You quietly step inside, leaving your shoes at the door. As usual, the T.V. is blaring from the other side of the house. Annoying, but not entirely unexpected. Rolling your eyes, you toss your keys on the counter before taking a quick stretch down to your feet, touching your toes with ease. You can picture the eyes bulging out of your tiny buddy’s head, feeling his itty bitty body thrash against the darkened skin of your asshole. It’s enough to make your knees weak on the spot.

Playing around with the muscles of your butt, you hear a familiar hum from just down the hall. Bile rises from the back of your mouth, seemingly in response. Ugh, shut your damn door, you obnoxious bitch! You sigh, almost regretting that you hadn’t said it out loud. Why did she have to be home today of all days?

Trying to move past your longstanding grudge, thoughts towards the princess of snark quickly turn towards potential ideas. After all, you’ve always been a big advocate of refocusing negative energy.

What should we do first? You think to yourself, an irresistible series of scenarios forming in your head as you stroll over to the granite countertop. You set down your phone and grab a chilled bottle of water out of the fridge before moving towards your room. On the way there, you pass by Molly, giving her a little scratch behind the ears. Greeting her has always been a highlight of getting home. The black Maine Coon purrs openly with enjoyment, rubbing herself against you and kneading an invisible force.

The cat cocks its head in confusion as you pull away, “Sorry girl, but I have a cute boy behind me. If you get what I mean.” You send a wink the perplexed felines way.

You cross Heather's notorious pigsty of a room, continuing down the hallway. You’re far from perfect, but the way she keeps this place is downright awful. Whatever trashy reality show she has on gets louder and more vile the closer you get. Old bras and panties litter the floor. Ugh, how gross! The only saving grace of living here is having a bathroom connected to your room, making putting up with her almost worth it.

"Tsk, messy bitch." You whisper under your breath. Usually, you weren't afraid to tell her off, but you aren't in the mood for her particular brand of bitchiness today if you could help it.

You practically tiptoe past her waste dump of a room, tiny cargo secured firmly between the cheeks, still drenched in post-workout sweat. Only pausing to step over a soda bottle directly in your path.

You fumble, a socked foot slipping across the plastic surface, landing noisily on the wooden floor with a hard thump.

There’s a loud scoff. Turning your head, Heather's gaze meets yours as she peeks through the very corners of her eyes, not willing to divert an iota of attention away from her phone. It's more of the usual, wasting the day away on her phone like always,

 "What do you want?" She says, blind preppy arrogance seeping through each word.

Ugh. Even interacting with the prissy bitch made you feel icky, "Nothing, Heather, just heading to my room."

"‘Kay, whatever.” There’s a pregnant pause as your eyebrows drop in anger, trying to meet your own. However, you fail to meet hers as she hides behind her pink candy-colored phone.

“Um, why aren’t you gone yet?" She never bothers to look up, which is a whole new level of aggravating. Fuck knows what she does on that thing all day.

You shake your head in disbelief. Heather never fails to be a massive bitch at every available opportunity. Of course, neither of you were on good terms right now, but you still couldn't reasonably afford an apartment all on your own yet.

Admitting defeat, you shuffle over to your room and push the already cracked door wide open. Right away, an array of colorful posters and light pastel pink walls bombards you. Very girly, just how you liked it.

“Sorry, dude, but ass times over!”

Stretching both arms above your head, you can't help but give your ass one last playful shake before letting Chris out with a quick snap of your fingers. Just like that, he's suddenly in the palm of your hand. Heh, and mom said recall spells were complicated! Child's-play! He looks like a wreck, sweaty, slimy, and overall, very gross. Yuck. You worry this might have been too much for the little guy, seeing his disheveled form slumping over in your hand. He looks like a wreck, sweaty, slimy, and overall, very gross. Yuck. However, his hardness shines through even at this size, making you laugh.

Your eyes narrow on his length, hunger and desire burning you up inside. Somehow, you manage a relaxed demeanor, “Somebody had fun~!”

Leaning in to give him a tiny smooch, you suddenly recoil. He reeks from your workout.

"Ew, guess you did spend two hours against my asshole. Errm, maybe we should go wash you off…." You start heading toward the bathroom sink when a fun idea pops into your head.

"Oh my god, we should totally shower together!" A dumb grin spreads across your face, and you rush towards the bathroom, not even waiting for a reply.

You stare at her naked form as she washes her body; it’s a powerful sight. The washcloth spreads across her smooth skin, caressing her most intimate places. A hand drifts down, lathering up the creamy flesh of her butt. It glides sensually down to her soft body, caking both her thighs and ass in a soapy lather.

Alexis had placed you right on the shower caddy after getting you washed up, giving you a marvelous view of everything as you get cleaned up. With some help from the big green minty-smelling bar, the grime of Lexi's jog quickly slides down your body as soapy foam.

You continue to ogle her, marveling as you drink in her nude body in full for the very first time. It’s weird; something about the situation makes her feel unguarded. It’s probably the most vulnerable you'd ever seen her, a far cry from the last day and a half you'd spent at the back of her pants. Watching her caress her skin with so much care drives you wild with envy. You stroke yourself; the pent-up lust becomes too much.

It's funny, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted out of this arrangement, but it’s a mixed bag. The fantasy of cumming in a girl's butt while smaller than the average housefly was something you never thought could be made into a reality. Yet, she'd indulged you. A part of you loves being stuck between the very cheeks you’d been silently admiring for so long. Despite the sweat and danger, it’s still a dream come true.

You keep stroking, rubbing your warm shaft to her incredible body. You know she won't mind; you'd already been up close and personal with her asshole after all. The two of you hadn’t breached the barrier between friends and fuck buddies so much as you’d completely obliterated it. She keeps stealing glances, hoping you won't notice. But you do. It's cute in one way and mischievous in another. Though it’s painfully obvious, she’s up to something.

Alexis smirks before letting out an exacerbated squeal, "Oops! I’m just so damn clumsy!" Hands fly up to her face in mock panic as she pretends to drop her soapy rag, not trying too hard to sell the performance. Tantalizingly, she locks her eyes to yours as she lowers herself down. Abruptly stopping when she's about chest height to your tiny island.

WHAM

Lexi smacks her chest onto your already claustrophobic space, sending you flat on your ass. Her tits nearly decimate you as they land with a wet slap against the cheap material of the caddy. She'd never been the largest in the chest department. Enough to get a hand around, maybe, but not much more than that. Even so, they’re more women than you could ever hope to handle at this size. The areola dominating much of your vision glistens, waiting.

"Touch 'em." She booms mischievously, her playful tone betraying the danger of the situation. Even with the enhanced durability she claims you have, that could have caused some serious injury.

Not intending to cock block yourself, you keep your mouth shut and move to dutifully oblige, taking several steps towards the dark of her areola. However, the nipple alone is near twice your size. Despite putting in all your effort, you don't get the earth-shattering moan but a laugh. Great, she thought it was cute. Feeling fairly emasculated, she cackles as you hang your head in defeat.

"Wow, I couldn't even feel that. Guess you're a bit too tiny, huh?" She twirls her index fingers again, almost like she's conducting an invisible orchestra.

It's instantaneous, your perspective changing with the final movement of her finger.

"Should be about, um, two inches now? Give or take. Care to try again, bug boy?" She winks at you, establishing an unspoken challenge. You furrow a soaked brow in defiance. Oh, it’s on!

You jump towards her waiting nipple, hitting it with everything you have. Punching, kicking, biting, even trying to twist it after finding some leverage.

It's clear Lexi is barely holding back a giggle, "I can... sort of feel you." You stop your assault, groaning out of frustration. What could you possibly do at this size? It's like fucking a mountain.

"Oooh, I have an idea!" A finger suddenly appears from behind, and you quickly find yourself face to face with your friend's rapidly hardening nipple. She pushes you into it, depressing the very skin as she rubs you back and forth, using you as a fragile little toy. All the while, you're struggling to breathe, taking in mouthfuls of her supple flesh.

"Mmm, fuck. That's how you do it!" You can tell she’s turned on desire and need seeping through each syllable. “See? You just needed a little help~.”

She lets you rest for a minute, watching as you desperately gasp for air in her slippery palm. Lexi stares down at you, and your eyes meet hers. It's hard to tell at first, but your friend is blushing. The tension in the steamy bathroom air is palpable.

You watch in utter astonishment as her free hand slowly reaches downward—her whole body trembles.

SchlickSchlickSchlick

She doesn't break eye contact, slipping her fingers in and out of her sopping cunt, her wetness blending with the warm water before it cycles down the drain. Her breasts wobble and shake the caddy as she touches herself, forcing you to the ground. Every action, every rhythmic thrust of her fingers, has so much power behind it. Her jaw limps ever so slightly open as she loses herself in thoughts of you.

You've never felt so small.

"Fuck this; I need those tiny hands on me!" She bites her lip, her hand dripping with more than just water from the shower.

On cue, the jet of water coming from the showerhead turns to a slow drizzle, and you're whisked away by your friend's giant hand. Her palm closes, once again shrouding you in darkness.

You glance at the clock on your wall, hair still soaked. Almost twelve-still plenty of time to be naughty!

Dropping the towel where you stand, you hop to the bed. Gently, you let Chris slide from your palm, landing with a flop on the base of your left tit.

You watch Chris explore the expansive area between the two mountains, having to pry them apart just to catch a glimpse of him. He traverses it cautiously like it is an alien landscape. You enjoy the sound of that, the dangerous and uncharted country of Alexis!

It's very tempting to skip the foreplay and get to the main event, but you want to humor him, if only for a while. It's also a huge plus seeing him between your tits. There are just so many ways you can bully him! Just pushing him around has been intoxicating. And rubbing his body against your nipple? Unreal.

Chris grabs small handfuls of flesh as he attempts to scale mount Alexis. It takes him some time, but eventually, he ascends. Albeit, clumsily. Each tickle of his tiny fingers have you fighting to hold back a giggle, fearful you might send him back down below.

"Good choice! Lefty needs some attention! Would want her to feel left out~!" You chime in with your approval. Eagerly you await his little head popping over the horizon of your tit. The anticipation is already killing you, craving the feeling of little hands on your nipple again.

It takes Chris far longer than you expect, several minutes passing since he began the ascent; he's barely made it halfway up your tit. Sheepishly, you decide it might be best if you help him along. You doubt Chris will mind skipping straight to the fun.

Scooping him up between your index finger and thumb, you give him a shortcut right to the mountain-top. Dropping him off and watching with mild amusement as he stumbles onto one of the more sensitive areas of your body.  You're ecstatic to see him get right to work.

You’d always figured Chris was a selfless lover. Rubbing, licking, biting, he puts everything his little body has into it. Of course, you can't feel all that much of it, but he's trying his best. It's endearing and sexy as all hell.

It takes all of your willpower not to grind him against it as you had done in the shower. So instead, you opt to give your other nipple some much-needed attention.

You stare in horror as Alexis' neatly trimmed and buffed fingers assault the nipple directly opposite from you. Had you been larger, it might have been relatively arousing. However, in your current state, it's quite the opposite. A potent reminder of the power you lack at your current size. You try to keep up, but you quickly find yourself completely outmatched. Twisting, stroking, and rubbing it between her index finger and thumb. Regretfully, there isn't much you can do that her finger couldn't a hundred times better.

You look up toward Lexi's face, almost ethereal in its beauty from this perspective. Somehow her skin always looked so healthy and radiant. Her incredible size only serves to amplify those traits.  The condensation from the shower still covers her face. Her hair is still dripping with water. She hadn't bothered waiting for it to dry. No, she had been far too eager to get you back to bed.

Her eyes continue to bore into you as she massages her tit, squeezing and twisting the hardened nipple over and over again.

She bites her lip, "H-hey, maybe you could go... lower?"

You start to protest, but she isn’t asking, nor does she acknowledge your tiny squeaks of defiance. Her digits grab at your puny body, bringing you along for the ride as her fingers slide down her toned belly and finally between her immaculate thighs.

Warmth greets you as her ravenous cave stares back, winking while you struggle to pick your jaw up off the ground.

"Oh my god…." You say, voice raspy and shrill. It feels like your first time all over again. Awkward and intimidating, but strangely beautiful all the same.

"Like it?" She coos with confidence, her body shivering suddenly.

“I really hope you do, since you’re already such good friends with her neighbor~...” Your attention is directed further down, where her bare asshole lies. Droplets coat its otherwise smooth exterior, freshly cleaned from the high-pressure shower.

She doesn't immediately throw you into the fire, starting by using your body to trace the very outside of her thighs, stimulating some of her more sensitive nerve endings with your tiny frame. But the two of you have had plenty of foreplay already, and she doesn't linger for long.

It's a pleasant experience, gentle and serene until Alexis takes it upon herself to get the ball rolling. You don't even have time to scream before she drags you along her sopping slit. You cough and sputter as your mouth rapidly fills with feminine fluids. You lose a complete sense of direction up and down, left and right. For a minute, you're confident you'll pass out. Or worse, pulled inside.

Mercifully, the massive finger relents, dropping you off on her rounded nub. Safe and sound, if only a little uneasy. Dread sets in as you realize, despite the intimate nature of your friendship, you aren't quite sure what she's capable of. She’d been so brazen, not even asking your permission beforehand. How far would she take it? Truthfully? You aren’t entirely sure.

Sitting across her clit, the scene rapidly devolves into a whirlwind of moans, fluids, and fingers as Lexi rubs and teases herself into a fit. Strong nails ride the length of her labia, stunning you into inaction. The sheer power on display is utterly breathtaking. Her lust feels so raw, almost primal. You've never been more turned on in your life.

Finally, her middle and index fingers slip inside. You continue to watch in fear and lust as it pounds in and out of her wet hole. Its immense size transfixes you. It isn't hard to picture yourself falling to a messy death, mashed into a pulp by your best friend’s perfect fingers. Chills run down your spine at the very thought. Would she even realize if you fell? What the two of you are doing starts to sink in. This size business is absurdly dangerous.

"C-come on, play with it a b-bit!" The familiar voice of your best friend snaps you back to reality. You don't need to be told twice, wrapping your arms around the oversized bulb with ease. Putting your entire body into the motion, you grind the rock-hard manhood between your legs into her most sensitive part.

Lexy's a total chatterbox, your latest move getting through to her. The girl's moans are almost piercing, so much that you're nearly sure her roommate heard. It's sexy how lost in the moment she is. 

Yet, a part of you feels disconnected, unsure of everything. Doubt clouds your mind, making you question just how much you want this. Is incredible sex really worth chancing a potentially life-threatening accident?

You're unsure, deciding to refocus and double your efforts on Alexis' clit. Picking up your pace, you put all your remaining energy into grinding your cock against her swollen nub.

"Oh fuck, I can totally feel you! J-just keep doing that!" You don't need to be told twice. You keep up the pace, thrusting your swollen cock against a clit nearly half your size. Working to the rhythm and motion of the monstrous fingers behind you.

"C-cumming!" You brace for impact, her declaration arriving far too late for you to get clear. The pumping of her fingers slows, and the flesh beneath you trembles as all hell breaks loose. Her muscles tense, and she lets out one last satisfied groan before settling back into the mattress.

You never got to cum, but at this point, you're just glad it didn't go any further. Whatever, you still enjoyed yourself. Though, you're shaken. Today showed you just how powerful your friend is. 

You hear a girlish laugh from up above, "Oops! Am I a bad person for hoping Heather heard that last one?" Her breathing is slowing now, and a peaceful air replaces the frenzied lust that occupied the space only moments earlier.

Ah, yes, Heather. There was a girl you didn't want to run into at this size. She hated your guts. Truthfully, you only have yourself to blame on that count. Lexy has plenty of reasons for hating that bitch. But you were drunk and stupid at that party last month, and it seemed like your unsuccessful flirting had tarnished an already rocky friendship. With how cold she'd been since, you didn't want to end up in her hands at this size.

Snap

You're back up top, right between Alexis' mountains again. Albeit, now sufficiently coated in girl cum.

"Wow, you're soaked! Guess we should get you dried off, huh?" She looks surprised. Maybe she meant to be so rough with you. You write it off as her getting caught up in the moment; she'd always been the impulsive type.

With that, she lovingly wraps you in a warm yet soft rag from her nightstand, ensuring that her best friend is all cozy and snug in a blanket of fluff. Then, she places you gently on the nightstand using a caring hand.

She shoots you a grin of blind camaraderie, "I'm going to be honest with you, okay? When you asked to ride in the back during class the other day.…." She pauses, trying to find the right words, "It sounded pretty, I dunno, weird?" She sees the change in your expression, prompting her to continue.

"But, now I can't stop thinking about everything I can do to you!" Heat is still obviously prevalent, and you can tell she's more than ready for a second round. She can see the concern envelop your features.

Don’t worry! You can sit this next one out. I still haven’t introduced you to my little toy box!” She says with a wink.

Your eyes flutter open—the soft fabric of the cloth bristles against your uncovered body. You yawn and stretch fair-skinned arms high above your head, still groggy from being held deep within the clutches of sleep. However, something feels off. The individual fibers of the fabric now tower above you when they had once been your equal. They frighten you with their respective size. If you had to estimate, you're probably no bigger than a cigarette butt right now. Had you shrunk in your sleep?

The revelation takes a back seat as you look over to the right, seeing your best friend lazily spread across the bed, still napping off that last excursion. Life's looking pretty sweet right now, waking up satisfied, refreshed, and reasonably close to a hot naked girl. Though, an odd thought crosses your mind, one that you hadn't considered until just now. Where has your phone gone? And your clothes, for that matter?

Whatever, you resign yourself to dealing with that later. It's not like you’re in any state to search for anything at the moment. And as for the shrinking problem? You'll mention it to Lex later. The rag makes you feel cozy, warm, and safe. You cuddle up deeper into it, just as you feel a gust of air from the door nearby.

Crrrrreeeeeaaaaakkkk

What was that? With fright, you nearly jump straight to your feet. The comfort the rag provides is ripped away. A knot forms deep within your stomach as the immense door that blocks off Alexis’s room from the rest of the house splits open, the gates of hell bearing down on you from what would be not even a foot away. Assuming you were full size, of course.

 A lightly tanned face with freshly straightened hair creeps through the crack in the door, its very presence an attack on your safety.

Heather. A short brunette, one that just so happened to be your BFF's roommate for the time being. She looks at a passed-out Alexis, a mix of disgust and confusion scoured across her face. She turns to scan the rest of the room, more than likely trying to find the source of the racket from earlier.

However, defeat settles across her face, Heather's eyes drooping and her face scrunching up in exasperation as she finds nothing credible. Doubting her reasoning for peeking inside, she starts to close the door. Although, just before it clicks shut, she takes one more glance at the nightstand. It's rather barren except for the cloth, some lotion, and of course, you. Her gaze settles directly on the textile, keeping you comfortable. She does a double-take, your makeshift bedding drawing her full attention, her eyes going wide as dinner plates.

Your veins turn to ice, and a feeling of dread swallows you whole. The colossal girl’s domineering gaze suddenly shifts towards you. She leans in, and you watch in unbearable suspense as the shadow of her hand quickly and mercilessly encompasses you.

You grip the fibers of the cloth and get lucky. Heather’s gigantic fingers grasp the material around you, squeezing the rag tightly, and very narrowly avoids pulping you into a bloody mess. From there, you are quickly whisked away at nauseating speeds as Heather casually strolls back to her room, your little body in tow.

She steps over all the bottles and laundry that litter the floor, almost like it’s second nature to her—carelessly tossing both you and the rag onto her bed. 

You do your best to put one foot in front of the other and stumble forward. The wind resistance alone threatened to deafen you, and as a result, your ears ring and throb in pain. But, you have no time to waste.

Heather's still on the other side of the room. However, the distant thuds startle you, threatening to put you right back on your ass. Even from across the room, her haphazard movements make you anxious. It gives you some valuable perspective on just how careful Alexis had been with you this entire time. Even if it didn’t seem like it, she'd been quite accommodating toward your stunted size.

Still a bit shaken from all the loud noises in the distance, you watch in absolute awe as the giant girl clears the entire room in just a few steps. Her feet crack hard and monstrously against the floor. In no time at all, her massive frame is upon you, her short-short clad ass bearing down.

POMP

Her ass hits the bed with an almost meteoric amount of impact. Heather’s toned and fairly athletic butt leaves a hefty imprint on the mattress. It's startling, thinking about how deadly this girl is. The tiniest shuffle in the wrong direction could absolutely decimate you, leaving no trace for Lexy to find once she got up from her nap.

The very idea of being splattered, Alexis searching hopelessly for a corpse she'd never find makes you want to puke. No way that would come true. You'll do anything in your power to stop it.

Unexpectedly, something far more terrifying than you could have ever predicted happens. Heather first swings her heavy chest out of the way. You see her bust stretch the fabric of her shirt, her chest putting the strands of her garb through its paces. It strains against the material as she bends down, her face coming level with yours as a humongous eye is suddenly staring right into yours.

"Um, wow. This is all so… wild." You'd only just finished explaining the situation as Heather held you up to her ear. The spoiled brat couldn't even hold you up straight, wobbling and nearly dropping you three separate times now.

"I can't believe that prissy bitch was hiding you from me!" She brings a freshly painted fingernail over and reels it back. You can see all the details of the hot pink-coated keratin. Each and every imperfection is evident to your greatly diminished eyes, making you genuinely reflect on just how tiny you are. The scent of booze lingers across her breath, making you recoil. You flinch, covering your hands in front of your face as she lightly flicks you down, sending you crashing down onto the hard surface of the nightstand, pain throbbing outward from the impact point on your stomach.

She giggles at your reaction, watching with glee as you breathe through clenched teeth. In Heather's eyes, knowing you have a bit of resistance seemingly meant free reign to fuck with you.

"You know, I always thought you were cute. But you always hang out with lame Lexy. So sad!" She looks at you knowingly, fake confidence from the alcohol clouding her perception of the situation.

"I bet you think I'm cute too!" She makes the assumption, not even bothering to hold you up to her ear for a proper response. You can't help but snort at such a bold claim. However, it's true. She's undeniably attractive. But her attitude totally killed any possible interest in her romantically long ago. Though, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't rubbed out a few to her Instagram feed. God, she just looked so good in those shots she took over in Italy.

On a dime, her expression changes entirely, Heather's eyebrows flying up as a eureka moment hits her.

"You should come dancing with me! Becky and I are going to go get trashed! You know Becky, I think?"

Every single bone in your body screams at you to get away, to run as far as you possibly can. But you know that there's nowhere to go from here. Heather’s clothes catch your eye now, and you realize she's already dressed up for the club. Skater skirt, make-up freshly applied. You knew exactly what to look for, having seen Lexy get ready countless times by now. Fuck, she wasn't just trying to screw with you, was she?

"Zero clue where to put you, though…." Heather says, thinking out loud, treating your life as an annoyance that needs to be solved. You find it so heartbreakingly degrading. 

"Purse sounds… I dunno, boring? And as much as I would love to have my own boy toy in my thong all night, what if I get sweaty and gross?" 

You shake your head, almost in disbelief. If only she knew what you'd been through today. The irony might have made you laugh if the situation wasn't so serious.

"You know what? You'll be pampering my butt tonight! It’s a risk I'm willing to take! Play your cards right, and maybe you'll get something extra later." She says with a flirtatious wink.

Fear edges the brief further up your face as the situation goes from almost comical to horrifying. No way, this couldn't be happening! You know leaving this house means the possibility of never making it back to regular size. Against all odds, you're hoping any second now your bestie will burst through the door and save the day! But, it's wishful thinking.

Vrrrrrrr

The phone she left beside you vibrates with a disgusting amount of power. The very ringing rattles you to the bones, forcing your teeth into a violent chatter. She grabs for it without a second thought, blowing your mind to see what might as well be a building, moved without the slightest bit of effort. 

"That's Becky! Okay, my little crumb! Ready or not!" Her hand swoops in without any further delays, grabbing your frail cowering body between her index and thumb. Humming a song you can't seem to place, she brings you around back. Unceremoniously, she lifts up her dress and peels back the green thong, letting it practically floss the area between her cheeks. With her undergarments sufficiently aired out, she drops you feet first, right into the jaws of hell. Hurtling through the air, you scream louder than you ever have before, a part of you sure that this is the end of the line.

However, the end wouldn't be coming for you yet. Instead of splatting into a sticky mess, you find yourself bouncing on the very back of the thong's elastic. Soon, you're sent on something akin to a water slide, the silky fabric providing an immensely slippery surface for your greatly diminished body.

Your heart's about ready to beat out of your chest. Disoriented, you feel a familiar musk reach your nose, the atmosphere musty and stale. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on. You find yourself starting at the second asshole today, puckered tightly shut, denying any entry, or exit for that matter.

God, you're so lucky both these girls had basic hygiene. The whole area is well-kempt but ever so slightly stubby. Short yet sharp hair sticking out around the butthole itself.

Then, things go from bad to worse. The fabric you slid in on rises upward like a wave, coming at you with a tidal wave of force. It smacks into you with an absurd amount of energy, keeping you pinned tight to Heather's asshole as her thong carves out a place between her wonderfully delicious globes.

It takes you a bit to recover, however gradually, the tension on the oppressive garment loosens, albeit only slightly. But you'll take what you can get. Now able to shift your body around, you can't help but enjoy the feeling of the rubbery ridges against your cheek. Despite the intense sexual escapade you had earlier, your shaft still manages to grow hard. Hell, how many times had you envisioned eating out this spoiled bitches ass? And now, you're in the perfect position to do so.

You aren't entirely sure whether Heather intended to put you in the situation or if it was simply an unfortunate side effect of wearing a thong. Still, regardless of the circumstances, you can't help but feel like a fight for your very survival has already begun.

You adjust your bra, resisting the urge to reach a finger down the back of your pants. The stimulation felt nice at first, and it still does. Although it seems like playing around with your newest fuck toy had triggered a bout of fierce tickling. Part of you wants nothing more than to reach in and itch away. However, something tells you that wouldn't end well for the tiny cutie nestled tightly between your cheeks.

You're tempted to roll the window down, it's hot as shit in here, but of course, Becky's AC is broke again. Typical.

And naturally, Becky is listening to some trashy Korean shit, but you hold your tongue. You really don't feel like starting something tonight. But, ugh! It's so insufferable! Luckily, the two of you are almost there. A very welcome thought.

"Soooo?" Becky inquires rather obnoxiously. You simply egg her forward with a silent stare.

"Arin! Are you two, like, you know?" Becky's comment takes you completely off guard. You and Arin? Please!

"As if. Not in a million years would you catch me hooking up with that ford driving loser." Without even trying, you find disdain has already leaked into your voice.

"Damn Heather, tell me how you really feel!" Both of you share a laugh at Arin's expense, pulling up to the club just at the right time. Becky parks and the two of you check makeup almost in unison, making sure to get one last look before the three of you head inside together.

As you walk up to the line waiting out front, you can't help but feel unbridled confidence in each step you take. Having a boy up against your very butthole is so empowering! Part of your buzzed mind wonders if lame Lexy is already looking for him. She and Chris are practically two annoying peas in a pod. It's doubtful she wouldn't be tearing the place apart already.

She could have her little boy toy back after you finish with his tiny ass. Or, more accurately, when he's finished with yours. Ultimately, you don't really care.

The arrogance in Heather's walk keeps you slathered between the cheeks, unable to do anything more than pathetically clinging to the rubbery wrinkled star. The object in question flexes and moves, the opening flushing with waves of heat from deep inside her body.

