surely must. Eventually. Some year.

The little man had croodled across Frances’s foot and was attempting to embrace her ankle when she cleared her throat. He ceased immediately, pushing his chest up to try to look up at her. “My calf,” she said, “tell me how beautiful it is.”

This was bizarre. No one could hear the little man at all. Maybe if the bus had parked at a rest stop and everyone aboard could shut up for ten goddamn seconds, if they held the wretched little man up to one of their darling ears, then maybe they could have heard something he had to say or shout. These were not those circumstances. There may have been moments when the tiny man was compelled to respond or yell or simply speak what was on his mind, but these were consistently lost upon the volleyball team. If anyone could have communicated with him, it would have been Rachael, and she was nothing more than an unwilling audience at this point. No one was curious or patient enough to coax anything meaningful out of this sodden wreck.

The little man, however, persisted in trying to say something. Frances and Dee-Dee could see his little jaw working, and Jenice probably captured this on video. He looked up at her, saying something, waving one arm around for emphasis. “More,” Frances said. “Compliment my muscles.” She raised her heel from the seat and dug the ball of her foot into the cushion, going almost tip-toe to accentuate the rocky bulge of her developed calf; Jenice panned to it for reference, then back to the little man who swayed where he knelt, trying to get a glimpse of it behind her long shin. He sat up, wobbled, and sat on his heels with thighs spread wide over the ridge of her foot, calling imperceptible words up to the lithe, toned goddess who demanded his praise. He threw his arms wide, gestured sensual curves and mimed being impressed with great power, the best he could do to praise her colossal, powerful leg. Dee-Dee was taken with his grand demonstrations, wondering if he used to be an actor. Jenice had some respect for the way he threw himself into his gesticulation. Even if it was motivated by mortal terror, it seemed earnest and heartfelt.

Frances frowned and slammed her heel into the seat. The tiny man was tossed aside, nearly rolling into the crack of the cushion against the seat back, but he recovered himself and lay spread-eagled, face down upon the vinyl. Frances retracted her leg, stood back, and sidled into the leg space of the double seat. Rachael watched her, anticipating some new abuse, but Frances only hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her high-end, futuristic leggings and shoved them down over her hips, over her toned thighs, just below her knees. She stood facing away from him, bare-assed, clad only in the sports bra and an aqua thong that disappeared in her cannonball butt.

“Worship me more,” she said, spreading her thighs and entering into a sequence of clenches and poses designed to show off exactly how toned her thighs were, exactly how firm was her cannonball butt. She gripped her pelvic bone and arched her back, retracted, and writhed in place above the tiny man.

“Holy shit,” whispered Ariana, now privileged with a clear view of the performance. The little man was a glowing little smear on the seat across the aisle from her, but the real show was the captain of her team, seemingly stripping for the pleasure of this shriveled little wreck. What could he have done to deserve this, she thought wryly. Did he even know what an incredible privilege he was experiencing?

Dee-Dee was trembling with inexpressible excitement. Frances was a goddess to be admired from afar, and Dee-Dee didn’t think she was into women, but you couldn’t look at Frances and not appreciate how she took care of herself. Beauty was beauty, that’s all there was to it, and Frances was striving for excellence. She didn’t have Ariana’s butt or Mona’s tits, and that was a matter of birth, but she also didn’t have Frances’s discipline to carve that mortal clay into a work of greatness. All she was, was tall. Long, lean, and tall. There had to be something of worth in that, but if she could train with Frances… She sighed and watched the private show between the seats.

Mona gave nothing away. She knew she was missing something, watching her captain rotate and writhe behind Jenice’s seat, but she felt it was her duty to protect them from the rest of the bus, even if they were mostly asleep. She wouldn’t step out of place, but she might have wished Dee-Dee were taking some video of the free show, since she knew that Janice’s video would never be accessible.

Rachael, wretched, terrified, racked with sobbing, nonetheless stared at the pert, undulating ass right next to her. In the inconsistent highway lighting she could see muscles flex and clench beneath smooth, lightly tanned skin. She watched powerful thighs hold the whole girl aloft as though gravity were only a convenient option. She knew she should be concerned about the helpless, weak little man on the seat, lying within the arch of those incredible legs, but what could she do? This was Frances, the worst of the worst. If she tried to save the little man, sprawled within easy arm’s reach, she might not live long enough to see them pull into the campus parking lot. Some might scoff that a group of bullies wouldn’t seriously murder someone, not really, but… you never knew.

The only one bold enough to do so, Jenice captured the scene from multiple angles. She crouched in the aisle, pointing her camera up at the firm, proud buttocks and the shadow of their crevasse; she reached her arm between Frances’s legs to show the cowering, confused tiny man staring up at the young goddess, his view occasionally blocked by a leg larger than him by two orders of magnitude; she preserved Frances’s dreamlike expression as she went through the repertoire to show off her development to greatest advantage, all for the shrunken little man on the seat below her.

“I will crush you, little man,” Frances murmured. “I will squeeze you between my thighs, if you don’t worship me.” She straightened up and rolled her hips, rubbing her strong thighs against each other as though to wring out moisture. She swung her hips low, gyrating, grinding in the air above the little man, swinging lower and lower each time. Her proud, firm butt swiped through the cool bus air several inches above the tiny man, who raised his arms as though to ward her off, a laughable reflex; she swung lower, and he cried out in alarm, reaching no one’s ears. She swung lower, knees together, hips flexing, baring the thin strip of aqua thong between her buttocks as she nearly brushed him off the seat. He threw himself back, lying flat, trying to become as thin as possible beneath her, as her butt cheeks swiped lower and lower over him, closing up the space until he could feel her radiant heat with each swoop.

Her swoops became less grandiose, tighter. Now Frances only swayed her butt slightly above him, thighs pumped as she nearly squatted upon the tiny figure. Her fingers dug into the meat of her legs as she canted her head back and made as though to sit in the tiny man. He shrieked, shielding himself with his arms, as those proud cheeks spread and the thong was not enough to hide the tan, radial wrinkles leading to her butthole. Very subtly she waggled her butt above him, getting closer and closer all the time. Her calves backed against the edge of the seat and she reached up to grip the seat back ahead of her; so arranged, she spread her thighs and hovered her crotch mere inches above him.

The aqua thong spread from her anus into the small triangle meant to cover her labia and the mons above them. Frances nudged her covered labia closer to the little man, close enough that he could have reached up and tugged at the fabric. Just beyond that simple triangle of synthetic blue lay the narrow field of twin panels of labia majora, the pink folds of labia minora beginning to peek from within them, and the promise of her vulva. Frances was attuned with herself, guessing accurately where the little man lay, and positioned herself—if the thong hadn’t been blocking her—to open up and suck that little man up inside her.

He could see nothing but power thighs leading up to the bare, pale crotch, the valley between her inner thighs and the suggestion of swelling flesh right before it disappeared under her thong. Her swaying diminished to a quiver, holding directly overhead, one slim moment from crushing him flat.

“Worship me,” she repeated.

All that he could see was the thong that covered her vulva and the broad, round, fierce buttocks of the volleyball captain.

Decisions, decisions!

Ariana stared at the team captain, frozen in her squat, thrusting her hips at the tiny little man like a weapon. She had good curves, good tone, pretty skin, but she seriously wielded it all like a weapon of violence. This was something Ariana knew she could not do, herself. Bad enough she nearly smothered that little fucker under her ass, and only because Jenice forced her to. If it was up to her…

Shit, if it was up to her, she’d be on a normal fucking volleyball team that didn’t bully anyone and certainly never found itself crouched around this supernaturally weird little fucker. If it was up to her, she’d be asleep in bed right now. She’d be anywhere else in the world, not wedged between tormentor and tormented like this.

Frances could hold that squat for a very long time. When she worked out, upper-body day was full of squats and lunges; lower-body day was tantamount to manslaughter. Frances had as little tolerance for the weakness of her own body as she did for other people in general, altogether. To say she was goal-focused was an uninformed oversimplification, but also a concise summary. Frances had a vision in her head, only partially glimpsed by various of her teammates, and she dragged her own body toward that vision as though she were leagues underwater and running out of air.

Squatting over a little man was nothing. She could hold this position for an hour, corded thighs bulging, without even a tremble. She could, but she wouldn’t. The tiny man would obey her orders, or she’d bring her firm, unforgiving ass down on him. She had no idea that Jenice had done the same thing, mushing him around with her pony buttocks, nor that he’d been buried under Ariana’s gluteal planetoids, stuffed deep within them for an extended period. None of that mattered: she told the little man to worship her, and she was counting down in her head.

“You’re really taking to this naturally,” Jenice said carefully. “You’re not surprised to see a tiny man at all, like we were. We were freaked out at first, but you… it’s like you were expecting him.”

Frances did not look at her. “He must be here to worship me. There’s no other explanation. I’m a powerful, beautiful woman, and he has come to me so I can force myself upon him and make others understand. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Jenice had nothing to say to that. Who was to say otherwise?

It did not surprise or disappoint her to feel tiny hands stroking the inner curves of her buttocks. It was nothing more than the fulfillment of an order. The shrunken man stood up beneath her, engulfed in her shadow, and stabilized himself on the wrinkled vinyl upholstery to reach up and rub her immense ass. Not as large as Ariana’s, of course, but even one as small as Jenice’s looked gigantic to him.

