Matsudo Nako's body reflects off some plastic vials, along with the computer she's seated at. Translucent bubbles rise within one such container, emphasizing the curve of the club president's backside. That doesn't do much to help the fact that her back's turned to you, as she fiddles with a computer.

"You comin', Sodachi?" Her tone's low and distant, even though the room's not very large. Metallic dings cross the uniform grey walls, as she taps her hand across a ray gun. You shiver at the sharp noise. Kotoko is deep in his book - The Other Sex - and doesn't bother looking at you, giving naught but a little wave. Like he's in his own little world. If only you could be as carefree...

She keeps tapping the weapon. "I said I need your body for somethin'."

You put your hand on a test tube. "I-in a minute, Senpai!"

The president sniffs, playing with her glasses. "Damn coward. Make it quick, whatever you're doing."

Taking the beaker out, you look at its mouth. There's a small print of moisture from Matsudo's lips. Matsudo's cute, pearly lips, which rise in a perfect smile whenever she has a bright idea, perfectly complementing her cute button nose. The heavenly pillows whose soft touch always been right out of your grasp... Is that because you've been a "coward", as she said?

If you're going to act as guinea pig today (or if you're going to finally stand up to her) you'll need a bit of courage. Possibly liquid courage. Your blue eyes dart left and right. Nobody's watching. Your head's burning. Quickly, you nip a taste of Senpai's lip prints. It tastes of bitter coffee and breath mints. Your eyes shut as you imagine you're stealing a kiss from the stunning, studious president herself. In your dream, her eyes are trembling behind those cute, round Coke-bottle glasses, entirely engulfed in your bold embrace.

Throwing yourself deep into the fantasy, your quivering hands send liquid from the vial down your throat.

Ulp.

Your heart skips.

You stumble, trying to put the vial back as if nothing happened. It clangs with other similar mixtures. Fwoosh. Translucent juice dribbles down over your clothes, soaking them. You groan, trying to wring traces of your rebellious sips out from your tie.

"Hoi, Soda-boy! Wazzat you?" Senpai's seat makes a terrifying squeak as it scoots backwards.

That head rush quickly gives way to a sinking sensation of shame. She'll see you. What if that was an important, experimental potion? How can the president trust you after this? Part of you wishes you could hide from her, diminish out of view...

The lightness in your head soon becomes dizziness. The approach of President Matsudo's loafers echoes in your ears - thump.

You're ready to throw up. As you blink, glimpses of bookshelves and chairs float in and out of view.

Thump.

The Senpai cometh. You try to move, but your limbs feel too light; they stumble all over the checkered floor tiles, sending you falling. You find yourself curled up in a pathetic ball on the floor.

Thud.

That last step rings in your ear. Why hasn't she said anything yet? Normally, if a club member messed up one of her experiments, she'd be scolding them by now. From down here, with your head to the floor, the table legs seem to stretch high into the sky, a veritable climb upwards.

BOOM.

An earthquake? No; that's just vibrations from her harsh stomps. She only ever stomps like this when you're in deep trouble... But her expression looks as neutral and uncaring as usual, without a hint of anger. You see traces of confusion, deep in her faraway, chocolate-brown eyes. And Kotoko hasn't turned his head at all - even if these footsteps are so harsh, you can hear a groan of pain from the floorboards around. As Matsudo lifts her leg again, minuscule dust clumps lift from the floor, and hear the noise of her leg cutting through the air. And a flash of white...

THWOOOM~

When the shaking subsides, you can clearly glimpse your club president's pure panties above you. You feel blood rushing to your head as the soft fabrics fill your eyes. So shameless - it's as if she doesn't consider you a man. In fact, has she ever ever acted as if you were a human, and not merely some lab rat? Her long, scrawny thighs rise anew, and you realize:

Senpai isn't looking down.

Senpai hasn't noticed you at all.

It isn't the floor-bound vantage point making the table legs (and Matsudo's legs) appear titanic... They really are humongous compared to you.

You've been shrunken by the vial's liquid.

THWWOOOOOMP~

https://imgur.com/a/QMceuKC

"Waaargh!" Your involuntary shout lands on deaf ears, lost like a wind in the breeze, as the great quakes and winds from your Senpai's simple footstep end.

And beside you, the brown, spotless loafer drags itself across the ground. The sheer scale of the shoe is breathtaking - not to mention that a behemoth shoe can twist with such grace. Scanning the room with a few loose steps, Matsudo thoughtlessly kicks landslides of loose dirt over your minuscule grey uniform. Even the imperceptible motes of filth are making you choke. You swear, if you ever get back to normal, to do a better job of cleaning. But when you think about it, this is probably the detritus and loose hairs that fell from Senpai when she was working late shifts in this lab. So it's not all bad...

