Biff didn't know where he was. He was somewhere dark and stifling hot, very crowded. He was in some kind of vehicle or container that jostled around a lot, with large objects that bumped into him and knocked him over whenever he tried to stand. Screaming was useless, as was trying to find an exit - the entire room seemed shrouded in dense fabric. He decided he could only wait things out and hope they made sense later.

His morning had started simply enough. He woke up in his room lined with posters of football players and wrestlers. He stretched his developing teenage muscles, had a shower, and got dressed for the day. At the breakfast table he teased his younger sister, Megan, though she didn't react as colorfully as she usually did. Was that strange? Should he have paid attention to that? He didn't think anything of it at the time. Sometimes she had off-days and wouldn't scream back at him or run crying for her mom, but today she almost seemed like she was hiding a smile. He didn't even notice at the time, thinking about the big game coming up this weekend.

Biff was line defense on the high school football team, so most of his friends were ogrish jerks like he was. They had the run of the school, between popularity and physical intimidation, and so much power ruined their minds. Biff was by no means the worst of the bunch but he was bad enough, picking on his sister and her friends mercilessly. She was a sophomore and he was a senior. Megan's friends had crushes on him for no good reason: he wasn't particularly striking, he was simply on the football team and they were in search of an idol. He made a show of chagrin that they followed him around like ducklings whenever he ran into them, but secretly he was flattered and would entertain fantasies of getting them alone... or all together. Regardless, he treated them with as much contempt and dismissal as he did his own sister.

However, once he got to school that day, they weren't quite so annoying, at least not in their usual way. Instead of thronging around him and asking him stupid questions just to get some attention from him, they stayed in their little groups and grinned at him, turning away whenever he looked at them. At this point he'd started to get concerned about the odd behavior but his buddies found him and distracted him from prolonged thought.

"Biff! Biffster!" they chanted, hustling him down the hallway like bulls. "You all ready for the big game in two days? You gonna keep us safe while we do all the work?"

He laughed and planted his feet, effectively stopping them in their tracks. When he started to push them backwards they broke apart on all sides and he charged through, stumbling to recover himself. They laughed about it and joked around some more. One of their group reached out and knocked the books out of a much smaller kid's hands. The kid stared at them in a mixture of fury and fear before finally bending down to reassemble his homework and scuttling away. This entertained them greatly and sustained the breeze of mirth they rode that day.

Biff happened to glance down the hallway after the kid and caught the image of Megan's friends staring at him silently. They were not laughing or smiling, but stared at him with dark eyes. Biff was a little shaken by this, as he assumed that by dint of being a high school football player the whole world loved him automatically and he could do no wrong. It was a little unnerving to see a group of former admirers turn so dark on him... But again, before he could think about it too long, his friends jostled him out of his dark reverie and dragged him off to class.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly and he quite forgot about the morning's upset. He waved his friends off and went to the parking lot for his car (he made his sister ride the bus so as not to be seen with him), thinking about calling some of the cheerleaders up this afternoon and arranging for multiple dates over the weekend. He unlocked his car door and was sitting in the driver's seat with the door closed before he noticed anything was wrong.

Megan was sitting beside him in the passenger's seat. "Hi, Biff," she said frostily.

He stared at her in confusion and mounting outrage. "Megan... Megan!? What the hell are you doing here, runt? Get out of my car!" He drew back to hit her when he felt two little mounds of cold metal on the nape of his neck, heard the stifled giggles of girls in his backseat, and then his body shot through with hundreds of volts of electricity.

Things got hazy at that point. He remembered sitting on a huge platform of leather or plastic with an enormous wall of the same behind him, and then his entire body was squeezed by... he didn't know what. It was warm and soft, but so completely massive that it nearly engulfed his entire body. The girls' giggling was everywhere, resounding in his ears, and he thought he heard Megan saying, "Here, you guys take him, I'm sick of him." Abruptly gravity shifted, wind rushed around his head, and the enormous fleshy grip around him released momentarily. All he knew was rushing air and tumbling gently through space before slamming into a broad, fabric-covered wall. He tumbled into a larger sheet of fabric and immediately settled into a valley of warmth.

