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.”