"Yo, Kotoko - wasn't that Sodachi around here?" The scientist's bitter, commanding voice reverberates across the room,

"Huh?" Seems he wasn't there to witness your downsizing. "Uh, I think so?" You can barely spot him amid the great desks; just the bottom of his regulation female dress.

The regulation dress...

You look back up. Matsudo's pure black skirt flutters slightly over her legs. What were once thin and bony are now rivals to skyscrapers! But comparatively, they're far softer, glistening slightly from the faraway ceiling lights. Said lights make a glow surround her distant, dark hair clumps, almost resembling a faraway mountain's alpenglow; or a halo on a painting of a Christian saint. Maybe welcoming you to the pearly gates...

She sighs. "He probably chickened out and left home."

You shout from below in protest: "S-senpai! You know I'd never leave you, even if you treat me worse than garbage!" But she still doesn't take notice.

Kotoko's soles kick in the distance. "Maybe he drank an invisibility potion?"

"Hmmh... Did I make any invisibility potions here?" She taps her fingers amid the vials. As she leans in, the creasing ravines of pure white panty fabric cross her backside - clearly tracing the shape of her cute cheeks. It's literally all you can see when you look into the sky. It seems she hasn't noticed (or cared) about the massive wedgie across her. In fact, if you lean in the right way, there's the faintest outline of a bulging camel toe... Like distant, untouched paradise, a heaven of white fluff and pale flesh 85 meters from the ground.

The short (at normal height) pigtails fly as she shakes her head. "Heck. It's been too long since I used those beakers. Last time I used 'em, I was pulling an all-nighter with loads of caffeine. I can't remember what I dumped in there..." She sniffs it. "Maybe nitro glycerin? Well, if we hear an explosion outside the room, we'll know it's Sodachi."

"Hm-hm." Kotoko doesn't seem to really be listening anymore; he casually accepts the fact that you might explode. And Matsudo, too, begins stepping over mountainous chairs to reach her computer desk.

How can either of the club members regard you with such little care? As if it isn't humbling enough, being at the feet of a 150-meter titaness. Any normal man would scream at such an insult.

But you are no ordinary man. As you regard the shifting plains of your Senpai's panties, a revelation dawns on you. This is an angle of her backside that she'd never willingly show you, or anybody. You have a rare chance to peek at her from any corner, sigh unseen. You can hear everything they said about you. Maybe - you dare think - approach her, touch her, and hold her, the way you'd always longed to. She won't be able to feel it, as tiny as your hands are, and as supple as the ravines of her flesh are.

The taboo sensation rushes over you. Sure, it might be a bit sketchy; but nobody would dare call you a coward after this. And anyway - isn't it the sworn duty of the Science Club to explore new boundaries? To view the world in a way nobody else would? To boldly come where no man has come before?

But then again, at your minuscule scale, the smallest twitch from her body can absolutely pulverize you. By the glazed, frustrated expression in her chocolate irises, it doesn't seem like she'll take much of an effort to watch where she steps - or sits. And as much as you admire her assets, you aren't up for idea of becoming fine red paste beneath them.

"Hmph, science waits for no man." Matsudo tapped her loafers beside you as she went back to her studies.

You considered your options going forward. To get Senpai to notice you - or not?

And to think, all this, for just a covert smack of her lips...

The mighty seats that dotted the school lab's grey landscape would make it easier for your super-scale Senpai to spot you. And if President Matsudo saw you in this diminutive state, you're sure she'd want you to stretch your legs and experiment with your new body... Or scold you for messing with her scientific concoctions. Or mistake you for a bug, and snuff you mercilessly beneath her towering loafers. All the more reason to stay off the ground, where every step from a normal human could mean death.

As another shrunken explorer once said: "Gentlemen... to adventure!"

You scale the side of the chair, putting one hand before another. It's easier than you'd thought; despite not being among the best climbers of your gym class, you progress up the metal pole at a comfortable pace. Did that elixir grant you superior climbing skills?

You know, of course, that when you get to the top, the unreachable canopy of her otherworldly panties will lie a little less out-of-grasp. A sense of sickness rises in your stomach - like you were breaking your president's trust, glimpsing something forbidden. But when you gaze at her moving in the distance; the gargantuan frame of her thin limbs sloping out with each stroke of the keyboard; the mass of wrinkles spreading across her blazer and skirt to accommodate their careful motions; you're just prompted to climb faster.

"Tch..." Matsudo's tongue clicks in frustration, amid keypresses filling the dull air. "Nothin' adds up. I type in 'February 6', so why does it come onscreen as 'June 2'? We'll never time travel to Princess Calamity's era at this rate."