She isn't quite as cleanly shaven as Alexis was, something you'd already noted earlier. Several scattered hairs poke and prod at your body as Heather moves, each step forcing mountains of tight-toned ass against your tiny frame.

Though, as fucked as the situation is, part of you is tempted to indulge a little. Clearly, the bratty daddy's girl wanted you to treat her right, pamper her. Maybe it would help you get into her good graces. Plus, you'd be denying yourself a shot at what you may never get a chance to do again.

With an air of caution, you lean in towards her butthole, placing your hands across it. Your efforts are rewarded with a flurry of movement, telling you it had the desired effect. Gaining all the confirmation necessary, you put your back into it, licking at her pucker with all the enthusiasm you can muster.

 Admittedly, part of you loves the predicament. Heather may be a snobby brat, but she's hot as sin, and not to mention worlds out of your league. Besides, it's isn't like you have much else to do anyway. Might as well make the most out of the situation, you figure.

As the night droned on, Heather's body gets complacent. Gradually the shivers and chills lessen in response to your touch. Her pants start becoming humid and muggy as sweat and heat accumulate, the intensely oppressive atmosphere wearing you out quickly. Soon, you struggle to tend towards the beautiful hole in front of you, exhaustion starting to sink its hooks into you.

Around this time, you start to consider indulging yourself, if only a little. A reward to yourself for a job well done so far. Light floods inside almost on cue, and a hand clumsily drags you face to face with the incessantly obnoxious party girl. Her face looks off-kilter, her makeup clearly overdue for another application.

"Daaaaaang boy, I loooove what you're *hic* doing back there!" She says, cooing at your tiny form, juggling it around dizzyingly in her hand. Fear courses through you as you realize just how far gone she is. The odds of a fatal mishap rising with each drink emptied down her gullet. Taking a gamble, you decide to speak up for the first time tonight.

"Hey, Heath, why don't we head back home? I can help you out in a few ways, if you get me!" Music from the club buzzes in the background, dulled only marginally by the bathroom walls.

Heather snorts in response, covering her mouth with her free hand as she giggles like a girl half her age. "Oh my God, you look sooooo funny when you try to talk! I'm heading to dance, just like, keep doing your thing, my *hic* butt crumb!" The wasted party girl reaches behind and shoves you back between her cheeks, with perhaps too much force. She gasps, feeling your body smear against her now sufficiently sweaty wrinkles. Disgusted, you start to hack, but to your horror, the finger doesn't relent.

Heather bites a lip and slowly works you inside, engulfing you inside her ass. You'd always been a reasonably big fan of ass, but this is too much! You're going to suffocate inside this snobby bitches ass! You try desperately to pull in clean oxygen but instead suck in copious amounts of fetid air.

You thrash around in a panic, only exciting her further. "Yesssss! Fuck, keep doing that!" She nearly screams out, the dizzying amount of booze making her lose any semblance of volume control.

Everything shakes violently as Heather assumedly picks herself up and heads back out to the dance floor, leaving you to suffocate in darkness right behind her closed pucker. Your squirming within the confined space does nothing but make her already heated face further flushed with arousal as she gets down, dancing the night away with friends.

One drink turns into two, and then three drinks into four. The entire night starts the blur, the edges of your vision narrowing to a pinpoint focus. You own the club for the next few hours, grinding and lusting over every hot guy willing to buy you a tasty drink.  For a good while, you even lose track of Becky. However, being the good friend she is, the similarly aged diva shows up to herd you towards a booth, getting your body some much-needed water.

As the booze finally starts to leave your bloodstream, the two of you consider heading out, but not before one final dance, of course! You can’t help but focus on the small struggles still going off in your butt the entire time. They’d slowed significantly, yet still, he had the energy to make you feel like a total princess!

You’d had a fair share of hookups and boyfriends try and get you into anal, with little success. You’ve always found it okay under the right circumstances, but this is so much different. Chris had been practically worshiping it all night! From your nightlife experience, guys get caught up on your tits or even the general shape of your ass. But the actual butthole? No way. Not until now, anyway. It's such an unrivaled rush! One you couldn’t begin to describe, even to your closest friends.

Eventually, you find yourself too drunk to continue. With the night winding down, Becky helps you back to the car, dealing with your drunken ass using a surprising amount of restraint. You'd have to crash at her place tonight.

Heather, 2:07 AM

You collapse out of Becky's soft arms in a lump, crashing on her velvety couch. Becky could be a total thot sometimes, but God is this bitches furniture comfortable. You scan the cozy darkness of her living room, the only light coming from the bathroom down the hall, likely left on as Becky rushed to pick you up earlier.

"Thaaaanks! Love youuu!" You incoherently manage to blurt out, being the drunk, sweaty mess you are. The whole room spins, taking several seconds to gain enough of your wits to flop over onto your belly.

You catch Becky rolling her eyes with a sort of endearment, "Love you too, Heath. Need any water?"

Thinking for a moment, you blurt out a clumsy but well-intentioned, “Nah!” Prompting Becky to move on towards her room. Waiting for the coast to be clear, you can't help but snicker as you roll up your dress. Lacey dark red undergarments cover only your most intimate parts, leaving the rest up to the imagination.

Attire landing on the floor, you reach a hand down the backside of the panties. It takes a bit of finagling; however, the lingerie is adequately fused to your rear. As careful as you can be in such a state, you start to fish the little one out of his reasonably damp prison.

Finally, with a bit of added effort, you're staring right into Chris' eyes for the first time in a few hours. You can't even imagine how miserable it must have been. Sure, you may keep clean, but that doesn't change the fact that he just spent all night pressed thoroughly against and inside your butt.

Pretty hot to mull over, but also somewhat gross. Still, you hope Chris enjoyed it to some degree. Although, a more twisted part of you hopes he hated every second.

Heather looks down at you with contempt as you lay in the palm of her hand, lip bit so hard in contemplation it looked like she may very well draw blood. After hours behind her, as she danced and mingled, you'd probably gotten enough ass for an entire lifetime.

Wordlessly, Heather lays back, popping off her bra with the only hand available. The plastic clasps practically explode off her chest. The noise is reminiscent of a souped-up explosion in a movie or video game. It’s downright startling to imagine how much force they have relative to you.

“Heyyyy! How was your evening, huuuh?" Smug alcohol-induced confidence pours out of her mouth, in tandem with her toxic liquor-laced breath.

"Um, *hic* I guess you're too small to ackshually fuck me." Her face curls in minor annoyance, her face pushed towards the side in contemplation. 

 "Betcha it would be kind of a fail to even try." Her brows narrow in thought, coming at this like it's a minor inconvenience to solve and not your life she’s currently holding in her palm.

Her last comment irks you, fists clenching instinctually. Not that you're in a position to do anything about it. But, how dare she! You weren't totally inept sexually. You'd clearly done a pretty bang-up job with Alexis, at the very least. Or was that entirely due to the size? The fantasy of it all? Maybe she’d only gotten off to the power trip…. Seeds of doubt start to fester.

Heather doesn't waste any more time, hurling you down towards the very base of her tit unprompted with a force that would make the god of thunder jealous.

You slap belly first, harshly into her tanned flesh. Moisture from the confined area under her absurdly large breasts permeates everything with light and sticky vapor. It's humid, but that doesn't distract from the impossibly large walls of flesh directly in your way.

For just a brief period, everything still, save for the subtle rising and falling of Heather's chest. Her mountains seem to tower endlessly into the air above you. With your eyes, you trace the delicate red lines across her flesh, induced from a night of wearing a bra one size too tight. Each streak is comparable to a small sports field, helping you finally grasp how tiny you genuinely are.

“Sooooo, here's the deal!” Heather pipes up.

“How about you…." She thinks for a moment, dragging her eyes upward in thought.

"…make a nipple hard!" Heather laughs. "If you can *hic* do that, then that'll work out just fine!” Her tone takes on something more primal in nature.

You take a shaky stand, her skin slick with sweat from a night of partying. No matter how you cut it, you can't help but feel disobeying her can only end badly on your end. So, without any further delays, you start the climb. 

Both of your hands begin by probing the area, feeling around for a grip. The flesh molds surprisingly well in your hands, the sheer size of your acquaintances bust making any attempt at analyzing the situation infinitely more intimidating.

Though, against the odds, you put one hand after the other, hoisting yourself up the massive and wobbly mountain of skin. Heather, for her part, remains worryingly slow. You'd been almost positive she'd be playing games by now. However, for the time being, it doesn't happen. 

You continue an exhausting descent, the upper muscles of your body not used to such an extraneous workout. After a few minutes of climbing, your arm nearly slips from a particularly damp pocket of flesh.

You eventually take a break, resting the weary muscles of your upper arms. With nothing much to do, your eyes wander downwards and find you’ve made a surprising amount of headway. The jello-like exterior of the brunette's tits makes for a relatively easy climb so far.

But your physical feat wouldn't be without challenges for any longer; your entire world begins to shake. Heather's chest jerks back and forth as she lets out a loud giggle. 

“Shit, you're so fucking small I can’t even see where you are! Fuck, I can barely even feel you!” Her voice is breathy, almost excitable.

Something about it doesn't sit right with you, the tone of her voice implying the very insignificance of you is getting her off. She's painfully correct, though, as much as it hurts to acknowledge. The size Lexy had left you at is wildly inconsequential to the rest of the world.

You continue the ascent, each and every grasp into another doughy portion of flesh weighing on you more and more.  But you're so close! Pushing all your muscles into overdrive, you throw yourself up with a massive heave, grunting as you flop roughly onto the edge of her areola. Heaving while laying across the squishy pink floor, Heather pipes up, mildly frustrated.

“What the fuck are you standing around for?” The comment snaps you back to reality, and the goal comes into focus. Looking at the soft pink, you approach it slowly, running a hand along with one of many small bumps outside the pink ring. It's soft and tender yet distinctly rubbery. There isn't an immediate response from Heather, meaning you'd likely have to put far more effort into this for her to get much out of it.

 Desperately you work your entire body into it, muscles still aching from your climb. Gradually watching the nipple respond to the stimulation, starting to rise. It's incredibly demoralizing that it took minutes for you to do what an average man's hand could do in a matter of seconds. It isn't lost on the owner of the nipple either.

“God, you're pathetic.” Heather chimes in, the flakey face of foundation long since dried out still coated thoroughly across her face. Her eyeliner accentuates the curves and outlines perfectly. It's several levels beyond unnerving. The scale alone gives you a flashback to the very first time you saw a harvest moon grace the night sky.

From your new view atop Heather's erect nipple, you watch her right hand work its way down beneath the tight waistband and into her panties. It bulges out as she pushes her hand flat, the dainty fingers pushing and stretching the compressed material as she works an organ entirely unseen.

“You don’t even… mmmmh… deserve to play with my tits. I mean, you're kind of cute, but… mmm, fuck! You're, um, you.” Heather's right-hand works her vulva, while you're left to watch in both awe and horror as her left hand comes crashing in, deciding to start on its assault just across the way.

She grabs at the hardened nipple, pinching the sensitive parts of the areola and occasionally grinding into them harshly with her painted index finger. It's utterly terrifying to imagine being on the receiving end, and you momentarily stop your massage, frozen in terror.

Suddenly, there's shaking more ferocious than you've encountered previously. It's all you can do to just hold onto Heather's jiggling mass. You can see one hand grasping the mountain of jello opposite from you while her other hand works furiously below. 

Heather's every movement is erratic, slick sweat dripping down her face positioned high above. With each and every stroke and gesture of her right hand, she creeps closer and closer to a satisfying climax. You both hear and feel the moan escaping the college girl's lips from high above.

“This is so fucking hot! Just picturing how much of a dust mite you are, mmm. Just really does it for me.” Feeling herself on the verge of cumming, Heather just can’t help herself as she reaches a finger over her nipple.

The shadow of it hovered above you, and before you realize what's happening, it's far too late to react. You take a few steps back just before the impact.

WHAM

A cacophony of flesh slaps together as Heather's finger smashes into the nipple you'd been working so hard on keeping busy. All of your backbreaking efforts were invalidated by one girl's finger. The force of her pressing into the skin creates a bend in the flesh, threatening to drag you towards the divot where her finger relentlessly attacked her sensitive spot. Knowing there isn't a chance in hell you'll survive the flurry of activity, you go for the next best option. Escape.

Thinking fast, you dive off the side, hurling yourself a long way down. It's a gamble, but one that pays off as you smack hard into the squishy skin of her lower chest. With a groan, you pick up your head and simply observe the apocalyptic levels of chaos further down, across the bend of her stomach.

Her hands are like powerful machinery waiting to rip anything nearby to shreds. By far, it's the most impressive display of sexuality you have ever seen. You aren't able to see it as masturbation any longer, the part of your brain pushing survival instead of choosing to present it as something more akin to a guillotine. It's startling, your heart about ready to beat out of your chest as Heather continues to demolish the nipple behind you.

Vision and thoughts foggy and diluted from alcohol, you rub at the dulled but still arousing feeling at the tip of your fingertips. You couldn't take the tiny teasing on your nipple any longer, your hand forced by an invisible fire permeating your core.

You don't give a single fuck where he is or how your actions affect him. There's only one goal on your mind. And you're nearing the finish line.

All bets are off, your mind one track. You couldn't give less of a shit about him right now, but just the thought that he's on your body right now, subject to every whim and trivial movement you make, it's intoxicating!

The whole situation is hotter than any hook-up or fantasy you'd ever been privy to. At least a few times earlier in the night, you had wondered why out of everything Alexis could supposedly do with her powers, why she'd chosen something so… mundane? But you fully understand now. The strength, sense of importance, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced!

You're a true goddess right now, worthy of being worshipped and catered to. Your every breath is causing Chris possible complications!

The last thought finally pushes you over, burying your hand into the gooey pocket situated between your legs. It's an absolute ride, one you thoroughly enjoy letting go on.

You lay outstretched, lightly panting for several seconds before shakily standing up. You head off to the bathroom without a second thought, eager to get cleaned up and finally pass out.

You bounce off Heather's toned stomach as the massive girl gets up with no regard for you. It's almost like a switch flipped in her dumb drunken brain, your very existence becoming a blip in her mind.

Roughly slamming into the spongy couch below. Immediately, you feel vile, landing in a damp patch that adheres to you like some kind of organic glue. The musk of arousal pours into your nose, and it's not hard to discern what you've just landed in. Likely some dribbles of run-off from whatever that was. You are hesitant to call it sex, as that would imply you made an impact.

The patch itself is relatively small. Just a few dribbles that slipped through to the surface below Heather's tanned thighs. Even being a few fractions of an inch larger, you probably never would have even paid them any mind. But as it stands, even a few stray droplets could muck you up entirely.

You rise to your feet, pulling against the gross texture of Heather's juices. They weigh you down, but it's not enough to keep you permanently pinned. Disgusted, but still strangely hard, you decide now's as good of a time as any to take stock of the situation. Scrying the dark living room for any kind of salvation. The room stretches endlessly for what seems like miles upon miles of desolate space with absolutely nothing in sight.

You get the urge to look over the edge, but something tells you that wouldn't be the best idea. How would falling that high even work from this height? It's something you really don't want to find out, assuming it can be helped.

With that settled, you're practically out of options. You start to shiver, teeth chattering as the droplets of cum still glued to your body begin to dry and harden. You imagine what this might look like to the casual observer. A tiny speck trapped in the mess of a girl's stress relief upon an impossibly big sofa.

You regret everything, torn between wanting to cry, kick, or scream till your lungs explode. Then, a calm hits you as a chilling thought shoots through your head. What if she forgot about you? A brief lapse in judgment would mean tonnes of force upon your frame. Even with the plush cushion, would you survive that? This entire girl's weight?

The pace of your respirations picks up, and you feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart. What if you fell down the sides of the cushion? Would you just be lost forever amidst crumbs and loose change? You'd be doomed to wander the filthy pit of Becky's couch, trapped until somebody sat just right, popping you like a grape.

Vibrations rattle you from a distance, the soft cushion you are resting on not enough to thoroughly dampen the footfalls. Heather casually strides back into the room. Momentarily stretching her calves before letting out a yawn. She blinks a couple times before seemingly remembering your existence. Glancing down at you, she squints, the darkness muddying her already compromised vision.

"Ew, why are you playing in my cum?" She says with thick sarcasm. A slight smirk creeps across her face, and she rolls her eyes at the gross yet comical display.

"Anyway, I need to get some sleep. You can hang out in my purse and jerk yourself off or something. I don't really care." She shrugs and grabs her purse, holding it up towards the edge of the couch. Like you were a crumb of food on a messy bed, Heather effortlessly brushes you off, sending you tumbling with an absurd amount of force. 

You careen off the side and into the dark depths of Heather's three-hundred dollar accessory.

Chris, 9:00 AM

You tumble endlessly around the bottomless pit of Heather's purse. Objects fly towards you, directed by the sway of her off-kilter and hungover stride. You shriek as a lipstick vial nearly three times your size is hurled in your direction, forcing a hasty dodge out of the way. 

Fuck! Fuck this and fuck Heather too!

You consider the situation for a moment and figure she likely doesn’t even know what she’s been putting you through. Heather is careless and self-centered to the core. A spoiled rich bitch who didn’t have the presence of mind to think about someone else. She doesn’t have a clue, never did, and truthfully, she probably never will.

 Life throws you a curveball, and despite the vigilance you’ve had until this point, you’re struck by a massive bottle of moisturizer from the back. The container lays into you, knocking the wind from your lungs with a singular well-timed blow. You never saw it coming, and you pay the price for such a careless mistake.

You can’t get up! You try desperately to push its weight off you as the rest of this girl’s purse continues tumbling. But it's no use. You’re thoroughly stuck. Releasing a grunt of frustration, you repeatedly pound against its plastic surface, wailing on it with a barrage of fruitless punches before finally settling down. Resigning yourself to general uselessness, you listen to raised voices outside. A clear argument, but the tone is all you can really discern from your dark prison.

However, there's some kind of confrontation, a commotion that's quick to end as everything is sent into freefall.

Thoooooom

              For only a few seconds, the purse is turned from a game of deadly dodgeball to a guillotine of death. Every object goes flying into the air simultaneously, with your body being no exception. A sudden jolt as the bag hits the ground, pummeling you into the floor. Ugh, you steady yourself. Dazed and certainly disoriented, but seemingly no worse for wear.

You jump right up, checking your bare body for any sign of distress. Besides some minor bruising that's sure to pop up later on from that collision with the lotion, you seem to be okay. It isn't much longer before the top of the purse zips open, the monstrously large zipper hitting all the clasps, reverberating off the walls of your prison. Finally, light pours in, startling you towards the back wall of the fabric innards.

Ire builds as you see the stupid bitch walk through the door like nothing happened. It's painfully apparent that Heather had taken Chris, and although you'd prepped yourself for a confrontation, she doesn't even seem to notice you, nearly walking right past. Oversized sunglasses are practically glued to her face, likely hiding the light from her hungover and sensitive eyes. Having just worried your ass off all night, it's laughable that she thinks you'll just let this go. You clear your throat loudly, prompting a vacant stare from Heather's end, finally catching her reprehensible gaze.

"What do you want?" She says with poorly hidden deceit.

A low growl rises from deep within your throat, "You know exactly what, you stupid bitch!" You're fuming, ready to knock her out. But your tone doesn't dissuade her from trying to continue past.

Angry, your heart thumps to a quicker rhythm, eyes seeing nothing but red. Heather pulls at the final straw, checking your shoulder callously, prompting you to shove her backward with a modest amount of force. The look on her face is priceless, a mix of confusion and white-hot rage. You may have even enjoyed it had you not been fuming.

"You bitch!" Heather lunges at you, months of built-up tension coming out in one sharp motion. She shrieks, dropping her purse to the floor without a second thought.

Snap

It never connects, and in an instant, she's gone. The space her body inhabited only moments earlier is entirely vacant.

A careful hand reaches in, giving you a sense of knowing comfort. It digs around the purse with considerable care before plucking your tiny, bruised body out of a hell that smelled of gum and makeup. She gasps, seeing your peachy body, eyes starting to well up in response. And truthfully, you feel the same. There was a level of enjoyment to last night, but most of it had been decidedly negative.

"Thank god! You have no idea, absolutely none!" Alexis closes her eyes, trying to blink away the slowly rising headache.

"I looked everywhere! Everywhere except for our little prissy princess' room, that is." Alexis smirks, raising her other palm so you'd have a clear view of what lay waiting in the milky white of her hand. To your surprise, it's Heather. Still dressed in her cute getup from the club, she stomps and shouts an insufferable series of words, making rude gestures towards both of you.

"Huh." Is about all you can manage, still processing the situation. It's almost uncanny to see someone else shrunken alongside you. Her size is nearly twice yours, however. Suddenly reminding you of the impromptu shrinking that had happened what almost feels like a lifetime ago now. Last night was a sobering ordeal. You'd have to walk Lexy through it once everything returns to normal.

"Anyway," Alexis says, "Let's get you back to normal. Maybe we can mess with daddy's girl for a while." She winks, implying an eccentric idea laying in wait. Yeah, that sounds good to you. Besides, after last night you’re in desperate need of a shower. You smell like butt. You wait with bated breath as Lexy draws the letter T with her hands before snapping her fingers.

SNAP

You open your eyes, relief replaced with horror as you are greeted by an alien world. This wasn't the standard height you'd become accustomed to for most of your adult life, but an outright hellish sight. Your friend's hands now stretch off into the distance, the creases of her palm functioning as steep dips in the terrain. Something had gone very wrong with the spell. Catastrophically so.

Your friend is hard to comprehend now; her body so large you struggle to recognize it as her. How small had you shrunk? Half a centimeter? Smaller? You aren't sure. An eerie silence punctuates the landscape, almost as if you're too small for the ambient sound that generally provides a soundtrack to everyday life.

She says something inconceivably loud, making your ears ring and throb with pain. How the fuck could this happen? Why, why, why? You start to sob, the nightmare from last night only continuing on. Being tiny most assuredly wasn't a dream come true. 

Her face moves at terrifying speeds, looking like it might steamroll over you completely. It causes a desperate and shaky scream to leave your frazzled mouth involuntarily. It rises out of you from a primal fear of death.

There's a distinct calm as everything settles. The girl you'd known for so long's breath is the only noise in the room. For a short while, it's serene, almost supernatural in nature. Until frustrated, Alexis lets out a fleeting sigh, exhaling a warmth across her hand as she closes her eyes in contemplation. She hadn't seen you.

Violent hurricane-force winds rip you from the warmth of Alexis' palm, sending you careening off and into freefall. You fail to even hear yourself over the intense turbulence as you're shot like a bullet through the air. However, you aren't in the air for long, finding yourself in a rough landing atop the girl's kitchen counter. 

Every cell in your small body aches, sore and tender from so much abuse. A glint catches your eye before you can even rise to your feet. You stare up in awe from your crumpled spot on the granite surface at Alexis' keys. A mixture of trinkets and actual functional lock openers absolutely tower over you, their shadow blocking out the artificial light of the combined entryway kitchen setup.

You let out a sigh. Regretfully, your assumption had been correct. Chris isn't here. These didn't happen often, but when they do, it's always a doozy. The last spell backfire you experienced was that disaster of a night at the eighth-grade dance. Now that was an embarrassing one. You cringe at the very thought, having no desire to relive it.

Wracking your brain, you try and think of every situation that may have happened, one sticking out far above the rest. Maybe you sent Chris somewhere else by mistake? The recall and replace spell have oddly similar properties, so it could be possible? A perplexing situation for sure. Either way, you're pretty thoroughly fucked now. You'd have to wait a while before using either a location enchantment or a recall hex. You can't risk shorting yourself out and causing yet another backfire.

"Ugh!" You throw your head up in mild frustration. Would this nightmare ever end? He could be literally anywhere! The thought stops you cold. Shit, what if he's on the ground? Trapped amongst the carpet fibers? You take a weary look down toward your socked feet, seeing nothing on a quick glance. Slowly, you make your way over to the counter, one cautious step at a time, scanning the ground carefully for any sign of Chris.

Heather is practically an afterthought right now, letting her squirm in the heat of your closed palm. The little brat is perfectly safe for the time being, but Chris is in dire danger right now. He has to be the priority.

Finally reaching the counter, you hop up next to your keys, giving yourself a quick lift from behind. The granite feels so soothing against your butt; its cold surface felt through your yogas' thin fabric.

With the danger of stepping on Chris thankfully eliminated, you breathe a sigh of relief. With the most immediate source of anxiety gone, you're free to brainstorm a way out of this mess.

You screech, driven by a fear purer than you knew existed. Ass bigger than the moon itself hurtles towards you, impacting harshly onto the granite. You’re thrown back, wind from your friend’s ample butt creating more than enough turbulence to forcefully move your body, the weak frame you currently inhabit lacking the weight it needs to keep you from being sent each time Alexis moves.

You repeatedly tumble, rolling across the largely barren surface, gradually coming to a slow and clumsy stop. You lay still for a few moments, a switch flipping deep down.

Jumping up, you giggle like a madman. Holy shit, did that really just happen? Something inside you breaks, realizing your friend very nearly just turned you into a real-life snuff piece. The butt shifts around, getting comfortable all over what could have just been your grave. It's a sobering experience, to say the least. With her fidgeting evidently calming down for the moment, you breathe a much-deserved sigh of relief, your life safe for the time being.

While still in danger, the threat of being wiped off the counter feels less tangible. It leaves time to marvel at the sight in front of you and really take it in. Wearing the classic black yoga pants she usually wore, she's situated in a way that her left cheek takes up the majority of your view. Inspecting every inch of the fabric wall, you let wide eyes wander over to the far side of the constrained cheek, seeing a modest dip downwards into the crack of her ass.

It's not reasonably deep, all things considered. But to you? It may very well have been the grand canyon. An absolute chasm! It would be impressive if its very existence wasn't threatening your life.

Until now, you hadn’t actually seen Alexis’ butt in full view like this, usually resigned to the back of her pants or directly up against her more intimate areas. You take a deep breath, deciding you've ogled Alexis for long enough. You look around, thinking up some pretense of a plan. However, the counters are relatively empty, save for Alexis and her keys. Although, you make out something very faintly, a familiar pink rectangle in the distance. Lexy's phone! Of course! You practically jump for joy, realizing you may very well escape this unscathed and not as a gooey mess on the back of your friend's yogas.

Although, it's a fair distance away. Unfortunately, you're in for a jog.

Still trying to think of some eureka solution, your thoughts are constantly interrupted by the squirming in your hand. Ugh, of course! Heather isn't going to let you take a breather. If only her annoying wriggling could be put to use.

You look down on her thrashing body, throwing a temper tantrum like the child she is. It's no surprise she'd act this way, always used to getting what she wants with daddy's money. But, what if she got the very opposite of what she wanted for once? What if somebody teaches her a lesson?

You bite your lip in thought, staring at her with a look she seems to know all too well. Her thrashing immediately stops, a nervous expression evident across her face.

Tugging at the elastic waistbands of both your pants and panties, you give Heather an ominous sneak peek of what's to come. Despite the initial hesitation, you don't feel a single inkling of shame for what you’re about to do.

With your other hand, you spread the smooth hood that hides your clit, revealing it to the open air before shoving Heather directly into its folds with a gasp that sucks all the air from your lungs. You smear her against the pulsating button, letting out a slight whimper as she starts to thrash.