He rubbed her attentively, hoping this was the way out. He ran his palms down the valley where her inner butt cheek gave way to the slight rise of her pussy. Usually this was an acute triangle of pale skin where the sun couldn’t reach, but Frances didn’t fuck around with tanning. Everything was an even, delectable milky caramel hue, even in the deepest crevices. You did something right or not at all, in her mind; you didn’t accept the flaws and try to dress them up as beautiful in their own way. You did it right. The tiny man had to appreciate this, even in the midst of his own terror, that her skin was attended to and uniformly colored, all the way down to her reproductive organs, which now held above him like a low ceiling in a prison cell.

His fingers nonetheless picked out the stubble from an incredibly close shave two days ago. She couldn’t control whether her skin when goose-pimply in this air, baring her ass to a complete stranger, and his tiny fingertips bumped over the raised follicles. On either side of him, her pert, developed butt cheeks hovered like an unspoken threat; to break and dart under them would surely invite their immediate descent.

So he returned to his work, stroking and stretching up to kiss the sweet, cultivated skin in places, because what choice was there. “Worship me” could mean anything, and Frances didn’t seem like the explaining type, so he could only interpret it in the broadest terms, stroking her curves adoringly and placing kisses to demonstrate the adoration her ass inspired. Sometimes his hands ran a little too close to the thick labia that piled up on either side of her thong, and sometimes his hands ran over them. The giantess didn’t react as his light, ticklish fingertips ran over the wrinkles and stubble, tracing the lines between follicles and caressing the outer curve of her skin.

Sometimes his fingers crept a little too close to the radial pucker of her anus, which was shaved, bleached, and tanned to a degree of perfection that screamed money. Still, the ceiling of giantess hips never registered a rebuking twitch or shudder, no matter how nearly he dared slip his fingers. The sphincter was hidden behind the rolled thong, but the wrinkles spread out clearly around it, and he could gingerly touch these without any reaction. Should he? Was this what she meant, when she said “worship me” and thrust her ass at him? It was impossible to tell, but so far he wasn’t killed for fondling her anal wrinkles. It was a dizzying, tantalizing moment cut short by the lightning-quick strike of her hand, and he found himself couched in her palm, lying before her broad, tall face.

“Who told you to get a hardon,” she growled, and he realized his cock was pointing at her eyes. The tiny man covered himself with both hands. It felt very good, as frightened as he was, and he tried to estimate how much it would piss her off if he milked his cock right now. After all, she had a lovely face with high cheekbones, shaped eyebrows curving over wise Scand eyelids, and a long, thin nose that butted cutely over rosy, bee-stung lips that pouted and pushed very close to where he lay in her hands.

“Nasty little creep. Disgusting. I told you to worship my ass, not to get hard.” Her thumbs unfolded from either side and pried his forearms away from his body, pinned them into her palms. The tiny man stammered a quiet apology, unheeded by the Scandinavian giantess. She glowered at him, lower eyelids swelling contemptuously, and brought him closer to her face. Her puffy, perfect lips sucked his cock up, and it was lost immediately between folds of tender, warm tissue. Her mouth clenched and puckered, pressing as well as it could against the mere sliver of a sexual member. Her nose rhythmically gusted warm air upon his body, raising sensitive, shy goosebumps up and down his entire length, and her glacial blue eyes stared unblinking upon him.

Her lips broke from pulsing and her large head reared. “Disgusting. You perverted little freak. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you fucking asshole.” Immediately her lips pinched his cock once more, pulsing and tugging at him. His arms apprehended, he could only drive his head back into her palm and moan, full-throatedly and loudly. Louder, when the hot, slick tip of her tongue peeked through her lips to swipe across the head of his cock. His fists flexed and clawed at her palms, his thighs clenched and his heels dug at her skin, while the gigantic woman dragged hundreds of tastebuds over his cock, under it, over the end, slowly probing around the sides. She pulled back—“you sad, sorry, faithless fucker, you little piece of trash”—and latched onto his erection again, shoving the tip of her tongue irresistibly between his thighs, wedging his legs apart as it nudged painfully into his balls and sought out his tiny butt.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathed upon him, and he stared horrified into her dancing lips, her clashing teeth, the inky void behind these. “You’re a disgusting pervert. I should crush you like a cigarette butt and throw you in the fucking trash. I wouldn’t even use you to wipe my ass, you vile, shameful human refuse.” Now her tongue poured out and widened and covered him almost entirely. Frances lapped at him ruthlessly, dragging her tongue up from his tiny feet, flattening his legs no matter how he bucked, smothering his chest and shoulders and entire face. She lapped at him repeatedly, licking off his sweat and salt and working hard at his skin. When his face wasn’t covered with the film building up between her tastebuds, he stared into the flexing vortex of her throat, listened to the roar of her breath surrounding his head, issuing up from her unimaginable depths. Terrified he was, watching that yawning chasm stretch open for him, and then thrilled with the incredible sensation of this young woman’s tongue ravishing every square inch of his body, finished with more insults about how embarrassing and repulsive he was, and then all over again.

Frances scowled at the little man, writhing himself into knots with mounting, unexpressed arousal. “You sicken me,” she spat, and abruptly tugged her waistbands open and dropped him down the front of her panties, scrupling not to arrange him with any care. “Jenice, you come with me.” She turned on her heel and sidled into the last seat on the bus, behind Rachael. Jenice nearly jumped after her, only barely remembering to play it cool. She noticed the car behind the bus was still maintaining a safe distance. She tucked her short skirt under herself and looked at her captain, awaiting the next order. With only a nod from her captain, she pulled out her phone and signaled the rest of the team to step up and form a barrier.

Rachael gasped with the relief of Dee-Dee’s weight lifting from her. Her arms ached badly, and they tingled with blood returning to its normal flow, but she was free now. Not so free she could run up to the front of the bus and alert the chaperons, but she could wiggle around and sit up, alleviating the cramps up and down her spine. The three women formed an unassailable wall. They wouldn’t have to lift a hand to stop her, with the simple physical force of their bodies. Three women clearly guarding something in the back of the bus should’ve been a warning flag to everyone else, but most people were asleep and most were trained to ignore this group of young women. It just wasn’t worth it to interfere.

With her new freedom, all Rachael could do was kneel on her seat and peek behind her. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Frances, but please, I really need to get that little man back,” she wanted to say, but the scene tore the words from her throat. Frances slumped into the corner of the seat, having pulled her tights and underwear down around one graceful foot, hanging off the bus seat. The other shapely leg peaked up behind Jenice, who leaned into Frances’s crotch with her good camera, framing the perfect shot of Frances’s long, elegant fingers slowly rubbing the shrunken man up and down her lips.

“You’re getting this, right,” murmured Frances. Jenice said she was. “Because this is one for the records. Fucking myself with a tiny little man, no one’s gonna know how we did it. No one’s ever seen anything like this.”

Dee-Dee almost spoke up, but even this overeager goof knew that would not be welcome. For one, she was supposed to be guarding them, not engaging in conversation. For another… well, it would’ve just been too much work to explain all the links and videos guys were sending her, through her athletic contact info. There were actually thousands of videos and stories and millions of images of exactly this, all forwarded to her by horny men bereft of basic human consideration, all hoping Dee-Dee would entertain their fetishes. She hadn’t, yet, but she heard the money could be good, if she was willing to give up volleyball and surrender her identity to this track. Anyway, she knew Frances meant in real life. There were no videos like this, in real life, of a woman rubbing an actual, living tiny little man into her pussy. That’s probably what she meant. Still, Dee-Dee shifted from foot to foot with pent-up energy, unaccustomed to swallowing an urge.

Jenice had no embarrassment about being all up in Frances’s personal business like this. She’d done it a dozen times before, probably. It was awkward at first, having a woman you’re supposed to be friends with, or at least someone who’s your superior in your chosen athletic endeavor, stripping down and telling you to take videos of her reproductive organs. It was weird at first. It wasn’t exactly a teacher/student breach, and neither of them were getting paid to be on the team so it wasn’t a boss/employee situation either. What was it? Just one of the many spiky, threatening power structures women built for themselves. These days, Jenice knew Frances’s body like it was her own, and her primary concern was lining up a good shot. YouTube had some good suggestions for that, but it really came down to getting the latest model of smartphone. The native software did most of the work for you, as well as adding all sorts of useful effects.

But nothing like this. Jenice’s videos of Frances were usually limited to location shots, getting good photos at sunset. Sometimes they’d taunt a special boy at a kegger, pull him into another room where Frances would tease the shit out of him and Jenice would film it all. Like as not they’d just delete these videos because, in the sobering light of day, there was nothing appealing to them, just Frances struggling to twerk her muscular behind at a guy lolling on the couch, three minutes from vomiting on himself. The boys assumed they were stockpiling these for leverage, but Frances was entirely uninterested in this.

There was one video they kept, though, from one strange night with a woman from another university, another volleyball captain. They’d struck up a conversation outside the changing room and went out to a sports bar. Jenice received a text telling her to hustle it over to Frances’s dorm room and be ready in ten minutes. When Frances and the other woman showed up, it took a few more drinks to get her loosened up at the sight of Jenice with the camera, but it worked out. Lots of mutually gratifying positions, some displays of strength and dominance, and then several minutes of props and experimentation. They kept that video, and Frances would rewatch it, trying to reenact certain poses, having Jenice get “action shots,” forced perspective, closeups, etc. Jenice had the sense this was going somewhere but couldn’t imagine where, and Frances wasn’t the type to explain herself. You accepted her or you received the brunt of her dismissal.