The words echo across your spine, making you scoot down. Seems El Presidente's moved right into another experiment. She paces around, the continual "thunk" of her shoes pushing you down further. To think; any one of those were strong and heavy enough to flatten you, along with scores of other ants. If she were really this tall compared to you - in the range of 560 feet - she'd have no trouble crushing whole streets with every step. Eventually, you match the rhythm of her city-crossing steps, using the vibrations to bounce up.

Kotoko idly shifts forward. "Uh, if I'm the only other club member here, will I be a test subject? For your shrinking ray gun, I mean..." Even his brief, thoughtless scoot sends you off-balance, gripping the chair leg for support. It's a long drop down to the floor tiles.

So that's what the device would do... You sniffle. Are the fates conspiring to downsize you, no matter what you do? As if you weren't short enough to begin with...

The president turns his way - the creases in her skirt drifting waves in a vast ocean of navy blue. Between her right thumb and index dangles the invention in question. "Thanks, but I'd hafta reconfigure this baby for that. It's attuned to only work with Sodachi's DNA."

You regain your balance with a hard grasp. Burning fills your cheeks. Did Senpai - did she make the device JUST for you? Your arms feel lighter.

"Huh?" Kotoko's feminine features light up in confusion. "Why him, specifically?"

You brace yourself for it. The words President Matsudo never dared speak before you. Maybe, "Because I think my Kouhai's cute!", or "Because my Kouhai belongs with me forever!", or even "Because I want to tease my Kouhai when he can't fight back!"

She pulls her glasses up, and taps her brain. "Sodachi lives alone. If something goes wrong, and he disappears... Nobody will look for him."

A gasp catches in your throat. Your eyes feel sore. Even your fellow student is speechless. Senpai... That stings.

Finally, you make it to the top of the chair. Two shallow, symmetrical craters greet you. It's an otherwise-imperceptible imprint of Matsudo's glorious ass, carved by many tireless hours of her studies and tests. When you catch your breath, the air has a faint trace of the nerd's familiar musk. Considering the president's legendary neglect of hygiene, and her tendency to eat meals at these desks, it makes sense that she'd leave a smell behind; though it isn't overpowering or unpleasant. Just a little remnant of your Senpai's labors.

The view below is stupefying. Did you really scale all that mass of metal? It's like looking down from the Statue of Liberty! A sense of accomplishment rushes over you, along with vertigo. You pat yourself on the back. If only Matsudo could see you now, hair fluttering dramatically in the wind.

...Wait, wind in the clubroom?

No; it's your Senpai's gigantic legs, passively generating a breeze as they pace around. At your scale, her thighs look sturdier and thicker than your apartment building. The way they flutter ahead, traveling yards in each side, flesh slightly rubbing against itself - it's breathtaking, watching great structures fall and rise again and again. You blush, turning your head away quickly from the lewd monoliths. But still, the omnipresent sounds of her footsteps and breaths incite your imagination. If she were really this big, it's easy to picture her carelessly trampling buildings... Or walking right through them, her slender legs destroying everything against their flesh. And she'd probably make a big show of plowing through your building, flashing a smug smile the entire time...

*SNAP*

The noise jolts you to back to reality.

Matsudo's nasal voice, closer and more booking than ever, rings through your bones: "Ah! Of course! If I change the locale setting variables... Heh, I'll get the machine up'n runnin' in no time!"

With a crack of her knuckles, she takes a seat to type it in.

*Your* seat.

https://imgur.com/a/v8xAkP0

Your mind feels both frozen and fast-running at the same time. Her killer ass hangs above, a guillotine ready to smash you to a pulp with its entrancing wrinkles. The sudden twist of her rear end creates another draft - one so strong, it knocks you to your spine. Your vision seems to white out; but you quickly realize, it's the pale surface of her panty fabrics engulfing your view from above! The monumental cheeks peek out slightly from the undergarments, descending with a whistle. And you're standing right in the imprint they made, falling over yourself as you try to get to your legs.

In the chaos, you notice: Senpai's underpants have traveled fairly high up her hips. She has a wedgie large enough to engulf your whole body; and that camel toe from earlier is downright puffy, barely hiding any details of her mighty vulva's shape. Body heat washes over you as she gets closer, ready to land upon the chair and start working. The air feels thicker by her mere presence. You're hopelessly caught in the shadow of the oncoming pelvis. Your shouts, bidding her not to sit, drown into the web of white folds. As the lights shift around to accommodate her frame, the curves become even more terrifying.

With a "HIIII~!", you dash for safety towards...

Your shoes pound on the rough chair's surface, dashing to the front. With any luck, you'd be able to slide between her oncoming thighs. The edge of the shadow nears... But the Matsudo meteor approaches faster. With escape in sight, and heat rising to your skull, you dive forward, arms spread out, hoping the gods of gravity will be kind to you on your descent.