SNAP

Just like that, she's shut away into musky darkness, your own arousal building in tandem with her desperation. Part of you knows how wrong it is, but the other part, the voice of reason, simply doesn't care.

With that problem taken care of, you think of who you could turn to for help. There was always your sister, Alissa. But, she'd likely get all huffy about riding over here. And mom is entirely out of the question. Your mother would verbally rip you apart for using magic so irresponsibly.

A fresh set of shivers run through you, Heather showing no signs of letting her fight die.

"Good girl!" You say with an amount of confidence that even surprises you.

You work your way across the counter, moving at a brisk jog. The surface is hard and somewhat slippery, making your feet sore almost immediately. However, you aren't about to relent. There's only a single chance, one route to take. You have to reach that phone. Likely too small to use the touch screen, you find yourself banking on her noticing you against the glossy surface. It's a total pitch in the dark, But it's the only move you have at the moment.

Keeping a steady pace, it's only a few minutes before you come upon the tremendous communications device. It's still unbelievably jarring for you, seeing something that could once fit in your hand now tower like a building above you.

The case she has for protection only complicates your plight. The girly rubber and plastic exterior almost doubles the phone's typically slim profile. The side you are on is an absolute no-go, far too slick and featureless to get a grip. Instead, you look around the other side, spotting the volume buttons that just so happen to create a perfect shelf. You smirk; lady luck finally giving you a helping hand.

You start to climb, failing to notice the long shadow gently encroaching.

Halfway up, you jam your hand between the volume buttons, attempting to use it as leverage in what’s turning into a reasonably arduous climb. It's strenuous enough that you're too distracted to properly check your surroundings and fail to see what's coming. A shadow looms, blocking out everything and finally forcing your attention. An unstoppable blur barrels towards you, too big and fast for your eyes to accurately track. An absurd amount of motion overwhelms you into uselessness as you hang on for dear life, a hand hovering over the glamorized smartphone.

She picks up the device without a care in the world, most of the movement thankfully stopping after a brief jerk towards her face. Your hands ache, the shift in momentum putting enormous strain against them. It's a miracle you manage to hang on at all.

All the while, Alexis hums idly to herself, flicking through various screens you can't see. Closing applications and opening them. For what reason, you can't possibly guess. Perhaps she's scrolling through contacts, looking for help? But if that's the case, who could she call? Your hands get worse, turning bright red from the pressure of keeping your entire body from plummeting. You decide to make a push toward the top of the screen. It's risky, but staying here would only result in a nasty tumble to the floor below. However, before you have a chance to act, Lexy raises the phone to her ear, impossibly high decibels nearly shattering your eardrums as the phone starts to ring.

The barrage on your body and mind leaves you unable to hold on, and you plunge towards certain doom. Although fate has a more perverse plan for you, it seems. Instead of a messy splat on the tile below, you bounce onto her chest, clinging to the fabric of her rather plain black shirt. You try everything to calm the breathing in your lungs, gripping tightly onto the woven cotton fabrics that stretch endless before you like a web. This is far too small. No way you’d survive this! You're overridden with frightening thoughts of being splatted by some mundane accident. Crushed as she goes to give a hug, or possibly drowning in the laundry after she takes off her shirt, unable to find your way out of a man-made labyrinth before being unceremoniously tossed in the washing machine. It's horrifying to dwell on, doing nothing for your overall morale.

Lexy’s phone had been your only shot at getting her attention. And it had been stolen away by the very person worried about your well-being.  Her voice suddenly explodes, far too loud to have any hope of discerning. If she's trying to communicate, it's entirely lost on you. You clench your jaw, having no choice but to deal with the pain, unwilling to let go of the sloping ground to protect your ears.

Fighting the urge to writhe or even beat the soft ground in frustration, you have to wonder how such a short and sweet girl could be such an oblivious goddess. Being near her is wildly appealing even as you're ready to howl in pain, overwhelmed by mountains of stimulation. Alexis smells so strongly of sweets. A warmth complemented wonderfully by a thick fragrance. It furthers your longing to return to normal, to embrace her and revel in the heat.

You pick up your phone, and after a missed call to your sister, figure you should probably leave the family out of it. At least for now. Besides, you're pretty sure he's somewhere in the living space. How hard could it be to find him when you know exactly which room he’s in? Teleportation magic never worked long distances, so he could have ended up anywhere within a few feet of where the spell had gone so wrong. You tap the flashlight utility app and get to work, confident you’ll have him whisked away to safety in no time at all.

Bending down carefully, your muscles squeeze on Heather, creating an incredible sensation, digging her body further into the roof of your clit's hood. But you don't have time to linger on the electrifying amount of stimulation she's giving you. Instead, you throw your back into the search. It's exhaustive, searching through every flake of dust. Though, with such a repetitive task preoccupying you, it's easy to start thinking about what may have happened if he ended up outside. Unlikely, but possible…

You need to focus right now. You shake your head vigorously, tugging yourself away from the awful thoughts of some bug ripping your best friend limb from limb. You can't let yourself keep straying from such an important task. Renewed in your efforts, each fiber gets the same treatment, a thoroughly invasive search, courtesy of the phone's bright beam.

But, there's still not a single trace of Chris to be found. It's frustrating, and tears start to leak readily, a few managing to insignificantly patter against the forest of fibers below. You're getting desperate, and with nothing turning up any leads, you consider drawing on something forbidden, something dark. And ultimately, banking on a miracle.

The world shifts entirely, almost on a dime, catapulting you to the world below. You enter a wholly different universe while pelted hard against the rough strands of the carpet. A healthy helping of dirt is visible on the tips of the individual threads that stick out, nearly your size. It's breathtaking; however, Alexis’ vast body is what truly pulls your attention.

Right up in front, consuming your entire sky, and then some, is Lexy. Her frame is more immense than you've ever seen it, a normally dainty girl now imposing her building-like size over you, not even realizing she's doing so. She slowly moves ahead on all fours, knees beating the carpeted floor nearby into submission as she shines a spotlight across the land. Only, she's searching what's directly in front of her, and you're very at her tail end.

Taking a final moment to marvel, your eyes scan across her, cotton shirt blending into the black of her yoga's. The seam gives a sneak peek of her relatively flat stomach, her skin almost radiant from your view underneath. You wonder idly why she'd dress in all black today. But whatever, girls will be girls, you figure. At worst, maybe it's part of some freaky ritual that you aren't ‘in the know’ about. You don't have the faintest idea, but honestly, you're not concerned.

You'll need to catch up, but before you can, a clothed pillar of meat and force smashes into the ground next to you, it's material lustrous, glimmering with a slight sheen. The shaking of the world forces you to scurry hurriedly backward. It's a close call, your friend's knee almost eviscerating you on the spot. Tons of flesh and bone would have steamrolled you into dust had you been a fraction of an inch to the left. It's a sobering thought. Possibly too sobering, as you find yourself unable to move, absolutely petrified of being snuffed out.

She continues as you quake in fear, crawling further forward and getting increasingly frustrated at her inability to find you. You try to make yourself move, to brute force your way out of the mental block taking hold of you. But it feels impossible. A small action, a shift to the left, maybe a stumble, could leave you obliterated, and Alexis wouldn't have the faintest clue. How could you willingly get anywhere near her right now? It's straight-up suicide.

Well, as fate would have it, you don't have to. Alexis lets out a groan of frustration, rearing up in her knees. Your eyes go wide, seeing both her legs and thighs collapse in. It's nearly incomprehensible watching such a colossal object move so fast. It's a relatively mundane action, but that's precisely why it's so terrifying. There are seismic levels of power behind her glutes and even her thighs. Nuclear force ready to be unleashed at the drop of a hat.

Despite being on the carpet, the vibrations leave you struck by their power, the material doing little to hamper the awe your friend instills.

“Ugh!”

Her grunt of anger is less so human speech and more a thunderous eruption. The sound around it cracks magnificently, making the subtle sign of discontent feel like the word of a god. You can only pray that she doesn't lean back. And it's only now that you realize any attempt at running through the thick fibers would be a useless act, entirely for show. There's zero chance of making any headway if she decides to lay down. Though, you hope she has enough presence of mind to think. 

Hoping and wishing. It's all you really have left.

You sit up, letting out an almost guttural howl of frustration. At least, that's how you picture it. Though truthfully, it's nothing more than a mundane vent from all the rage building up inside. More akin to clearing your throat.

Hanging your head in defeat, you realize you'll have to chance something far riskier than you'd like. The number one thing mom always told you never to do. The same rule has been beaten into your head since you were young.

"Don't ever cast another spell not even an hour after a backfire. Do I make myself clear?" You sigh, looking lazily out the kitchen window as mom gives another one of her famously long-winded diatribes. When did you get to learn how to learn about frogs? That's all you can really think about. Once you understood that, Becky in geometry would have a rude awakening!

             BAM

You shriek as Mom throws a large magic book haphazardly on the table.

"Alexis, pay attention!" Her gaze is stern, yet there's love behind her eyes.

"Sorry!" You squeak out meekly.

Back in the present, you aren't concerned with frogs or Becky. Gross, she's somebody you'd rather not ruminate on.

You put old middle school rivalries out of your mind, taking a deep breath and reciting the movement repeatedly in your head. This would be risky, to say the least. As all amateur magic users knew, teleporting something or someone unseen was simply an impossibility. But, there is one other option. One you don't like all that much.

Closing your eyes, you enter into a trance that becomes easier to work into after the clench of your pelvis muscles, momentarily silencing Heather's fight. Suddenly, you're in a void, darkness coating you like a thick layer of paint. It's a familiar place, but not one you enjoy visiting often. It's cold, your disembodied consciousness somehow feeling it through the lack of nerve endings. It's an emotional cold, a distance that you find ethereal in feeling.

You steady your mind, years of training as a young apprentice under your mother's strict tutelage finally paying off as you quickly reach out to another realm, hooking into a presence. Your eyes fly open, Chris finally snared on your line. It's undeniably him!

First, you twirl an index finger to the left, drawing a diagonal line through the empty air and ending with a light tracing of your open palm. Carefully, you recite the chant in your mind, drawing on powers beyond your complete understanding. You focus hard, feeling Chris’ existence just as your grasp on him starts to slip. Fuck!

POP

There's an odd noise, almost like a suction cup coming undone. And suddenly, you lose it. The connection to the spell and the Other Side severing completely, you feel the link deep inside shatter. But all your effort is rewarded. Looking closely at your palm, you see an unmistakable peachy crumb right at the center. Shakily, it tries to stand before collapsing from what you can only gather is exhaustion, something you find very understandable after everything he's just gone through. Still, he’s here, and he’s safe! Thank god he's okay! A smile lights up across your similarly worn-down face.

You move towards your room, mind already racing, trying to think of a way to explain what he just experienced. Tapping into the Other Side was already an unpleasant experience, but being dragged through it? You shiver at the thought. Yet, that's precisely what he'd been subjected to, his entire soul being dragged through foggy otherworldly muck.

Carefully, you move towards your room, making sure the movement isn’t too jarring for your tired friend. He’s been through enough already, you figure. The very last thing either of you needs right now is for him to be vomiting everywhere. Strolling into your bedroom, you don’t bother with locking the door; your only reason to do so is now buried headfirst around the folds of your clit. Almost on cue, another rash of thrashing breaks out, your knees almost buckling on the spot.

“God, Heather, you're pretty feisty, aren't you? Always thought you were more of a pillow princess. Guess you have some fight, huh?” You remark snidely, lust creeping through despite your best intentions. Gently, you reach your free hand down and lightly trace her minuscule outline through your clothes before pushing her further into the throbbing button. This is turning out to be much more fun than you’d ever anticipated. Who would have thought your cute friend's innocent request for some ass would be so… empowering! 

 But, your little distraction aside, it's probably best to get Chris onto solid ground. Carefully, you head over to the area you’d become intimately familiar with, a slick black study desk with treated wood and a laptop currently pushed off towards the far corner. College textbooks line the edges, leaving only a tiny spot for actual coursework. It would have to do for the time being. Blowing some pencil dust off the space, you methodically let Chris slide down your palm onto the smooth desk below.

He rises, disoriented. Although, he seems okay! Something you’re immensely grateful for. He looks at you now, finally gaining his bearings. It's an expectant look you interpret as ‘please turn me back.’ However, it isn't that simple. You smile sheepishly because, unfortunately, that’s an impossibility. You scratch at the back of your neck nervously, trying to find the words to explain. 

With a deep breath, you shakily start to fumble through your best breakdown of the powers that are at play. “So, um, I had to pull you through, uh, don’t be mad, but the most basic interpretation is… hell?” You wince as his body language becomes volatile, and he explodes in a rash of movements that are frankly hard to discern beyond a vague, ‘not happy.’

“I'm not really strong enough to, um, cast anything over you while the Other Side has a grip.” You state meekly, prompting a fresh series of unhappy gestures.

“Listen, I’m sorry! But it's better than, I dunno, sitting on you or something!” You feel yourself getting defensive, and why shouldn’t you? He was the one that wanted this whole shrinking fantasy! He should be grateful you indulged him in any capacity! Whatever. Before you figure this whole mess out, you have to deal with Heather, first and foremost. Ignoring Chris for the moment, your hands slip down, prying the tight yogas from your body. The tiny little girl had kicked up a myriad of feelings, ones you fully intended to vent and explore.

                  One moment, you’re on the floor; the next, you feel vile, like something is tugging at your very essence as a person. It's a feeling you’d never wish on anybody. One that’s hard to endure and even harder to describe. The sensation is brief, but afterward, flashes of your worst nightmares are beamed directly into your head as you find your body suddenly gone. With no physical form, your consciousness floats in a cold soup. It lasts only a few seconds, but it's a feeling that will stick with you forever. Luckily, there's soon a familiar pull. The pull of someone you recognize. Someone with good intentions.

                   Your body is practically turned inside out, the violation sending you into a state of alert. You try to stand up, getting ready to fight for your life, but the strain is too much, and you collapse back down. Staring up, you see an unexpected but comforting gaze, Lexy’s. There’s a warmth to it, and you realize that she really does see you this time.

                    You could cry right now, your sense of both space and time fucked beyond semblance of rational explanation as you find yourself suddenly on the cold surface of treated wood. You feel… off. Something clings to not your skin, but the core of who you are.

“So, um, I had to pull you through, uh, don’t be mad, but the most basic interpretation is… Hell?” Her voice booms, the words themselves thankfully can be heard due to her sudden remembrance of volume control. But the words themselves shake you. Did she say Hell? What the fuck had she done to you? Is this why you felt so wrong?

You clench your fists, gesturing angrily, "What in the fuck do you mean?" No immediate response. Right, of course she can't hear you. You vent some rage with a raw scream, throwing your head up in the frustration of both today and all of last night.

“I'm not really strong enough to, um, cast anything over you while the Other Side has a grip.” You go numb, anger replaced with stillness and dread. 

You're stuck like this?

Chris, 9:51 AM

You look onward, frightened as Alexis removes her pants with a jolt of speed. Her hand fumbles around, and she leans over her desk carelessly, grabbing a pair of headphones. Her chest hovers over you, putting you in grave danger at this size. You highly doubt a bit of extra resistance has any hope of protecting you at this height. The total weight of her tits alone is more than liable to leave you a skid mark across her desk.

She’s far too focused to notice your fear, plugging the USB clumsily into her laptop, which, up until now, had been sitting idle and dejected. Concerned with her own needs, Lexy leaves you in the dark. It's frustrating, your mind racing with possibilities.

It’s funny, a day ago if you saw a girl rushing to take her pants off, you may have jumped at helping her. But at this size? And after all you’d been through? You have zero desire to intervene. Instead, you simply stay out of her way, stunned as she boldly starts masturbating right in front of you.

"A-Alexis?" You choke out, absolutely baffled by the brash display of sexuality. But naturally, she doesn't hear you. You grumble, upset that she didn't have the common decency to cast a tele-link beforehand. Meanwhile, her hands work furiously down below. You try not to look; the fast pace of her digits gives you anxiety. Instead, you watch her face, lips pursed as she focuses on the screen.

Which begs the question, where had Heather gone? It's a mystery until your friend lets out a breathy "Right there!" It’s shocking. Is she seriously getting off with her? It's so bold, distinctly not like Lexy. Sure, she has some attitude, but using a girl to get herself off? So completely out of character. Maybe those observations about her being a little more careless than you’d like weren’t in your head after all. It's irrefutable that something about her is changing as she grows more confident. Still, it doesn’t take away from the scene of raw sexuality in front of you. You almost want to join in, but know it's far too much risk.

You find yourself starting to grow hard, embarrassed to be getting turned on at a time like this. Regardless of the scenery, your little guy should know better! It's a frustrating feeling, being controlled by your most base urges.

Trying to distract yourself, you turn around, doing your best to get a good look at the screen Lexy has zeroed in on. It looks pretty amateur, you reckon. Probably just some guy holding a cell phone. Her taste is terrible, and you make a note to broaden her horizons later. However, for the moment, Alexis is lost in whatever fantasy she’s living. There’s grace to her motions and primal energy lying underneath each action, motivating her as she dominates the tiny girl. You decide then and there to never get on her bad side again. Yikes.

In her haste to milk out these sensations, she bumps the table. You're thrown onto your ass with a thump, but more notably, you catch her attention. Alexis' eyes snap to you. There isn't much to say, her eyes telling all. It's more of a demand if anything. Her look articulates her intentions so perfectly. She was about to use you, just as she'd been using Heather.

You get lost in a soupy state of bliss, tiny limbs wriggling against the most sensitive area of your body. Heather probably hates every second of it too. That little detail makes everything so much hotter. In fact, you're so wrapped up in it that you bump the table. Ouch. Although, in a way, you're thankful for it. The solid collision breaks your concentration momentarily, letting your eyes run across Chris. Right! You were supposed to be figuring something out with him. How to return him to normal! Your mouth twists sheepishly, and an apologetic glance in his direction as you wordlessly snag him, much to his dismay. Whisking him through the air, you're perhaps a tad rough with him, but you wave it off. He's tough enough to take a little soreness tomorrow. Besides, you'd already made the executive decision. Womanly needs come first. You're well overdue for some stress relief, anyways.

The ease of being able to drag him through the air is divine, making you shudder. It's incredible to have this much control over another life. You feel powerful, like somebody should worship every piece of your remarkable body. Even the not-so-great parts. Precisely why you drop Chris on the leather seat, right in front of 'the beast.' But your pussy was never the proper target. You're sure he'll love what you have in store, regardless of everything going on.

              It winks.

The inside of her vaginal walls stare at you, looking liable to tear you clear in half with their powerful muscles. But just as you start to approach, Lexy rears her legs up, propping them onto her desk and revealing a relatively immaculate brown hole. God, no way, not at this size! And certainly not while she's distracted by someone else! As much as you love a nice butt, you aren't looking to be permanently splattered across your friend's fleshy ring.

There's a faint musk around the area, not unpleasant, but it's a distinct smell. It's heady, making your vision spin. You need to back up and regain your wits. Though, Alexis isn't about to let that happen. A finger pushes roughly against your back, smothering you along her vaguely sticky muscle.

Relatively inoffensive amounts of sweat invade your mouth while you try to gasp out for polluted air. There's plenty of light this time around, so you can see each wrinkle in horrifying detail. Something that you'd been spared from previously. It would have been something to stop and take some mental snapshots of. Though, that’s only if Lexy’s finger wasn't trying so hard to make you a part of it. It's relentless, treating you as an afterthought as she rubs her vulva, further teasing herself. Soon, you’re assaulted by a gooey sensation, meshing itself eagerly into your hair and around the area between her cheeks.

God, how wet is she getting off this? It boggles your mind, her liquids continuing to pool around you. Consequently, providing excellent natural lube. She takes advantage of it immediately, swirling you just a bit faster than before now that you glide effortlessly across the exterior of her anus. She gets further into it, worrying you immensely as you start to feel a hand slip inside. You yell out, but it's useless. She still can't hear you. Not that she puts any effort into trying.

After a few minutes of working yourself up and adding Chris' body to the mix, you feel like you're riding atop a galaxy, seeing stars when you close your eyes. Additionally, your body is ablaze with arousal, absolutely cooking you underneath your shirt. Which you promptly remove.

You turn your attention back to the people on the screen. Lots of objectifying angles, most of the girls. Ugh, you click off it, still frustratingly horny. In almost every piece of porn you try and consume, the male gaze is relentless. That's when an idea hits you. What about erotica?

You relent on both toys, letting them simply hang where they were, coated in your juices. Chris, in particular, is practically plastered to your asshole. It's pretty amusing. There was a time you'd considered fucking him. But now? The mental image is hilarious. How could you ever picture him going at you full size when he could barely handle your butthole?

You continue to scroll through various search terms and several crusty websites later, reaching one story in particular. There's something interesting about the tags. One inch, cruel, anal. You bite a lip, cruel? That sounds… almost fun. The page quickly jumps out as you read a tale of a girl who gets off using small people. She is unapologetic in each and every action she takes. A part in particular that really grabs you is when she puts one micro against her butt, enjoying the wiggling. It's almost identical to the current situation. Fuck, that’s way too good. You feel guilty, reading word after word of a girl abusing and taking entire lives with her body. You'd never do anything like that, but it doesn't stop the story from being intoxicatingly hot.

"Eeeek!" You screech, feeling Chris slip inside the wet exterior of your ass. You hadn't meant to do it, not all the way! But it mimics the story perfectly! Your eyes trace a passage dedicated to the lady in question rubbing her clit in desperation, responding to the myriad of movements she feels in her ass. Right on time, Chris' meager struggles decide to rear their head. The feelings of guilt quickly evaporate in response to unabashed ecstasy.

Betrayal is the only thing on your mind. Why had Lexy done it? Hell, did she even mean to? It's hard to tell with all the commotion. Believe it or not, the surroundings weren't your priority. Not when you were struggling to take one measly ass-filled breath.

Now, you lie inside the very entrance of her ass. It's enormous at your scale, nothing like Heather last night. It's more spacious, less like a hostage situation, and more like being thrown into an alien world. You have enough space to move back towards the entrance, but it's entirely for naught, her sphincter refusing to budge. Yet, you still can feel the vibrations from her rubbing the exterior. 

She's getting off while I’m breathing this disgusting air!

You're starting to get fed up with her antics. Does she realize how dangerous this is? Clearly not. You feel slimy, gross, and powerless to stop her. All you can do is wait it out and let her manipulate your body into whatever toy she wants next.

Pathetically, you decide to try and get off yourself, rubbing your diminished cock against the strong undulating walls of her colon. You key in on the low groans from outside, realizing you're literally inside someone. Of course, it's apparent, but you hadn't really thought about how astounding it all is. Whole-body engulfed by a friend's ass. It's almost unreal. And, honestly? Once again, it's relatively clean. For an ass, anyway. Seems like your old pal takes pretty good care of hygiene. A fact you greatly appreciate at the moment. Though, you start to wonder if Heather got a similar treatment. Has she been shoved inside somewhere as well? Hopefully, Alexis wouldn't take it that far. You're confident pressing a straight girl face-first into a throbbing clit is punishment enough. Out of nowhere, light pours through, a finger making you yelp out in surprise. It pushes itself through, seemingly trying to help you and add to the stimulation you're causing. But it's blind and uncaring, quickly jabbing you deeper inside, much to your initial panic.

It probes the space irrationally, moving on feeling and feeling alone. A few random thrusts in and out turn to rubbing themselves along the walls, jabbing sensitive innards. It's terrifying, and it leaves you frightened of going anywhere near Lexy’s exit, lest you get overtaken by your horny friend's finger.

You're sweating, pants around your ankles as you press your slick thighs together. Beads of liquid run down your forehead as you reach the end of the story. A warm afterglow, where several of the lady's tiny friends even survived! Your mind runs wild with the possibilities. What if the author decided to go down a different road? What if they'd all suffocated inside her? With that last thought, you're thrown off the cliff, one hand focused on your vulva while the other pumped and played with your ass. Combined with the taboo of that story? It's too much, and you let go.

"Fuuuuuck." You groan out. Panting lightly, you remove a finger from your butt with a sharp pop and place Heather's limp form on the desk. Her teeth chatter as your cum dries on her, and she curls up, trying desperately to preserve some warmth.

"I'll grab you a cloth or something. Just hold on. I should probably wash my hands first." You say apologetically before standing up and moving towards the bathroom. Chris would, unfortunately, take some coaxing out… Truthfully, you'd lost track of him at some point, unable to feel his struggles over the powerful stimulation provided by your finger. You both had a decidedly awkward conversation ahead. 

A few changes in position and one clean exit later, you watch Chris scrub away in the sink. His eyes avoid you entirely as you observe him use the small amount of water in the basin to clean himself.

"Look, I'm sorry! I just…" You're at a loss for words. What came over you? It was so intense. All caution had been thrown to the wind for that brief moment. Nevertheless, you find yourself craving it again. The control.

"It's whatever," Chris responds bleakly, the tele-link again in effect. It's the most you can do for him in his current state. He's clearly troubled, and it's hard to blame him. But you do know a way to cheer him up! Snickering, you snatch up your little buddy and head back to the desk where you find Heather, nearly motionless. Oh shit, you promised her a rag. Oops!

Chris lights up in response, and you let him hop off the expanse of your palm. Heather is more than double his size, the mishap earlier doing him no favors. She shoots daggers as Chris walks in view with a rather smug look. "How's it hanging, Heather? Have fun?"

Her breathing picks up, but she says nothing at first, choosing her following words carefully. "Fix. This." She says, her voice clearly strained.

Chris laughs, "Yeah, well, that's going to be up to Lexy," Heather shudders at the name like she's living through everything again.

You decide to speak up, well-intentioned, but you can't help but sneak a smattering of condescension into your tone. "Come on, Heath, I know you were into it. The way you squirmed for me was magical!" You coo, reach a finger down to stroke her hair.

"Don't touch me!" She shrieks, trauma bubbling up in response to the touch, making you flinch. "Jeeze, fine. Have it your way!" Ignoring her outburst, you turn towards Chris and plot out a new course of action. It's time to fix this whole mess you've gotten into.

Alexis, 10:40 AM

Okay, enough putting this off. Damn it, Alex, she's just your sister! You can do this; stop being such a little girl about everything!

You try to psych yourself up, but nerves continue to get the better of you. You play scenario after scenario in your head, exhausting any situation you can think up. Finally, you realize that all you're really doing is delaying the inevitable.

You take a deep breath and start typing out the text, knowing your sister isn't one to answer calls. Any attempt to reach her would go straight to voicemail anyhow. It's easier this way. Plus, as long as you’ve known her, she's been glued to her phone, frequenting whatever weirdo sites she likes to visit. There isn’t a doubt in your mind Celia will see it.

Being the oldest of your siblings, Celia always looked down on you somewhat. It's been a frustrating relationship, especially in recent years. If at all possible, you’d like to avoid her entirely. However, Mom isn't an option. Hell, if she found out you'd let two outsiders know family secrets, she might just stomp them flat. The mental image of those green flip-flops she always wears coming down on Chris makes you shiver and puts a sickening feeling in the deepest part of your gut. Celia, on the other hand, is another story. She'll probably make fun of the both of you, but hopefully, she'd help. You can't picture her giving a reaction similar to Mom. Guarding the family secrets has never been her number one priority.