So, Jenice was entirely comfortable with Frances’s calf resting on her back while she lay on her front and angled the camera to get the best shot, considering the lighting, of her two slim fingers grinding a shrunken naked man between her pretty lips. The ceiling lights reflected in razor-thin streaks up and down her labia majora and flashes all over his arms and torso. She rubbed him slowly, thoughtfully, using his rib cage to shove her labia aside, exposing glimpses of her pink tissues clenching, slick and hot.

The little man wasn’t weathering this so well, however. He was screaming something, and he propped his arms up over his head in an attempt to push himself off her thick outer lips. This was worse than pointless: sometimes his arms would shoot out to the sides and he’d get a faceful of a tender little clit. Sometimes they’d slip the other way, and then he’d plunge into her vulva all the way up to his shoulders, no resistance at all. Jenice loved to see that, wondering how many times that would happen before Frances got the notion to just stuff him inside her. It hadn’t happened yet, but soon, maybe.

So many thoughts were racing through Jenice’s mind, as her captain’s calf tensed between her shoulder blades, her sole rubbing on the back of Jenice’s pelvis. Jenice naturally wondered what it felt like to have him there. The basics were obvious: you could trim a hotdog down to size and shove it around on you, but this was a living person. He was fighting, struggling, screaming, crying. You couldn’t replicate that. What would it feel like to hold him down with only two fingertips and keep him pasted to your pussy like that? Could you feel his heartbeat against your lips? Could you feel his itty-bitty little dick swimming around inside you? Or… just… what was it like to have complete and total control of a little living thing like that, crushed against your pussy? Sure, she’d sat on him, but that was more punishment than anything else. It was over too soon, and now she wished she’d taken a little more time to feel him, really feel him there, think about what it was like to have a tiny person’s life snuffing out under her pussy.

She was getting hot. She wasn’t normally attracted to women, so crouching down into Frances’s womanhood and breathing her tangy, sweet arousal really didn’t do anything for her. It was practically clinical at this point. She could appreciate that her captain had pretty lady-bits, but there was no emotional connection. It was the fact of watching this little old man—how old could he be? She was shit at guessing older people’s ages—struggling against the mere fingers of this beautiful, muscular young woman, watching him get goopy in the lubrication she discharged, watching her guide him exactly where she wanted, a whole person in her private-most recesses…

Jenice drew a long breath, full of France’s aroma. “Hey, you’re not filming,” her leader said, and she tightened her grin and brought her knee up to stabilize herself leaning over the edge of the seat to approach from the other angle.

The little man looked right into the camera now, and it was pretty clear he was shouting “help, help.” Or else he was gasping for air, because Frances was getting awfully wet, and his squirmy little body was dancing all over her lips and clit. The more he fought to get away, the worse he made it for himself, like when she dropped him into Ariana’s sweaty bum. He worked his way down into her crevice all on his own. Now, covered in Frances’s juices, he’d shoot down there like a rocket… hmm. That was a thought, but for now she held the camera button down and took about 30 or 40 low-res pics rapidly to turn into a GIF later. That would be a crack-up.

“Shut up, or I’ll make you shut up.” Frances withdrew her hand, dropping the tiny man with a little splut onto the bus seat, and scooted back, unlacing her long leg from around her teammate. Irritatedly she jerked her thong and panties back into place, unconcerned with soaking the fabric, apparently.

Jenice snapped out of her reverie, taking only a moment to realize how damp she was getting. “What’s going on? What’d I miss?”

Frances glowered at her, nodding up at the seat back, where Rachael was perched like a whiny little sparrow.

“Please give him back,” she creaked. “I told him I’d protect him. I have to take care of him. Please don’t hurt him anymore.”

Jenice marveled at her. In the past, when she kept up this level of annoyance for too long, almost anyone on her team thought nothing of backhanding her into silence, or at least a lower condition of noise-making. But Rachael never seemed to get it, and she kept up the same annoying shit, and got the same treatment. Just like how she wouldn’t quit the team, no matter how Jenice and Frances manipulated her. She stuck around for more, doing the same useless shit that got her into trouble, over and over. In anyone else this might’ve been a fighting spirit, but Jenice knew that there was something broken inside the smaller woman, and in those cracks lay comedy gold.

Before Frances could haul back for a good one, Jenice leaned against the seat back, staring straight at Rachael. “Hey, Frances, I’ve got a fun idea. We should make Rachael earn her little man back. Like, a series of trials. Take all that energy she puts into sniveling and channel it into something entertaining. You know?”

Frances was tugging her leggings up, standing in front of the damp seat, and now regarded her lieutenant levelly. “Very good. Let’s get it set up. What do you need?”

Jenice pushed her bottom lip out in pretend thought, studying the yellowed ceiling lights. “If only we had some booze…” she said, knowing full well Frances kept a personal bottle of peachtree schnapps in her gym bag. “And the obvious first stage would be Mona. Duh.”

Mona raised one eyebrow, almost ready to grin but waiting to see exactly what was going to happen. She grinned more fully when the first task was the single-most obvious chore: Dee-Dee cupped the tiny man in her large hands as they doused him in sweet liqueur. She handed him off to Mona: “Hide him somewhere really good, too,” Jenice said, and Mona’s face warmed up with a broad smile. She turned away slightly and fussed with herself, then turned back and proudly presented herself to Rachael.

“What’s going on,” said Rachael.

“It’s your lucky day!” Jenice pulled her out of her seat and shook her until she stood upright in the aisle. “You wanted your little guy back, well, now’s your chance to get him! However, this isn’t just a simple quest: you must find within yourself both bravery and stamina to rescue your little damsel-guy through several trials. The first one—“

Rachael looked timidly at Mona. “What are the other trials?”

As badly as Jenice wanted to punt Rachael in the face, she was the one who had to calm Frances down and assure her everything was going according to plan. “Never mind, you’ll know as soon as I think of them. But the first one is, you’ve got to find your precious little man somewhere on Mona’s body.”

“Anywhere on her body?”

“The chestal region. Right?” Mona nodded demurely, winking at Rachael. “And just like Dee-Dee did, you’ve gotta find him and rescue him using only your mouth. But we gave you an advantage: he tastes like this.” Jenice seized a fistful of Rachael’s hair, yanked her head back, and doused a healthy shot or two of schnapps down the smaller woman’s throat. Everyone knew Rachael wasn’t a drinker, she never came out to the bar after a game, but everyone loved peachtree schnapps. No one didn’t love peachtree schnapps.

Rachael stood there coughing and spluttering as Jenice clapped her on the back and told her, “Get to it! You’ve got five minutes!” Only Ariana stood in the aisle now, with Dee-Dee cleaning her hands in Rachael’s seat next to Frances, and Jenice sat opposite her captain with Mona grinning down at Rachael, who seemed petrified at the idea of touching Mona privately.

“I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect you,” Rachael said quietly. “I know this is embarrassing, maybe as much for you as it is for me.”

Mona only grinned at her, waggling her eyebrows.

“I’d never do it on my own. I’m being forced to. This is an awful way to make women treat each other.”

Mona hefted her boobs up, bouncing round and fairly firm in the sports bra under her tank top.

“You’re very pretty and everything, but I’m not really into women, so I swear I’m only doing this to rescue the little man.”

Mona seized Rachael’s shoulders and pulled her head haphazardly into her cleavage, shimmying her shoulders to dig Rachael’s face deeper. Jenice burst out laughing and looked to see if Dee-Dee was filming yet. She wasn’t, so Jenice whistled and gestured for her to get her smartphone out. Dee-Dee gingerly leaned over Frances, careful not to brush against her, and pointed her camera into the action, where Rachael had extricated herself and was pulling sticky strands of hair off her cheeks.

“He’s in there, Rachael, so you better hurry up and save him. Tick-tick-tick.” Jenice crossed her legs, irritated with the little wet spot in her underwear as it cooled.

Rachael, as in all things, demonstrated absolutely no innate talent for search-and-rescue. Predictably she tried to shove her face back in Mona’s cleavage but could never get very far. Mona stood stock-still and wouldn’t help, and Rachael wouldn’t climb up on Jenice’s seat to give her a little more altitude to work with. Whispering “I’m just going to feel around,” Rachael slipped her slim arm into Mona’s cleavage, eliciting a delighted expression in her dusky good looks, and swiped around for a while. “You feel really nice,” she said, and Mona looked surprised. “I hope guys don’t make you feel ashamed of having such big boobs. I hear what they say, and you don’t deserve it. You can’t help what your body’s doing, just like I can’t make mine absorb nutrition and grow normally like you girls.”

Mona’s smile faltered and she looked at Jenice. Jenice simply looped her finger in the air, gesturing to get on with it.

Rachael pulled her arm out, said something about more than one way to skin a cat, plucked the tank top away from Mona’s right boob and very respectfully began to pry at the bra cup. It was tight against the massive boob, and her boob tended to bulge where the bra compressed into it, so Rachael had to fish her slim little fingers under the bulging part to dig out the seam of the bra without pinching or scratching the boob’s owner. This she did, and when she’d worked a good section of bra down, she told Mona “excuse me” and nuzzled her face into the bra cup. Everyone stared at her diving right into it, and then laughed when Mona’s eyes flashed bright and wide. In better light, they would’ve seen her blushing, which was not common.