Thud.

And you undershoot spectacularly. You're left lying stomach-first on the chair, with no way to dodge the mass crashing on you.

SLAMMMmmmmmm~

It all happens in a shallow, warm breath.

https://imgur.com/a/q7n57Cd

Senpai's overpowering weight shifts onto you, squeezing your torso against her computer chair. Thick flesh and clothes compress your lungs, making it hard to even gasp, let alone shout. The crash rings in your ears, and your fingers twitch from the continuous vibration.

Somehow, you're still alive, after the shaking dies down. On the plus side: thanks to your dive, you weren't crushed beneath that ass. However: the bulging outline of her pussy lips - which looked so inviting from afar - is now pinning you flat!

Why did your first touch of her intimate regions have to be like this...?

But then again, it's really soft. You blush, stammering for a moment, as you try to pull yourself together. Not the time to think about Senpai - lovely, smart Senpai - with a mountain of vagina pressing all over you, this could be a matter of life and death.

A booming, womanly sigh rings out onto your body. "Now, just copy-paste this variable here..."

President Matsudo types away at the terminal. Despite her usual cool demeanor, she's obviously excited by her recent breakthrough: heavy breaths above press and unpress you in a staccato rhythm. She shifts slightly in her seat; not enough for a normal human to take notice, but it fully engulfs your arms beneath the slit. Were it not for the cotton barricade, you'd be entirely consumed by the crotch, like an insect in a sticky Venus Fly Trap. In fact - when you push the panties, your fingers are fine enough to pierce through its worn threads.

With the deepest breath your compressed respiratory system can hold (inhaling a hefty whiff of warm, sickly-sweet air), you push up against the gigantic crotch's crushing weight. Minuscule fibers tickle your palms. The slight moisture from Matsudo's perspiration - built up on her clothes over at least one school day, probably more - makes it hard for your hands to stay put - both from the friction, and how the slimy texture makes your joints buckle. And when you actually can get a firm grasp, it's no use; your hands just sink right in, pushing into her womanhood without it budging. Your theory that the potion increased your strength... may need some revision.

A satisfied hum rings atop you. "There! Hey, I could refactor this into an interface, or maybe an abstract class." And with that spark of brilliance, your Senpai leans in closer to the screen, shifting the gravitational forces.

The folds of her camel toe roll lazily upon you, squeezing you firmly into their plushness. A relative 52 thousand tons of pressure weigh down on you. Despite the president's scrawny physique, you can barely move in this state. You have to twist your back uncomfortably to glimpse at the behemoth pussy resting upon you. Still, the subconscious motions - the way her fingers fly over the keyboard, the small snorts from her nose, even a few rumbles from her stomach - traverse through her frame to you, reminding you of your place. Pinned beneath your love's warm vagina.

Maybe it's not so bad...

No, what are you saying? The intense body heat is starting to mess with your head. And the odors around; the heavy air is so sweet, so enticing...

You can barely scream. Matsudo's mere presence is causing you to suffer from oxygen deprivation; not just from the odor floating from her sex, but from the crushing force on your lungs. Memories of her float by on the wind; the first time you borrowed her mechanical pencil, your first firecracker-based experiment with her, the time she helped you cheat on that test...

It's getting worse. The pain on your ribs is hard to bear. Her subconscious twitches and breaths only grind you harder, as if they're determined to slowly break your spirit into shreds.

You focus on the distant sound of keyboard taps. The tiny traces of her voice. They'll keep you sane, through this pain.

With the each of the clock's ticks the moisture's growing around her legs. Normally, you'd be disgusted. But in this case, it's Senpai's bodily juices, so it's not the worst thing in the world. Maybe, if you tried wiggling now, you'd be able to flee her vaginal muscles' grasp.

But if you squirmed too much, she might look down. And what would the President do when she discovers her subordinate not only drank her experimental potion without permission; but tried to brush up all cozy against her precious petals? Or she may have worse experiments for you yet. And anyway, how long could she stay seated at that computer? She'd need to move sometime.

Biting your lip, you decide to...

Weighing your options, you decide to allow Senpai's groin to have its way with you. Your energy's draining from the roasting atmosphere on the seat. And anyway, you can't budge an inch under the sheer weight; tens of thousands of tons of pussy slouching over you from every corner. You'll just have to lie on your stomach, think happy thoughts, and bear it.

You pause. Is "bear it" is the right word? After all, this is the closest you've ever been to Matsudo's naughty bits. It's not like you have to move much, as you soak in the touch of her tender organ. Sensing her panty's fibers covering your tangled hair, a thin trace of moisture atop them, brings a covert smile to your lips.

