“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.