You set the phone down, quickly rubbing your hands against your temples. What a headache this has all turned into. Heather sits off to the side, dejected. She's still refusing all attempts at reconciliation, and part of you doesn't really blame her. You feel guilty over the extreme you'd taken, but another part of you is filled with venom. Fuck her and her prissy attitude. Maybe you'd gotten a teensy bit carried away, but whatever. Payback for a few months dealing with her stuck-up attitude.

Chris, on the other hand, looks relatively unmoved. He seems more bored than anything as he idly twiddles his thumbs. Still naked, of course. Yeah, he probably wasn't getting those clothes back anytime soon. Who the hell knows where those things went. However, you can't help but trace him carefully while you wait, your eyes rolling across his bare body and idly musing over his looks. He really isn't all that bad-looking. You note that his overall body shape is decent, having admittedly not bothered giving him a fair shake in the past. He’s not chiseled by any means, but he definitely scraped into the handsome category. And lack of muscle was fine too. You'd always sort of dug the nerdier look. Muscle men have always been overrated.

Vrrrrr-Vrrrrr

The phone vibrates after only a few moments, proving your previous assumption correct. It has to be Celia. Unfortunately, neither of your diminished buddies are ready for the quaking of the ground it produces. Your friend jumps while your roomie shrieks from the sudden interruption into her brooding. 

"Sorry!" You hastily reply, grabbing the pink rectangle from off the desk. You ignore her angry squeaking, scrambling to see your sister's reply. With a few presses, you’re back looking at recent messages.

'Gimme 5'

You're relieved. Knowing Celia, it wouldn't have been unlike her to have made you wait around all day. Despite living so close, you actually hadn't seen her for some time. Summer break is the last time you even got a text from her. You'd slowly fallen out of contact as corroding relationships tend to go. The two of you had grown more distant as time went on, and truthfully, you can't help but blame your sister for that one. Communication goes both ways, after all. Although the two of you were only three years apart, she'd become callous and downright cynical in those years she held above you. Now that you think about it, she’s becoming a stereotype, more so as days go by. Celia is living up to a fairytale's drab take on a witch.

You're nervous, unable to stop yourself from pacing back and forth across the desk's smooth surface. You'll be meeting Celia for the first time in just moments! Assuming she hadn't already forgotten, which is starting to seem like a genuine possibility. You don't have any way to keep track of time in this state, but it had undoubtedly been longer than the five minutes Alexis' sister promised.

Even your friend is tired of waiting, her head buried into the crook of her arm as she sits face down at her desk, massive arms strewn across it, motionless but close by.

You've heard so much about Celia from osmosis alone. Picking up little tidbits of her life and demeanor from conversations with Alexis. Truthfully, the extra info is exactly what's putting you so on edge. At twenty-six years old, she should be a social butterfly, going to bars and meeting new people. Maybe even dating, if that was her vibe. But if your friend is to be believed, the burgeoning witch instead chose to withdraw from the social responsibilities she once had. Last year she'd further cemented her lifestyle as a hermit when she moved into a studio on the very edge of the town. It speaks volumes in your eyes. No rational twenty-year-old would move away from the hotspots. No. Unquestionably, something is off about her.

It’s frightening to think this potentially unhinged witch would have full access to you. Alexis would never let anything happen to you on her watch, but does it really matter? At this size, what's to stop her from blowing you off the table for a cheap laugh? You think back to the other day in the back of your friend's pants. It seems like a lifetime ago; so much has happened between then and now. But a single gust from her backside had nearly left you concussed, so what's to stop this girl from really having her way with you?

The answer, of course, is terrifying: nothing.

As you finish your latest bout of worrying, there's a knock at the door. Alexis raises her head, eyes lighting up with cautious optimism that you don’t find yourself sharing. "Coming!" She shouts in the other direction, the momentary distraction making her forget entirely about volume control. She rises to her feet and breaths in, shaking off the nerves as she prepares to greet her sister for the first time in a few months.

"I'll be right back. Sit tight, you two." In a flash, she disappears beyond the door frame, leaving both you and Heather to glance wearily at one another.

"Whose that?" Heather asks curtly, her voice shaky. The girl’s been through a lot, clearly rattled from the last few hours. You notice her makeup running, having never adequately washed off last night. You don’t have the same cocky attitude you’d given her only about an hour prior. You have a pretty good idea of what she’s going through.

"Celia. One of her sisters." You say matter of factly, trying to be helpful. But your kindness isn’t returned. Heather turns back around, hiding her face from view once again. The two of you sit wordlessly, waiting.

You walk through the door, tarnished boots you'd repurchased a few years back likely dirtying the posh white carpet with years of grime. You look around, ignoring Alexis entirely at first. Did she say something? Probably being sappy and sentimental like usual, which isn't worth acknowledging. Moving further in, the place is pretty nice, and without bothering to ask, you estimate her student loans are rather exorbitant. Stupid, school is for suckers. Although it makes you wonder, is Mom footing the bill for this place?

Adjusting the leather jacket around your shoulders, you turn to Alexis, who's deep in the process of giving some spiel or whatever. "Can I smoke in here?" You ask, interrupting as you reach for the box of cigs in your coat's inner pocket, hoping for a yes, or even a maybe. Which everyone knows is simply the yes of cowards. You hadn't heard a word of what she’s been blathering about anyway, too wrapped up in taking in the sights of this alien world you'd stumbled into at your sister's request.

"Oh, um, no. I don't think we'd get our deposit back." Your bluntness sets some people off, but you'd always appreciate that your sisters never bugged you about it. Even if she is disgustingly preppy, you loved her deep down in a pretty challenging way to show. You'll forever struggle with this touchy-feely trash.

"Well, shit. Fair enough though, I guess." You concede, slipping the pack back into your coat before turning toward your sister. "So, where are they?"

She doesn't waste time, promptly leading you a short walk down the hall and into an offensively pink room. Yup, this is definitely your sister. You want to gag but refrain for her sake. Instead, your eyes focus on two specks huddled nearby on her desk. "Holy shit." You exclaim with an ounce of disbelief snaking into your voice's tone. 

The girl’s absolutely teeny, but the other is a fucking speck! Admittedly, it's kind of impressive. The amount of magic to pull off shrinking a human body not once but twice with only a day or so in between is astounding. No wonder the spell backfired. Alexis is likely sapped at the moment. "Damn, sis," You say, leaning down towards the smaller one. "What did this one do to piss you off?"

Your comment makes her visibly flustered, "It's not like that at all! Him being so small was the backfire. I was trying to negate the effects." She says timidly. It all makes sense now. Clearly, in trying to cancel the effect, it had doubled back. Effectively casting itself again. Well fuck, now you almost feel bad for the mite.

            You recoil as Celia disregards your ears, either not consciously thinking about the impact or not caring. When she walks in, the first thing you notice is how pretty she is, making your heart skip. She's a stunning image of Alexis, except her style is all wrong. Not to mention the age gap. Her look can best be described as distinctly grungy, and the odor wafting from her mouth as she spoke confirms as much. It's not so much a lack of hygiene that's noticeable, but the intense aroma of stale cigarettes and weed bombarding you like a thick fog, making you choke. If it hadn't just happened, you'd never be able to imagine such a beautiful girl could produce such a toxic cloud, even with her vaguely punk-like appearance.

You recoil as Celia disregards your ears, either not consciously thinking about the impact, or not caring. Luckily, she pulls away, her sterling silver nose ring wobbling slightly as she stands back up to her full height, eyeing not only you but also Heather. "Fucking hell, Lex. I can practically smell the Other Side on this one. What the fuck did you do?" The disheveled black-haired girl says more with disbelief than anything else. "I didn't think you had the guts." She smirks, a sense of twisted pride seeming to ooze out of her expression. Your friend remains silent for her part, glancing down at the floor in quiet shame. You don't entirely understand it, but whatever she'd done to get you back had been a very obvious no-no.

"I can help you out, but I need to do more research into this first." Alexis lights up immediately, almost looking as if she's about to go in for a hug before her sister puts up a hand, stopping her dead. Confusion builds across her brow as Celia moves to explain, "I need some company, though. I'll take them both and bring them back when I'm done."

"You want…." She trails off, gears in her head trying to answer the unspoken question. Alexis is visibly taken aback, stumbling mentally as she tries to process the situation.

"Yeah. Both of them. She says shortly, mild aggravation prevalent in her words. “Or I could just go back to what I was researching before and forget this little problem ever happened."

The scariest part for you is the lip bite Lexy gives in response, telling you visually that she's giving it some real contemplation. It's a bad idea, one you want nothing to do with. Who knows what this crazy bitch is capable of. Did your friend even know?

"Fine. Just be careful with them, okay?" She says with defeat, making your eyes practically budge out of their sockets. She wouldn't do this; she couldn't! This has to be some sick joke you aren't in on.

"Lexy, no fucking way! You can't leave me with this unhinged NEET!" You shout, tele-link still in effect for the time being, its limited range not yet surpassed. Fortunately, the others aren't linked up, allowing for private asides. She looks down at you worryingly, putting on a quickly failing smile.

"Don't worry, Celia will figure this out. I'm so sorry, Chris. This has just been mistake after mistake." This is bad, so very bad. She dodges the apparent elephant in the room entirely, which is, of course, that her sister probably couldn't be trusted.

"God, this'll be fun. Do you know how long it's been since I had a boy come over? Though, he’s more of a gnat in his current state. Can’t give any good dick in that state." Celia chuckles as Alexis gives her a sharp glare. "Oh, lighten up. I'm just joking around. Mostly." She whispers the last word under her breath, sending chills down your spine.

Not wanting to beat around the bush any further, you and Heather are snatched up by Celia, and you briefly get a glimpse at several rings she's wearing while she roughly handles you. You wonder about their purpose. Decoration? Or did they mean something more? Nevertheless, you’re placed promptly in a ziplock as your friend looks on with a pained, helpless expression. They say their final goodbyes to one another, getting held up about a particular family issue you can't muster the mental fortitude to care about. Though, it does give you and Heather some time alone together. She's still far larger than you, probably a little over half your size if you had to estimate.

"Hey, Heather…" You take a moment to think, finding the right words to express your feelings. "I wanted to apologize for what Alexis did to you. What you did really sucks, but what she did was just as bad." You speak your mind, choosing your words carefully.

She’s silent for a few seconds, staring off into the distance beyond the blurry and distorted confines of the small plastic baggie. "...I don't even like girls." is all she muster, the droning of sisters still omnipresent behind this bite-sized conversation. You can hear her voice shake, not to mention smell the womanly scent coming off her. She'd been through hell.

Reaching for anything possible right now, you throw out the only affirmation that really makes sense at the moment. "I wouldn't do it again if you were rough with me like that, but I did actually sort of enjoy that whole thing we did."

"Me too." A small smile cracks Heather's lips just before you’re sent tumbling into each other, tucked away carelessly inside Celia's leather coat pocket.

Celia places the baggie both you and Heather are in on the dash of her car. She leans out the open door, taking several long drags off her cigarette. Clearly, being deprived that short while had left her wanting. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to be the type just to smoke inside. Why that might be, you aren't entirely sure. But you observe a severe lack of the usual yellow-tinted buildup you often saw from friends who smoke inside their cars. Though, the fixer-upper does have a very distinct smell of weed. It claws at your nose, ignoring the thin plastic completely.

The observation leaves you guessing as to the model of the car itself. You'd never been much of a car guy, but based on the almost grungy aged interior, you estimate it's probably a twenty-ten. Possibly older. The cigarette reaching its end, Celia flicks it to the side with a satisfied look on her face. She shuts the door and puts in her key, the engine humming to life. But before she starts to drive, the young witch looks at both of you, vague amusement cracking across her face.

“Been a hot minute since Mom let me have anybody over!” She says sarcastically.

You arrive home, finding it messy as always. Cans and clothing litter the ground, primarily panties. You rarely go out anymore, so forgoing pants and a bra often saves you time that would be spent doing extra laundry. Probably should clean those up sooner rather than later, though. But it can wait till after you've had some fun with your guests. You place the baggie down on your coffee table, pushing the bong out of the way and swiftly draping your jacket across the back of the sofa. Lastly, it's time to kick off your boots. With only the tips of your toes, you slip the heavy footwear off one at a time before kicking them across the room at random. With that taken care of, it’s time to shift attention toward your sister's two tiny mistakes.

You scrutinize them with care, and it's just as you'd initially thought. The girl is more than double his height. No doubt about it, this is a classic case of recast via misfire. It's really not all that complex to solve. The hard part would be sorting through whatever had so thoroughly attached itself to the smallest one's body. But that would have to wait. You're frankly not feeling up to pouring through mom's dusty books right now.

With a stretch, you let yourself fall back onto the couch with a pomf of the plush cushion, immediately eyeing the bong you’d left packed full of the weed. Obviously, you’d bummed it off Courtney, that fat bitch. Probably the only human you’d seen for a few months. Until today, that is. Your socialization threshold had tripled the last twenty-four hours, taking charge of two little lives.

You try and think, both wanting to clear your head and relax all at the same time. Your attention is drawn to the bong, and its sleek blown glass exterior. It would be irresponsible to get high right now. But, when had you ever been the responsible one? That was Lexy. Going to school, getting a degree. Miss goody two shoes. You love her, but she also makes you downright sick.

Taking the bag, you tip it onto the stained wooden surface and watch as a bug and tic tac slide out in a mess of limbs. You can't help but snort, seeing how discombobulated they are. It’s borderline hilarious to see their quick and jerky movements acted out, the two of them fighting to their feet only to fall back on their butts as your knee gently bumps the table. Normies are so sad, just at the complete mercy of magic.

Reaching over to the table's far side, you grab a lighter, holding it up to the packed bong. Yeah, fuck it. One big hit, just to help you unwind a little.

             Shick, Shick, Shick

Brbrbrbrbrurble

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The bong gurgles its concoction of rank water before you pull the chamber and let the relief flood into your lungs. The response to your senses is almost immediate, a cool fog lazing across your overstimulated brain. You lay back, melting into the sofa before letting droopy eyes fall across your house guests.

A strong riptide of bubbles roars through the bong. You and Heather share similar looks of disgust between each other, her increased size doing very little to squelch the growing sense of comradery between you.

Trying your best to ignore the whirlpool of cloudy water taking place nearby, you look idly around Celia's abode. It's pretty dingy, not necessarily dirty, but lacks any organization. Old shirts and panties litter the floor, while books and an assortment of weed-friendly paraphernalia adorn the coffee table you and Heather are stuck twiddling your thumbs on. There really wasn’t anywhere to go. Like it or not, you’re stuck up here. Finishing her aforementioned ‘hit,’ Celia takes to scrolling through her phone, her mouth hanging open in a stoned stupor.

With your captor's activity slowing, you end up glancing at Heather. She’s still entirely naked, and seemingly chilly if her nipples are any indication. The young college diva clenches her firsts tightly, seething with a rage hotter than you thought possible in a situation like this. Truthfully, it's not something you expected to see. Not even an hour ago, she'd been beside herself. Maybe the blatant disrespect had struck some nerve in her, buried right beneath the surface. Which makes the next part all the more difficult. You know exactly what she's about to do.

"Heather, don't do this…." You caution, seeing the look she’s giving an oblivious Celia.

"No, Chris, this is fucked up! She can’t just treat us like… this!" She declares passionately, gesturing to your naked bodies. The irony isn't lost on you, having been pressed so closely against her own rear last night. Did she not see the blatant double standard here?

Only now, looking at Heather's fit body, do you realize she’s naked. Something impossible to miss but hadn’t registered in your usually one-track mind. It's pretty messed up that you'd gotten so used to running around in your birthday suit. What's stranger is not connecting the dots while a beautiful girl like Heather is in full view. Gone is any urge you once had to ogle the opposite sex. The world seemed so much more complex than when you'd first proposed this silly game.

Ultimately, speaking up is meaningless as Heather decides to take matters into her own hands, quite literally. She cups both palms around her mouth and shouts louder than you've ever heard her yell before. "Hey, you stupid thot! Where do you get off! Are you listening to me? Get off you’re fucking phone and fix us!" She continues, assaulting her with several colorful comments. "You gross bitch! What gives you the right to treat us this way?" To the little lady's dismay, it takes several seconds for Celia to acknowledge her vulgar speech, first laying the phone down on the couch beside her.

"You don't have to yell. I can hear you perfectly fine." Celia looks down at her, a bored expression already settled across her face. Heather takes a step back, confused, as Celia moves to explain. "Yeah, I synced us up before we even left. Your boyfriend over there still can't be touched by the coven spells. Anyway, what was that last one? Smelly bitch?" She says, calm anger rising past her baked stupor.

Heather backpedals but can't manage more than a series of ‘um's’ and ‘ah's.’ Celia leans in closer, looking down with malice you can feel burning off her. She purses her lips and lets a glob fall, smashing into the small girl and enveloping her in a sickly goo.  It happens so fast there isn’t any time for her to dodge it. It embeds itself deep into her hair like a foul cement, the stink of cigarettes and weed drifting upwind towards your offended nostrils. Her fury is gone instantly, snuffed out by chemically imbued saliva. She whimpers, folding to her knees as Celia snickers.

"Listen here, you preppy slut: I'm above you, better than you. But hey, I'm a nice girl. Cut the BS, and I won't turn you into a housefly." The whole exchange is frankly a living nightmare. Despite being your only savior, Celia might be your very undoing. Ignoring Heather's cries, she leans in from above you, her shadow blocking the dim living room light.

"You're the one I'm interested in," Celia speaks almost monotone, but her gray tone hints at curiosity. Two black fingernails come down from high above, making you flinch at their sudden entrance. She walks them around you, circling you like a shark might as they prepare to kill themselves a tasty meal. What could this unhinged psycho possibly want out of you?

"So, do boys… like girls like me?" She asks genuinely before realizing she wouldn't get an answer. "Right, you're a speck." She sighs, momentarily closing her eyes in contemplation. Or perhaps, remembrance. When she opens them back up, there’s a glint in them you can’t quite place. Some sort of idea and ambition had been sparked entirely anew within her. You can’t find the words, not that it would do you much good anyway. Her stare bores holes straight through you, causing every joint to lock. Why are those eyes of hers so unnerving? You shift your attention over to Heather but only see her staring at Celia and shivering in place as the gooey coating rapidly dries.

              Celia finally breaks contact with your eyes, grabbing the bong and lighting it up again with rehearsed motions. This time, the hit looks far more potent, and you watch as she holds it in with full cheeks. She lets it sit in her mouth for a few seconds, deciding to lean forward and release the cloud across the two of you. You aren’t ready for it, and neither is Heather, both of you coughing relentlessly as a sea of smog floods across the table. Time slows down, and the edges of your vision start to feel hazy. You hadn’t used weed since early high school, and you figure tolerance is probably relatively low, maybe non-existent.

Fuck. You feel decidedly weird, but suddenly a good chunk of the anxiety is gone. Everything seems so mellow now like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. The worry isn’t gone, but it’s infinitely more manageable. Mouth hanging open in a daze, you look at the grungy goddess. She’s smirking, getting more comfortable as she rips her bra from underneath her shirt in a single swift motion.

              “Way better,” She says, tossing it toward the floor like so many other articles of clothing. One more piece added to the untamable mountain of chaos congregating on the ground. She sits back, momentarily lost in her high. Still not looking directly at you, she starts talking to seemingly no one in particular.

“Back in high school, I messed around with shrinking spells. A few hexes too.” A smile forms across her lips, remembering old times gone. But the cadence of her voice grows serious, “Senior year, when my magic training was almost done, I was dating this guy. Sort of a tool, into that whole goth girl gf bullshit.” She rambles on, “We fucked like crazy, though. It was nice, but eventually, he wanted to no-life some video game more than spend time with me.” She rolls her eyes, finally choosing to look at the two of you. Though, you can’t help but feel like she has you zeroed.

“Like, I get I’m not the conventional blonde cheerleader, but I look good, you know? I deserved more than that.” She gets angrier, clearly not over the slight inflicted years ago. Even if you don’t like where this story is heading, you have to admit, she looks pretty good. Spitting image of your friend, in fact. Minus the whole grungy look she has going on. Lexy has far more pinks at her disposal, while Celia seems borderline allergic. Still, it's uncanny, really.

              “Sorry, the weed makes me ramble a bit. Anyway, after fucking ignoring me all week, he texts me like, ‘omg babe, I want you to swallow me!’ you know, sort of implying his stupid dick.” She rolls her eyes, the anecdote making the intention of this little story all the more apparent.“So, I made him probably about your size,” She points a black fingernail toward you, “Then I delivered!” She smiles matter of factly, sending chills straight through your body. Everything about this story makes you feel sick, even with the weed taking an edge off your worries.

“And like, obviously, I loaded him up with PH resistant spells and stuff. Honestly, I think the only thing that could have killed him is a boot at that point.” She muses idly, “But, I didn’t let him out after either. He took the scenic route.” Celia traces her stomach, moving even further downwards over her solid black tight-fit material. “Yeah, he wasn’t happy. Never even spoke to me again.” She bursts out laughing, much to your extreme discomfort. This lady is downright unbalanced.

"I guess my whole point is, I found the whole thing way hot. Like, I spent most of the time in my room. I thought about what he was going in there, picturing how hellish my body probably was for him…" She zones out wistfully for a short moment, snapping back with a jolt.

"Oh, oh my gosh. I just got an idea! You're already tiny enough too!" Her brows shoot up in excitement, “Hey, how about you do this for me? I'm already doing you a big solid by getting that icky magic mambo jumbo off you! The least you could do is something in return for all the hard work I'll be doing." You take a feeble step back, not intending to meet your ultimate fate in some girl you barely knew. The whole idea is batshit, and even in her compromised state, you're blown away she even proposed it.

"Though, I can't really cast those same spells. I don't think they stick with the stink of the Other Side all over you." Celia taps her own chin inquisitively.

              “T-then l-let me. I can d-do it.” Heather pipes up, startling you. "Heather…" You start, but she silences you with a shaky hand. "You can do whatever you want to me."

She smiles, the initiative surprising even her. “That would be all nice and good, but I don’t want you girly. I want him.” Celia blushes, looking down at you. Clearly, her mind was already made up. Asking had only been a mere courtesy.

"I'm pretty sure I have some antacids around here somewhere. I can totally take a few and just throw you back up after I finish. Trust me, my gag reflex is strong." She rifles through some clutter by her feet and pops open a plastic container, downing two chalky tablets with ease, crunching them apart with scary amounts of force. You'd always known how crazy dense teeth were, but seeing their ferocity in action at this scale, is an experience in itself.

She quickly swallows the tablets, grinding them into powder in a matter of seconds. Like earlier, you can smell the stink of weed coming off her breath, though it's infinitely stronger now. She doesn't waste any more time either, picking you up roughly with two hands and bringing you to her rose-red face.

"Hey, so, I know I'm not really giving you a choice in this, but I still really appreciate it. I swear I've thought about doing this almost monthly since that whole thing happened." She does seem legitimately thankful, though it's little consolation for what she's preparing to inflict. "I doubt you're going to be all that into it, but if you want to keep the sexy rolling I'll give you permission to cum in my stomach." She says with a cutesy wink before giving your body a full lick. Which, admittedly, takes a nonexistent amount of effort at your dismal size.

"Oh god." You hear Heather gasp faintly from behind you as Celia raises your petrified form closer to her mouth. There's a moment of hesitation on her part, before you abruptly plunge into a hot box of potent THC. You tumble end over end, pushed inside by only an index finger. It is drier than expected but still sweltering. You fumble blindly until a dexterous tongue finds you, corralling you exactly where it feels you should be. The outside world bleeds away, turning quickly into a distant memory. At the moment, Celia's mouth is your world and universe; everything else ceases to be. Noises of sloshing and the general shifting of saliva overtake your hearing completely; the red muscle is serving as your ground, deciding it's time to get started. You're pinned to the slick roof of her mouth, spongy yet somehow solid.

The organ rolls across your body, stroking your cock eagerly, letting the tip slide across your balls and over your butt. The sensation is incredible, unbeatable to any other. But, Lexy’s sister doesn't linger long, saliva already pooling in anticipation for what's to come.

Two distinct noises sound out as you're thrown to the back of the throat, into a deep hole of black.

Guuuulp

Gl'uuuck

Down you go, squeezed by tight muscles. You feel slimy as thin mucus layers attach themselves to your sides, ribbons of goop creating webbing from you to the walls of Celia’s esophagus. You can't hear anything besides the natural noises of her body, the very processes giving her life. It's beyond crazy to think about actually nourishing them, supplying her with the energy to make those stark and almost alien sounds.

In a way, you're glad she blew that smoke, regardless of the initial discomfort. Being so high makes what could have been a heart-pounding situation more interesting than outright scary. Instead, you feel attuned to her body, introspectively thinking about each step of this bizarre journey into Celia's inner workings.

You come out of the throat abruptly, splashing into a sea of chalky acid and slopping mucus, its intensity lessened by the very chalky substance that pervades your skin. It's thick, splashing against you in gentle but dense waves. Abruptly, a cacophony of bodily noises hits you, the outside sounds veiled beyond recognition by the interior of Celia’s body. Sight is nonexistent here, the darkness more complete than any you've witnessed.

              You feel vile, gross, disgusting. Your mind throws out any word that can help convey the sticky feeling of sickness you’re caught up in. However, in a way, you also feel closer to her. Like you are intimately involved with the girl you’re inside. There’s occasional jostling, likely brought on by your host's movements, but it's almost tranquil otherwise.

             Oh fuck, you actually did it! You swallowed him! So confidently too! Ugh, you can already feel the heat just thinking about him in there. A part of you wonders if someone would pay for something like that. Of course, it's not feasible. But, a girl can dream!

              You stretch and stick a hand down between the couch's cushions, looking for that familiar self-help tool. You see the disheveled brat staring up at you with hate in her eyes. Her pretty and proper hair starting to dry in places that look outright funny. “Oh chill,” You say, annoyed she’s giving you this high and mighty treatment. “I deserve some R&R sometimes, alright?”

              “Aha!” You declare, pulling out a purple vibrator triumphantly. Ol’ reliable. A generically purple dildo with a lovely clit tickler on the top. Exactly what you need! Slipping your pants down to your legs, you get to work. The high makes every feeling deeper, and the idea that he’s inside you is strangely erotic in its own right. It's a feeling you don’t totally care to understand, but the outcome is always the same: some of the best orgasms of your life.

Celia, 1:19 PM

Brbrbrbrbrbrble

You breathe a cloud of smoke, flooding the relatively dark apartment before letting the bong drop next to Heather. She jumps from the impact across the shiny wooden surface. Cute, but you pay the reaction little mind and instead sigh, content. Chris is still soaking in the sink, his skin tender from being left in your stomach for a few minutes longer than you'd intended. Oops. It hadn't been intentional; you'd never actually want anything to happen to him. But the thought? Even the general taboo of it is outrageously hot to fantasize about.

You catch your dark train of thoughts and muse over how utterly sick they were. But hey, a girl likes what she likes. Still, that was unlike anything you've ever felt. The raw surge of power is a feeling you already yearn for again as a fresh high takes hold, gripping your senses in a vise. You take the opportunity to lay back, resting your head against the armrest on the end of your couch, entirely naked. Your clothes had long since been removed, several articles draped across the back of your sofa. It's so pleasant to be living on your own, having complete freedom to do whatever you want.