Making yourself as comfortable as you can, you stretch out, letting the droning hum of machine terminals, keyboard taps, and your beloved Senpai's breath to take your ears. You'll probably have a mere few minutes of quality time with her panties. Better enjoy these little moments with her, no matter how they come to you - even if they crash on top of you all at once.

***

Those little moments...

"Hey... Sodachi, right?" Matsudo stands there, arms crossed. Her eyes are a deep brown, and her pigtails flap in the wind. She pulls you close with a bold tug of your necktie.

Your face goes red. Has she found out? You've always been sneaking glances at her out of the corner of your eye. Ever an absent-minded professor, she often seems to act like she's the only one in the room. When she leans to reach a dropped eraser, or rests her legs on the desk, it's easy to grab a glimpse of her underwear. But it's not only that. It's the way she chews at her pencil; how her body scoots around when working on a tough problem; and the way she rests her chin on her hand when listening to someone... Her mind's always working in a different direction. It enthralls you. But now, those happy peeks might end - she's staring you down, seemingly knowingly.

"Wh-what? Senpai..." You bow again and again. The thought of getting this close to her is heart-pounding, terrifying - she can see right through you. But the thought of losing her is worse.

Matsudo just looks through her nose, her eyes thin and knowing. She has a sign-up sheet in her hand. Her lips slip apart as words flutter out from them...

***

"Nhm, another bug..." Matsudo's typing stops. "You're really pissing me off - get squashed, bug."

An insignifigant shift in her hips jolts you up, along with her voice. The white landscape shifts forward, the force of a steamroller plowing you beneath sweaty cloth. Something must've made you zone out for a second. The colour rushing from your cheeks, your mind encountering a blue screen of death. You try to cry out, but the words choke up in your compressed throat, dying into a pathetic whisper.

She's not looking down - simply staring indifferently at the screen. The keystrokes above become louder. A tiny sigh slithers through your mouth, and you feel ready to fall apart. That was a software bug the intellectual giantess was grinding beneath her proverbial heel.

It's getting harder to keep your eyes open - not that you need to, when you can feel every tiny flex from the sinews and muscles pressing from above. The passive twitches rock your world.

For instance: on every exhale she releases, the president compresses your chest and lungs against the seat, trash in a compactor. Trying your best to keep hold of your limited oxygen, you time your shallow breaths around her. They synchronize with the hurricanes flowing in and out of your president's nose. Each time you gulp the air back in, Senpai's warmth blasts into your nostrils and mouth, dousing you in her feminine pheromones. The heat and odor were overbearing when Matsudo Mountain first descended; now, they make your nose hairs tingle and burn.

A clock ticks somewhere in the room, a reminder of time's passage. When you try to twist your neck in its direction, your joints scream like sirens. The unrelenting pressure from above shows no signs of dying out; you're caught between a rock and a soft, silky place.

***

Your whole body's floating. Everything feels soft and tingly. The clock's frozen in place. As you gaze deep into Matsudo's round, nerdy glasses, you can see everything. Her quiet, analytical eyes. Your own timid face, awfully short in her presence. The lab's desks and monitors, and the meadows outside, distorted to look larger, more vibrant, and more inviting. She takes you in her arms. The vial drops carelessly to the tiled floor, shattering into hundreds of reflective shards. You can't breathe. Sweat rushes across your hair. Your palms clam up. Your pulse races. A beautiful, intelligent scientist, and her loyal Kouhai, sharing an intimate moment.

She breaks the silence: "Oh, shoot. My potion caused an allergic reaction." Casually, the young scientist pulls a large syringe from her blazer's pocket. "Hold still, you'll probably live..."

Hold still... In her awe-inspiring presence, that's the only thing you can do. That's the only thing the clocks can do.

Hold still.

***

In an effortless motion, Matsudo scratches her gut. More warmth assaults you as her uniform white shirt lifts back, revealing a once-scrawny, now immense stomach. The slender fingers lay right above you, their shadows twisting around and curling over her soft, receding stomach flesh. Her rolling skin molds you beneath it. Even this unsanitary, subconscious move becomes a delicate, rehearsed dance from your perspective. You reach up, fingers outstretched, frail and tiny against a single one of Senpai's slender digits. You can still get her attention... Or a last, delicate touch of her hand...?

You're not sure what you want anymore. The monolithic hand rises out of your vision, into the realm beyond the desktop.

The air is heavy. Scent of raw fish brings sensations of lightness to your head. Your throat is dry, and your gut aches from the pussy's throbbing pressure. It's like the lewd lips are trying to slowly consume you whole, trap you within them, breath by breath. Her body heat has only grown with time, capturing you in a squishy sauna of sweat and cloth.

To see the president in a sauna, revealing her slender form in a skimpy swimsuit, heat fogging up her glasses...