He couldn't tell what was beneath the huge sheets of cloth but they were two long, massive, soft hills or ridges that ran along either side of him. His ears exploded with more squealing, and the valley he rested in rumbled and jostled with violent activity. He thought he heard a girl's voice shrieking, "Eeek! He's on me! Get him off! Get him off!" and impossibly more laughter, before another fleshy grip seized him and crushed the air out of his lungs. Before he blacked out he dimly perceived being thrust into the room in which he currently found himself, and that was that.

There he was, not knowing where the hell "there" was nor understanding precisely what had happened. All he knew was that when he caught up with Megan she was in for the beating of her life, and he probably was going to direct his friends to mess up her little friends as well. And nothing had better have happened to his car, that was for sure.

He had no idea that in scant minutes, that stupid car was going to be one of the last things on his mind.

Biff was temporarily blinded when the light blasted into his little room. Shocked, he had no way of fighting the enormous fleshy grasp that plucked him out of the chamber and tossed him onto a broad plain of ropes, it felt like. Made of some synthetic material they bounced him and held him aloft. He covered his eyes and ears as the area exploded with laughter from giggling girls all over again.

He tried to make out the voices: "Oh my God, it's really him!" "Look at him, he's so tiny!" "Oh, isn't he cute! I wanna dress him up!" At that point, the high school jock realized he was completely nude and curled up in a ball to cover himself. This only spurred on more laughter and giggling and the booming young voices grew more incomprehensible.

There were several loud crashes all around him, as if an old-growth forest were being felled all at once, and his heart raced in terror. The giggling subsided and it seemed as if the entire room held its breath. Finally, something nudged into his shoulder; alarmed and frightened, Biff ignored it and the voices tittered. The nudging returned insistently and he swatted out blindly at the object. The voices went "OoooOOOOoooohh!" in mock-awe and giggled some more. Biff finally hazarded a look around to try and make sense of what was going on.

What he saw astounded him. He seemed to be looking at an extreme close-up of a carpet, first of all. That was the immediate and easiest thing to identify. What was harder were the canyon of huge, soft-looking boulders in tan, black, and blue. He realized that the latter were covered in some huge, coarse fabric while the first type was more porous and had a glow to it, as if it were made of several fleshy layers.

Biff felt a knot forming in his stomach as he looked up, and saw the boulders went off into the distance, a distance he couldn't see because it was blocked off by enormous girls' bodies and heads. A huge girly hand hovered behind him, wielding a pencil the size of a flagpole and nudging its eraser into his shoulder.

The huge girls' heads, stretched in hideous grins with gaping eyes staring down at him, shifted and giggled. "He's moving!" one of them said. Another hissed, "He's really alive! He's so small! Get him again, make him stand up or something." With that, the large pink rubber hovered above him and attempted to force its way between his chest, arms, and legs from the side.

Not because it had wedged him open, but because it hurt too much to resist, Biff had to unfold himself but his hands flew immediately to his crotch as he rolled to his back. The enormous girls screeched and giggled some more at the sight, and the pencil fell with a muted thunderous clatter beside him.

Apparently he was surrounded by gigantic teenage girls and he was completely naked. Attempting to put two and two together he rasped a question to his audience. However, between his tiny vocal chords and the clamor the girls were making he was unheard.

"Hold on, guys," one of the girls boomed, "he's trying to talk." The girl's head loomed closer to him, her long, thick hair spilling around his body like a waterfall of gold. "Go ahead, Biff, what were you saying?" she said almost tenderly.

He cleared his throat and allowed himself to sit up; the girl's nose was only a few feet away from him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked.

The heads rose up into the air and belted out with laughter, hysterical laughter. The girl who'd spoken to him stayed and laughed as well, and Biff could see straight up into her mouth. Her eyes clenched, her nose wrinkled, all horribly exaggeratedly from his perspective, and he stared straight past her huge pink lips and glistening sharp teeth, up her squirming, moist tongue and deep into the dark recesses of her throat as she hollered laughter upon his tiny, naked body.

When they could compose themselves a few of the girls assured him it really was just a dream, a dream come true, and he could do whatever he wanted to in perfect safety. Biff wasn't the brightest bulb in the the ceiling but this answer made some sense to him and it helped him ease up a bit. Just a little, because even in a dream, enormous teenage girls crowding around you like... well, like little kids staring at a bug still made a guy nervous, but he could adjust to that.