There's a quick moment of clarity, and your eyes widen as you consider perhaps you'd gone too far. The insides of a person have to be downright disgusting in person. Gross and slimy, thinking back to high school biology. But you shrug it off. That perverted little fuck probably loved it. You don't fully get the dynamic between him and your sister, but there's clearly more going on than just friendship. No way in hell somebody would willingly shrink themselves just for the wow factor, right? Far too scary unless some perverse sexual motivation is involved.

You look over at Heather from her spot between your dildo and bong, a fitting place for the runt. From your perspective, the view is almost perfect: a little ice queen sitting between a still warm sex toy and a half-packed weed delivery system. The scale of the two ordinary objects is practically astonishing in comparison. Her tiny body can’t measure up to either of them. It's hard not to try and imagine what her view must be right now. It's so… pathetic.

You find a hand drifting back towards your lower lips, operating with a will of its own. Your middle finger lightly drags itself from the bottom to the top, carefully parting slick flesh. You linger on your clit, parting its hood and feeling the familiar jolt of sensations as your finger makes contact with the bundle of nerves once again. It's sensitive from so much use, but that isn't about to stop you. The movements of your hand simply adapt, growing more cautious and careful in their repetitions.

Bullying people is always something that gets you so ridiculously hot. There's really nothing that can compare, as far as you're concerned. You flip over onto your side, eyes focusing on Heather. Her well-proportioned tits, now small, just like her body. You wonder if she feels less womanly as a result. Probably, you sure would.

You observe in utter disgust as this burnt-out stoner starts masturbating for the second time today. You've had ample time to view her naked body, her physique surprisingly well-kempt despite an otherwise lazy demeanor. She has a slight fuzz across her arms and a minor patch of hair around her vulva, stubble lining her entire lower region. Most of it's pretty short, though a few strands that equate to nearly half your size do catch your eye. Not meticulous in her grooming, but sufficient as far as you're concerned.

Though, the whole display in itself is a huge turnoff. You'd never been one of those girls. The girls who took their college years as an excuse to experiment with who they really are. No, you liked dick. Plain and simple. Anything else is almost repulsive. You shiver at even the thought of doing anything sexual with a girl, trying your hardest to block out the close-up encounter with Alexis' lady parts earlier.

Then, the bitch turns over on her side, looking right at you. The blacks of her pupils stare directly into yours, emitting a palpable sense of curiosity. There's hope that maybe she'll let you wash off this disgusting drool you have caked across your naked body. But once you gleam the hand still firmly between her legs, you realize this is far from over. An interlude to the second act of sexual gratification.

"Hey girl, how's it feel to be like, a fraction of my sex toy?" Celia grins, prompting you to look towards your left, sizing up the toy deep inside of her not long ago. The purple dildo, still slightly moist from its foray inside your captor, stands far taller than you. Is this really how Chris saw everything? Then it dawns on you: he's even smaller. You shudder, regret coursing through you as you realize the hell he must have gone through stuck the back of your pants last night. You'd thought it cute initially, but seeing the world as you do now, it's hard not to picture your asshole like a stubby monster, hungry and ready to feast on its latest meal.

That surge of regret turns into shame as you think harder about the situation. God, you really shoved him against your asshole of all places. How absolutely mortifying! His taunting earlier suddenly makes sense, no longer seeing it as gloating but therapeutic.

Are you… a bad person? It's a challenge not to see yourself as one.

Your moment of self-awareness is cut short as she reaches a finger towards you, quickly knocking you on your butt with relative ease. You yelp in surprise as the finger fondles your breasts relentlessly in an unexpected all-out assault. You can’t hold back the blush, which is immensely uncomfortable, but her soft finger feels electrifying against your sensitive nipples. You squeak out a moan, before covering your mouth in embarrassment.

Celia laughs, her voice booming from her elevated position. "Aw, so you do enjoy it, don't you? I bet little miss pouty likes being bullied!" The witch snickers.

"N-no! It's not like that! It's just been a long m-morning. You hit the right spots, that's all!" You huff, flustered and aroused. You'll be damned before giving her this minor victory. But you're sure she knows exactly what's going through your head. The look she gives you is remarkably telling of her intentions.

"Of course I do! I know where to touch," She leans in closely, still turned over on her side, "I am a girl, after all. And girls know girls." She smiles, and your blush only intensifies. No, this isn't right! You liked boys! Not girls! But she already got into your head; even that statement is starting to feel doubtful.

"Umf, you know, if you didn't look so gross right now, I'd take you up on some fine dining between those legs. But, you kind of stink." She says, referring to the dry saliva coating your skin and hair. Her hand continues to work her entire pussy, looking you up and down like a tiny piece of meat. You feel objectified and violated as if you’re something less than human.

"Fuck, look how small those tits are!" She says in mock awe, "Bet full-size they're pretty big. But now?" She sneers without skipping a beat, her hand burrowing deeper into her gooey lower lips. "You know how men are." She says the word with an ounce of disdain, "I doubt they'll want some smelly girl and her small chest."

She's just trying to get under your skin, but, upsettingly, it's working. You know you'll have your original size back soon, but you feel so worthless. Disgusting and in dire need of a shower. Her comments strike a nerve, and your lip starts to tremble.

Celia bites her own lip, just as you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. What if she never turns you back? Would she keep you like this, a punching bag to bully while she gets herself off?

"You're so smooth too. What, you got some dick appointment coming up? Kinda ironic if that's the case. You're probably smaller than whoever's cock you were planning on sucking!" She lets out a big laugh, especially pleased at the jab she delivered straight to your gut. "Maybe they can rub you over it or something. Make the best of a lame situation."

Your usual confidence is gone, dashed across the rocks. It makes you feel like a kid again, standing in the shadow of someone infinitely more powerful than you could ever be. It's daunting, but you try to pick yourself up, wiping tears from your eyes. "It's not like that!" You say, emotionally.

"Oh really?" She shoots back, a smug look splain across her features. She's reading you like an open book. Fully confident, unlike you.

"Mmm, why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Or not. I honestly don't care. You do you, I guess." She states with some underlying amusement, her gaze not breaking from your watery eyes as she plays with herself.

"I wonder what your little friend is up to," Her eyes narrow, "You know, I really could have digested him if I wanted. Turned him to shit." She seems to take a special joy in that, her lower body twitching in response. How could Celia possibly be getting off on this? She seems so smug, but you want to puke. It’s straight out of some horror flick; you aren’t sure what to do. Where to start.

Maybe there was a way out of this, some way to escape! You aren’t thinking clearly, the panic of knowing you could be next making your mind race. Weary and desperate eyes scour the plains of the drab coffee table, mess littered across it with no end in sight. There really is no way out. Not without Celia's aid. You want to scream, mind ablaze with the need to get away. But the witch is ever vigilant, keeping a watchful eye on you as she continues to get herself off. She keeps up a rhythm, and eventually, there's a shudder from the massive girl. It starts in her toes, working through the rest of her body like a surge of electricity. Every part of Celia's body clenches with satisfaction and release. All you can do is turn your head in shame.

"Oooh," She gasps, one final spasm racking her nerves before relaxing all together. "I can't even believe how hot this stuff is making me!" She shoves two fingers in her mouth, sucking the substance off readily. An act you find so rancid it nearly makes you gag. Celia slowly pulls the finger away from her sopping cunt, and stands up to presumably grab something to wipe off with. She disappears beyond a door before you notice a lingering wet spot on the couch where she'd only just laid. So trashy.

With nothing left to do but wait, you take another gander at the sex toy sitting nearby. It reeks of feminine arousal, and you quickly find yourself covering your nose; musk and pheromones are incredibly potent for you at the moment. It's so vile that you quickly look away, trying to put it out of your mind. But now that you’ve locked onto the scent, it lingers. Strong enough that turning away leaves a sour taste on your tongue.

Back to your own thoughts, you sit criss-cross on the ground, trying your best to hold everything together for the time being. Meanwhile, Celia thumps her way back into the room a few minutes later, laying down a towel and gently placing a tiny man beside you. Chris! You could kiss him right now! Hell, at this point maybe you will.

She casually lays the towel down over the wet spot and flops against the sofa, a new pair of panties around her waist. Had you been on better terms with her, you might even remark on how cute they were. Pink and lacey. Despite their appeal, you have difficulty considering any other possibility besides a lucky pull from her panty drawer. Whatever, at least Chris is safe and sound. You'd been petrified of something terrible happening, either him dissolving or Celia forgetting him somewhere. Being the burnout she is, it's only natural that the possibility lay in the back of her mind.

You surprise even yourself by sprinting over to Chris and giving him the biggest hug you can. Quiet literally picking him off the ground. Even more shocking, he reciprocates. After a brief but much-needed embrace, you ask the first thing on your mind. A simple, "Are you okay?" It's been eating at you since she placed him in her mouth. It looked so scary and alarming. Truthfully, despite your concern for Chris, a part of you is glad you hadn't been in his stead.

"I'm… okay, I think. Been through worse these last couple of days, but this is definitely up there." He looks shaken and disheveled. His skin is red and sore in spots the acid brushed against repeatedly. God, the whole thing is so sickening. How could someone just swallow another human being?

There's subtle rhythmic breathing coming from the couch, a quick snort drawing your attention. Celia has fallen fast asleep. You don't know what time it is, but it’s undoubtedly too early to be passing out, right? Light still shines through the drawn curtains, confirming your earlier suspicion. This girl is such a hopeless mess.

Seeing Chris with an odd look across his face, you do something you rarely ever do. You lean in, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you. If it wasn't you, it would have been me." You say nervously, the entire line of events making you exceedingly uncomfortable.

"And about the other night. Um, I'm-" But he stops you with a hand. Direct but considerate. 

             "Don't be. It was scary, but I know you wouldn't do it again if you could go back. Besides, I sort of have this obsession with butts. It was fun in a way." He says, blushing. It's cute. You can't help but smile. There's something oddly charming about him, and you’re just now getting a chance to see it.

"I'll make it up to you once this is all over. Maybe I could treat you to lunch? Wait, no, that's kind of dumb." You say, still lacking confidence from the events of earlier. How could such a simple gesture make up for such a massive mistake? But Chris doesn't let it go.

"Honestly, it sounds fun." There's exhaustion in his voice, but he still sounds excited. You start to tear up, regretful for how bitchy you'd been. This has been such a tremendous learning experience for you. Maybe you needed something like this, a wake-up call.

"Hey, Chris?" You ask inquisitively.

He scratches at his sore skin, half distracted. "Hm? What's up?"

You clear your throat awkwardly, "You're… kinda cute, you know. Just thought I'd say something." You look down towards your feet as he smiles, seemingly taken aback at the unprompted compliment.

"Thanks, Heath. You're really pretty yourself." Finally, there's a sense of hope, a welcome change of mood for both of you. With some luck, everything might work out in the end.

Two days later; Chris, 3:05 PM

The two of you stare up at pale thighs, watching as Celia pages through old books on her bed, a lazy and tired expression adorning her face. Every page turned is careful and methodical. She wouldn't want to tear anything accidentally; those books look older than sin.

You'd spent a few days here now, and Celia had seemingly made zero progress. Thankfully, despite the erotic landscape, Celia had put some relatively plain patterned lime green panties on. Not that you’d mind her doing research nude, of course. I mean, things couldn't really get much worse at this point. Although, you’d prefer to stay away from any mouths if it could be helped. You still shudder to think about what she’d put you through on arrival.

According to her, the process of dragging somebody out through the OtherSide is practically undocumented. You also gleaned a few tidbits that really put the Salem witch trials in a far better perspective. The history books you went to school with got it totally wrong if Celia is to be believed.

Truthfully, now that everything has mellowed out, the last few days have been outright relaxing. Lazing comfortably on a bed unfathomably larger than your body does have its perks. You find yourself hard-pressed to recall a mattress this soft. You look over at Heather, and she flashes you a smile. The two of you did a good amount of talking over the last couple of days. Past that front she puts on, you can see someone reasonably intelligent in there. If ever so slightly ditzy on occasion.

You walk over to her, watching as she lounges on her back, enjoying the soft expanse of the bed. "So, how are you holding up?" She blinks, giving the question a pregnant pause. "Not too bad. All things considered." She flips over onto her stomach with ease, making an excessive noise as she stretches her arms. You can see her entire body laid out, her athletic thighs curving into her firm glutes.

"I was just thinking about how tense I've been. So much drama these past few days. Wanna maybe… give me a massage?" She asks innocently, taking a substantial interest in your cheeks going red. 

After gawking like a horny teen for a few seconds, you manage to sputter out a reply, "O-oh, me? Well, uh, are you sure?" You scratch your head, "Aren't I a little… small?" You finish sheepishly.

"Oh shut up," She says affirmingly, "The only difference is now, there’s more of me to go around." She gestures toward the rest of her body with a nod.

The logic isn't very sound, but you aren't about to deny a cute girl's request for a massage. Even this small, you can't help yourself. Besides, it would be a decent way to kill some time. Not like either of you have much going on right now.

"Ugh! Fuck this!" The god-like voice echoes, Celia raising her voice in aggravation.

You crane your head up to see a frustrated Celia lay a book off to the side. She closes her eyes briefly, mumbling to herself. "Why Lex? Why do you have to make everything so damn difficult!" She sighs, flopping back on the bed. It makes you flinch, but Heather doesn’t move, used to the abrupt movements by now. She’d done a total one-eighty since the other day, settling into this temporary routine far faster than you.

             Well, no time like the present. You get to work, saddling Heather’s back the best you can. Pushing against her soft flesh. It's miraculously smooth, her scent like a lilac making your lower regions pump with blood. She giggles in response, feeling your hardness poke into her. But she doesn’t say anything past that, making it all the more embarrassing for you. If she acknowledged it, at least you wouldn’t feel as weird.

             “Oh, oh my god. Right there! That knot is so bad.” She says, melting into a buttery pool as you add more pressure. The situation is quickly heating up, but you aren’t about to make a move without Heather’s explicit go-ahead. The two of you had only just managed to get on good terms with one another, and you have no intention of ruining that. Nonetheless, Celia picks now to speak up about her research these past few days.

             “So, some good news and bad news,” She sighs, staring at the ceiling. “Probably best to get the good out there first! Removing the corruption? Totally possible.” Your ears perk up, excited and relieved to hear something positive for once. These past few days have been awash with bad.

             “However, I don’t have the technical skill to do something like this. Yeah, big shock, right?” You can practically see the grimace creep along her face as she continues, “But, uh, my Mom… might?” Your blood runs cold. Her mom? The very person Lexy was so worried about explaining this whole situation too? But contrasting your feeling, Heather doesn’t seem to be listening, blocking out Celia’s entire spiel.

             “The choice is to stay like that forever or try and get her help. You and Lexy can do that, though. I’m not risking a whole lecture from Mom.” She continues, rambling about magical properties and the like. You don’t pretend to understand. However, Heather looks over her shoulder, giving you a look that's hard to place. You start to speak, but she quickly silences you, throwing your body to the ground in a fluid motion and ending on top.

             She looks you in the eyes for several long moments before moving down, her head resting near your cock. You feel her breath blowing across it, your whole body shivering in response. You must have been giving her a thousand eye stare because she speaks up, “Hey, what’s with that look? I still owe you from the other day, or did you forget already?”

             You certainly hadn’t. How could you? That miserable night tucked closely to her asshole while she danced around and had fun. At the time, you’d been scared for your very life. But looking back on it? It's hard to deny your craving it all again. Trapped in an area so imbued with femininity. Though, perhaps on marginally safer terms.

             You sit up slightly, trying to get a better view. Heather’s flush cheek pressed lightly against your reduced cock, her soft face caressing it tenderly, making you only want her more. However, it looks rather pathetic. It's so tiny compared to the features of her face. Like a cigarette held up to someone's mouth. But to her credit, she doesn’t call it out. Opting to instead let her lips circle the head of the shaft before effortlessly taking it in.

             It's small enough that she can suck on it like a lollipop. Pressing the treat-sized member against the corners of her mouth, using her tongue to stroke the shaft. There’s a weird amalgamation of feelings, lust mixed with embarrassment. Sure she could do this for you, but what could you possibly do in return?

             “...but yeah, that’s about it. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lexy will be there, obviously, so it's not like you’ll be alone with her.” Celia finishes her ramble, both you and Heather having missed it in its entirety. She lazily lifts herself up and checks on the two of you, doing a double-take.

             “O-oh! Oh dang, you go, girl.” She’s taken aback at first before voicing her support. Her eyes bore into the two of you from high above, unmoving. Subtly, she bites a pale lower lip. “This is pretty hot, you two. Don’t mind me; I’m just doing my own thing.” She says sheepishly. Heather continues playing with you, not bothering to acknowledge the much bigger lady. But at her colossal scale, it's hard for you not to focus on what is essentially your entire backdrop. 

Celia adjusts her position slightly, though the panty-clad vista you’re subject to remains roughly the same. However, there’s a waft of heat as a finger decides to swoop down and pull it harshly to the side. You’re astonished, several tonnes of pure womanhood reacting to your every move and growing ever slicker.

             Just being in its presence makes you feel both small and unbelievably aroused. You can’t control yourself as you start to lightly thrust against Heather's much larger tongue. The pheromones, the scent, and the sights all drive you wild, coming together to create a perfect storm of sexual deviance.

             “You two just fucking went for it. Like, you don’t even care that I’m watching.” Her voice booms again, but it's accompanied by definitive action this time. Her index finger comes down, circling the outer edges of her lower lips, just as Heather groans, your shaft still inside her mouth, being toyed with and massaged with a fair amount of skill. The vibrations from her huge mouth reverberate, creating a sensation strong enough to make you gasp out loud. It’s like something straight out of the wilder stories you’d read. Overwhelmed with stimuli, you drink it in the best you can, doing your best to enjoy everything, despite its intensity.

             Something had you incredibly turned on. The heat started early in the morning and culminated in, well, this. Playing with Chris’ dick like it may as well have been a toy. Not that he didn’t absolutely love this. His enjoyment was evident from the get-go. Besides, you knew he wouldn’t turn you down. Not after these last few days the two of you had spent together.

             Celia had been saying something the whole time, but truthfully? You hadn’t caught a single word. If it was necessary, she’d just have to repeat herself. Let the bitch talk; it wouldn’t change much for you.

What finally jolts you from the laser focus you’d developed is a familiar noise of wet fingers working a sufficiently soaked pair of lips. A noise you were pretty acquainted with. But you’re so caught in the moment it's hard to be upset. As you continue to swirl Chris’ shaft around the entrance of your mouth, part of you feels like she’s trying to steal your thunder. And you weren’t about to let that fly. That antisocial bitch wasn’t about to make you enjoy this any less. You’d been watching Chris skip around naked for the two days! You needed and wanted this far more than her skank ass.

The fire of competition burns inside you as Chris looks between the two of you in awe. Yeah, live it up, you think. This is probably a horny guy's fantasy come true. Getting head while looking at an infinitesimally larger girl get herself off. But you're enjoying it too, so clearly, things aren’t all bad. Though, it makes you crave size again. To be bigger. Maybe Lexy would let you bully Chris around one last time? But, a part of you doubts that. Even if he gave you the go-ahead, it would be an uphill battle to convince her.

Celia’s undies are an entire landscape in themselves, and even you have to admit, it really does set the mood. Damp, musty, and hot. It creates a weird breeding ground of arousal in both of you, making you feel like it would be hard to stop. Not that either of you had that desire. No, the three of you are full steam ahead.

Wet squelches echo off to your side, Celia dipping a finger inside to stroke the start of her yearning tunnel. You drop a hand down yourself, almost feeling like it's a race, your competitive side out in full force today. As the pace picks up, wetness starts to fall. Tiny drops of stray moisture speckling both you and Chris as your captor turned savor selfishly gets herself off.

But you don’t care. Only caring about who finishes first. You circle the nub of your clit, moaning into Chris’ shaft as the environment starts to deteriorate. The wetter she gets, the thicker the air seems. An incredibly odd observation in this secret world you’ve entered.

             You don’t know what got into these two, but it's a welcome surprise. A chance to blow off some steam after spending two fruitless days with your nose in dusty old books. You don’t waste a second, taking the very first opportunity you can to dip a finger down between the tides. These two living, breathing human beings are actually between your legs. Initiating on their own accord. It’s hotter than you can accurately put into words.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach the peak, your imagination needing no fuel for its engine as you observe that preppy slut sucking off a reasonably cute boy. Your body shudders, clamping down and convulsing as the pair below seem to do the same.

“Wow.” You flop backward, laying your head against the soft pillow. “Incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that quickly before. Usually, I need some build-up. But seeing you two just go at it like that….” You can’t wipe the smile off your face. The spontaneity had been too much for your poor clit to handle, and it throbs angrily at you in response.

              However, the quickly fading afterglow brings a new set of problems. Issues you’d rather not deal with yourself. This is Lexy’s mess, after all. You grab the phone resting on your nightstand and start plugging in words. You begin to explain before realizing it’d be better to just call. It barely gets through a full ring before she picks up.

              “Hello? Any news, Cel?” She says, somewhat nervously. You can practically see her playing with the ends of her hair, fidgeting like she always has when waiting for a big piece of news.

You clear your throat, trying not to sound like you’ve just run a marathon. “Hey. And yeah, we have some news. Though, I’m not sure you’ll like it.” She remains silent, prompting you to continue, “I found a section in one of Mom's old books. ‘Defining Witchcraft’ or something. Dunno, the front is scratched off. The point is, this isn’t candle magic, Lex. This is some really hard-to-perform stuff.”

There’s a long silence before she responds with a curt, “Oh.” Making you sigh audibly. “Listen, I’ll give you the book and honestly wish you the best with this. But you’ll probably have to bug Mom.” Good luck with that, you think. It's going to be a monumental task. Regardless of what lies ahead, you know that your part in this is coming to a close.

              Sitting back up, you check between your legs, seeing two exhausted flea-sized people, as expected. They look like they are finished, so it's close enough. You hadn’t bothered to check too closely, not caring much past your satisfaction.

              “You probably heard just now, but I can’t help you two out. So, I’m just wiping my hands with this whole thing.” You drop the book onto the nightstand that had held your phone, the impact startling both of them. You don’t bother trying to converse with either of them, your uplink spell having long since worn off on Heather. It's funny how easily rattled people are when you shrink them.

              “Could really use a shower after all that. Ugh, I feel so gross and sweaty.” Standing up, the mattress springs creak, and you quickly shed your clothes, heading for the exit to your bedroom and into the bathroom located close by. You feel like you forgot something, though.

              “Oh! Right!” You curl your tongue in concentration before snapping your fingers, and a naked girl stands in front of you. She covers up right away, placing her hands in front of her breasts in surprise. You’ve already seen her naked plenty, though, and don’t bat an eye.

              “You can borrow some clothes if you want. I have a bunch of T-shirts and jeans that would probably fit.” You gesture towards the closet before heading towards the door.

              “T-thanks.” Heather says, with some uncertainty.

             Totally sapped of energy, you lay on your back and stare up in wonder at the two naked giants in front of you. Each of the titans is so dominating and equally massive in their own right. You do your best to stand on shaky legs, but it's a hard-fought struggle. That whole liaison had left you rocked. Celia leaves the room, a stunned Heather still trying to collect herself and adjust to being normal-sized again. It was jarring for you each time, so there's no doubt it's a similar process for Heather. You watch her meander over to the closet as the distant sound of a shower starts. Celia is no doubt taking advantage of the relaxing sensation of the warm water.

Heather disappears for a moment, and you hear some light rifling. A few minutes later, you are blown away when she walks out. Hair tied back, a black t-shirt, and a painfully ordinary pair of blue jeans. She looks so different, a total turnaround from the posh Mean Girl's vibe she often radiated.

She looks down at you and smiles, "What do you think? Cute girl next door?" Before grabbing the book and setting her free hand upon you, she gives a wink. You find yourself in Heather's control once again. However, this time, you feel far more at ease in her possession. Heather wasn’t an enemy anymore, but someone you feel confident to call a friend.

Chris, 3:35 PM

“I was thinking because we’ve had sooo much time to just sit around lately,” The shower continues to run as Heather paces back and forth in front of you, so massive it's a struggle to crane your head up to the girl's face. You settle on her blue jean-clad legs. There’s a light gust of turbulence each time she moves past, but it's minimal. Nothing like the wild movements you had been dealing with regarding Celia. That girl was as careless as they come, someone with zero fucks to spare.

             “Obviously, we need to get home.” She stops pacing and looks down at you from high above. Each leg is a colossal pillar that towers to both sides. It's terrifying to imagine what those legs could do to you. One little squeeze and…

             “Maybe we could take a little detour?” Heather breaks your chain of thought. “I know a nice cafe we can hang out at….” Is she asking you on a date? It's an odd offer. Certainly not one you ever expected. But not an unpleasant one by any stretch of the imagination. Though, even with some added durability to bulk you up, there’s no telling what could happen. Hell, the two of you could barely communicate, your voice far too small and pathetic to reach Heather's ears. A fact she’s only just realizing herself.

             “Right, it's pretty hard to hear you.” She goes silent, thinking for several long moments. “What if we just do like, yes or no questions? Yes, you wave at me with both arms! No, you stay still. That sounds good! Yeah, let's do that!” She clasps her hands together and kneels down before you, her drop dizzying in its speed. Like a comet hurling itself to earth, she stops right in front of you, her gigantic unblinking eye staring at your naked body. There’s a level of violation as she scopes you out with her newly acquired size, looking head to toe.

              “Oh my god,” Heather exclaims, finally getting a good look at your naked body for the first time since she’d reclaimed her height, “It’s just, like, a toothpick.” She’s astonished. Her eyes tell you exactly which area she’s focused on. Not like it can be helped! You sigh.

 Heather seems to pick up on your distress, and she quickly backpedals, “Oh, well, of course it's small! Because you are!” There’s a long delay where she has nothing to say, “...I’m sure it's a good size when you're, um, normal?” You sweep a foot along the floor idly, slightly annoyed. She wasn’t complaining earlier, that’s for sure. An awkward silence fills the air as both of you pause. “Well, where do we put you? My Pocket?” She blinks.

 You make sure to stay totally still. The last time you rode in a confined space like a purse, Heathers specifically, you’d nearly gotten killed by a tube of lipstick. That wasn’t something you were eager to revisit anytime soon. If she kept you anywhere like that, you’d have to be strapped in, not able to bounce around. She moves on, taking your silence as a conclusive no. “Uh, okay. How about my pants?” Another hard pass. Front or back, you’d gotten enough of both recently to be set for a lifetime.

 That last one leaves her stumped like it was her ace in the hole. Any other day, you’d have taken her up on it. But after this last week or so? Not a chance in hell. This fantasy has its upsides, but it's becoming more of a nightmare each day. At this point, getting back to normal wouldn’t be anything other than a massive relief.

              “Okay, I think I got it! Heather brazenly lifts up the shirt and pulls down the bra she’d liberated from Celia. It spills over, clearly not fitting her in any sense of the word. Your new friend speaks up with a shit-eating grin, “How about taking a ride in here? Look, I know the cup size is pretty tight, but there should be some space at the very end for you. Kinda like, a condom, you know?”

 It seems like an absolutely horrible idea, and you freeze just looking at those massive heaps of flesh. Is that really how big they always were? Fuck. You take a deep breath and wave frantically. This option was terrible, but so were all the others. Heather was never the brightest, though. And it wasn’t like you could pitch any ideas. You’re almost sure they’ll all be outrageously dangerous with her at the helm. At least this way, you’d be secured at the end of her tit, not able to bounce around. Though, the thought of suffocating in there fills you with dread. A genuine concern that you’d simply have to put towards the back of your mind.