Water. That's what you need. You're thirsty from the blistering heat; this dizziness making everything spread out larger is the result of dehydration. A brief sip of something...

The perspiration's built up around Matsudo's panties. Imperceptible at normal size, pebble-sized beads start at the fabric's frayed hem, like morning dew on grass. Across the smooth Mound of Venus, the liquid grows from droplets, to puddles, to a swampland. The juices are most intense right at the gates of her vagina - a greyish stain soaked in a clear outline of her monstrous vulva. It's so wet, you can feel it traversing your cheek. Thirst dries your lips.

...No! Absolutely not! Though you can barely move, you shake your head intensely at the idea. Your dignity hasn't descended that low.

Still, your lips are so parched. The waters cascade around your tiny frame with her idle motions. Every drop echoes in your ears. The humidity in the air caresses your tongue. It tastes of Senpai. If it's Senpai, is it that bad?

Shutting your eyes, and swallowing, you stick your tongue out - and lap a loose do from the surface. The salty taste of Matsudo's sweat trickles down your throat. Your body melts in relief - and in a flash of sobriety, shame takes its place. You want to bury yourself in a hole and cry. In a sense, underneath the crotch's unworldly weight, you're already buried hopelessly deep.

***

And you can see yourself, blonde hair, bright eyes, wandering into the room. You approach the vial and spot the lip mark. You try to shoot out to yourself to stop; but the other Sodachi takes a sip. And... nothing. Everything stays normal. You approach Matsudo, and profess your love. She takes you in her hands, and you sink deep into her being - a single speck in a pure field, a drop into a pond.

Are these memories? Premonitions? Fantasies, as your brain breaks apart, oxygen failing? Are you seeking some greater meaning behind a senseless and pathetic death - unnoticed beneath your crush's sex?

It stretches on forever - the length of her legs below, dangling by the edge of the chair...

Is Kotoko still there? You hadn't heard him walk out - or really heard anything over Senpai's diligent bodily functions. It's not just hard to see him, amid the musty air; it's hard to picture anything existing beyond the realm of Senpai's pussy. Time, too, has lost meaning. You may have been here for hours, or minutes. It blends together in an intoxicating, dank microcosm.

Your pressure-numbed joints reach up one last time aching from the Goliath above them...

.......

Distant clicks and hums bless your ears. You're suffocating because of this. It's your fault - the choice to wait here, the choice to climb up, the choice to drink the potion, the choice to join this club...

.....

No regrets touch your body in your last moments. You're with Senpai.

....

Senpai is around you, smothering you.

...

You'll never leave her.

...

You're a crumb lost in her valleys and peaks.

...

...

You're glad you met her.

...

Sodachi Taiyou...
Unable to escape the smothering of Matsudo's pussy...
Found himself slowly extinguished underneath it.
Heat, thirst, pressure, and air deprivation left him lifeless...
but without a scratch or bruise on his smiling face.


Click.

Matsudo stretched, chuckling softly. "Finally. Thought I'd never get solve that bug."

The harsh pressure from her groin weighs too much - your shrunken joints are already screaming in a chorus of agony. Too much longer, and you'll pop into a little trace, lost underneath the mass of love. It doesn't matter if senpai notices you or not; this is a life-and-death situation!

You struggle with all your might, as little as you have in your state. The sheer weight Matsudo's warm pussy exerts on you makes it hard to breathe. Curling an aching leg up, you kick weakly. Your foot sinks into the fabric, deep inside the fabric's endlessly-repeating folds - irregularities in the lips they veil. Perspiration builds up around your ankle, stuck in the pure surface.

"Ngh..." That's Senpai's voice. Even if it doesn't free you, you could gain her attention by struggling.

You hold your breath, and kick again. Your right shoe falls off, tugged underneath the president. Pressure still crushes your limbs. You try moving your arms forward, but it's like swimming through warm molasses. No; molasses doesn't have the breathing cycle, rocking up and down over you, and squeezing you into the seat's unforgiving imprint.

Are you really going to die here - beneath Senpai's womanhood? You never even got a chance to hold her hand, or have her flirt with you, or bear her children... Will your life end pathetically, a stain on her otherwise-spotless panties?

With a valiant "HIIIII~!", you spring forward, pushing your limbs back at once, muscling your way through the crushing agony. Thoughts of Senpai pulse through your head. You gasp continuous breaths, ignoring the musky, raw taste lingering in the air around her grin.

A push.

The off-white microcosm starts to twitch, terraforming in the sky.

Another, harder push.

You can feel pressure releasing from your torso, the cotton mass drifting aside. It's working!

One more, with everything you've got---

Sssslip.