And since this was a dream, there was no sense in shame, so he forced himself to stand up - no mean feat on a wobbly shag carpet - and the giggling died down to the previous breathlessness. He just looked up at the girls sprawled around him and smiled nervously. They stared at him with huge eyes and laser-like intensity, which made him a little self-conscious, but he wasn't going to let this defeat him. He strode over to a chubby Korean girl dressed in black stretch-pants and chunky-soled sandals. "Hey, I recognize you! You're Andi! You're one of my sister's friends." She stared at him with huge brown eyes and chestnut perm, nodding slowly as her plump lips spread into a little grin. "Wow, you're in my dream, that's incredible... and you!"

He pointed at the girl next to , wearing faded jeans and Birkenstocks (he identified them at first by their pants and footgear because that's primarily all he noticed about them). "You're Heather, another of Megan's friends." He looked around slowly at the ring of gigantic girls sitting around the floor like a mountain range. "You're all Megan's friends, all those girls that pester me in the hallways and stuff," he said, thinking aloud. The giggling began to die down a little but he went on. "Man, it's gonna be one of those dreams, I guess, huh?"

"One of what dreams?" asked Heather, tossing back her mane of wavy honey hair. The other girls were interested in hearing him ramble, too.

Biff laughed at the thought of it. "You know, one of those sexual dreams, a wet dream," he said. Some of the girls laughed, a couple backed off, but everyone wanted to hear more and asked him what he meant. Working it out for himself as well as his audience, he went on: "Well, look at me. I'm all tiny and stuff, and you girls are huge to me. This is, like, completely the opposite of real life, you know, where I'm all big at school and you girls are shorter and stuff. In reality I could probably hold my arms out and two or three of you could hang from them, but here in this dream where everything's the opposite, you're all much more powerful than I am. Get it?"

Some of the girls looked at each other. Others stared at him, not sure whether to be angry or to laugh at his arrogance. Most of them were sneaking peeks at his tiny little butt and penis whenever he turned around to talk to different girls. If he noticed he didn't show it, but it was likely he was completely oblivious to anything going through their minds since, after all, it was his dream.

"What makes you think we're going to have anything to do with you, you little creep?" asked Heather, considerably less taken with the scenario than Biff seemed to be.

Biff laughed again, "Because that's the nature of the dream!"

Jennifer, the girl with long straight blonde hair who'd spoken to him before, leaned in again. "What makes you think this is a sexual dream? Maybe it's a guilt dream, where we make you sorry for all the shit you give us every single day." Her suggestion was met by encouragement and agreement all around, but Biff couldn't see the others because once again she leaned in too close and encircled him with her hair. Her enormous face, her glacier-blue eyes hovered almost threateningly above him as he stood there. One of her locks of hair fell from her forehead and draped over his shoulder.

Biff was shocked by how erotic the sensation was, as if her head of hair had reached out to him, to wrap around him and draw him in. When Jennifer saw the tiny little erection this caused she pulled her head back to leave him on display for the rest of the group. Some of the girls squealed but most were, again, very curious and just observed him.

"Well," he said, thinking carefully, "I guess it could be that, but right now all I feel is a lot of horniness, so I'm guessing that's the nature of the dream."

"You're not feeling any horniness from me, buster," said an angry voice behind him.

Bill got a look at the punk chick behind him and stumbled back a step involuntarily. In the distance, puffy purple clouds rested above her furious expression, her full, purple lips drawn down in a deep scowl. A violent-looking punk band shirt clung to her body, and her hips were wrapped in the traditional red plaid skirt with spiked belt. Long, slender, bare legs stretched from within and ended in well-worn German tanker boots. He felt the intensity of her glare.

"Okay, maybe not off of you," he agreed, "in fact... yeah, now it feels more like a guilt dream. But what do I have to be guilty about?" He spread his arms, directing the question to his forum. "You girls are fucking annoying, always pestering me with your stupid questions about football, following me around the halls..."

"Get over yourself," said Jennifer, "we never do that." The other girls wanted to agree with her, but they were finally seeing their behavior from his eyes and couldn't speak up too loudly, in all fairness.

"You do too!" He laughed. "You so way do! Every day, I'm so tired of it!" He drew a breath to mimic the girls in falsetto, whiny voices, but suddenly he was hit by a wall of force that knocked the wind out of him: Andi brought her leg up behind him and booted him in his back with her thick-soled sandal. She didn't want to really hurt him, but she did want to shut him up.