“Ladies and other ladies,” Jenice said, “I do believe our little girl’s getting drunk.”

Mona’s mouth went into a large O-shape, and her hands rose, fingers twitching as she resisted yanking her breasts back possessively. What no one else could see was Rachael’s hot little tongue darting in and out of her mouth, poking and prodding around the magnificent swell of Mona’s boob. She’d found the nipple and was momentarily confused as to its nature: thinking it might be some part of her little man, she spent an intense minute nuzzling deeper into the bra and lapping inquisitively at the stiffening nipple. Mona huffed and puffed and swore quietly, her clawed fingers hovering behind Rachael’s head, until the little woman popped back out, announcing “not there!”

Jenice cupped her mouth and laughed through her fingers, eyeing Frances. Frances only stared at the action as though studying a chessboard, leaning gently forward with her elbows on her knees and one hand clasping her fist. Jenice wanted to tell her to lighten up and enjoy the show, but that was not Frances’s way, and everyone knew that. And they knew Frances didn’t accept advice from anyone.

Rachael repeated her struggles in Mona’s left boob, and now Mona was so flustered she bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Even Ariana noticed her knees buckling, just for a second. “Mmm, you taste so good,” Rachael said, muffled by several pounds of fleshy tit.

“Holy fuck, I can hardly hold the camera still,” Dee-Dee said. She was choking on her laughter and having a very hard time of hovering over Frances like a construction crane without making contact.

Rachael successfully followed the sugary trail around Mona’s boob, larger than her own head, and after a few moments stepped back and shook her hair out of her face. Two bare legs wheeled and kicked from her lips.

Jenice sprang up to snatch the tiny man away again. “Very good, and just under time, too!” (No one was timing anything, of course.) “Enjoying yourself, little lady?”

“I’m really sorry I had to do that,” Rachael told Mona. Regardless of her words, she wore a shy grin and her eyes were big and round as she looked up at her teammate.

Mona said, “Hey, it’s cool,” and she smoothed Rachael’s hair on one side.

Jenice held the little man in the air. “Well done, fair Rachael, but your quest has just begun. Some people might call this next quest ‘predictable,’ but I prefer ‘reliable’. Mona, would you mind relieving Ariana?”

Fuck fuck fuck, the Latina thought, stepping forward. She tried to exchange glances with her friend, but Mona seemed a little flustered and wouldn’t look up. That’s really strange. Did Rachael hurt her somehow? Any further concern was erased by Jenice jostling Ariana to face the seat she’d been in. Jenice called for the schnapps, and Dee-Dee complained that she’d just gotten cleaned up, but they sauced the little man up, and Jenice poured another shot into Rachael with none of the violence before. Next, Jenice pulled out Ariana’s waistbands, thong and leggings this time, and she stuck her own hand into Ariana’s butt crack to stuff the little man down in there but good. Grinning over her shoulder at Rachael, she snapped the waistbands and said, “There you go, have at it. Same rules as before, and the clock starts now.” Jenice pranced daintily to the back seat and crossed her legs, propping her arm on her knee and resting her chin in her palm. The picture of sprightly cuteness.

Ariana stood facing the bus seat, presenting her abundant buttocks to Rachael, and Rachael stood looking at them blankly. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Attack it however you feel appropriate,” Jenice said.

“What, just yank her tights down, right here in front of everyone?”

“Why not? We’re all friends here.” Jenice saw Frances’s expression darken somewhat.

“Kissing Mona’s boobies is one thing, but I don’t think it’s right to just strip Ariana down in front of everyone.”

Jenice sucked air through her teeth. “Look, most people are asleep on the bus anyway. No one’s getting past Mona. And aren’t we already a pretty intimate group? I think that’s obvious.”

“I mean, I don’t even know if I can…” Rachael sneaked her fine little fingers into the waistband of the tights and pulled back. “Oh, I guess I can.” She had a harder time tugging them down over the broad, round hips, but she also had some experience with this, and her limbs felt pretty loose and warm right now. Dee-Dee and Jenice laughed to see her putting her full body into it, tugging from her shoulders like a sailor hauling in heavy, wet rope, but she got the tights pulled down to an equator around the vast, round ass.

She got on tiptoes and gripped Ariana’s shoulders for support. “Hey, Ariana, I’m really sorry about this…”

“Don’t apologize,” the Latina said darkly, “just get on with—” She barely had time to swing her hands up and protect her head: Rachael shoved her shoulders hard, harder than she was ready for, and she crashed into the seat roughly. Rachael’s thin legs pried Ariana’s apart, and the little woman went back to work hauling her tights down.

Jenice stood up and gawked over the bus seat. “Holy shit, Rach! Take it easy with her, she’s worth ten of you.” She laughed, then noticed Frances was sitting up now, hands resting on either thigh. “Wouldn’t have predicted that, huh?” Frances didn’t acknowledge her.

“Just a little more,” grunted Rachael, one knee on the seat between Ariana’s thighs. Her tiny fists were making good work of yanking the leggings down to the tuck of her buttocks; she doubled back and jerked the front of her leggings down just in time.

“Easy there,” said Ariana, as Rachael’s round little knee rubbed into her crotch.

Rachael rested for a second, leaning woozily against the seat back in front of Ariana’s seat. “Okay, this is the embarrassing part. I’m really sorry for this, Ariana.” The little woman looked comical as she climbed up into the seat, finding somewhere to kneel around the Latina’s larger, fuller thighs. Finally she spread her own legs, sat down and arranged them in a W on the backs of Ariana’s thighs. She nudged her knees to guide Ariana to close her legs, so she wasn’t just hovering in space above the seat.

“That wasn’t so bad, but what are you doing back there?”

“No, this is the embarrassing part.”

Ariana felt tiny little hands plant themselves upon her shoulder blades, and sharp little knees just beginning to dig into her legs, and then a lot of long, silky hair draping ticklishly all over her lower back and buttocks. “What are you doing?!” She turned her head this way and that but couldn’t crane back far enough to get a glimpse of the little woman, perched upon her like a raft. She only heard Jenice’s chuckle and Dee-Dee’s favored “holy shit!”, then felt hot breath on her skin.

Rachael balanced on the fuller-bodied woman on all fours and ducked her head down to seize Ariana’s thong between her teeth. Dee-Dee scraped past Frances and shouldered Mona out of the way to get a shot of Rachael’s vulpine face rearing back with three long cables of black underwear descending from her jaws.

“Hey, no one said you had to undress her with your teeth!” said Jenice, clutching the seat back excitedly. “You just have to rescue your little guy with your mouth.”

“If you’re gonna goo shomefing,” Rachael said, “you shucking goo it right.”

Jenice shot a glance at Frances, who had bothered to raise an eyebrow at that.

Rachael crept backward down the length of her teammate, tugging her thong down, entirely free of the beautiful, large, hemispherical islands of caramel flesh. With her hands she tucked the thong under the leggings snugly, and then her hands pawed the gigantic butt cheeks experimentally. “They’re so big and beautiful, but they also have a lot of give,” she said to herself, or so she thought. A drunk nondrinker will be louder than she thinks, of course. “I wonder how much muscle there is in there, though. Hey Ariana! Can you clench for me a second?”

“No! Fuck you!”

“It’s important. For science.”

Ariana burst out laughing. Even Mona snorted at that. Dee-Dee cracked up and Jenice studied Rachael carefully, while wearing her stock deadly grin. Something was shifting in the back of the bus, and Jenice needed to track it carefully.

Dutifully, Ariana clenched her buttocks as hard as she could, her short legs lifting back off the seat a few degrees. Rachael declared this very impressive, and with a curt “and now, to work,” she dug her nails into Ariana’s flesh, prized her cheeks apart as wide as she could, and drove her face into her crack with alacrity.

“Holy shit!” Ariana bucked at the intrusion, shocked at the feel of the front half of Rachael’s head fully lodged between her cheeks. This was, she knew, exactly the situation she was fantasizing about earlier, save that Ariana had factored she’d be on top. To have this little girl rooting into her ass like this, like a goddamn ferret or something, that was a sensory overload, and she couldn’t help the reflex to shake her off. She shrugged her shoulders and braced her arms, and she rocked her hips as hard as she could. Her spine writhed and strained, and she pumped her thighs against the seat, and she hove her ass mightily from side to side, ready to apologize when Rachael cracked her head on the floor.

But that never happened. To the amazement and delight of the onlookers, Rachael simply swayed in counterpoint to all Ariana’s gesticulations. There wasn’t a stiff muscle in her body, thanks to the peachtree schnapps. She waved in the air, seemingly made of rubber. It almost looked like she would fall in a direction and Ariana’s generous backside raced to swoop beneath her and set her upright again. The fact was that Ariana couldn’t shake Rachael off of her, and what’s more, Rachael never for a second extracted her face from her teammate’s ass crack. She was stuck in there, and she was on a mission.

At length Rachael reared back, again with the bare little legs squirming from out of her pursed lips, and dutifully she turned toward Jenice, spitting the little man out into her waiting palm. Jenice blinked in disbelief but put her game face back on and stepped into the aisle.