The hefty feeling lingers, then lifts off your body. A cool sensation drifts across your back. When you breathe the thin air, your lungs can take it all in. And though your feet, your spine, and your everything still aches... with wobbly legs, you can stand, looking o over the edge of the chair.

You did it! When everything seemed lost to the dark cave, you overcame the odds, and escaped from Matsudo's panty prison!

You turn to the panties, taking a step away for safety. "Pheew..." They're absolutely massive from this angle. Like a soft, flexible tower, teaching to the skies above. The imprint of her vagina is thick enough to carry a shadow over you; pearly gates large enough to eat a man whole. To think - you're the only boy in this school who's actually touched Matsudo from below... And you lived to tell the tale!

"Nph..."

Suddenly, tremors ring out - harsher and wilder than any earthquake you've ever bore witness to. It knocks you to your backside, and rocks the chair rapidly.

A low, ominous groan rises from Matsudo's mouth: "It itches..."

It seems like your squirming irritated the gigantic President Matsudo.

With that, you gaze up to see the skirt's segments folding onto themselves, one by one. To your left, the pale expanse of her leg lifts slightly from the seat, drops of sticky sweat falling from it. It drags across the seat's surface, daring right towards the source of the itch - you.

With a gulp, you turn the other way, and run back. That's when you see; her other thigh is rushing towards you just as fast. The panties fold inwards as both pillars rush together.

You run forward, towards the seat's edge - but your legs can't keep up with Matsudo's. Each smooth, shapely limb is 85 meters long - almost the size of a blue whale. It'd only takes her a single step to traverse a city block. There's no chance you can traverse that stretch in such a short time.

THUD.

The gap between her thighs disappears - they collide together, flesh against flesh. Darkness engulfs your entire form. Your arms sink into the silky surface on either side, hopelessly pushed in. The force grinds into you, tearing away all traces of the outside world. Then, it stops.

You take a breath, and register what just happened: she closed her legs.

You're sandwiched in a tiny crevice between Senpai's thighs - the proverbial "Absolute Territory", were her socks higher.

Goosebumps roll up your back. Compared to her panties, the musk is less intense; but the pressure isn't any more forgiving, and it's coming from EVERY side of you. The touch of her skin is nearly as intimate as that of her undies; maybe even more so, since you've actually made contact with a part of Matsudo's body, unfiltered by any cotton barrier.

"...Still itches..." The president's sighs and grumbles, and the accompanying clocks, come out muffled by layers of muscular tissue. Muscles that, at her command, flex and transform, brushing against each other. You're directly at the center of the rubbing motion, twisted deeper into the soft, leathery skin. Trying to move from one slender leg only slams you into another, and mangles your leg. For a split-second at the apex of each rub, you can hear her pulse behind it; before you becomes a blur again, pulled into the rhythmic motions.

To Kotoko, it would look like Matsudo was merely fidgeting in her seat. At your teensy scale? The waves are wilder and more sickening than they'd be on a trek across the Pacific Ocean by rowboat!

The continual, thundering thigh lifts and falls drones into you. Senpai seems to have paid attention to shaving her legs; the surfaces are marble-smooth, even as you clutch to them for support. They don't have as firm a grip on you as the Impenetrable Wall Of Panty. This means you find your minuscule form tossed around easily with each twitch, boring deeper into her dermis.

However - this also grants you greater control of yourself. You line your back up against her left thigh (or is that right? You've been twisted so much, and the skin lets no light in...). Gritting your teeth, you push your feet against the opposing pillar of pale skin. It absorbs your blow, like it was made of some kind of spongy material. Your limbs sink in. The next twitch from Matsudo bends them like twigs. Were it not for those extra hardening qualities in that vial she made, you'd be relegated to a wheelchair for the rest of your days. Even in this state, the pain is too much to bear.

Standing still isn't an option. Some kami has seen fit to give you the gift of locomotion once more - and you'd be dumb to squander it. You could try squirming out from above, and climbing atop one of her gigantic legs - though the journey looks arduous. And with her cool, aloud attitude, who knows how the president would react - especially now that she knows something was itching her groin? Alternatively, you might wiggle downwards, tunneling under the statuesque limbs. But then you'd risk getting crushed beneath them.

...Come to think of it, which way IS up? The all-encapsulating darkness gives you very little trip work with. And somewhere in her thighs' assault, your head spun a few times. You've really lost sense of direction...

...Until a stray drop of sweat slides down Matsudo's thigh, splashing your hair. You shake it, trying to dry off. Okay; your head's facing up. Where do you squirm?