Caught completely off-guard, Biff sailed the short distance into the depths of the punk skirt, sliding neatly along Tory’s thighs. She shrieked and started bouncing erratically where she sat, trying to scoot away from the tiny person inside her clothing. "Andi, you bitch!" she shrieked. "Get him out! Get him out!" She started kicking her legs and raising her hips in an attempt to dump him out.

Biff, completely confused, reacted instinctively and tried to crawl up the sheet of fabric. He caught his grip by latching his toes onto the hem of her skirt and started grabbing at threads along a rough seam to pull himself up, and he was making quite a bit of headway when suddenly his world fell down and Tory's enormous (to him) butt crashed upon him, squashing him flat against the floor.

The girls were in hysterics, rolling with laughter, pretending to chide Andi while attempting to help Tory out, who was kicking too hard to let anyone close to her. She got tired and sat back down; her eyes grew huge when she felt the solid lump beneath her cheeks. At her expression everyone else fell silent and stared at her, then into her skirt, where they could just see two tiny feet poking out from beneath her underwear. Tory looked at them all, then slowly leaned over to peer inside her own skirt, and she saw little white legs lying limp between her inner thighs. She didn't think about all her girlfriends staring up her skirt. She didn't think about the tiny football jock getting wedged in her ass. All she thought was that perhaps she had killed a man.

She spent a lot of time thinking about it, from Biff's perspective, as he struggled to breathe but could barely move beneath the teenager's enormous buttocks, sheathed in satin though they were. His world, already darkened from the thick fabric of Tory's skirt, was beginning to dim further as she thought and thought about what had happened and he needed oxygen more and more desperately.

Finally Jennifer had the presence of mind to help Tory to her knees and had Heather catch Biff as he slid out of her skirt. Cradling the jock carefully in her hands to check on his condition, Heather rested him once more upon the carpeted floor and all the girls crowded around to stare at the tiny, potentially broken little man.

Presently the air fell into Biff's lungs and he opened his eyes to find them all staring at him. Groggily he said, "Still dreaming, huh?" The girls laughed with tremendous relief and sat back down around him until Jennifer spoke up.

"No, seriously, guys," she said, ever the voice of reason, "what should we do with him?" All the teenage girls' heads turned in his direction. Biff wasn't sure whether this would be a sexual dream, a guilt dream, or something else entirely.

"What do you mean, 'do with me'?" Biff asked, suddenly alarmed. "I mean, I know I'm in a dream, I can control myself to some extent, I should be able to control any of you. What's that, lucid dreaming. That's what I'm doing." He spoke nervously and too loud, as if trying to convince himself of this before the situation ran out of control.

One of the girls, Trinidad, found this concept funny as she'd studied psychology to some superficial extent. She decided to play with him. "If that's true, Biff," she announced to the little man, who spun around to face her, "what would you like us to do first?" The other girls looked at her in surprise but she winked at them surreptitiously. Indeed, Biff was not looking at her face, but surveying the rest of her. She was a monolith of Doc Martens, lean tan legs, olive drab woolen skirt, tight gray sweater with firm breasts poking behind the stretchy fabric, and a blue kerchief knotted upon her long brown hair. There was a lot of her for Biff to admire—in actuality, Trinidad could've held a sign-language dialog with her friends, not to mention actually going so far as to write out her message to him while he ogled at her. Her legs were folded Indian-style and above her 12-hole boots her skirt formed a taut platform of wool, beneath which a cavern of teen thighs and fabric plumbed impenetrable darkness.

Biff took some time replacing his popped eyeballs back in his skull, and thought about all the things he could do with her. He said, "How about you let me climb up on those boots of yours, first?" He felt this would be a safe way to test the waters and find out just how much he could reasonably get away with.

She nodded, unfolded her legs, and stretched out one boot before him. Sole on the ground, knee poking up at a sharp arch, lightly muscled tan thigh disappearing into the soft wool skirt, her glowing hazel eyes regarded the audacious little man with amusement. She wouldn't let on to the rest of the group, but she secretly found the prospect of a tiny man (and he had a great body, this robust defensive lineman, she had to admit) completely at her disposal. Of course there was only so much she could do with him with her friends in the room, but she felt she could tease him and have a little fun for a while before anyone got suspicious. "Come on up and see me, Biff," she purred to him, tapping her smooth knee with one fingertip.