              Her eyes lower in satisfaction, “Perfect.” She stands up, adjusting herself for the switch. “I hope you know just how lucky you are. Not everyone gets an all express pass to my tits!” She teasingly brags, lowering a hand for you to step on. You cautiously amble up and are subsequently rocketed upwards. The speeds are so fast that you’d have puked if you weren’t already well acclimated to the jolting motions of being picked up. Clearly, her care needs some work.

              There isn’t any way to voice a complaint, though, as she grossly licks a finger and smears you with her saliva before hastily pressing you into her tit. It's downright vile, able to quickly feel the individual strands adhere to you before being plastered to the pink of her soft nipple. You imagine it seems cuter her size, but at your miserable height? No chance. The smaller you go, the more intense everything is. A hard-learned lesson over the last few days.

              You feel her entire body shudder at the sensation of the finger making contact, a firm seal onto the topmost part of her areola, and a grin still wrapped tightly around her lips.

Everything taken into consideration, this isn’t all that bad. In fact, you could even get behind this in a small way. Finally, a sexy situation that you could actually feasibly enjoy! She blows a quick kiss downward before sealing you away behind miles of fabric, casting you into the humid darkness. The wave of heat is immediate, the insulation inside the cheap, poorly fitting bra doing you no favors. Otherwise, you find yourself surprisingly cozy. The bra keeps you pressed lightly against her nipple, and there’s little room to fall. The ever-present danger that has been an unfortunate companion to your adventure feels lessened in this space. It's almost non-existent, leaving more room for the erotic.

             You feel Heather moving, but it's challenging to get a good mental picture of what's happening outside. It's too dark to see, so instead, you focus on her heartbeat and the feeling of warmth her nipple provides. So, instead, you work a hand loose, wiggling it back and forth until it finally breaks free of the thick saliva that Heather seems inclined to use as glue. Naturally, you use the newfound freedom of your right hand to grasp at your member, blood already pumping vigorously through it. Gross as it may be, Heather's spit makes for a surprisingly solid lubricant, allowing your hand to glide up and down effortlessly.

Her chest sways lightly with her stride, a subtle pulling of gravity almost imperceptible to the naked eye. But you're living it, in the very thick of the action. Holding you in place as you take out all this pent-up sexual energy. In a way, it's soothing.

Repeated motions, up and down, up and down. Over and over again until your body lurches, spraying a pitiful amount of seed across the soft inner material. The explosive finish leaves a hard-to-spot stain on the inside of a bra. It’s a garment she'd likely toss straight in the trash, knowing Heather. You feel guilty not asking permission, but she's probably okay with it, right? Doesn't matter; not like you have any way of telling her. And her finding out on her own is practically an impossibility.

Annoyingly, you need to adjust your straps every few seconds; the borrowed bra is not doing you any favors in the stability department. It's a nice day out, though, and you try not to let a minor inconvenience ruin it.

Chris, on the other hand, is almost entirely unfelt. His tiny body is far too small to provide the stimulation needed for your body to acknowledge him beyond the occasional tingle. It's cute knowing he's sitting protected beneath the woven surface, snuggled up against such an erotic part of your body, but truthfully, he's making it quite itchy. However, you refrain from taking action, assuming Chris wouldn't be a fan of the interruption.

Trying to ignore the passing urge, you continue down the familiar college town streets. Vaguely familiar faces pass you by, most on the younger side of the typical college-age bracket. Some you've seen around, mostly in passing. And none of them are any wiser to what you have tucked away inside the loaned-out bra. Something is exciting about the hidden aspect, something both dangerous and empowering. You're really starting to see why Lexy is into this.

 It being Chris only makes things sweeter. You aren't totally sold on the nerdy type of deal he has going on, but he's cute enough. Plus, it's getting increasingly difficult to deny the feelings bubbling up recently. Maybe you'd ask him on an actual date after all this is said and done. A movie, possibly, or just lunch.

 You rapidly turn the corner, streets thankfully easy to traverse. The town has very few back roads, so what you see is what you get. It's something you've always appreciated about attending this school. Simple to get around, even without a vehicle. It makes clubbing a total breeze.

 Turning the next corner after a brisk walk past the university bookstore, you find yourself in front of the holy grail of coffee hangouts. Right across the street sits the usual spot, Aunt Joans. A local place that made iced vanilla macchiatos sweeter than any place around! You'd spent countless afternoons here. Alone and with friends. It was practically cemented into your morning routine, probably racking up a couple hundred at this place easily every month. Seeing a multitude of bodies crossing, you do a mental fist pump, appreciating the excellent stroke of luck.

 Your eyes focus on the relatively plain exterior of the building as you cross, several days without coffee making you a little too fixated on getting a cold brew. Shortly after reaching the other side, you run right into a muscle wall.

 "Watch whe-" You start to chide, but quickly yank yourself back when you see who it is. "Oh! Hey, Peter!" You say, putting on your most convincing fake face.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck! You mentally release a barrage of curses. Of all the people to bump into, why Peter?

 "Hey, little lady!" The Basketball player says smoothly. His voice is irresistible, but you know first hand this guy has very little to offer. Probably the quickest you'd ever broken up with someone. But being in the same circle, you had to stay on good terms. Anything otherwise would be social suicide.

 There's a sudden earthquake, and you're flung directly into the walls of enclosed fabric, breaking free of your spit prison in one swift move. It's startling but ultimately tolerable. As Heather initially pointed out, there really isn't much opportunity for you to get lost in here; the divot towards the nipple is relatively roomy, all things considered.

 "Holy hell," you groan, raising yourself against the natural slope created by the bra. You're rattled but otherwise, fine. That is until you hear a man's deep voice speak up. It's the first guy you'd even heard since Alexis invited you out for that run. There's something much more terrifying about it: the deep and confident cadence it carries.

 "God, can I just say you look gorgeous today!" Peter pipes up cheerfully.

 Heather lets out a giggle so forced even you can pick it up, responding with a curt, Thanks! I like the new haircut!"

 "Oh, this old thing? Changed it up a few months ago. Crazy how time flies, huh?" He says with a chuckle

 Although it's evident to everyone but this guy that Heather isn't into the conversation, it still manages to rattle you. If you couldn't reclaim your size, you'd have to compete with people like that. Not only in romantic settings but in all walks of life. Strong, confident, probably tall even for their relative size. It's a depressing line of thought. Otherwise, you wouldn't stand any chance, totally helpless in the adult world. And that's assuming they didn't lock you up somewhere. After all, you aren't sure how well known this magic business is. The implications of magic being real are far-reaching, yet.

That guy is more boring than a wet sack of paper towels. Both in bed and otherwise. You recall him bragging about his one toe being shorter than the rest; so lame. Regardless, you've made it. All that's left is to push open the door and order a drink made with heaven's very own mixture of caffeine! You wave an overly enthusiastic goodbye to Peter and turn towards the coffee shop, your false veneer dropping immediately.

Ding

The bell rings as the door is pushed open, and a barista on the thicker side of proportions greets you with a smile. "Welcome back, Heath, haven't seen you in a few days! I was getting lonely over here!"

Caroline. Lovely girl who lingered on the chubby side of the scale. Pale white, but she always did her makeup, the tones typically complimenting her face well. You've always appreciated a girl who has time for beautifying, and even though you'd never associated with her outside of grabbing a coffee, the two of you are on first-name terms, which is no surprise. Heck, you practically live here most weeks.

"Hey, Carol!" You give a short little wave. "Yeah, busy busy, you know?" The two of you share a quick giggle. "How are things?" You ask out of vague interest for some gossip.

"Well, you know that cute guy I showed you a picture of? We finally went out." The young adult sighs, visibly deflating.

"Oh my God, for real? I'll take the usual, but tell me all about it! How'd it go?" You ask, curiosity sufficiently peaked.

Caroline turns around and mixes the various flavorings into the coffee as she speaks, "Well, not so great. The guy was obsessed with my ass." She gestures toward her generous behind, giving it a pat for a stronger emphasis. "Definitely not relationship material, and when we got to bed, you know he b-lined right for it!" She groans in aggravation. Luckily, both you and Caroline could speak freely with it close to closing time.

You snort, the description reminding you of someone very close by. "How lame. I'm okay with a little myself, but it sounds pretty one-note." You say offhandedly.

"Right?" She agrees, placing the cold coffee on the table, the sweat running down the side teasing you with its chilling presence. "Anyway, totals six-forty-two."

You reach into your pockets and freeze. No money. Your face turns beet red as you sheepishly try to explain, "I guess I forgot my purse at home. I'm so sorry, Carol."

"Pshh, don't worry about it, girl.” She pushes the drink towards you before grabbing a plastic-wrapped cookie from behind the counter, “Here, just take it. Have a cookie too. Most of it goes right into the trash on days like this. If I don't get to it first, that is. And I do not need more calories!" She turns around, shaking her butt for emphasis before going back to whatever she was doing before you walked in.

Now, the heat is really starting to get to you. The intensity has you sweating like a pig while Heather makes idle chit-chat. She has you panting like a dog in here. Though, you find it hard to blame her. She wasn’t doing this intentionally, and in fact, she probably didn’t have the faintest clue about how stuffy it could get.

Finally, the roof is slyly cracked apart after a while longer, dim cafe light flooding in. A finger scoops you up, placing you roughly on the slick table Heather seems to have chosen for this thrown-together date. Is that what this is? You still aren't entirely sure.

Heather stares down at you with a warm smile, much kinder of an expression than you’ve seen to date from her. However, the warm tone is contrasted heavily by her imposing chest. You can barely even see most of her smile, hidden behind the several tons of warm tit-flesh. It blots out even the artificial light of the coffee joint. At any moment, she could so quickly just drop them to the surface, and you’d be toast. Nothing you can do would ever be enough to stop them if Heather slumped forward even slightly; your corpse would be shared between her shirt and the table. Fortunately, she quickly realizes the mistake and lets you sit in the groove of the poppable plastic bubbles adjacent to the straw before taking a sip.

Sluuuuurp

              You’re astonished as a massive amount of liquid flows through the straw and into Heather, her mouth greedily taking in the drink. It rushes through the tube like a high-pressure pipeline.

              Ahhhhhhh

              She lets out a fulfilled sigh and leans back, finally giving you some space. Pulling out the warm cookie, Heather takes a solid bite. Her strong teeth cut through the cookie's rapidly cooling exterior, your eyes widening. It's an impressive display of what her body is capable of, her mere mouth able to drain entire oceans at the drop of a hat.

              Full dump trucks worth of sugar vanish into that stormy cavern while hailstone-sized pieces of cookie dust rain messily onto the table below. The chocolate chip is devoured greedily, taking no time for Heather to scarf the whole thing down. It's mind-boggling how much food could disappear into her mouth.

She catches your bug-eyed stare, leaning slightly closer to inquire. “‘hat?” She blurts out, the rest of the cookie in the process of being chewed to a pulp as she speaks.

Chris, 4:07 PM

Heather's maw towers above you monstrously, leaving you without words. She shrugs it off and continues happily munching away, none the wiser. Even being in this position herself for a few days, you figure it's hard to see how intimidating every action can be when you're making them. Eventually, you snap out of the stupor, booming footfalls shaking your attention free.

You swivel your head to the side, watching from what seems like miles away as the chubby barista from earlier cleans a nearby tabletop, brushing off the table with powerful strokes before spraying it down and wiping away the crumbs in a flurry of blue and purple chemicals. Like everything else you’ve run into at this size, even a mundane task like cleaning can be incredibly intimidating.

She’s wearing what you can only assume is the standard for employees at this location. A cheesy green getup with a flimsy apron. The company's logo is plastered front and center, of course. It's precisely what you’d expect from a coffee shop. She repeats the same motions over and over, looking zoned out. She's probably counting down the minutes to the end of the shift. You can't really blame her either; jobs like this can be soul-sucking. However, you notice a wire hanging from one ear, traveling her body's length back down into her pocket. Listening to music at work? You wish your boss had let you do that when you were lifeguarding last summer.

Hearing a loud crunch, you turn back to Heather, looking above as she tears off a chunk of her cookie, placing it down in front of you. She sets the cookie's wrapper down, almost like a makeshift plate. Except, this plate dwarfs you. Though that isn't really a surprise. Most things make you look puny in comparison.

You're appreciative, although you find it rather comical how unaware Heather is of the etiquette, making a mess of crumbs for this random girl to clean up. You try to break a piece off, but fail to accomplish even that small task. Heather laughs, and you sink your head in shame.

“Oh my god, that’s adorable!” She says softly, covering her cookie-filled mouth with a hand as she giggles. Adorable? You sigh. That’s the last thing you wanted a cute girl calling you. Still, it's better than some of the alternatives, at the very least. You can think of a few that roll right off the tongue, bug, mite, ant. All the familiar names you hear on some of the not-so-safe sections of the internet that appear with varying frequency in your computer's search bar. But she hadn't resorted to any of them.

It brings you back to a train of thought you had earlier. Heather really wasn't all that terrible. Alexis had built her up as an evil force, the unchallenged queen of mean. Maybe the two had gotten off on the wrong foot? You figure it's pretty challenging to live with anyone, let alone a girl as fussy as Heather. Once everything is back to normal, a chat about the state of things could be nice. Perhaps these two can reach some common ground if you give them a slight push.

You notice the barista switch to mopping, grabbing it from a bucket she'd previously prepared. Powerful splotching noises sound more like claps of thunder echoing across the floor. The tendrils look like beasts, ready to drag you underneath their weight. You're thankful to be up here and out of harm's way.

Heather looks as you try to nibble on a piece of cookie, smiling in a downright infectious way. You smile back, a warm fuzzy feeling growing deep inside. The coffee shop seemed like a stupid risk, but it was worth the moment.

ThoomThoomThoom

You whirl around to see a wall of green rushing towards you. Turbulence threatens to blow you over as the employee lets her body fall on the booth seat opposite Heather. You can feel the pent-up exhaustion in the resulting vibrations. She sinks into the cushioning the seating provides, leaving a faint indent that looks deep enough to traverse.

"Wow, I'm half dead right now. My arms are killing me!" You hear her boom, stretching her arms high into the air with a loud groan. Everything stops for this exhausted barista, all of your attention momentarily ripped away by this absolutely colossal woman.

She eyes the smooth surface you’re standing on, looking right past you with intentions that aren't entirely clear. "Oh, you got crumbs all over. Here, let me help." You see the barista lean forward, the cute bun of her hair bouncing as her whole body moves. A hand reaches out, dooming you. A wall of skin comes rushing forwards with little warning, a sea of crumbs caught beneath its weight. You scream out, startled as it rapidly approaches. You think fast, quickly grabbing onto her finger, getting a loose grip on a light-colored hair.

Your legs flail above the rapidly shifting ground, doing everything possible to keep your already failing grasp somewhat steady. Debris piles up in a cluster, only to be hurled off the edge. You dangle above the vast expanse, having avoided what may have been a painful fall. Not even able to finish breathing your initial sigh of relief, the hand rockets downward towards the brunette's lap, smacking harshly into the material of her black office pants. The fabric is relatively thick, but her thighs are pressed remarkably tightly against it, giving it the illusion of being thinner than it is.

"There you go! Much better!" She remarks cheerily.

"H-how?" You remark shakily, patting your body down for any signs of injuries. No way that just happened. But it did, and now you'll have to deal with the consequences. Her hand shifts dangerously nearby, on what can only be her leg. 

Despite the material blocking direct skin-to-skin contact, the entire floor is warm. You bet she worked up a sweat cleaning the cafe just now. There aren't any unpleasant smells, though. In fact, all you can really smell are coffee grinds. It's practically baked into this girl’s pants. Still, that hand has you worried. At any second, she could move and absolutely pulverize you. Hell, she could do it with her legs alone if she really wanted to. And to make matters worse, you can’t seem to find a good way out of this situation.

The hand that brought you here sits to your right, blocking any hope of a safe descent. And on your left side… your eyes careen off the flank of her thigh, a dark claustrophobic pit stretching outward. That route is also a clear no-go. You shudder to think what might happen if you fell. Would you even last a couple of minutes before being swept under these pillars of muscle and skin? Probably not.

So, it seems you’re left with an equally terrible option. Waiting. You try to stay balanced on the sloping surface, keeping a watchful eye on it as she taps her fingers back and forth along her leg, drumming them to an invisible rhythm.

You nearly scream as you lose sight of Chris, swallowing the rest of your cookie with an audible gulp; your eyes expand farther than you thought they could. Caroline picks up on it immediately, raising an eyebrow in response. 

"I don't look that awful, do I?" She asks jokingly. "Or do I smell?" She cracks a smile at that one.

You find yourself scrambling for an excuse, trying to rack your brain for a logical way to get out of this. Was Chris even okay? It's impossible to know without a close inspection of the table. You stare at the significantly cleaner tabletop in a panic before looking up at her and spouting the first thing that pops into your head, "Oh, you scared me!" You force out a laugh, which she seems to buy for the time being.

"My bad! Sorry, I just needed to sit for a minute. Also wanted to see how you were. Haven't had a chance to actually sit down and chat in a couple weeks. You know, girl to girl!" She says with an upbeat candor.

"Of course you pick today of all days, Caroline!" You think to yourself, anger and anxiety building up as you fail to find Chris anywhere on the table. You're about ready to cry, but you hold back the waterworks. Not only would she find that weird, but if she got up too suddenly, who knows what that would mean for Chris. For all you know, he's on the seat with her. Or worse, somewhere on her body.

"So, what's new? Tell me! I got almost an hour to close up shop, and I have almost everything done already!" She’s clearly happy about that fact. You, however, are much less thrilled. But, you put on your big girl pants and tough it out. You needed to play this cool.

"That's great! Bet it'll feel so good to get home!" You say, taking a shaky sip from your coffee. Nerves are really getting the best of you right now. If something happened to him… 

You try not to go there. Probably best not to think that far ahead.

Caroline cocks her head in confusion. “You sure you’re alright?” She asks, somewhat concerned. “You don’t have a fever, do you?” She jokes, starting to lean forward in a mock gesture of checking your temperature. Seeing her learn forward shifts you into a different gear entirely.

“No!” You shout before pulling back, “I mean, I’m totally fine!” You try to laugh it off, but the sudden outburst causes her to sit back, even more perplexed than before.

“Alright, if you say so.” She shrugs, leaning back into the cushion of the booth.

You listen to her and Heather chat for a few minutes. She seems like someone you’d get along with if the situation weren’t so bleak. However, no offense to this beautiful lady, but new friends are low on your list of priorities.

Suddenly everything is thrown into chaos as the two voices continue to boom above you. There’s a commotion that sends you tumbling off the side. Nonononono, you panic. But there’s nothing you can do. Powerless against more significant forces, a slight shift in the girl's posture sends you tumbling off the side and into the deep dark spot between her two thighs. You let out a scream neither seen nor heard by either of the girls, flopping onto the seat cushion below.

It hurts like a belly flop into the pool. Not too bad, but it stings for sure. You groan, your whole body stinging from the impact. Hastily pushing yourself up to stand on your own two legs, you stop dead, getting a glimpse of the two magnificent pillars, shocked into silence. Seams cross and curve around the shape of the barista’s body, meeting at one focal point. “Whoa…” An exclamation of surprise is all you can muster in response. It’s almost as if you fell into another world.

The seat shifts as the barista does, each casual movement creating loud creaks of the material beneath her. You watch the same terrain mold to the will of her thighs, entire landscapes shifting underneath this overworked coffee shop worker. You aren’t religious, but this would be an excellent time to pray if you were. 

She starts to fidget, her legs bouncing up and down as she taps a restless foot. Each tap against the ground rocks you with vibrations, her thighs wiggling in tandem. All the while, you’re completely useless. Trapped between a stranger's thighs, there’s really no option besides waiting and hoping. All it would take to end your life is a twitch in the wrong direction, those mighty titans on either side of you just waiting to steamroll over your fragile body.

You sit down, relegating yourself to absolute uselessness. There isn’t anything you can do right now that would make a difference. No sooner do you come to that conclusion than the thighs that make up your backdrop decide to leave. You can see the muscular wall hidden behind fabric flex and mold to the barista’s will as she lifts up and shimmies out of the booth. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful she hadn’t decided to scoot instead.

             “I should probably get back to it. Still need to clean the grinders in the back.” Caroline says, punctuating her sentence with a lazy yawn. It's a challenge, but you do your best to hide the relief. Those few minutes of casual banter felt like an eternity, Chris at the forefront of your mind the entire time.

              “Glad we could catch up!” You say, faking a smile.

              “Same! I’ll see you around.” She says, getting up and throwing a half-wave over her shoulder as she heads to the back. She pushes open a door, and as soon as she’s through, you jump up, scouring the table one last time.

               “Nothing. Shit!” You curse, biting a lip nervously. Where else could he be? The floor! You panic, checking the shoes you’d borrowed in a tizzy. But they’re entirely clean to your relief, save for some dirt. Taking glances over at the employee's only door, you confirm Caroline is indeed out of sight before standing up and inspecting the spot she’d only just been sitting. There’s a light indent, and inside it, one bug-sized boy.

Chris, 4:23 PM

Heather looks like she's seen a ghost, sheepishly lowering her cupped hand delicately to the seat. The brunette makes quick glances towards the back room, double-checking for any unanticipated arrivals as you clumsily climb into the safety of her enormous hands. Soon enough, you're whisked away as a nervous Heather awkwardly rushes to the bathroom.

BOOM

Heather throws the door open with her shoulder, a white light now coming through between the tiny cracks of her fingers. You catch a glimpse of the single toilet as she comes in. From what you can tell, it's a relatively modest and clean little area. A rarity not often found when using public restrooms.

You're quickly deposited on the spacious surface of the toilet paper dispenser that hangs from the wall, its rough surface providing you with enough friction to walk around without fear of slipping or falling off the side.

"Sorry, but I really need to pee!" She looks around for the sanitizer, quickly identifying its spot just above her on the wall. She takes a few moments before unrolling a rather wasteful wad of toilet paper despite the relatively clean surface of the bathroom. Seems she doesn't want to take any chances.

"This place always has clean bathrooms. So nice." She remarks, spraying the wad in her hand with the pink mixture of chemicals nearby. She quickly wipes around the rim before her butt comes crashing down onto the cold plastic. It's loud, her rear end forcing a noise as the rim meets porcelain, echoing throughout the confined space.

"Ahhhhhhh…" She sighs with relief,  prompting you to turn your head away awkwardly. Even with the intimacy both of you shared over the last few days, you feel weird about how casual she's making this seem. The thunder continues to rain against the side of the bowl, the sound alone enough to rattle you. It's not unlike a high-pressure hose.

Soon, the jet of water becomes a trickle. You turn around a few moments after the last drop hits the water to see Heather lightly dabbing her crotch. She looks over, catching you just as she finishes.

"Did you just look the other way?" She laughs. "That's so dorky," She continues, correctly guessing your apprehension. "I mean in a cute way!" Yeah, thanks Heather. You roll your eyes, knowing she'd never be able to see the rude gesture. Was she really this comfortable around you already? It's odd but not necessarily a bad vibe to have with someone.

There's a powerful flush before Heather looks over intently. She looks relieved, a far cry from the scrunched-up expression she'd had on earlier. She thinks for a moment. "So, believe it or not, I think the safest place is probably my bra. Unless…" She gets a look in her eye that unnerves you and makes your cock stiffen in anticipation. She bites down on her bottom lip and glances off to the side. "What if I put you somewhere more… fun?" There's a look on her face that can only spell trouble for the two of you later down the line.

You aren't quite sure what to say. You've had enough danger for a lifetime, but a part of you loves how forward Heather is at this very moment. Plus, who knows if you'll get another opportunity to be tiny around her again. And you only live once, right? Finally coming to terms with the offer, you accept with a nod. Though, it's more symbolic than anything. You doubt she has any hope of discerning such a tiny movement from you with her naked eye.

She doesn't give much stock to your opinion anyway, placing a hand against the edge of your plastic island. It unintentionally shakes the ground, and you have to catch yourself lest you fall flat on your face. You know she doesn't mean it. It's just a side effect of her being so outrageously large.

It takes a moment, but you slowly climb on top of her petite hand after regaining a sense of balance. It's so soft you could fall asleep in it. The heat does your weary mind no favors, making the urge to curl up and drift off towards dreamland a strong one. However, something tells you whatever Heather has lying in-store will take your full attention.

There's a moment of confusion as she brings you to her vulva, its lips flush with hints of arousal. A faint red blush on each side indicates increased blood flow to her lady parts. It's intimidating, little stubble acting like a wall guarding her most sensitive spot. Luckily, it seems like you have the key to this particular fortress. Or, more specifically, you are the key.

Heather uses her other hand to carefully push apart the skin protecting her clit. The hood of her clitoris is moved aside effortlessly with only the help of one finger and a thumb. It's absolutely stunning to see what looks like an immovable roadblock just pried apart with almost no effort whatsoever. It's held open for a moment, letting you marvel at how big it is in comparison. Steam wafts towards you in addition to the scent of unmistakable arousal reaching your nose. You take a deep, pheromone-filled breath. This is undoubtedly dangerous, but god is it hot. You find yourself transfixed, unable to look away from the pearl right before your eyes.

Minus the hood and flesh around it, the sexual organ itself is roughly your size. Maybe ever so slightly larger, it's hard to tell as the skin closes behind you and you're trapped away. It's intimidating, to say the least. Regardless, Heather is growing impatient. She carefully brings you towards it, angling her crotch upward for easier access. It's so quick, so much preparation as you're simply jammed roughly into it, her clit pulsating at the touch of your arms. You instinctively latch on, a wall of heat meeting your unprepared face. It's like walking into an active cooking line, the temperature threatening to knock you out from shock alone. Although even in the harsh environment, it's easy to do what comes naturally. Rubbing your body against it, your crotch rubbing across the soft clit flesh.

"Fuck." Heather closes her eyes, half moaning an obscenity in response before quickly covering her mouth. Putting your entire body into it, you can feel a series of shudders before she gets a grip on herself. It motivates you. Being able to affect someone more significant than you is a turn-on that you can't get enough of. She's a literal mountain of a woman, one that could end you with just the flick of her pinkie. Yet you were making her wet. You made her shudder. It's invigorating, spurring you forward with renewed energy.

"O-okay!" She says shakily, pulling at her panties slowly, trapping you in limiting darkness. The hood starts to clam up again as she stands, pushing you more harshly against her pulsing womanhood. It gets stuffier, a damp musk doing its best to creep inside.

You can taste it on your tongue, the intensity making your cock hard to the point of pain. Even though being small is a fantasy come true, there's something about being so close to the intimates of someone. It's been ebbing at you. It's happened with Lexy and now Heather. A fog of arousal that leaves you in a horny stupor.

Her vulvas lips push against you as she stands, lightly sealing you into the cavity housing the most sensitive organ in her body. You breathe heavily, the air saturated with her very essence.

You can't hold back any longer, humping and grinding at the delicate bulb beneath you. There are hints of shame with each half-baked thrust you make against her. You feel so primal, so base, like an animal in heat. But you just can't help yourself. The whole environment has your lower region buzzing with an urge. Even though she was the one who put you here, you can't help but feel like such a tool. Maybe after everything is over, the two of you could go on a proper date. Hold hands, make eyes at each other, all that mushy stuff.