“Sorry that took so long,” said Rachael, climbing off the voluptuous young woman, the way she’d pick her way down the side of an F-150. “I gotta confession I have to tell you. I actually had him in my mouth like a minute ago. I jus’ knew that I’d never get this chance again, to shove my face inna your beautiful butt like that. I wanted as much of that as I could get. Sorry if I ’mbarrassed you.”

Ariana heard her tell the group “livin’ the dream!” She could only hide her face in her forearms and wait for the blushing to die down.

The next quest was a little more inventive, perhaps, though no less intimate and violating. It could be argued that these women consented to these sexual overtures, because none of them actually said no or gave any resistance, but a savvy lawyer would have indicated that Jenice was a prime manipulator and was forcing them to perform through insidious techniques. That is, should this ever come to a courtroom, which likely it wouldn’t.

At any rate, Dee-Dee was selected next, and perhaps the trial she was fitted with was obvious: “Don’t drink any,” Jenice warned Dee-Dee, “not yet.” Because Dee-Dee was lying on the bus seat (Jenice stepped in to film this) with her head toward the aisle, her long legs folded and cramped against the bus wall. Her head was back, situated slightly off the edge of the seat, and her large mouth was open wide, and Jenice was filling it with peachtree schnapps (Jenice promised to buy Frances a fresh bottle or two). Lastly she deposited the tiny man, thoroughly dazed and pliant at this point, into the cavern of Dee-Dee’s mouth. He tried to climb upon her tongue, but she squirmed it away and he splashed around in the drink.

“Next challenge, Rachael,” Jenice announced, folding her arms, “is for you to rescue the tiny man with—you guessed it—your mouth. Only now you have to make out with Dee-Dee and convince her to give him up. No shots for you,” she added mercifully. “There’s more than enough booze waiting for you in that grotto. And you’ve got to be careful with this one, because if you do anything to make her laugh, or if she just gets thirsty for a drink of her own, down he goes.”

Rachael, grasping opposite seat backs to stabilize herself, gaped at Dee-Dee’s throat, standing out along her graceful, swanlike neck. She’d nearly choked on him before, and if he was slippery and good-tasting, he probably could go right into her throat, especially if she was drinking something already. “I don’ wanna do this one,” she said. “Please pull ’im out, this’s too dangerous.”

There, that’s what Jenice was waiting for. Enough with the underdog bullshit. “Of course it’s dangerous,” she said, licking her teeth and flashing her eyes. “They’re all dangerous quests. So much richer the reward, right?”

“This’s diffr’nt… like, if he got lost in Mona’s boobies, we could always find ’im. If he got lost in Ar’rana’s booty, we could find ’im. Take a lotta work to shove ’im down her poophole, wouldn’t happen on accident.” Her eyes went large and her head lolled on her shoulders. “But if Dee-Dee swallows ’im, tha’s it. We can’t go in an’ get ’im.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right. It’s extremely dangerous, so you’d better—”

“No, then we killed somebody.” It took some effort for Rachael to raise her face to Jenice’s. “Tha’s murder. Tha’s not like beating me up in the shower room or moving me around in the court so I c’n fuck up ’n’ you can laugh at me. Tha’s killin’ someone.”

Jenice’s expression faltered for a second, but before she could recover, Frances spoke up. “High risks. You heard her. Do your best job and don’t fuck this up, or you killed someone.”

Rachael was about to argue, but her eyes focused and she saw who she was talking to. Without another word she crept next to Dee-Dee’s head. “Here, lemme get that.” She lifted Dee-Dee’s long ponytail and carefully tucked it under her shoulder. “Or else someone’ll trip on it an’ you’ll swallow ’im. Please don’ swallow ’im, he’s not mine.”

Dee-Dee could only roll her huge eyes at the little woman, who now slipped one arm tenderly under her neck. With the other, she caressed Dee-Dee’s forehead, sweeping stray hairs out of her eyes.

“Let’s work together on this for once,” Rachael said, descending upon Dee-Dee’s mouth. As open as it could go, it fit neatly around her own jaws, with incisors resting gently upon her own cheekbones. Rachael extended her tongue and immediately touched Dee-Dee’s, tucked into the back, thick and wet. Dee-Dee tried to jerk away, but Rachael lifted her head and stroked her hair. “Shh-shh, no, don’ do that. Jus’ hold still, please. I’ll be quick.”

Dee-Dee did lie still. One arm draped upon her belly, the other stretched down to her hip. Sometimes she looked at the yellowed ceiling dome lights, and sometimes she looked down at the curve of Rachael’s head, covered in long, dark brown hair, one small ear poking out. This was just a blurry little curve, too close to focus on. It was a lot like being at the dentist, in a way, with someone digging into your mouth and you were unsure what you were supposed to be doing with your eyes. Dee-Dee lay there, feeling the smooth little cheeks rub against her teeth. She wondered if she could seriously bite someone’s face off. She could leave a mark, maybe break the skin, but her jaws weren’t strong enough to crunch bone. Or were they? She’d never tried. Oh, wait, there was that one time her family took her to ribfest, yes, those bones were far too hard to crack with just her teeth. All she could do was strip the flesh off Rachael’s face, probably.

This was taking too long. She tried not to think about Rachael’s little tongue swimming around in her mouth, rubbing over her own tongue. It was so strange to taste someone else’s tongue. She wasn’t sure she liked it. And the liqueur kept seeping down the back of her throat, like a steady drip-drip-drip. It was irritating! Rachael kept stroking her little tongue over her own, and the booze kept seeping into her throat, and she wondered what it could hurt if she just swallowed just a little bit. Where was the little man? It was hard to tell now, with Rachael digging around. Had she found the little man? And if so, was she just stalling because she wanted to experience being in Dee-Dee’s mouth, like with Ariana’s ass?

The idea of that irritated Dee-Dee, who was usually pretty slow to anger. It was different, right now, with Rachael cradling her head like a little baby, syrupy-sweet booze trickling into her throat, starting to sting, and Rachael wouldn’t get the fuck out of her mouth. Screw making out with anyone, she just wanted Rachael to find the stupid freak and get over with it already. If she knew where he was, she’d push him out of her mouth and give him up to Rachael. Except she wouldn’t do that because Jenice and Frances were right there, and those weren’t the rules. She wondered if Jenice and Frances knew how uncomfortable they made her feel sometimes, asking her to do things she wouldn’t have done on her own. Things like… no, Dee-Dee didn’t want to think about that. This wasn’t the time, when everything else was so irritating.

Rachael lifted her head, and this time she had sucked the man’s legs into her mouth. He propped himself up on her chin, and his little face stared at Dee-Dee in outright horror.

Pursing her lips, Jenice accepted the tiny man from Rachael and told Dee-Dee to swallow. “Wow, Dee, didn’t really put up much of a fight there, did you. That was probably the most boring life-threatening circumstance I’ve seen in my life.”

Dee-Dee struggled to sit up in the bus seat and swatted Rachael away, who was trying to kiss her cheek.

Frances snapped her fingers in Dee-Dee’s face. “Up!”

Fumbling for a handhold to pull herself up, the long, tall girl finally curled herself up and rolled into the aisle, rising from her knees.

“Out.”

Dee-Dee strained to find a convenient way to slide past Frances without touching her: she stood in the aisle like a guardian statue, with a fire burning in her eyes.

Frances grabbed Rachael by the shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her backward into the bus seat. She banged her head against the wall and rubbed it with a long, slow “ow-w-w-w…” Frances snapped her fingers at Jenice, who turned on the camera and started filming Rachael, writhing and soothing herself, and Frances, who had snapped at Ariana to fetch the bottle of bottom-shelf liqueur. Frances tugged off her other sock, feeling a little dumb about just wearing one all this time, and pitched it back at her bag. She planted her right foot upon the bus seat between Rachael’s knees. “You. Undress, now.”

The team clenched as a unit. “Right here, on the bus?” Ariana gasped behind her captain. “That’s a little too far, isn’t it? What if someone comes back here and sees that?”

Frances only turned her head enough to examine Ariana with one eye. Ariana cowered beneath the examination and curled up in her own seat.

“I don’t want to.” Rachael’s face was screwed up. She held her head with both hands.

“Undress now,” Frances said, the woman who did not repeat herself.

“That’s embarrassing.” If Rachael hadn’t had so much cheap booze in her untrained belly, she would never have dared to speak thus to her captain, and part of Frances seemed to permit this. But Frances also had an image to maintain, and if she appeared weak to the other girls, they might… well, let them try. Frances sniffed. Sure. If they think that how she treats Rachael is a new rule, they can go ahead and try that later, and see what happens then. Even Frances didn’t know. It would be a journey of exploration they would take together.

It was as though all the girls heard this in their own heads, the chill, unemotional taunt. They would never try anything later.

Frances stepped back and nodded at Dee-Dee, who leaped into action as though she were waiting for her part to play. With long, grasping fingers, she made quick work of Rachael’s garments, yanking the tight blue shorts down and her underwear with them. Tugging the white sports shirt over her head was more of a struggle, with Rachael flinging her arms drunkenly about, but off it came regardless. There was another similar, but much smaller, fight to take off her sports bra. Rachael covered her chest with thin forearms and tried to close her thighs, but Frances kept her foot mounted between her thighs and Rachael, even drunken Rachael, knew better than to touch the captain if it were unavoidable.