Heart pounding, Biff worked his way unsteadily across the carpet and knelt upon the toe of her boot. The cool black leather beneath him was broad and waxy smooth. Before him was a very accessible "ladder" of a dozen crisscrossing laces, but there would be a few feet (to him) of unnavigable terrain as he reached her shaven shin. He stood up on the arch of her footgear and gazed upward, a little unsure of himself.

Behind him, Jennifer whispered, "Go on, Biff." Andi also urged him on, curious to see where this would go. Heather merely observed as he bent over, wrapping his tiny little fingers around the first few laces, his little butt poking up in the air. She felt a hysterical moment in which she imagined taking the whisker off a broom, say, and poking at his tiny anus with it, just to watch him dance and shiver. She covered her smile as the other girls started to cheer Biff on.

With voices resounding all around him, fear gave way to an exultant enthusiasm. Never in all his short career of football games at the athletic field had he heard such a roar of encouragement, even in his greatest moments. Emboldened, he found it was nothing at all to grab a lace in each hand, plant his feet in very prominent footholds, and slowly scale the Doc Marten. The girls' voices rose as he reached mid-shin without breaking a sweat or getting winded.

Trinidad held quite still and a slight grin curled the corners of her pink lips as the tiny nude man crawled up her boot. This is how it should be, she thought to herself, a man completely at my mercy, crawling up my boot. What a classic symbol for domination! And he thinks he's in control, and it'd be nothing for me to knock him back down and put him in his place, beneath my boot... Her pupils dilated like a cat sighting its prey and she drew a sharp breath. How would you like that, little man? she thought to the tiny figure with the ridiculous grin accessing the top of her boot. How would you like to be reduced to a stain beneath my sole? All that muscle, all those workouts you've put yourself through, all for nothing. Everything ended in one quick little crunch.

She glanced at the girls around her, all of whom were rapt and cheering the tiny man scaling her boot like a lizard. All except for Tory, on her left, who seemed to be staring at something else, something beyond the tiny man... Looking down, she was startled by how erect her own nipples had gotten, poking through the bra and being especially accented by her sweater. Abruptly she felt Biff's tiny, hot palms plant on her shin right below her knee, and she yelped and swatted him off her leg. He slid down her laces and tumbled to the carpet just in front of her, sprawled between her boots.

All the girls looked up at her in surprise, cut off in mid-cheer. Andi asked, "What's up, Trinidad? He almost made it to the top!" The other girls yeah-yeah’ed along except for Tory, who smirked at the Latina knowingly.

Flustered, Trinidad tried to cover her tracks, as well as her budding nips through her sweater, folding her arms. "He displeased me," she announced. “He took way too long. That kind of performance would never be accepted on the football field, and there's no reason we should accept it here. Am I right, girls?" Though they didn't know what she was talking about, they cheered nonetheless and Trinidad felt she'd gotten off the hook. "As for you, little man," she loomed above the tiny man below her thigh, "your punishment shall be swift and severe. Take this!" So saying, began to enact the second part of her fantasy by lifting her foot off the ground and swinging it over him.

All Biff saw was the underside of her thigh tensing up before a huge shadow passed overhead, and he stared up into the pale brown sole of her boots. Alarmed, he threw up his hands to ward off the sole as it lowered upon him. The heel landed somewhere below his feet, but his feet were quickly pinned beneath it, as the rest of the sole followed. His hands met the soft rubber and though his arms strained with the effort he was unable to slow the boot's descent; indeed, Trinidad never even knew he was resisting.

The other girls looked on uncomfortably as Biff struggled for space beneath the black Doc Marten, and a couple noted Trinidad's eyes starting to glow with a fiery light they didn't quite understand. She licked her lips and lowered her sole some more...

Biff cried out, "Jennifer! Andi! Someone, pull me out of here! Don't let her crush me!" The girls squirmed uncomfortably but were unwilling to act on their instincts, in case Trinidad was making some kind of extended joke. The expression on her face didn't lead them to think she was kidding, however, so Jennifer spoke up: "Trinidad, that's enough, let him out."