It's been a good fifteen minutes since you'd tucked Chris away, and to his credit, he hasn't let up. The amount of stamina he's holding in such a tiny body is impressive, to say the least. The thought of him trying his best is enough to make you uncomfortably wet. Safe to say, Celia won't be getting these panties back. Oops.

It's not even the stimulation that's doing it for you. Truthfully, Chris is far too small to really do anything fancy. It's more so the very thought of where he is, the stimulation more of a sexy tickle and a reminder he's working hard. You have such dirty ideas on your way back to the apartment. What if you used a toy while he was perched up there? Would it scare him or be a turn-on? Maybe a little bit of both? It's hard to say, but the thought has you instinctively clenching your lower muscles to the phantom feeling. You start to get lost in your own head and brush away the thoughts. Right now, you have to focus on getting him back. No more detours.

After what feels like an eternity inside Heather's pants, the humidity starts to affect you noticeably. The air is awash with the damp odor of sex, and the conditions inside could be better. Your mouths dry, and what little moisture you have in your mouth is foaming from lack of hydration. Overall, your body isn't faring as well as you'd like. It's hard to say you're having a bad time here, but it's certainly time you got out.

You hear the merciful opening of a door, the same knob you've turned so many times over the last few years. It has the same familiar squeak you'd come to remember. But before you have a chance to be adequately removed, you hear a voice bark.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Alexis' voice pipes up immediately, no doubt waiting wearily for your return. You realize that you'd completely forgotten about Lexy, how worried and sick she must have been. You regret agreeing to such a big detour; even if it wasn't entirely your choice, you still enjoyed it. Certainly that makes you guilty in some regard?

"Listen, Lex-" She's interrupted before she can get more than a word in, "And where is Chris? Heather, if something happened to him, I swear I'll make you a total microbe!" She practically snarls.

Aggravated, Heather snaps back, "Chill! Yeah, I have him right here. Just give me a minute to fish your boyfriend out of my crotch."

You can practically hear the fuses burning as Lexy's brain short circuits. "W-what?"

"He's totally safe! Probably pretty happy too, being right up against my clit and all. Hold on, let me get him for you!" She says smugly before heading off to the bathroom, leaving a shell-shocked Alexis in her wake.

A couple of minutes later, muscles shift around you as your host decides to take a seat. The darkness that's so pervasive in the depths of the clothing vanishes in an instant, washed away by a swath of artificial light. She carefully opens the area up again, bending it to her will and prying you from her slick skin. A combination of sweat and arousal adheres you to the digit. Stuck firmly to her finger, she slowly hoists the pants up awkwardly with her free hand, careful of your presence.

"Hope you had fun!" She gives you a wink before opening the door and handing you off to a wide-eyed Alexis. She gently scrapes you off and her index finger and in the much less oppressive environment of Lexy's waiting palm. "Hold onto our little friend for me. I'm desperate for a shower!" She smiles before shutting the door in her face. Lexy is boiling up inside, but it dissipates when she glances at you.

It's like the flip of a switch, her eyes losing their rage, replaced with a brimming sadness. "I'm so sorry for all of this, Chris." Tears start to well up in her eyes.

It was tense, but being unable to properly communicate yourself, Heather has to explain after her long shower. You can only guess why it took nearly an hour. 

"And that's about it." A half-naked Heather shrugs,  towel wrapped neatly around her hair and waist as she applies lotion to her bare legs. Alexis is staring off like a space cadet, rocked by all this new info.

"So, you two…." She trails off, her eyes cast down.

"Went on a date? Yeah, sort of." She says nonchalantly. "It was more like, half a date? I feel like it doesn't really count." Conveniently, Heather had left the part about almost getting smothered beneath the barista's butt out of the recap. Something you're relatively happy about. The very last thing you wanted was to worry your friend further. And who knows where her mind would go with that info.

Alexis wordlessly walks back to her room, the atmosphere electrified whenever the two occupy the same space, and your friend clearly isn't in the mood to fight. She puts you down on her desk and sighs as you shakily rise to your feet.

"I can't even tell you how worried I was when you didn't show up!" She throws her hands over her face and exhales. "I'm sorry for wasting so much time with my sister. I really thought she could help." She lets her hands drop to her thighs, eyes fixated entirely on you.

"I went ahead and called my Mom already," Lexy says, disappointed. "She wasn't happy with me, but she agreed to hear us out." A weary smile comes across her lips. Your friend looks emotionally drained, and you can't help but blame yourself for all this. If you hadn't pushed so hard, none of this would have come to pass.

Taking a deep breath, the college student prepares herself, "But before we head over, I need to give you an, um, rundown about Mom." Alexis pauses briefly, looking for the words. "She's… very demanding. She also doesn't really do anything for free, if you know what I mean." She pauses, thinking of an example, "Like, if Celia or I ever need something, we have to work it off every time. Doing her yard work for a week, shoveling the driveway, that kind of deal. The big reason why we don't talk to her much anymore. But you're tiny! So I doubt that’ll happen! What would she make you do? Trim the carpet?" She says with a somewhat forced smile. You don't share her optimizing. And honestly, you doubt she believes it herself.

"But… well," she pauses before giving you the most sincere look you've seen since this mess started. "Is that what you want?" It's a simple yet startling question. Nobody had really asked for your input all that much since you started shrinking further. You've been so small that communication was a challenge. Still, you appreciate the attempt, yet you have no way of feasibly answering your friend.

"Oh, right. Um, maybe for no, you wave your arms around, and for yes, you lay down? Yeah, that should work!" She claps her hands together triumphantly.

The question isn't really much of a question. The choice seems relatively cut and dry. Either stay the size of a crumb or deal with Alexis' mom. There isn't any life for you here, not at this size. So, you lay down flat, hoping she'll quickly pick up on your answer. 

You watch her massive eyes squint, tracing the table before finally getting a lock on your position. "No way, you're absolutely teeny when you get close to the ground like that!" She laughs, doing nothing for your waning self-confidence. It's unsettling how easy her eyes lose you. The implications of being lost so easily are something you really don't want to be thinking about.

"Okay, so, Mom…" Lexy starts with a heavy sigh. "Mom's, um, Mom."

She launches into an explanation of everything. You hadn't known much about her mother until now. She'd always done a pretty good job of keeping her family out of every conversation the two of you had. It was always something that struck you as odd, but it makes far more sense now.

Apparently, she's only forty-one, a reasonably low age for a parent. She looks good too. You recall that picture you'd seen of her when helping Alexis move into where she's been living for the last few semesters. Truthfully, you'd thought it was a sister, maybe a cousin. That lady did not look anywhere close to forty. Perhaps magic came into play, or maybe your friend's family just has an excellent set of genes. You can't really say.

She explains how strict her mother can be, expecting a baseline level of formality. Please, thank you, and even proper titles are a big deal for the head of the household. Weirdly, she doesn't mention her dad. Maybe he isn't in the picture any longer. Even if you could be heard, you wouldn't want to pry on what's probably already a fairly touchy subject.

"Okay, that's about everything. We can head over first thing tomorrow! It's only a fifteen-minute bus ride." She gives you a pleasant smile that turns sheepish as she looks closer. "Oh wow, you've really gotten into a lot, haven't you?" You wince, taking a smell of yourself. Covered in sweat and arousal, the scent isn't exactly pleasant.

"I think I have a bottle cap somewhere! I'll go fill it, then you can get cleaned up before bed! Oh, maybe we can watch that show we were binging after!" You watch her hurry off as you muse about what your life has become—taking a bath in an old bottle cap. You aren't entirely sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, a bath sounds comforting right about now. But bathing in a bottle cap sounds so… humiliating.

You can only hope this'll be the first and last bottle cap bath you ever take.

Chris, 8:47 PM

You're blown away by how soft her legs are. She must have shaved recently because you struggle to find the light stubble that usually peeks out. Her skin smells like cocoa butter, a wonderful scent to get lost in. Her leg is propped on the desk, wearing her pajamas. A long t-shirt and some comfy panties. There's a giggle from above, your friend watching intently.

"It's so odd to watch you do anything on me. It's like watching an actual bug. I have to try so hard just to see what you're up to." There's a confident blush on her face. Talking about your general insignificance seems to be heating her up in ways she still hasn't come to fully understand. You aren't sure what to make of it. Obviously, Lex would never hurt you. Purposely, anyway. And hey, you did sort of like being belittled…

"Hey, wanna know how I get them so smooth?" She asks mischievously. You know it's rhetorical, and don't bother addressing it. Instead, running a hand along her flawless skin.

SQUIRT

A sudden glob of scents assaults you, slapping onto Lexy's skin and splattering you with droplets of moldable fluid. "Twice a day," She boasts as you stare in awe at the splotch of white that could easily swallow you whole. It had landed right in front of you. You'd never see the light of day again if you got caught inside! Lexy reaches a firm hand down. The clump of lotion is subsequently smeared down her leg and up her thigh, using circular motions to rub it delicately into the skin. 

You struggle to imagine coating her body a single time at this height. There aren't enough hours in the day. Intently, you watch her rub the rest of it in. You're awestruck the whole way through, the shine of her legs showing as she buffs it into her skin.

Chris, 10:06 AM

Both of you find yourselves sleeping in reasonably late, prompting Alexis to scramble. She runs back and forth, leaving you on the desk to shake your head. You’re simply heading over to see her mother, so what’s the big deal? Your friend has a tendency to over-prepare. You aren't privy to all the details as she runs back and forth in that cute summer sash, but you can see the light make-up she's applied during the chaos of the early morning.

The two of you just finished a relatively quick shower. Lexy let you watch from the plastic caddy like last time, but there wasn't much time to play around, especially at your reduced size. Regardless, you enjoy the view as she periodically flashes you knowing glances, watching your eyes travel across her glistening body. But the sexy vista is short-lived, Alexis rushing to get ready.

You sit on the desk as Alexis runs back and forth in a whirlwind of activity, desperately ensuring everything's set to make this go well. You still can't help but feel like it's overkill. How tense is their relationship that Lex needed to get all pretty just to see her? Maybe her mom is the critical type? You seem to be getting that vibe from how your best friend is operating at the moment. It's an absurd amount of effort for what you'd figured initially was only a brief visit.

However, the scent of lightly singed hair makes you feel like that isn't the case. You’re friends flustered but moving fast. You'd waited around for her to get ready before, so her speed and relative skill when it comes to prepping is something you've always admired. All this girly junk would take you forever to figure out. You really don't understand how she's keeping it all straight.

She's so pretty. You look at the foundation that's only lightly applied. She's stunning. It astounds you how well it's done. She used just enough to make any blemishes vanish, her face smooth and frictionless. You wouldn't even begin to know how to use any of that stuff. Sometimes it feels like a type of magic. An ironic train of thought, considering the circumstances. 

Alexis' whole routine makes you feel absurdly underdressed. Luckily, last night your friend had taken the liberty of shrinking some clothes from her Polly Pockets. You're currently wearing what you gather to be a salvaged crop top. It swims on you, the garment nearly indistinguishable from a regular T-shirt. Your pants were similarly taken from a matching set. In design, it's not unlike a pair of sweatpants. Easy to slip on and off, but most importantly, the thin cloth was comfy to move in.

She steps up to the desk once more and grabs her hairbrush. In a swath of quick motions, she brushes it down with little effort, a few snags breaking off as she pulls it away from her.

You finish brushing and lay the utensil down with a sigh, "I know it hasn't been all roses, but I enjoyed this." You look away and smile, reminiscing fondly.

"I just wish it hadn't taken such a bad turn." You try to push the bad vibes out. No, there wasn't any time to be melancholy. Not today. Turning your attention to Chris, there's an entirely new dilemma you suddenly find yourself facing.

"Uh, so… where should I put you?" You pat the back pockets of your jean shorts, quickly discounting them due to safety issues. One clumsy moment and Chris would be a gooey mess. God, why did you have to think of that? The very thought makes you want to puke.

Trying to bleach your brain, you move to the side pockets. They're likely far too tight. No chance that would do anything but harm the little guy.

You glance over to the purse hanging from your door. Yeah, that might just work. Quickly, you take some various cosmetics out of a few different pockets. Mascara, seven varying lip gloss shades, and lipstick are all thrown haphazardly to the ground. You'd have plenty of time to pick it up later.

Right towards the top of the bag, you find the perfect spot. A pocket not too big, but not too tight. Sure Chris might jostle around a little, but it's hard to think of any alternatives. Somewhere on your person might work, but did you really want to risk Chris getting all sweaty? No, not before seeing Mom.

Still, if you wanted to stick him somewhere dirty, there's little doubt Chris will find some way to enjoy it. This whole situation has gone on for far too long. But, you know deep down he'd enjoyed the adventure. Not that he would ever clue you in on something like that, though. He's sometimes reluctant to share more emotional topics, such a typical guy thing. However, Even on a totally different measuring scale, you know him far too well. No doubt he'd be back to those snide remarks in no time. You can already picture him slyly joking about getting in your pants. In private, of course, but it'll make you blush all the same.

With the pocket cleared out and vetted, the two of you are ready to head off. "Alright, my bug-buddy! Ready to get going?" You ask, knowing there will be no answer, already moving to scoop him up. Bringing him towards the safety of the pocket, you can't help but feel somewhat regretful that you can shove him somewhere more fun. You're relatively sure Chris wouldn't mind another session of TLC down below. But unfortunately, he has to stay presentable for Mom. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

Maybe afterward, you'd look at that one site you found. The very thought of that one story makes heat stir around at your core.

The constant swaying of Alexis' purse makes you queasy. You've never been prone to motion sickness, but something about the movement of her hips pushes you over into a decidedly gross feeling. Fortunately, Lexy isn't walking for long. Soon there's a singular thump, one you know from experience to be your friend's generous rear end. Figuring the situation outside has slowed down, you decide to have a peak. From the light peeking through, it seems Lexy tried to zip the pocket shut but inadvertently left a small portion open. A hole big enough for you to slip through.

Pulling your body over the lip of the metallic zipper, you're blinded by the light of day. It takes you a minute for your eyes to adjust, but after more than a few bleary-eyed blinks, you're staring up at someone you'd never seen before. She has a summer skirt on, light colors matching the breezy clothes. It'd be cuter and less intimidating if she weren't the size of several buildings.

Alexis sits idly on her phone at the bus stop, the typically cramped booth towering impossible distances. It takes your breath away, knowing it was the same claustrophobic space as always.

You look closer at the lady sitting beside your friend, realizing she has a companion. Some jock-looking freshie from the looks of it. The kind with hair that's long, but not too long. Ravenous but controlled. Curly in just the right places too.

Taking a glance at the petite woman's rather slender face, her expression almost lustful. That's when you see the hand down on her thigh. It almost looks like it's resting in place, but taking a closer look, you can see fingers doing their best to work their way around this freshman's skirt.

No way, it's frankly hard to believe. But sure enough, your eyes aren't deceiving you. You can't help but shake your head in disdain. Sure, college is a time for expression and exploration, but this just feels trashy. However, Alexis doesn't notice, still plugging away at her phone as her bus stop neighbor tries her best to hold the moan.

Typically, you'd do your best to ignore something like this entirely. Who wanted to be in the middle of something so awkward? But the girl is dangerously close to your bastion of safety. It leaves you feeling on edge as her body shakes subtly. She bites a lip, looking about ready to buck her hips forward at a moment's notice.

Your intuition is all but confirmed when a shudder racks her body, and she lightly brushes against the purse. The jolt sends you up high into the air, screaming and flailing as you're sent to the green bench below. Luckily, you land on one of the metal slats and not the cold hard ground. Unfortunately, your new position comes with a multitude of consequences.

The stranger's thigh sits right beside you, the mass twitching restlessly as a finger probes her most sensitive areas. Each jolt and every individual shudder has the potential to end you in the blink of an eye. Cautiously, you watch and wait for the powerful shudders to subside, but you don't have any luck. Alexis would probably be long gone by the time these two are done!

You look over at your friend, typing away and checking messages. Listening closely, there's a faint sound of her Snapchat stories being played. She couldn't be more oblivious. 

You'd royally fucked up his time. If this keeps up, your curiosity will get you killed. Ugh, it makes you feel sick. Just thinking of being smashed by some trashy college couple with zero sense of decency.

The metal slats making the bench are slippery, but you've been provided more than enough room to walk. Briefly, you consider trying to scale the purse itself before the thigh you'd been so concerned about comes crashing over you.

Her leg swings a few inches to the left, plowing over you effortlessly. The toned thigh never even feels you rolling around, cruelly caught under some random college girl's muscles. There's one saving grace; the bench dips down. Meaning her butt is supporting all the weight. Her thigh barely touches you, yet still, you struggle to take each breath. It's warm and oppressive, the mass of flesh roasting you as it traps all the heat beneath it.

Each deep breath you manage to inhale is less satisfying than the last. You're enveloped by flowery smells and humidity that have you sweating all over your only pair of clothes. Acting on survival instincts alone, you start pushing against the firm thigh flesh. However, it gives you no more room, your hand uselessly displacing a meaningless amount of pudge. The action is akin to fighting off an encroaching ocean and equally fruitless.

You've had plenty of close calls recently, but this one feels almost deserved. Damn it, Chris! Why can't you just keep your head down? You curse your dumb curiosity and general nosey nature. After surviving Celia's stomach trying to rip you apart, it's hard to believe that a careless freshman's thighs would be what finishes the job.

Once again, the organ between your legs betrays you. It's stiff and alert from the smells and sensations of being so entirely surrounded by a woman. It doesn't help that your cock is rubbing up against the warm skin, only the fabric of your pants separating you from skin-to-skin contact.

The mass lifts up just as you've finally accepted your fate as a splotch along a bus stop bench. It's a golden opportunity, and even fatigued, you move fast, the reprieve giving you ample time to scramble back towards the purse. 

The titans continue their not-so-secret game while you practically throw yourself up the slanted bag, diving into the tiny opening you’d been thrown from earlier. Finally safe, you have a moment to breathe a sigh of much-needed relief. When you woke up this morning, you had plenty on your mind. But not once did you think some horny couple at a bus stop would nearly end your life prematurely.

             You don’t dare take another look outside for the minutes that follow, relieved when you feel Lexy finally sling the purse up higher on her shoulder. Both of you were back on track. It's frustrating how easily the situation had gone sour. You have no agency at this size, even a curious peak outside enough to get you killed. It's terrifying to think how close you’ve come to death recently, but even scarier is to consider how much of your survival hinged on dumb luck. You’re probably dead at least ten times over in some alternate universe somewhere. Silently, you make a choice not to inform Lex about this detour. Worrying her wouldn't accomplish anything. It didn't really matter now, regardless.

The bus ride itself is relatively uneventful, as you keep your head down this time. At some point, you pass out, the warmth for once not stifling but cozy. Buried deep in Lexy's purse pocket.

You awake as Alexis takes you in her cupped hands and walks over to the front steps of the otherwise ordinary-looking suburban home. You note only a single car in the driveway; glad there aren’t any unexpected guests. Hopefully, Mrs. Gardel could get this fixed up without much delay.

Your friend and current source of transportation slowly ascends the steps before ringing the doorbell with her elbow, unwilling to risk a gust of wind coming by to scoop you away. You hear several latches quickly unbolt before the door finally swings open.

Chris, 1:05 PM

The door swings open, and you're greeted by the definition of a stay-at-home mom. It's a big shock and a complete reversal from the image you had nestled deep in your brain. For some reason, you'd built her up differently in your head. You pictured someone more reserved and perhaps somewhat gothic? However, the person at the door is anything but. She doesn’t look any different from the typical soccer Mom. Although, despite her rather suburban appearance, her presence is powerful. You can tell she's in charge even at the quickest of glances. Additionally, you'd been led to believe Lexy's Mother would be in her mid-forties, but she looks much closer to her mid-thirties if anything.

Her eyebrows are sharp, cutting through the initial discomfort as she waves a cheerful hello. It's accentuated with brown eyes that smolder with so much intensity it makes you somewhat nervous. Still, she beckons with enough confidence that your friend dumbly steps inside. One look at her face tells you her general attitude, reeking of arrogance. This was somebody who thought herself higher than you. More experienced in both the occult and the world.

"Come on in, sweetie!" She says, not acknowledging Alexis as she presents you awkwardly. Uncomfortable, your friend cups her hands back over you, providing that added level of protection before following her Mother obediently inside.

The two of you walk for a while, the curtain of Lexy's hand finally lifting away as you're carefully deposited on the round wooden table. The two giant beings sit down, planting their immense rears into the wooden chairs far outside your view.

Lexy's mother lets out a sigh of relief, glad to be off her feet. She looks physically worn down, almost as if she'd been doing plenty of running back and forth this morning. No doubt she had to rush home to accommodate you. Something you’re incredibly grateful for.

Without warning, she places a hand uncomfortably close to you, her fingers and palm slapping down against the wood with tremendous force. You laugh nervously, the reaction nearly instinctual as the impact touches down only inches away, and the wind generated by the motion pushes at you. It isn't turbulent enough to sweep you off your feet, but it's ferociously intimidating. Her unpainted but well-kept nails tower above you, looming as if to remind you of your place in this conversation.

"How's college these days, hun?" The gigantic mother asks innocently, deciding to tap her fingers against the table, each drum beat against the wood making you wince.

"Oh, it's going pretty well. I just got a ninety-eight on that last test for linguistics." Alexis boasts with a hint of well-earned pride.

"Is that so? And you're still doing well running these little errands for your mite of a boyfriend? You haven't missed any classes?"

"Um," Alexis shifts around uncomfortably as her Mom moves to stand up. The impossibly fast blur turns to the counter where several glass cylinders sit. Still taken aback by the sudden assault on her school performance, your friend doesn't have the presence of mind to object as her mother brings them over to the table.

The matriarch shoots you a sneer as her daughter looks away bashfully, giving her ample opportunity to place the empty glass directly beside you. You're knocked clear from the force, only to be rattled further as a pitcher of pink liquid impacts nearby.

Before you have a chance to stand up, a massive pink waterfall pours into the nearby cup, "Let me get you some lemonade!" She carefully dumps what feels like gallons upon gallons of the sugary substance. It's an incredible sight.

Humbled by the spectacle of a mother pouring simple refreshments, you continue to stare, glued to her every action as she moves to a second glass, filling it to the rim. It's ironically very similar to when you'd slept over at friends' houses in middle school. A sickeningly polite mother making sure everybody is comfortable and supplied. But this was far from comfy.

Her Mom feigns confusion, "Oh dear, I need to stop spacing! I'm so out of it, I started pouring your friend some!"

Even Lexy laughs, "Yeah, I don't think he'll be able to drink that, Mom. Even a thimble would be a little much for him right now." They both share a giggle at your situation, something that mildly irks you, but whatever. With some luck, you'd be taller than both of them soon enough.

"Here's the deal, Alexandra," She says, making your friend straighten up at the use of her full name. "I'm very disappointed in you, letting some boy get in the way of school."

"Mom, I-" Lexy tries to interject, although she’s quickly shut down by her Mother.

"But, I'm going to help you. On one condition: You go back to classes starting tomorrow morning." It's a demand, something Lexy is given no opportunity to question. You expect bold resistance from Alexis. Hell, maybe the two of you would leave altogether in the face of this ultimatum. 

“Understood?” Her Mom asks simply. There are a few moments of hesitation on Alexis' face as she takes a moment to process the conversation. Unease morphs quickly into relief as she leans across the table to pull her mother into a hug. 

Of course, you find yourself sidelined as the two share a moment. Truthfully, you couldn't be happier. You've never really been the touchy type, anyway. Not with strangers, anyway. Besides, getting mashed between the two of them didn't sound like any fun at the present.

Regardless, you’re stunned to see the weight of your friend's gratitude. You’d never even considered that she’d put her life, however briefly, on hold for you. To help you through this odd situation for which she is partially to blame. It only makes sense for it to haunt her. You feel more selfish than ever, throwing this stupid kink on someone who’d done so much for you. Hell, you didn’t even know if she’d like it! You just wanted to experience this world for yourself.

"Thanks. I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't-" Her eyes start to well up as her mother embraces her harder. 

"Shhhh, it's okay, honey." Her Mother tenderly rubs her back. "Now, isn't it time you head home? You'll need some rest for school tomorrow, won't you?" Alexis looks down at you sheepishly. "I am pretty tired. I'm going to leave you with Mom, okay? She'll get everything fixed. She's extremely experienced with this stuff." She gives her mother a knowing glance before sharing a curt hug and waving you a hopeful goodbye.

While the pair head toward the door, you take a moment to look past the table and understand where you are. Obviously, you’ve found yourself in a kitchen and dining room combo sort of deal. The kitchen isn't anything special. The table in the middle, a spacious sink complete with a cute double window, and all the other essential appliances you'd expect. Everything is so new. Electric stove, a fancy extra wide fridge, it's no surprise. Lexy always was pretty well off. However, the walls are sprinkled with odd paraphernalia. Weird pictures of strange markings stand out along the walls that otherwise have only cheery pictures of Alexis’ Mom and the girls. Alexis' father is notably nowhere in sight.

"I'll stop by after classes tomorrow and check-in." No! You practically beg her not to leave you here alone. There’s something off, and you don't feel safe being left here! But once again, you’re foiled by your inability to communicate even the most straightforward concepts.

"Sounds good, honey. Rest up, okay?" Her mother cautions her in a caring tone.

Slam

…

Click

And just like that, you're alone in this incredibly vulnerable form with nothing short of a total stranger. Hell, you don't even know this lady's first name!

She slowly walks back over to the table, her eyes glued to you like a hungering predator. It's terrifying; the energy in the room is rapidly sucked out and replaced with something much more sinister. The mother brushes her hair to the side, staring at you with a smile that bled the same arrogance you'd picked up on earlier.

There's a light twinkle hidden just beyond her hair, a petite diamond earring, one you suspect has a matching twin. She lords over you for a moment as if to further exacerbate her position over you. A sheet mountain of women. Her body is athletic, but from this angle, you can tell it's more superficial than you'd first been led to believe. 

You gather she's the kind of lady who did yoga and pilates before calling it a day. Nonetheless, Lexy's Mom is a behemoth to you, her shadow able to block out everything in your view. Finally, after letting you drink in her sheer size, she pulls up a chair before resting her backside.

"I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Susan," Susan. So that's who you were dealing with. Unsurprisingly, Lexy's few references to her mother carried no first names.

"But I wouldn't worry about names," She leans in closer, bringing her celestial-sized face right next to yours. Each pore is somewhat visible, and each stroke of her drying lipstick is apparent. It makes you sputter; the magnitude of everything is more than enough to induce mild panic.

"Instead, you should be thinking of a reason for me not to have you 'slip' into this pitcher of lemonade." She says innocently, letting a hand rest against her cheek.

What?

You don't understand, staggered to stupidity by Susan's blunt remark. Though it hardly matters. You can't answer, and Susan doesn't expect you to. "I'm only kidding, honey. Well, maybe I'm somewhat serious." She traces a finger dangerously across the table, circling you like a silent snake.

"I'm surprised at both of my girls! Letting someone in on our lineage like this!" Disappointment is prevalent in her voice. Clearly, Susan sees her relationship with Celia and Alexis much differently than the girls.

"I'm going to need to sit down with those brats! If either of them think this is even remotely appropriate, they have another thing coming!" Seething anger quickly turns back to exhaustion as she sighs, "What a headache you three made for me."

