“You guys are such barbarians!” protests Emily. “Look at him down there! You’re about to kill him.”

“You’d be surprised what a body is able to sustain, even a small one like his,” Amy replies.

“Well even if you don’t kill him, how would you like to be squeezed, almost eaten, dropped, crushed, or smashed against a foot?”

“He loves it! Don’t you Tiny Tim?” Amy teases. Before I can answer, she pokes me in the stomach with her index finger to force a smile out of me. “See.”

“That’s hardly proof…”

“Oh be quiet you dork. You’re lucky to even be invited to this party. I only did so out of charity. Don’t push it,” Amy snapped back.

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Sure I do. You’re always ‘Little Miss Perfect’ like a hall monitor. Always got to be yelling at us for what we can and can’t do. You annoy the hell out of me. I only invited you because you have no friends, and I felt bad.”

“How could you say that?” Emily mutters under her breath as she begins to cry. She storms out of the room in tears.

“Yeah leave. You’re not wanted here!” Amy shouts at her as she goes.  

“No don’t go! Don’t leave me alone with them!” I try to yell, but she leaves before she can hear me. Now I am left alone with these tormentors. She was the only person willing to help me.

The room is awkwardly quiet for a few seconds.

“I have the perfect activity,” Rachel finally breaks in the silence. “We should make him dance! I’ve seen his moves before.”

“Okay,” declares Amy. “Let’s see what you got.”

She picks me up and drops me on the coffee table. One of the girls turns on some music from a stereo somewhere, and I start to dance. The girls laugh at my attempts at grooving.

“He’s so cute! So small” they would say to each other.

After a minute or two, Amy brings her two fingers close up to me and tells me to grab them. I grab her one finger with my right arm, and the other with my left, and she starts to “dance” with me. This doesn’t last more than a second or two when her fingers tried to push me backwards for a move, but they overpowered me and made me fall over. The room erupts with giggles.

“Here let me try,” this time it’s Rebecca from before. She presents her two fingers, but when I go up to grab them, I feel something come at my legs from behind. It turns out to be her index finger of her other hand, which swooshes under my legs and trips me. I fall flat onto my head, and the room again erupts.

“We never said to stop dancing,” Rebecca scolds, so I continue. Pretty soon all the girls are getting in on this idea, and I am knocked onto the ground before I have time to get back up. This happens for about five or so minutes until eventually I fall off the coffee table. Unbeknownst to me, each fall moved me a few feet backwards until I was on the edge of the coffee table. Then the next trip knocked me off. At that point the music is turned off.

“I have one last game for us to play,” Amy proclaims. She grabs me, pulls out some string, and grabs an empty bottle of soda from the dining room table that was left over from dinner. She presses my back around the bottle and ties to it, so that I can’t move.

“Let’s play Spin the Bottle. Here’s the rule: whoever it points to gets to give him a kiss.”

All the girls form a circle around the dining room table and place me and the bottle in the center.

“Here goes…”, and Amy gives me a spin. I scream as I am twirled around and around. I try to close my eyes, but that doesn’t help much. I’ve always gotten dizzy easily.

Eventually the bottle stops. I can’t see who it’s facing since I can’t turn my head, but I am lifted up. I am brought near the face of Sally who gives me a nice peck on the face. It would have been a nice, gentle kiss, but because of my size and inability to defend myself on account of being tied down, my face is slammed between her red lips in front of me and the bottle behind me.

“Come on. You can do better than that,” the other girls comment. “Really give it to him.”

Sally then moves her lips in for another try. This time she kisses with twice the force. Her lips form a suction that literally sucks the air out of my lungs. I can hardly breathe as her lips press against my body and push me into the bottle. Next she rubs her lips up and down against my pinned body. Her lips depart leaving my face red and gasping for air. She kisses better than her sister or maybe that was just due to my size.

“That’s more like it,” the other girls say.

I am spun again and again. Each time I get dizzier and dizzier, and the girls kiss harder and harder. Many used their tongue for a French kiss. They would lick my face, neck, chest, and sometimes lower, covering me in saliva. Sometimes they would solve my face into their mouths as part of “the kiss” and play with my head with their tongue, pushing me head up and down as it’s forced either into the tongues or into the roof of their mouths. This proceeds for at least half an hour until I am extremely dizzy over the spinning and can hardly breathe. Each girl tries to outdo the others before her, making each kiss more and more painful.

After a several turns, I am spun.  They must have twirled me extra-fast this time for it felt like I was spinning for twice as long as I usually do. I can barely handle the dizziness. My face would have been blue and green by now if it hadn’t been covered in red lipstick. I can’t even tell when I stop spinning because my brain was still rotating several seconds after it. I stop at Amy. That isn’t the first time I’ve gotten her but it’ll be a turn we’ll both remember. She scoops me up and brings me to her face. I am completely disoriented and close my eyes hoping to get this over with. She licks her lips to get herself ready. Before I know it, I’m plunged in. She presses her soft against my face, neck, and chest and takes out her tongue. She rubs me over and over slowly and then drops my head into her mouth. The rest of my body is still outside tied down to the bottle. Inside she rubs my head with her moist tongue. I can hardly breathe as her tongue covers my face over and over.

After that kiss, every girl sticks me in their mouths during their kiss. This goes on for about a half hour until I am tired, dizzy, barely able to breathe, and covered in saliva and lipstick residue.

Then Amy finally announces, “All right girls, we’ve had a lot of fun, but it’s time for bed.”

There are numerous groans from amongst the girls.

“Everyone get ready for bed,” she states. “And I’ll make you a bed for Tiny Tim.”

She grabs me and the bottle and unties me. She carries me up to her room with her right hand and grabs the shoe box I came in with her left. The rest of the girls go about to the bathroom and such to change and brush their teeth. I notice that a couple of the girls are following Amy and me.

“Now I don’t want you to sleep with us in the living room because you might get squashed by accident in the middle of the night,” she explains, half as if she was thinking out loud.

She brings you into her room. It isn’t a bad looking room: it had white walls, a bed covered with blue sheets, and a dark gray rug. The bed is against the wall in the far corner and next to it is a large dresser on it is a desk lamp and a few other things I can’t see very well from my angle. At the other end of the room, there is a desk with a computer, books, and unorganized papers, presumably where she did homework. In the corner between the bed and desk, there is a bean bag chair. The walls are covered in posters, but I do not have time to look at them very well. It looks like a normal college room. I wouldn’t have thought such a crazy girl lived here.

Amy sits down on her bed, opens up the shoe box, and places me in. She leaves for about ten seconds and comes back with a wash cloth.

“Here you go little one. This will be your bed.”

She folds the wash cloth into fours so that it’s the shape of a mattress and puts in the box right next to me.

“Sweet dreams, and I’ll see you in the morning,” she coos, and she blows me a kiss, which nearly knocks me over. “You are just so cute!”

She closes the box, and I hear tape being wrapped around it. She’s taping me in! That prevents any escape I had planned. She then places me on her dresser and walks out of the room.

“All right girls, time for bed!”

There is a little bit of noise downstairs, but eventually things start to quiet down. I am exhausted and just fall over onto my “bed.” I could barely stand up I am so tired. In about two seconds, I’m fast asleep despite the fact that the wash cloth isn’t particularly comfortable.