Entranced, Trinidad responded, "No, the big tough jock must be punished for his failure to perform." She chuckled darkly. "Otherwise, how can he be corrected? What's his incentive to do his best if there are no repercussions for his failure?" She started to feel, even through her boot, the resistance of a tiny lump of meat. She paused for a moment, to dupe him with some sense of relief, then resumed the slow, gradual pressure.

Biff had coaches before about as cruel as this girl, but he'd never dealt with punishment or discipline as intense or endangering as this. "Come on, someone! This isn't funny!" he called out. "It's really starting to—ooff—hurt!" He craned his head but couldn't read anyone's faces: above him was only sole of boot, and below that was a selection of knees, clothing, and footwear.

Abruptly, an enormous brown palm burst into view and slammed into position just above Biff's head. Cursing herself for bothering at all, it was Tory who finally gripped the toe of Trinidad's boot and held it fast. "That's enough, Trinidad," she said quietly. She started to lift the boot up, but Trinidad was determined and pressed down harder, glaring at the punk chick beside her who dared to contradict her.

"He's got to be punished!" Trinidad said sharply. "I'm going to crush him into paste, that's what he deserves!" Later she would look back on her vehemence with a combination of fright and confusion, unable to guess what it was that caused her to behave so irrationally. Locked in the midst of these surging emotions, however, she grit her teeth and leaned forward against her thigh to apply greater pressure to her foot, and Tory had to strain to keep it up but still it came down upon Biff. He was beginning to experience real pain and cried out.

On Trinidad's other side, Heather finally shoved Trinidad's shoulder and heaved her backward, giving Tory time to lift the boot up and swoop the tiny man out of the way, back into the middle of the group. Trinidad fell back and glared furiously at the girl. Heather shrank slightly and mumbled an apology. But it was clear from the other girls' expressions of surprise and alarm that they weren't going to let Trinidad walk all over her, or the tiny little jock. When she sat back up she assessed the situation and apologized to Heather and the group hastily, adding that she didn't know what came over her.

That momentary delirium would become a theme among the group, anyone interacting with Biff directly. They wouldn't figure out why until much later, and even then it would only be their best guess. Would it come in time to preserve Bill's well-being? Would they realize before any of the girls embarrassed themselves too badly or committed a dreadful act too dire to recall or ever forget? Only time would tell.

"Keep me away from her," gasped Biff, staggering back across the plush carpet. "Keep her away!" He leered dramatically at the suddenly possessed teen, raising one arm defensively as he stumbled back to Jennifer, his chosen defender. Trinidad could only babble her confused apology while struggling to retain her dignity in the face of the affronted miniature man.

Andi parted her ringlets and watched the little man's progress across the carpet. She couldn't help but liken him to a large insect, struggling with inefficient legs to navigate the pile carpeting. How light could he be, that such a meaty little guy hardly disturbed the synthetic fibers? She watched the muscles rippling in his thighs and throughout his shoulders and back, suddenly itching to hold him in her hands, just for a second, just to learn more about what he was like now. She glanced guiltily at the other girls in the group, alarmed that they might have picked up on her thoughts.

Yet every girl seemed to be lost in her own world. Heather watched the tiny man's progress as well, a strange half-smile wafting about her puffy pink lips. She was deliberately ignoring anything Trinidad had to say, for the time being, and fortunately it was inarguable that the frail, nude man was sufficiently captivating to provide a plausible excuse for shutting out the abruptly cruel Psych student. As she stared, rapt, her long toes kneaded into the worn grooves of her Birkenstocks, a strange fact that Tory picked up on.

The punk chick rubbed her nose distractedly. Thoughts were churning through her own head: irritation at Jennifer once again assuming the leadership position, annoyance at the apparent compliance among everyone else in the group. And what the hell happened to Trinidad? Why was she so stimulated by this little pest? Between the aroused nipples and the blood-lust in her expression, Trinidad seemed like someone quite different than the person Tory experimentally dated last year. She drew her feet closer to herself, but when her rising knees and spread thighs turned her skirt into a chasm once more, she scowled and lay her knees to the side, flattening her legs and barring access to Megan's creepy older brother, small as he was.

"Not interested, buster," said Jennifer. Extending one long, slender leg, she walled off Biff's progress with a tan wedge almost as tall as he was. "You'll have to learn to fend for yourself, big guy."