Frances slid her foot up to Rachael crotch, spread her toes and sprinkled them with schnapps, handing the bottle off to Dee-Dee. She hopped up into the bus seat’s space. Jenice hovered dutifully, keeping the smartphone’s shadow out of frame as she documented Frances’s finely sculpted foot lifted from Rachael’s lightly furred crotch, sliding up her sensitive, shivering belly, until she splayed her toes over Rachael’s pursed lips.

Frances stared at the littler woman trying to turn her head, while unwilling to offend the more powerful woman by successfully wrenching away. “Lick them,” Frances said, a little louder than normal, to ensure she wouldn’t have to repeat herself. Being shit-faced was only excusable for so long.

Rachael’s thin, dark brows peaked to a truly sorrowful effect as she stared up the tan shin. “Please don’t make me,” she slurred, and Frances took the opportunity to wriggle her toes between Rachael’s incisors. With a chest-racking sob, Rachael admitted the toes into her mouth and sucked on the second and third. Fortunately, the skin tasted like sweet schnapps instead of sock or sweaty shoe… oh, that’s right. They all showered after the game. Frances was fastidious in her personal hygiene, and she didn’t play in the shoes she wore home. Small blessings! It was less horrific for Rachael to suckle her captain’s, under these conditions, but… still not ideal. Sucking on another girl’s toes, in front of the whole team? While naked as the day she was born? She was about to exploit the university’s resources for pursuing therapy next week.

Still. The toes weren’t horrible. Everything about Frances was nicely shaped. She won the genetic lottery, that was clear, and that heightened her charisma and leadership skills. Rachael closed her eyes, blocking out the crappy antique ceiling lights, Jenice’s leering and predatory face, and Frances’s ROTG (resting Old Testament God) face. Rachael slipped her tongue between second and third toes and felt all of the toes flex and twitch around her mouth. So, she was a little ticklish. Rather than using that against her, Rachael tried to avoid tickling her again, slipping her tongue very slowly along the underside of her toes. She turned her head to the right, widened her mouth, and took in the fourth toe as well. Her lips locked around their base knuckles, the better to let her suck the liqueur off her skin as much as possible. Without thinking, Rachael even gently placed her fingertips upon the outside of Frances’s foot and guided her pinky toe into her mouth to cleanse it as well. The touch should have been forbidden, but Rachael wasn’t in her right mind and perhaps Frances wanted to see a good job be done.

Lastly, she had to suck her own spittle off the four darling little toes and take Frances’s big toe into her mouth. “She’s really getting into this, Frances,” said Jenice, looking briefly away to grin at her captain. “Shit, it looks pretty good. Maybe she can do mine after this.” It was a joke, Jenice thought it would be funny, but along with other isolated incidents this night, saying that out loud stung her pussy with a strange little tingle.

Frances bent down to nearly rest her chest upon her thigh, of the leg whose foot Rachael was servicing at this moment. She brought forward the tiny man, who Rachael had clean forgotten about in all this humiliation. She nearly stopped nursing Frances’s big toe when she saw Frances place him upon her chest. Frances rolled him to his back and slid him through the streak of schnapps to one of Rachael’s little boobs. “Make out with her tit, little man. Get her excited.” Her fingertip was planted upon his chest just like her heel rested upon Rachael’s.

“He doesn’t wanna do it!” This delighted Jenice to say, who was baffled by the wave of warm-fuzzies that the frail little woman was engendering in her teammates. She wanted to get back to the cruelty. Magnified on her smartphone camera, the shrunken figure was looking up with an expression of horror and shaking his head.

“I don’t care what he wants,” Frances said plainly. She rolled him to his front and shoved his face into one of Rachael’s nipples, a little brown pool in creamy white bodyscape. He’d been here before, of course, but it had been Rachael forcing him into her tit, and at that time she didn’t have intoxication to excuse for her behavior.

Rachael began sobbing around Frances’s big toe, and she turned her head to pull it out and speak. “Please don’t make him do this. I don’t want him there, I don’t want him doing that. I’ll suck all your toes, just please don’t make him.”

Frances exercised her preternatural ability to radiate the sense that not only hadn’t she heard anything, but nothing had been spoken, for all intents and purposes. She pressed her fingertip into the tiny man’s lower back, harder than necessary, and by this she made it known she would have no problem snapping his idiot spine. Would they return a broken and thoroughly used-up little man to his wife, or would they simply dump him in the trash? Reluctantly, he propped himself upon his elbows, which dug easily into the soft flesh of Rachael’s young breast, and his little head bobbed over and over in a small circle. To Jenice and Frances and anyone else who watched, the gesture was so slight and limited, it might as well have been an insect cleaning itself.

Rachael, however, felt the hot little tongue lapping around her nipple. It wasn’t arousing, just like it hadn’t been arousing to jam his head into her nipple at the start of the ride. Were her nipples dead to being stimulated? She supposed that would only work in a tender, intimate environment, if she ever found a special man to try that out with. It was probably that she was terrified and humiliated, profoundly vulnerable to a pack of hyenas in the back of a school bus, one of the least sexy environments she could imagine. Of course a little guy, shivering in fear, wasn’t going to turn her on. She brushed her incisors behind the large joint of Frances’s big toe, testing in her mind whether she could actually bite through it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and no one was coming to Rachael’s rescue. But what would be step two, after biting her toe off, and what was the alternate plan if she couldn’t do it?

Oh, there. What was that? Rachael sucked cool air around Frances’s wet toe; her thick toenail scraped the roof of her mouth. Rachael closed her eyes, hoping all to hell that the little man couldn’t successfully turn her on in this middle of all this.

“He’s really going to town,” Jenice said, bringing the camera down, almost next to him. He had brought himself up to all fours and was lapping at her nipple like a wolf at a pool of clean water. His little paunch hung and shuddered with his actions, and Jenice made sure to get a shot of his wrinkled balls and microscopic penis hanging under his sagging buttocks. Her snickering didn’t distract him from his cause, however. He seemed to believe Frances would let them go if he could get her stimulated, though this made as little sense as anything else that had actually happened. “Holy shit… is he crying?”

Frances looked up from the sordid tableau and watched as Jenice replayed the last few seconds for her. “He’s crying! He’s licking Rachael’s nipple and crying!” Jenice’s laughter rang through the back of the bus. “This is perfect! What a fucking loser! This is some sick shit.”

Ariana could only see Frances’s ass and thigh blocking Rachael’s nudity, and she had no glimpse of the shrunken man at all. She watched Jenice swiveling around to get better shots and gloat about it to Frances. Dee-Dee stood to the side, respectfully near in case she was needed; Mona only blocked the aisle with a slight frown. If her habitual silence made her seem mysterious and distant before, there was a feeling around her that indicated she was lost deep within her own thoughts.

“Dee-Dee,” Frances said, and the tall girl was there. “He’s not going any good there. Put him somewhere more useful. He has to make her climax.”

Dee-Dee reached for him, then hesitated. “Wait, you want me to put him… where?”

Frances said nothing, only stared at Dee-Dee, who withered slightly. She seized the tiny man in her fist and nearly slapped him against Rachael’s pussy. “Get to it, li’l guy,” she whispered, mashing his head into the tidy pink clit before him.

Again, he appeared to call something back to her, pleading something or other. Dee-Dee’s head hovered beside him, straining to make out anything he was saying. “It’s no good, I can’t hear a fucking thing you’re saying. Just, you know, make her cum.” She knuckled his spine, grinding him up and down the weaker girl’s lips. He seized fistfuls of her pubic hair and she cried out, nearly causing her to gag on Frances’s big toe in the back of her throat. As before, it was a couple moments before the little man showed any activity, which was looking for a foothold anywhere in reach. As soon as his foot slipped inside her, he yanked it out immediately and gave up the hunt. All he could do was hang by one arm and try to rub her labia with the other.

Jenice rounded the seat and shouldered Dee-Dee out of the way. “This is pathetic” was her estimation when the camera focused on him. “He’s not even doing anything, just wiping her down like she’s dusty. Come on, guy, get into it. Make her cum or you’re fucking dead.”

She chuckled at the appalled expression he shot back at the camera, but nonetheless he flattened his little body over the perfect folds of pink tissue and skin, as though trying to mash himself into them. No one was helping now, it was all him and his own imagination. He tried grinding his hips into her inner folds, and that went about as badly as could be expected, even without Jenice’s color commentary. He wasn’t sure what to do with his legs: he brought them up, trying to rub her labia with his knees, and that didn’t really achieve anything. Grimacing away from the camera, at last he finally slipped one foot into her hot, sticky entrance and braced himself. Grabbing more hair, he anchored himself securely and opened his jaws as wide as they could go, in order to suckle her little clit into his mouth.

“No! Don’t!” Rachael screamed around the thick toe in her mouth. She was afraid to buck in rejection of the sensation, worried about throwing the little man off the seat and having something horrible happen to him; odds are Frances’s foot would have kept her in place anyway. She cried around her captain’s toe, “Please, don’t do this to me. Make him stop, take him away. He doesn’t deserve this.” Her enunciation was almost incomprehensible, of course, due to Frances’s toe, but Frances wasn’t curious about an alternate viewpoint, and not curious enough to take her toe out of the little woman’s mouth.