You climb the great pair of grinding thighs. On your perilous accent, the thin light between the spongy cliffsides acts as your North Star. The soft flesh sinks around your grasping digits, heaps of it squeezed like dough. However, with every tremble of Matsudo's leg, you find yourself sliding off, shaken deeper into the crevice of her natural curves. It's wilder and harder to keep hold of than a bronco at a rodeo! Both limbs thrash with such abandon, such unbridled energy, the chair distorts and shifts.

"Still itches..." Senpai's voice is distant as the horizon, calm as a leaf landing in a koi pond, and balanced as a tightrope walker, meters in the sky. Meanwhile, it's chaos below, where you're stuck! It's a wonder you can hear her over the roar of skin scratching together. She's not even making an effort to annihilate that tiny itch - that insignificant, blonde-haired, panting itch - and it's shaking you halfway to death!

The echo of her voice in your ears, however dim, fills your shrunken form with newfound courage. With a gulp of air - accidentally sucking in some of Senpai's sour sweat - you leap back up, bracing yourself to her left thigh. Your uniform jacket and shirt brushes against the steep slope as you scale it.

Brisk jerks from her twisting calves keep threatening to knock you of them. The higher you scale, the more each knead and rub shakes you. It doesn't help that the fall is dizzying; even when lying horizontally, the sheer size of those legs are something to behold. If she were this big compared to you at standard height, they'd be able to wrap around your apartment building easily. And it'd just take her squeezing her glutes together to smash that steel structure...

At the same time, despite your perilous position in the center of the pressure, the gigantic limbs seem slender and soft. All that time sitting at computers has taken its toll: rather than hard walls of toned flesh, you find yourself compressed and squeezed between delicate, pale skin. With the continual motion, a faint, fishy odor begins to permeate the air. The scent drifts further as your climb continues, away from the sweaty spot where the two surfaces meet. It reminds you how, despite the rocking and rattling you're forced to endure, this really is a sensitive spot on Senpai. Maybe an erogenous zone? She's pushing you for into it, consciously or not. You'd love to run your hand across this thigh at normal size, caressing it, enjoying its softness as it welcomes your hand...

A soft light awakens you from daydreaming. Your tiny, blue eyes blink, trying to adjust to it. The fluorescent bulbs burn on the ceiling, looming over each desk. They shine equally on everyone in the room, large or minuscule. The warmth surrounding you dissipates gradually into the stagnant classroom air.

One final jolt from the great leg cliff, and a wiggle from your hips, tosses you up. With the sweat built over the thigh's side, you might have enough friction. It rushes against your sides...

Fwip.

Freedom! Sweat falls off the nape of your neck. The weightless feeling of flight lasts for two and a half seconds, before you smack atop her right thigh.

You did it - you escaped the club president's gluteus canyon!

The ground stops moving. Senpai must have finally relieved her little itch. When dizziness from the constant motion subsides, you notice her skirt fabric rising near you, the pleats forming miniature coves. They start to stretch lower, sinking down.

*Sigh*

Matsudo's relief makes her return to a relaxed poise - spreading her legs maybe a twinge wider than appropriate. The tension soaks off her, as it does with you. Residual pangs still torment your chest and arms, having been thoroughly ground - but you find yourself breathing easy, too, in the refreshing stillness. For a second, the two of you simply remain like that. A towering, calculating Senpai, and her mousier-than-usual Kouhai, with the same sense of serenity.

You wish it could be longer.

Her voice echoes: "Might be enterin' data for a while. Better get comfy."

Just as suddenly as it stopped, the ground shifts beneath your feet. The pale platform you're resting on slides across the chair, to the center. Your nearly-flattened hands spring out, and your knees wobble, trying to keep still amid the new quakes. They're far less severe, and end quickly. But there's a loud noise to the side. Skirt fabrics fall back in retreat. Her left leg's lifting up, with all the spectacle of a whale surfacing for water. The lights above are blotted by the oncoming fleshy mass.

And it's approaching at a lightning pace, whizzing loudly - falling right towards you.

"Senpai!" You scream, watching it fall. "I'm down here! Please -"

Squish.

Her gaze remains on the computer screen.

Everything becomes a dark blur.

A whole world of weight drops on you all at once. You can barely hold on for a second, like Atlas supporting the sky - before both your arms collapse. Your body is thoroughly pulped, bones and muscles squeezed together. A smidgen of consciousness remains in your mind, letting you fully process the situation... before Matsudo twitches. Everything bursts. Without a thought, she smears you into an indiscernible red mark upon her skin.

Matsudo itches gently at her legs, having finished crossing them. "Theeere we go. I'll put in a few more data points for today..." She itches behind her glasses.

Sodachi Taiyou...
Having successfully climbed his senpai's legs...
...Was nevertheless crushed underneath them, as they folded.

In the end, his efforts did nothing to undo his fate:
lost as a stain on Matsudo's otherwise-spotless thighs...
Until her next shower.