Biff scrambled upon her foot quite ably. "But you saw what she tried to do to me! Did you chicks just bring me here to kill me?"

She tried to play nonchalant, but the idea of murdering Megan's brother concerned her. "Hey, we all gotta die sometime, right? So what if your time comes sooner rather than later, at the hands of a mob of your adoring fans?" Heather and Andi giggled at that. Trinidad cracked a weak smile. "It's just that we love you so much, right? Isn't that what you were saying? What if we just tore you apart in our uncontrollable lust for perfect-little-you?"

Biff stared up the impossible length of Jennifer's jean-clad leg. He could run up it, easy. And beyond that was her body, her slender torso in a low scoop-neck sweatshirt and her thin little military-style jacket. She looked good, she always looked good, out of all of his sister's friends. And the way she draped her hair over him this evening, how huge her eyes got when she lunged at him… He stared up at her with a goofy grin.

"Naw, I see right through you, Jenny." Even to himself, yelling at the tops of his lungs, his voice was tinny and small. It had the entire cavernous living room of wherever-they-were to echo in, of course. "You've got a good heart. You won't let anything happen to me." He folded his arms and nodded slowly, standing upon the leather panel of her wedge, on the bridge of her slender foot.

Jennifer blushed at his brazenness. Was there any truth to that? Sure, she saved him from Trinidad's crushing Docs, but she'd do that for anyone, likely. Not that anyone was as small as Biff right now. Would she do it for a mouse? Her embarrassment melted to amusement. He was larger than a mouse: he was like a healthy rat. She snickered, and he laughed in response, clearly misunderstanding her.

"Hey girls," she said, thrusting her arms at him. "What does this remind you of?" She pinched his upper arms and lifted him off of her foot, dangling him in the air like a wet washcloth. Her friends' eyes widened as she held him aloft, and she presented the tiny, naked senior to each of them in turn.

Andi blushed terribly and hid her face, peeking at him between her fingers. "I can't look, I'm sorry! Don't show him to me!" Jennifer informed her she was no fun and turned to the hippie chick.

Heather never lost her dreamy-eyed expression, only tucked a thick wave of hair behind her ear and grinned. "Aw, look at that," she breathed. "He's got a nice little butt, doesn't he? I like that. Hold him steady, Jennifer." She glanced at her friend, then planted her hands on the carpet and leaned forward. All eyes were upon her as she crept on all fours to the helpless little figure dangling between Jennifer's fingers. She'd seized him facing her, so his back was exposed to Heather, and Biff couldn't crank his head around sufficiently to understand where the hot, moist breeze was blowing from.

Heather's jaw opened wide, her lips peeled back and exposed two rows of gleaming white teeth, unusually long. An unusually broad and long tongue rolled out of her jaws like a carpet, the end of which curled daintily to flicker at the tiny man's feet.

Andi stared on in something like horror. Jennifer was entranced, a half-smile wobbling on her face as she simultaneously witnessed and participated in the spectacle. Trinidad was absolutely motionless where she sat, the air around her crackled with suspense. Her almond-shaped eyes were huge and bright, fixed upon the hippie's abnormally long tongue as it slithered around the thin calves, the bulging calves of a specifically trained athlete. Tory, once again, studied every last micro-expression in her ex's face, only occasionally peering at the tiny man, who was hollering in surprise and shock, and yet not kicking at the invading tongue. No, Biff hung there between Jennifer's thumbs and forefingers, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but he did not struggle one iota. He only gaped up at Jennifer as though voicelessly begging her for an explanation for what was happening. And though the beautiful blonde preppy chick was there in the middle of it, she had nothing to say. She saw him, yet somehow it was as though she were looking past him; she saw his bulging pecs, his round little biceps and calves, his meaty thighs, but on no level did she recognize the person that had a name, had plans for the weekend, who meant something to his family.

All there was, was a tiny little man, naked as the day he was born, and a thick, glistening, rosy tongue slithering around his legs and up the backs of his thighs as though he were coated in sugar. That was it, and that was all.

It was daring of Heather, she felt, to run the tip of her tongue straight up between his pert little butt cheeks. She couldn't fit it in there meaningfully, of course, but she nudged at his little crack until he swayed in her friend's grasp like a miniature swingset. At last she rocked back to her hips, hugging her knees to her poet's blouse, closed her eyes and let her head loll backward, guffawing as if in slow motion.