Jenice looked up at Frances, towering over her, giving her a vague sense of what the world looked like to the little man. “This really isn’t working,” she said, lowering the camera. “He can’t do anything, and she’s… not responding.”

Frances closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have another idea. Roll her over.”

“Come on, up.” Frances’s tone was all business. There was nothing else she wanted now than to achieve a goal. People either facilitated that achievement or received brief, brutal adjustment. “Roll over, stick your butt up in the air.” With disgust, she swiped the shrunken man from one shy mound of breast.

Jenice blink-blinked prettily at her captain’s uncharacteristic verbosity. “She’s not moving, Frances. She doesn’t wanna cooperate.” She tilted her head and chewed her lip, smartphone suspended in arched fingers, then nodded at the others. Dee-Dee stepped forward again, hands at the ready to mold the shrimpy little woman into compliance, but the redhead shook her redheaded bob at her and raised her eyebrows at Ariana. “C’mon, slacker. You’ve been sitting there looking aghast for far too long. Time for you to join the team.”

Ariana shuddered but rose to her feet, half-kneeling on the bus seat. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get in here. Roll her over, stick her butt in the air. I think you can piece together what’s coming.”

The Latina wanted to protest that there was no room, but Frances had shifted to stand beside Rachael’s weepy head. She looked over at Ariana and raised one eyebrow in the midst of her perfectly symmetrical, unemotional visage, as though to say oh yeah, you exist too. Dee-Dee, sensing the social breeze, stepped to the back of the bus, and nothing was asked of Mona but to wall off the aisle ahead of Rachael’s seat. Ariana rolled her shoulders, stepped into the aisle, and seized Rachael’s slim ankles—so slim, she wondered if they might shatter in her hands out of grief.

“Come on, goddamn it,” she muttered into the spindly woman’s bare legs. “Just roll the fuck over. Quit fighting when you know you can’t win.” She tried to rotate the thin legs, but they kicked, albeit in a drunken slow motion. “The sooner you do what you’re told, the sooner this bullshit’s over with. The longer you fight, the longer it takes, you stupid little bitch.” She leaned painfully upon Rachael’s ankles, digging them into the aged cushions and springs of the bus seat. “Because it’s going to happen, and it can happen now or ten minutes from now, but it’s not going to go away.” She looked up to see Jenice licking her teeth, eyes glowing jade in the crappy bus lighting.

“Listen to you,” she said. “You’re a regular Tony Robbins. You should give us a little speech before every match.”

As was the case when dealing with Jenice, Ariana wasn’t sure whether this was a compliment or a dig. And she also knew the safest course was to avoid a comeback, so she bit her tongue and gripped Rachael’s knees and wrenched her upon her side. This accomplished, she knelt behind Rachael’s turned legs and grabbed her thin, all-too-fragile rib cage and rotated her the rest of the way. It was gross, really, manhandling a fragile weakling like this when they were absolutely bereft of clothing. It felt abusive and brutal, and Ariana wondered at how “womanhandling” wasn’t a term. This level of crudeness and violation belonged to me, and yet here she was embodying it, carrying out the manhandling agenda in the back of a school bus, surrounded by her “team.” This fucked-up team, this false unity… no, it was just conformity. They were united in their dread of punishment, not in their shared vision for victory.

Even as she was aware of this, of all the pieces in play and all the power dynamics that oppressed her like everyone else, she still turned the weakling woman onto her front and exposed her bare ass to the ceiling. She still bent down and gripped those birdlike hips and yanked them brusquely upward, shoving Rachael’s thin knees into place with her own padded, still-clothed knees. “There you go,” she barked at Jenice. “All ready for you. Enjoy it.”

Jenice looked up at her, eyes flashing, and yet that flash dimmed when she saw what was in Ariana’s eyes. The setter pushed the libero and pushed her, provoking her into obeying her every whim, but there was still that unknown field and Jenice had nudged her right up to the border and saw what was in Ariana’s eyes. And Jenice knew she had Frances’s blessing, since she was in charge of manifesting Frances’s vision here as elsewhere, but… something in Ariana’s expression told her now was not the time for a confrontation. It might not go well in front of her captain and the other women. All she could do was shrug and salute the short, fiery woman and dismiss her back to her seat.

“The stage is set, camera’s rolling and we can’t do shit about the lighting. It’s all yours, captain.” Jenice grinned and held up the camera.

There was no indication Frances heard her. Once Rachael was sobbing in a more acceptable position, she draped the tiny man upon her ass, right down the crevice of her slim buttocks. She brought her head down right next to one jutting hip bone and presented the fury of her face to the shrunken man, to underscore her words. “Now you will fuck her asshole, and you had better cum or we’re done.”

In a court case, hypothetical years from now, this would have been pounced upon by defense as vague, indeterminable wording. Who could have known exactly what that meant, “now we’re done”? That could easily mean they’re done hurting him, defense would say, mugging and gesturing for the jury. There would be so many ways to interpret that, most of them benign, harmless, even desirable. That is what the defense team would be banking on, to convince a dozen people who were not there. For the six young, college-age women who were there, plus the one hapless fuck who got shrunk down 40 years ago (though they couldn’t and wouldn’t know that), isolated from their peers on the vintage school bus, there was no question what Frances’s tone carried. None of those six women and fractional little man believed they would simply pack up, clean up, and go to their respective homes if the shrunken man couldn’t perform. None of them believed this moment would end well if things didn’t happen exactly as Frances expected; indeed, they confidently suspected how badly it would go if Frances’s desires were not met above a minimum standard. This is one of the many failings of the US legal system, the inability to scientifically factor the intuitive gray zone of abusive relationships.

In practice, the shrunken man turned miserably to his task, and if his little peen was not hard, he nonetheless nudged it into the pasty, clenching knot of the much larger young woman’s knot of rectal tissues. If that sounds clinical and unsexy, imagine what it was like for the tiny man: not only could he not get hard, and not only did he not want to anally rape this timid, helpless young woman, but neither of these could happen beneath the cold and foreboding scowl of the team captain. Frances stared disapprovingly at the tiny man’s performance while reminding Rachael that she still had a job to do: Frances doused her right foot’s toes in peachtree schnapps, which ran over the green vinyl bus seat and soaked Rachael’s cheek and hair and budding chest, and she crept her perfect toes into Rachael’s anguished mouth. Her twitching big toe demanded the attention of Rachael’s tongue, and it wouldn’t settle until this demand was satisfied, and so Rachael had to drool into the schnapps, mingling with her tears, as she allowed her captain’s big toe to enter her mouth.

The tiny man had his work cut out for him. It wasn’t that the gigantic, frail young woman was unattractive. She was cute, in her plain way, and very sweet and innocent-looking. Once upon a time, when he was normal-sized, sure, he would’ve glanced at her and wondered about her. He would’ve fantasized holding her in his lap, wrapping his comparatively large arms around her, bleeding his bodily warmth into her slim body until her heart pounded faster and her face turned questioningly toward his lips, and he would have commanded her on a brief voyage of satiation and satisfaction. He loved his wife, but his mind still wandered, and little Rachael would have owned her own acreage in his imagination, certainly. Something between a woman and a teenager, frail and yet brimming with…

No, it was no good to think of that now. Now he was an old man placed upon the shitting region of a young, traumatized woman, and a literal fucking demon many hundreds times his size was commanding him to fuck her to completion. It was very different from guiding a naive little woman to her unfettered sexuality. This… there was no other word for it, this was rape. It wasn’t his choice, and she wasn’t consenting, but great harm would come to both of them if he couldn’t complete his task. The last half hour or so had shown him that none of these college-age beauties had any interest in listening to him, so shouting questions or bargains was off the table. All he could do was pinch his floppy little cock between thumb and forefinger and rub it dryly along the slim, shallow fissures leading to her clenching anus. At least she wasn’t covered in shit, he thought distantly. That was true. Rachael was fastidious with personal hygiene, and as a bonus, hadn’t had much to eat before their match and had no need to use the bathroom at the truck stop diner, so she was relatively pristine. At least that, at least the tiny man wasn’t smearing his peen in unwiped fecal remnants.

She really did have a cute little butthole, too. She hadn’t shaved her pubes up front, which were not proliferate but pleasantly downy and limited in scope. Not like his wife’s… Shit, no, I can’t think about that. I can’t think about her right now. It’s all Rachael, it’s all this girl. The tiny man gritted his teeth and dragged his flaccid penis toward the epicenter of the slim giantess’s asshole. Whatever she was going through was reflected in a rapidly clenching little butthole, no denying that. If she sobbed, her butthole clenched. If she breathed, it relaxed and bunched up again. If she was ticklish, up between her pony little buttocks, her butthole fluttered delightedly, danced beneath the shrunken man’s hips. Fuck, for that matter, here was a rare opportunity to cherish a sexual encounter with someone… ha, well under half his age. When would he ever get this again? Trying to block out the gigantic muscular amazon who radiated displeasure upon him, and trying to block out the grinning green-eyed jackal who filmed his every action, the tiny man spat in his palm and slicked up his little cock and thought about how pretty and pink and hairless the frail giantess was back here. He blocked out her name, too. Calling her by name would have evoked memories of their time together, how delightfully she tore off his clothes, how presumptuous she was in sucking him off upon meeting him, all of which were astounding, impossible fantasies she immediately embodied without prompting. In that sense she was perfect, and how he lay between the foothills of her flawless, milky butt cheeks, cradled in the shallow valley on her most private region, with all the permission in the world to place his now-raging hardon into the gummy, clenching knot of her asshole.

And so he did. Her asshole was hot and sticky, with no lubrication to carry him along but the moisture her body created and released from within her hips, but this was enough for him. His needle-dick slipped determinedly into the clenching tissues, and though they couldn’t squeeze hard enough to grip his cock, the friction against her rectal tissues was quite enough, thank you. He closed his eyes, spread his arms to embrace her slim buttocks as well as they could, and his diminutive hips bucked in the dim bus lighting as he nudged his little peen deeper and deeper into Rachael’s butthole.

A voice boomed above him, nearly startling his erection into remission. “Who told you to stop sucking?” Frances glowered upon Rachael’s bedraggled head, snorting in satisfaction once she saw those shallow cheeks puffing and that little ring of red lips nursing the base knuckle of her big toe. It did nothing for Frances, this attention to her toes. It was strictly a disciplinary gesture. Frances felt no betraying tingles in her crotch, no electric ripples up her calves and thighs, not even an intellectual thrill throughout her brain to know that she was surrounded by weak, easily domineered young women who, similarly, would do whatever she ordered, whenever the idle thought occurred to her. This was not what turned her on, and no one on the entire bus knew what turned her on. But for the mild curiosity which she lacked, she could have taken pleasure in that degree of security and privacy, but it was simply too much to care about when she had goals to accomplish.

Things were happening that snapped Frances from her robotic standby mode. Rachael didn’t seem to realize it, but the tiny man shuddered in the valley of her meager ass. He stretched out, limp, and his chest rose and fell laboriously, if microscopically, suggesting that he at least had fulfilled Frances’s desires and dumped his infinitesimal load into the entrance of Rachael’s poop-chute. The act, the approach, and the finish had all been dutifully recorded by Jenice, hovering over Rachael’s ass like a scavenging bird, grinning into her smartphone as though it mainlined heroin into her skull. It was one of those moments when everything fell into place and nothing else could have been asked of anyone.

Frances nodded, then realized with some surprise that her own hand had been stuffed down her shorts, and her own fingers had been thrusting rhythmically into her own vagina. Her brow furrowed and her lips tugged down in a frown. That was unexpected.

The little man struggled to maintain his hold. Rachael’s skin was too cool and dry for him to rely on the moisture of an agitated body to keep him in place. He realized this, it was apparent, when the other women saw his little arms reaching over his head to grasp at the slight mounds of milky flesh. Now he looked like some kind of insect drowning in a puddle of water: he did his best when he lay still, with his tiny hips parked upon the pulsing, puckering pink butthole, but he seemed to feel he was about to fall. His flailing legs had nothing to brace themselves again, and his minuscule fingers couldn’t seem to find purchase anywhere in the subtle valley of healthy, smooth skin.

This was amble material for Jenice, zooming in and making commentary like “uh-oh” and “look at him struggle” and “don’t fall down, li’l fucker, it’s not safe for you” for her video. When she looked up to joke with her captain, however, she fell silent. Frances’s brow was growing tense, and she bit her lip while her hand pumped harder within her taut sports leggings. Her eyes were fixated upon the diminutive naked man fighting to stay atop Rachael’s gently shaking hips. If Rachael were paying attention at all, she might have tilted her pelvis to hold him up, or angled them the other way to dump him onto the seat, perhaps to shelter him between her knees, but she wasn’t. All she could focus on was suckling her tyrannical captain’s sugar-coated toes, fishing her tongue between them to cleanse every last streak of liqueur, and managing this amid intermittent sobbing.

The rest of the team watched the shrunken man’s progress, trying desperately to keep from slipping over the edge, clawing at this young woman’s butt to pull himself up and keep nudging into her asshole. He stiffened abruptly, and Jenice made a surprised yelp as she refocused her camera upon him. His feet flexed and curled, his calves bunched, and his tiny little spine arched. The scrabbling of his arms subsided briefly, making attempts to grasp at her smooth features but losing the range of reach, losing the agility of searching. His tiny little head bent back and the smartphone caught his strained expression, a moment of reverie during which the rest of the world (i.e., five gigantic, pretty, abusive women hovering around him in the back of an old school bus) did not exist. His little body rocked, flashing briefly with the odd street light, a shivering little shrimp balanced upon the slim butt of a timid little woman.

“Oh my god, I think he’s doing it,” Jenice said. The tip of her tongue tested the sharpness of her canine as she leaned in, getting the best shot of the tiny man in his throes of ecstasy. He held there, clenched, then collapsed limply in the narrow butt cleavage, his chest panting.

Before Jenice could frame an adequate punchline, Frances snatched the little man in her fist. Her other hand struggled to jerk her leggings and underwear down, exposing her exquisitely manicured pubic region to the smartphone. She snarled as her hand dipped between her firm, tanned thighs, and the tiny man disappeared into her private shadows. He might have been screaming; only one slim, pale arm waved in the air, perhaps in defense, maybe in farewell.

All the women looked up when the engine’s dull roar emitted the dramatic downward elision of its musical notes and the air breaks let out a loud hissing. They lurched gently to the side as the bus turned. Jenice noticed that Rachael was consistently glowing now, with more and more city lights illuminating through the bus windows. “Shit,” she whispered, struggling to close her phone’s video camera, which was locked in processing such a large file. She ordered Dee-Dee and Ariana to get Rachael dressed immediately, told Mona to hold her position. Dee-Dee yanked Rachael into the aisle by her ankles and managed to force her underwear (backward) and shorts up her legs. Ariana sat her on the edge of the seat, stretched the sports bra to slip into place, and her shirt was much easier to manage.

As for Frances, she looked none too happy to bring the little man back out of her crotch. He hadn’t even made contact with her immaculately shaped labia, not even time for a simple grind into her vulva. She raised him to her face, snarling prettily. “Looks like you lost your chance at a moment in heaven, little man.” Frances flipped him into the air. Ariana gasped and reflexively stepped back, alarmed. Through her trauma and rapid intoxication, Rachael hadn’t the wherewithal to look up and see the pale, naked little body flipping end over end through the darkened space, so he only collapsed in her lap, slipping almost bonelessly between her slender thighs. Dreamily she plucked him up, almost not understanding, then cupped him tenderly in both hands.

Frances leaned down to hiss in her ear, “You don’t say a fucking word to anyone. Kicking you off the team will be the least of your worries if you breathe a word of this to anyone. Look at me. …Look at me: I promise you, you will regret it, badly, if you tell anyone about what happened tonight.” She straightened up and adjusted her leggings back into place, then stalked back to her seat to pull her socks back on. “Get rid of this,” she said, handing the empty schnapps bottle to Mona. Mona looked down at it in her hand, blinking.

Dee-Dee and Jenice likewise organized their belongings, but Ariana sat across from Rachael and, after a moment, gently held her knees. “You’re gonna be okay, Rach. Just get a good night’s sleep tonight, if you can. Sleep off this buzz. You shouldn’t get a hangover, I don’t think. Take a long, hot shower if you need to.” She leaned in to tell Rachael to call her if she needed someone to talk to, wanted to explain that something like this has happened to each of them so she’ll understand, but she stopped. Her eyes locked on Rachael’s little hands, shaking, tenderly cupping the tiny little naked man in her curled fingers. Rachael sobbed, dropping little tears upon his body, murmuring how sorry she was, how very sorry she was for everything. And the little man was stroking her thumb, looking back up at her with a face of consummate caring. He hugged her narrow thumb, and his tiny mouth moved but it was impossible to hear anything as the bus turned into a lot and parked and all the women slowly woke up, complaining, bustling with their gear.

Frances’s team filed out after everyone else, in no hurry to disembark. Frances looked straight ahead, strolling toward her glossy, late-model car, the very picture of nonchalance. Dee-Dee was less cool, gawking straight at what Frances had ignored: a dowdy, agitated old woman quibbling with the bus driver, pointing at Frances. The driver, fatigued from such a long and featureless night drive, could barely make heads or tails out of what she was saying, something about her husband, but there were no men on his bus, he would’ve noticed. The tall middle blocker was frozen with terror, and it took Ariana to shove her roughly out of the way and get her moving. Mona only cast a sidelong glance at the woman, maneuvering herself to block the sight of Ariana’s telltale butt, which surely would have been recognizable from the car tailing them for dozens of miles.

It was little Rachael who interrupted the confusing entreaty, holding her cupped hands up to the older woman. “I’m so sorry,” she said, choking through sobbing. “I’m so stupid, so fucking stupid. Please, I’m so sorry. Take care of him.” Surprised, the woman held out her thicker, softer hands, and Rachael carefully deposited the shrunken nude man into her care, then stumbled away as a long, sustained screech rose from the woman’s throat.

“What did you do, what did you do,” she cried, and Rachael would have collapsed if Mona and Ariana hadn’t seized her arms and nearly carried her away.

Jenice slinked up right behind, grinning warmly. “Here, before you get too excited, you’ll want to have a good look at the little guy’s adventures. Check this tomorrow morning.” She slipped a scrap of paper with a shortened URL into the woman’s coat pocket and disappeared into the night, into the milling crowd of women’s college volleyball players placing calls and looking for their rides.