When she looked up again, everyone was gawking at her. Languidly she blinked back at them. "Miladies, I am high as fuck. Why aren't you guys drinking?"

Andi blushed, again. "We're not allowed to! Are you guys..?" Her dark button eyes flickered over her friends doubtfully.

Jennifer shrugged, setting a dazed and very obviously aroused Biff to swinging between her hands. Tory glanced at Jennifer, then at Trinidad, the latter of whom bore a witchy smile and waggled a wide steel flask for display. All their reflections were multihued streaks in its concave form-fitting shape. "It's my mom's boyfriend's," she explained. "Rum, probably. He's a musician, he leaves this shit all around her house. He's got, like, three of them: he won't miss one for a night."

The corner of Tory's full, purple lips curved upward and she reached for the flask. Trinidad's smile widened and she helped herself quickly before handing it off. Tory had to help Jennifer with her swig, too, since she wouldn't let go of the beefy little arms, tipping the threaded neck between her slim lips.

"How is it?" Andi asked meekly. Jennifer grimaced but swallowed, while Heather only sniffed at the flask: she never mixed substances. That was her idea of being responsible.

Tory shrugged. "Well, I like it. I guess it's an acquired taste. Why don't you try some?" She deliberately passed it just over Biff's head, taunting him with the elixir intended only for goddesses. Didn't stop him from craning his head back and rolling his tongue around his gaping mouth, though, as crude a prayer for satisfaction as they'd ever seen.

The plump Asian girl reached for the flask, hesitated, then withdrew her hand. "I can't," she whined. "It's a school night."

Heather reached out one slim arm to work her bony knuckles into the shoulder of Andi's oversized Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. "Rela-a-a-a-ax," she sang. "Tomorrow's Friday. Who cares what happens on Fridays, right? It's a fuck-off day." She nodded reassuringly at her intimidated friend. "And we're all friends here, right? Of course we are! Just have a lil' snoot and loosen up. You're way too tense." Heather glanced at Trinidad, whose blue kerchief, knotted pirate-style, nodded enthusiastically; she swung her head to Tory, offering her a loopy grin. The punk chick only shrugged and pursed her lips at Andi, which certainly didn't help things.

"Hey," keened a thready little voice, "hey! HEY! A little help here?" Biff nodded suggestively at the flask Tory yet held over his entire person, the drink Andi turned away. "If she doesn't want it, I'll have hers!"

Andi's fine brows arched. "I guess that's okay…"

A slender, tanned hand swatted the silver flask back toward Tory. "Nuh-uh," announced Trinidad. "This is nectar for the goddesses alone. If the puny mortal wishes to partake…" She faltered, glancing at Tory and Jennifer.

The alpha-blonde picked it up. "If the wretched little excuse for a human being desireseth some, um, goddess-juice," she nodded at Trinidad, who winced, "then there are many trials of labor and courage he must undertake for such a reward." She lifted Biff much higher from the ground, over all their heads. Some of the girls stared at his butt, others had a view of the razor-thin erection that sprouted out of his hips like an unruly hair.

But Biff didn't care. The challenge was stated, and he never, ever backed down from a dare. "Sounds good to me!" he shouted, having no whiff of classical prose. "I'll do whatever you want me to! After all, this is my dream! Nothing's gonna happen to me!"

Jennifer giggled, staring up at his wide smile. The pathetic little teen still didn't know what was going on. Well, that just meant more fun for them, didn't it? "You heard him, ladies," she crowed to the group. "Our little Discount Hercules has announced he's up for any challenge we can throw at him! So… who's got a challenge?"

Trinidad started to raise her hand, but all the girls shouted her down; she pouted but acquiesced. They glanced at each other (except Andi, who stared at her chunky shoes on the plush champagne carpet), shrugging uncomfortably, biting their lips. This couldn't be the end of the evening, could it? Ending so ignominiously, at the dead-end of zero ideas?

In a flash of salmon sweatshirt, Andi's pudgy hand seized the steel flask before Tory could react. And before anyone could stop her, she upended the vessel into her small mouth and let the potion burn its way down into her stomach. "First task," she croaked, when the coughing subsided. "Biff has to fuck me up the ass."

Everyone in the room, including the diminutive beefy teen suspended between them all, forgot to breathe for a few seconds.