The head of the household looks at you with a devious twinkle in her eye. It's sudden and catches you off guard among her otherwise worn-down attitude. You're sure she'll be directing the brunt of her fury towards you any second now. But it never happens.

Instead, Susan rises up and wordlessly ushers you into her hand. Did she expect you to go along with her? Just like that? You're unsure, but what choice do you have? Stay on this table and starve? You doubt this titanic woman would even blink twice at your refusal, simply moving on with her day at your rejection. So, without any other options, you climb aboard, whisked away at speeds far faster than you're comfortable. She doesn't bother to shield you inside like Lexy had, even ignoring your constant tumbling across her open palm.

After plenty of vomit-worthy movements, you reach Susan's intended destination. The television clicks to life in the otherwise darkened living room, your ride navigating the various menus before putting something on that's already well underway from a previous viewing.

"So," She starts to say, awkwardly pulling her plain shirt off before laying on her stomach. "I've had a long day already, so why don't you help out? You look cute enough. I bet you know exactly where to hit, don’t you, lover boy? How about you work some of that charm, hmm?"

You're promptly deposited above a gray bra strap, and from the lack of further directions, you gather she's expecting you to get straight into it. What she hopes you'll accomplish at this size is a mystery to you. The plastic of her bra strap alone is about your height. Still, you do your best to run over to what you remember to be a relatively sensitive part of the back upper back, using your abysmally small hands to knead at her warm skin.

You're rewarded with a snort of amusement from your mostly topless vista, all your hard effort doing nothing more than providing a minor source of entertainment as she listens to whatever is playing over the television. You find yourself too focused on doing an exceptional job to give the images on the screen any attention. After all, your very survival hinged on somehow making a good impression on a much more experienced lady. Someone you wager is already somewhat difficult to make an impact on.

Susan closes her eyes and tries to relax, listening to the show blaring mindlessly in the background. You continue to knead, occasionally running to the opposite side to give proper care to her other shoulder blade. It repeats like this for some time, making you eventually wonder if she's forgotten all about you.

Finally, after a while longer, she interrupts the characters on screen, "I bet you have so many stupid questions right now. You men always do." She practically cackles before putting on a mocking voice. "She wouldn't get away with it!"

"I have, and I will, hon. I'm sure you’ve realized by now. People are always so observant when they get smaller. I guess it gives you shrimps an eye for detail." She rambles, dominating the already one-sided conversation with her confident demeanor. "But you probably realized we don't have any pictures of my late husband. Well, long story short, we didn't get along."

Susan smiles faintly, head tilted to the side as she faces the screen. Her eyes are still closed in relaxation. "You know, dear, they say shrinking is the easiest way to get rid of someone. And It can be quite poetic to boot!" She laughs, "That man could never get enough of my ass. It never mattered how harshly we fought; one sexy clothing change, and he was all over me."

The implication is startling. She's killed before? And Lexy had just up and left while you're in her clutches?! Your head is swimming with panic, wishing escape was on the menu. But it's a near impossibility at this size. Long ago, you’d stopped seeing that as a viable way to stay alive. Being away from a watchful eye like this is nothing more than an unavoidable fast track to an early grave.

"Fitting that I never found him. Don't get me wrong, I was planning on getting rid of that awful man, but the fun wasn't supposed to end with some light anal." She says rather casually. "You know, sometimes I really do wonder what happened to him. One minute he was tapped down on that toy, tight and secure. But my poor little hubby was gone the next time I looked down." She shakes her head dismissively. "I guess there's no use crying over lost toys."

Thoroughly intimidated, you throw even more behind the massage, mashing your hands with even more force against what you hope is a sensitive spot on the vast field of Susan’s back. Luckily, the enthusiasm is noted by the recipient of all your effort.

"Mmm, great job, sweetie. I can just feel you.” She responds affectionately but with a hint of teasing. “And while I'm sure someone who isn't the size of dryer lint could do a much better job, you get an A for effort, honey." She mocks, sinking further into the couch. You don’t let it get to you, instead opting to refocus everything to maintain your massaging output.

Eventually, amid your tiring and sweat-soaked kneading, you hear her breathing shift, more resonant and rhythmic. She's fallen asleep.

Your sore and cramping hands are mercifully allowed to stop, and you collapse across the smooth surface of her back. You take a hard look over the field of lightly tanned skin. Flickers from the pictures on the screen dance across her as daylight peters out.

With Susan out like a light, you're finally at liberty to take stock of the area. The very first thing you notice is how normal everything looks. Not girly like Lexys room, not grungy and gross like Celia's. Just the standard suburban look. 

The couch your host is fast asleep on looks relatively new, with soft brown material covering all the surfaces. If you hadn't been so close to this world the last few days, you'd never be the wiser of the witchy heritage lurking beneath the surface. But, supposedly, that's the point of this little facade they'd been living. A net of safety from the non-magic users of the world. But more importantly, it offered plausible deniability. Susan was right about earlier. If you disappeared, they wouldn't have the slightest suspicion. Shrinking? The police wouldn't take a claim like that seriously in a million years. And at this size, it wasn't like anything would be left behind…

You spend the time thinking, but sleep begins to call out after some time. The woman's breathing soothes you, making you slide into a deep sleep.

Chris, 1:36 PM

You continue to massage the lotion into Susan’s shoulder blades, the pleasant hum of the television still reaching your ears. You've scarcely covered the matriarch's colossal back; your progress on rubbing the moisturizer into her tight skin turns out to be quite a pathetic showing. You've barely moved from the start.

Suddenly, a hand comes sweeping in, only to effortlessly brush you aside to rub the remaining lotion into her skin. Susan proved to be pretty flexible. You fall flat on your ass, momentarily perplexed by the interruption. Had she roped you into this to humiliate you? There's a knot in your stomach, and it won't stop growing. Ever since you and Alexis had arrived, something felt off. Malicious intent is practically radiating from Susan's very being. But what could you possibly do? Fight back? Please, you can barely rub lotion into her skin.

Squirttttt

More lotion oozes from an unexpected bottle high above. Though, curiously the amount she squeezes out is substantially less than before. Maybe Lexy’s Mother had noticed how badly you've been struggling? Or the more likely situation, she was impatient. Not willing to put up with the inherent struggles of your reduced size.

Still, the dollop looks like a handful. Or rather, half a body's worth. Coming up to just about waist height, it would take your entire frame to even attempt and cover a portion of this lady's back!

"Hey, hon?" She glances over her shoulder, her gaze piercing. The very act of her head-turning feeling like a threat. "Could you get that for me?" She lets a shy smile slip before returning to her show. You look between her and the creamy white glob before you. Already, you were exhausted, dreading the remainder of this forcefully imposed chore. What would happen if you said no? After some deliberation, you think it’s best not to chance it. She’s entirely unpredictable.

Deciding it's best to play along, for now, you can't help this sinister feeling in the back of your mind. Would Susan really go as far as she claims? And was that whole situation with her husband some sort of scare tactic? You can’t be sure.

Walking up to the white substance, you decide to tackle it head-on, closing your eyes and nearly dropping face-first into the mess. Embracing your whole body like a paintbrush, you rub everything thoroughly into Susan's tanned skin. It's sensual, and you can't pretend you aren't already hard as a rock. The feel of her skin is just too overwhelming, lower parts begging for attention. But you don't have time to stop, your massive effort still barely equating anything in the grand scale of her body.

It takes far longer than you would have liked, but after a few more minutes, you manage to buff in most of the gooey stuff. You feel somewhat proud of the accomplishment. Susan, however, doesn't feel the same. She looks over with a lazy stare, only half paying attention to your activities. Something tells you this mother couldn't care less whether you rubbed any of it. She was just enjoying making you work. And even then, she didn't seem to get much out of it. 

Susan seems like she's barely paying you any mind. Meanwhile, you’re working your hardest to do a fraction of what she can do with a single well-placed finger. What's this woman playing at? You wonder as she lets one of those powerful digits trace a spot on her lower back.

"Another spot needs your… services." She says breathily, prompting you to walk further down the arch of her back, closing the distance between you and this 'spot.' It’s reached it in record time, though you’re at a loss for what to do. It's not like your 'massage,' if you can even call it that, was making much of an impression. You're pretty sure standing still would accomplish the same result. But you wouldn't dare. Not under Susan's watchful stare.

Her very presence is unnerving, bordering on frightening. There's an apathy behind that bright motherly exterior that unsettles you more than you care to admit. So, without any further fuss, you bend over and knead the spot she'd highlighted for you. By now, your hands ache. And what do you have to show for it? It's obvious she can't feel much of what you're doing. You decide to put on a front, pretending to put your full force into it. But in all honesty, you're just rubbing superficially along the surface of her skin. It works, and Susan isn't any wiser, as far as you can tell. It's a welcome break. Not a long one since you have to put some effort into keeping appearances, but you're glad to be using less of yourself in this dumb game she seems to be playing with your life.

"I don't see my daughter much," Susan uncharacteristically speaks up to give you more than a loose set of directions. "But you know, she talks about you sometimes." Lexy talked about you? It's only natural, you guess. Your parents knew all about her from secondhand stories alone. Regardless, it's hard to not wonder what was said.

"Sorry to say, honey, but it's the only reason I didn't press you right between my fingers the second she left," Susan says, lazily mimicking a twisting motion with her thumb and index finger. It's such a matter-of-fact statement for her, so casually making a threat to your life. Would she really have the nerve to go through with it, though? Or was this massive mother just once trying to intimidate you? The more time you spend at her beck and call, the closer you feel to answering that question.

"You may think me cruel, but the family secret is more important than whatever frivolous little game the two of you are playing. Sorry, dear." She looks down at you with what you can only describe as a disingenuous look of pity.

"But here's the deal," Susan continues, sinking further into the couch as she gets more relaxed. "I could use some TLC here and there. But, I'm a busy woman, as I'm sure you can see." She smirks, likely thinking the very same thoughts as you. A stay-at-home mother with her children out of the house and husband out of the picture? You call bullshit, though not directly to her, of course.

"Think of it as a trade. You fulfill your end, and I'll graciously offer my services as a witch!" She speaks so confidently, so sure of herself. Susan is in total control right now, and she knows it. Lexy's Mom soaks it all in.

"Speaking of places that need a more delicate touch…." You stop kneading momentarily, watching nervously as a pinky finger snakes further down. It traces the tightly closed waistband of her gray sweats, forcing you to look at Susan for an explanation. Did she actually expect you to lift this behemoth? Apparently so, judging from the look in her eye.

Well, you aren't getting any younger. Set up to fail from the very start, you walk down the unstable arch of Susan’s back. The smooth skin combined with the dip in elevation makes it difficult to navigate without falling flat on your face. However, you slowly work your way down, reaching the monumental waistband.

It nearly stretches up to your waist and is practically glued to Susan's waistline. There isn't a chance in hell you'll be able to lift this. Still, you need to try. Bending your knees, you grab onto the elastic, lifting with a heave. Nothing. It doesn't even budge. The revelation is surprisingly gutting. You knew being small made you weak, but being unable to lift a pair of pants? It manages to feel like a new low.

You pivot back towards Susan's unamused glare. With a disappointed sigh, she brings a hand down and lifts it up for you. The band effortlessly complies, stretching and bending handily to create a cavernous opening. Cautiously, you step inside, seeing the vast canyon between her cheeks just ahead.

Something about this bug-sized boy is really getting you going. Truthfully, you aren't all that upset about the mite being unable to scrounge up enough strength to crawl under. You never expected Chris to lift it in the first place, but you wanted to see him fail. So pathetic and so very weak. Yet, he was still following your every beck and call. Not smashing him into dust outright had been a tough decision, but one you're happy with so far.

He'd been outrageously slow, however. And your patience is starting to wear thin. This is precisely the kind of situation that lead to your last hubby getting lost. Hopefully, for his sake, he'll pick up the pace. Otherwise, you aren't entirely to blame for what might happen. After all, a lady has needs!

You lift your butt into the air slightly, a slight change in position, but one sure to make your ass pop. You want it to look big and intimidating. It seems to have had the desired effect as well because Chris simply stares. You groan, aggravated by his perpetual lack of speed. Why do Men always get cold feet when it comes to a lady's butt? No matter, you manually slide him over your skin with a careless finger, pressing him somewhat forcefully into the plump warmth of your ass.

The television is still going in the background, but truthfully you'd stopped paying it any attention long ago. You're focused on Chris. What he might do, and what he will do. After a few seconds of pressing him into your plump behind, you let go, retracting the hand below your waistband and snapping him into relative darkness.

You’re rolled around relentlessly, smeared, and pressed into the wonderfully warm mound of Susan's rightmost cheek. She toys with you, ensuring the cheek is intimately acquainted with the feel of your body. But shortly after, it pulls away, leaving you coughing from the lack of air as you're thrown into darkness.

Her sweats press lightly against you. It's stuffy, as expected, but some light is able to find its way through the fibers of her pants. Roving hills of flesh that stretch towards the fabric walls limiting your world. You're small enough to see the individual cellulite spots on her rear, occasionally dotting the otherwise perfectly smooth landscape. It isn't the first time you've been up and close with a butt recently, but seeing it from this angle provides more perspective. It gives you complete freedom to really witness the extent of it. 

Curiously, you push lightly against the ground, the flesh giving some resistance. You weren't going to be able to do much. Not like it's a big surprise. With your shameful lack of strength. The air itself is drenched in this woman's scent. It's overpowering, practically able to taste whatever body wash she'd last used. You try to keep your whits, but even with danger looming just out of reach, the joke of a back rub she forced on you left your lower half excited.

There's so much to love about being trapped in here. You can't stop yourself, and it's almost as if you're reverting to a more primal state. Your brain flips some sort of a switch, drastically degrading your mental capacity as you hump away at hot flesh. Your hips shoot forward, dropping exactly where you stand, grinding as you take in Susan's scent, sights, and warmth. Gyrating away, you fall into a rhythm. You feel so stupid, so base. Yet the smells flood your nostrils, and your cock stays painfully as hard.

You hear a condescending giggle far outside Susan's pants. It snaps you out of the weary dream-like haze. "So pent up! Well, get it all out, honey!" Her tone drips with smug satisfaction. You’ve never been so humiliated, unable to control your most animalistic urges, faced with the temptations of this youthful-looking mother's rear end.

“Mmm, just like that, sweetie,” She coos, a shadow snuffing out the small amount of light you were previously allowed. It takes far too long for you to realize it's Susan’s hand. Her palm flattens you from outside the fabric and presses down eagerly. You’re shoved deep into her flesh, her scent only intensifying as you’re pressed and slowly dragged around her backside like a brittle toy. It's not much longer before you finally release, spraying a pitiful amount of seed across her bottom.

She owns you at this very moment, and you know it. But much more frightening is that Susan seemed to take so much pleasure in it. It's not long before you hear a yawn crack overhead, and the pressure mercifully relents. “Well, playtime is over for today. But feel free to do whatever you’d like. I’ll do my best to not forget you back there.” She says with a tone so casual it’s outright startling. The vibrations of her giving one last good stretch course through you before Susan goes still.

Sweaty, spent, and ashamed, you look across the field of flesh. The downtime provides you a moment of stark realization. You might not make it out of this one.

Chris; ???

As Susan naps, you suffer quietly in a humid bog, the cheeks of her ass heating up like hot pavement, nearly scorching to the touch. Sweat rapidly envelops you in its salty grasp. You're panting like a dog, your body trying its hardest to cool down from the intense temperatures. To make matters worse, you're overheating, your brain boiling as the heat levels rise without any hint of stopping.

Laying on the meatiest parts of her posterior, you can't help but consider that as the primary concern. It's painfully hot, and your mouth starts feeling not unlike the feeling of unrefined cotton. The once cool saliva is vacant from your parched mouth. It doesn’t take long for you to consider the obvious but frankly disgusting solution.

             Susan’s perspiration is all around you. The clear choice for your parched throat as it craves anything to soothe its scratchy texture. You're too desperate to resist a hesitant lick, the fluid pouring past your moisture-soaked lips. Instantly you can taste the salt, the slightly thicker consistency, but you gulp it down all the same, greedily lapping for more. You're repulsed with yourself, this stint with Susan already trying its hardest to break you down.

You think back to biology class. Sweat wasn’t outright toxic; that much you knew for sure. But how much it would help keep you cool is uncertain. It’s mainly water and a small amount of fat. Distinctly missing the hydrating minerals that come with it naturally. Either way, it felt too good not to take one more disgusting swig. Whatever lets you survive is well by you. Because at this point, you aren’t entirely sure how much longer you’d be able to hold off without something to sustain you.

Further thinking about biology, you realize sitting on the cusp of where her butt curves probably weren’t doing you any favors. You can finally think somewhat clearly again, the fog of dehydration lifting in response to the foul concoction you'd just downed. The mountains of flesh generated tremendous amounts of heat from their size and sheer density. You figure the best course of action would be to crawl away. Although, you aren’t in the best condition to be moving right now. You’re disoriented, your thoughts still somewhat scattered. Which way were you?

You feel your heart start to beat harder, anxiety creeping up. Your sense of direction had been stripped some time ago. In a panic, you begin to crawl forward, afraid staying here could lead you to a miserable death. One that could culminate with you being baked alive on top of this deranged lady's cheeks. You push your strained body, slowly moving across the heated ground. Passing several just sprouting hair stubs, you move towards your goal. It makes you think of that one handheld mirror Alexis has, the one with higher magnification. Only, this was your reality, not the trick of a reflection. Try and g Nothing really does much to satiate the appetite of your lowermost appendage.

It throbs against your leg, the sexual frustration only worsening with each tired pull forward. It creates enough stimulation that you can no longer stave off the urge, choosing to thrust yourself against it once more, dragging your crotch against the steady hills as your member is trying desperately to convince you it's worth stopping. However, you’re still exhausted and use whatever you have left to get off one last time.

You pop; the release is relatively tiny, even for you. It leaves you relaxed for a few moments before the burning need returns. Feeling lust take hold once again, you scream. What’s happening? This wasn’t right… Has she done something to you? 

You don’t know and hardly care. It doesn’t matter; you just need it to stop! The urge is back with a renewed effort, billowing from deep inside. It's insatiable, like you need her. The thought of even leaving her warmth is starting to make you empty.

Your eyes shift, eventually landing at the small splotch of cum drying by your waist. The aftermath makes you feel distinctly weird. Disgusted and even repulsed. Why are you still so hopelessly hard? So driven with a longing? The frightening answer, you have no idea. It’s now that you push past all hesitation, barreling forward blindly. You’ve practically doubled your speed, pushing worn-down muscles to their absolute limits. It’s not long before you stumble, your hand landing on uneven ground. You’re confused, but it all clicks. The crack! However, it's too late to catch yourself, and your body tumbles down the sides of the sweaty flesh. Darkness rapidly blankets you, and by the time you impact the surface, even the hand in front of your face is a struggle to see.

A general soreness radiates from all around. "Landings could use some work for sure." You think to yourself. Groaning, you get back on your feet, only to sink abruptly into the slippery ground. You yell, startled as you fall face-first into an oily wrinkle. The skin below you pulses with life. You’re far too small to make a noticeable impact with anything at your limited means, so you take a second to look at this dank alien world you've stumbled on.

There's a sudden flare-up of pain in your side, forcing you to press a hand against it. The spots are tender to the touch. Already, you can picture the purple welt it will leave. Holy hell, what did you land on? It's not long before you get an answer, the floor shifting and twitching outward in a way you find instantly recognizable. Of course, how could you be so blind to something right in front of you?

Your vision gradually gets used to the lack of light, and her bare asshole is starting to become apparent. Covered with a light layer of natural grease, it makes unconscious lurches, creating a tumultuous terrain throughout all but the outermost area of her muscular ring. Luckily, with how Susan fell asleep, she wasn't pressing against you. Otherwise, you might have been crammed against it this whole time. Your manhood starts to rise at the thought, dangerous as it might be. But, the risk was part of what drove you wild.

Turning back to your more urgent needs, you open and close your exceeding dry mouth, following with a hurtfully dry swallow. You're deathly dehydrated, but the area seems ripe with perspiration, the air much heavier than above. The walls drip with it, most of the observable surface coated with a thin watery layer. The musk is wildly intense here and outwardly offensive in its power. However, the odor itself is relatively mild. It conveys a sort of preparation, telling you that maybe, this was the Mother’s intended destination for you. After all, she'd known well beforehand.

You stop caring. Your cock hurts, and you can't ignore the bewitching urge any longer. Leaning onto your good side, your back stroking rapidly in no time. Still covered in your sweat and Susans, it makes finding lubrication a non-issue. Your hand strokes its length, sometimes briefly tilting to the side, rubbing like an animal against the rubbery texture of her butthole. Chills shoot through you, pleasure radiating from your crotch.

It's filthy, humiliating, but you'd never been more turned on in your life! You even eye the center of her darkened donut with want as it twitches away. Each unconscious movement further instills how powerful she is and how little control you really have at present. 

All those elements individually terrify you. Although, there’s one positive quirk. As the situation grows more dangerous, it grows multitudes hotter. Even with the preparation, it's clearly unsanitary. Dangerous? That's undeniable. Mistaken as an itch once Susan wakes up? You'd likely be gone in seconds, popped beneath whichever hand is more convenient at the time.

You continue to stroke, the shallow feeling of shame fueling your supernatural arousal levels. Tugging away in a daze, you focus on this living planet of a woman. You contemplate everything you initially loved about this kink, now turned upside its head as the real-life danger becomes part of the ever-expanding equation. Here you were, bruised and trapped in a smothering sauna, yet all your attention is directed entirely towards satisfying your base urges.

You think about the act of treating a lady's backside to a peppering of kisses while you continue on your way, not able to escape the thoughts surrounded by so much feminity. There’s something about the humiliation of actually getting down and kissing some petite lady's backside. There’s some irony that amplifies the euphoria when lips meet ass. Or so you like to sometimes think.

Truthfully, it's hard to pinpoint exactly why you like what you do. But ever since fantasy became real, there was something about that more taboo entrance that screams power to you. Literal walls of muscle, strong enough to probably squeeze you in half should you be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though, physical strength is far from all they have at their disposal. The sheer sight of them, covered in darkened wrinkled flesh. Their very appearance is intimidating.

              It's fucked. Yet, you sail further along, steady strokes gradually working towards a desperately needed climax. You glance around shakily, the wall you need to climb frustratingly close to being scaled. There’s a single hair beyond the darkened flesh that towers above everything else, save for the canyon you currently reside in. Yet, Susan recently shaved. It doesn’t add up. Did she really miss something that large? You slowly put two and two together. It's humbling, not that you needed to be brought down any further. But if she could miss something so huge, it's terrifying to picture her trying to keep track of you.

              Shamefully, that’s the final thought you need to burst through the crumbling wall. You cum dramatically, thrusting forward as another orgasm wracks your spent body. Yet, what you manage to produce is anything but dramatic or even climatic. The single offensively tiny spurt of white liquid was almost immediately lost amid Susan's hot flesh. Panting, you slump back and try to catch a labored breath. The stale air does very little to help the situation, diluting the intake of oxygen with its inherent miasma of the sweat and feminine musk.

The lonely pool starts to slide, and the ground it rests on is uneven because of the wrinkles beneath your feet. Although it's absolutely nothing in comparison to the expanse of Susan’s backside. Comparing the surface of her asshole to the smidge of genetic fluid is laughable. Perhaps somewhat cynically, you can't help but find amusement in the fact that she’d never know you came right across her butthole. Hell, if she got up wrong, Susan herself might not know you were ever down her pampering the dirtiest part of her. The latter of which, you find pretty tolerable, all things considered. Susan seemed like a monster, devoid of empathy. She’d been a bully and a brute in the little time spent together. She’s dangerous, but you take plenty of solace in the fact that dirty wasn’t a word that ever entered her modus operandi.

“Mmm.” A muffled sigh of content rings out from high above, just as you feel you’re finally able to catch a breather. Chaos strikes and Susan's unconscious body decides you wouldn’t be getting a break anytime soon. Everything flips almost quite literally on its head, the entire world turning upside on a dime. You can only imagine she’s rolled onto her back or switched to her other side. You don’t know for sure, but it hardly matters. It leaves you disoriented and struggling to make heads or tails of where you are.

Meat presses harshly from all sides, the slippery and quivering floor long gone from your position. It’s warm but suffocating, the mass on your chest making it hard to draw a full breath. You pray silently that something rouses Susan from this before she’s stuck cleaning your stain from between these mountains.

              Your eyes pop open, minor crust from a long-needed nap tugging at the corners of your eyes. You felt better than you have in weeks and had the most wonderfully lusty dream. Maybe you’d get some use out of that little brat later tonight.

              “Okay! Times up!” You say with an almost sing-song-like cadence to your voice. Confidently a hand goes in, probing your backside for the tiny mistake. You let loose a momentary sneer. No doubt that hex you’d slyly brought into effect earlier had left him humping away like a love-drunk fool. Men never fail to give in to their desires once seen bare.

               You do one pass, and then a second before your brow finally furrows. Did Alexis' friend fall out? It's not something you’d accounted for. Frankly, you hadn’t really considered losing him in the first place. In fact, you’d barely thought about the logistics of this at all. It felt so… pointless. The problem would take care of itself. So why put in the extra leg work? Whether that means failing to withstand the pressure during moderately tantalizing situations or getting swept up in the vacuum, it makes little difference to you. Whatever. You figure if the runt made a run for it, he wouldn’t be much of an issue tomorrow after running the vacuum. Otherwise, he’s probably stained across your butt somewhere. Serves the punk right for taking a generous predicament and abusing it as kids his age often do.

              “Oh well,” You say with a transitional sigh. Standing up, you take stretch towards the ceiling, yawning loudly. You feel your glutes being worked, stretching with the rest of you. 

You lament over the idea that this whole family drama had come to a rather unsatisfying end. Though disappointing as it may be, at least you have a new fantasy to picture later. One far newer than that wonderfully erotic situation with your ex-husband. You chuckle at how easily your problems vanish, wandering off to the kitchen to check on the kitchen salad you have stored away. The whole nap had left you pretty hungry.

Susan; 4:51 PM

Walking into the kitchen, you make a mental note to devise something convincing to feed your daughter. Sure, Alexis would be heartbroken, but the family would be safe. Maybe a half-truth about some magic overload shenanigans would convince her. It's for her own good, you rationalize. A harmless lie at best.

In truth, you'd already removed the mistake those two had made long since. What your daughter had been playing around with was immeasurably dangerous, but her friend's affliction? Quite mundane. Especially to a seasoned magic user such as yourself.

There's an extra pump on your step and additional peps to your walk. Today, you felt like a million bucks! Itty bitty Chris was lost nearly right out of the gate. But his assumed death had generated a rush like no other! Knowing that even asleep, you could utterly obliterate someone beneath you? It's unreal. You'd ended an entire life without even realizing it. Unbelievable how quickly the thought gets you boiling.

"Hmm," You muse, pulling out your phone. Your finger hovers over the uber app. What about the bars? You contemplate the ramifications of another disappearance so close to the family and ultimately decide against it. The chance of suspicion just couldn't be risked. Unfortunately, someone had to be responsible in this family!

Though, perhaps a typical booty call would suffice. Last month you swore you'd get out more. Now, the perfect opportunity has dropped right into your lap. You had to mingle sometime! It wasn't your intention to die a shut-in like your mother!

Ultimately, you decide to table it for now. Though, not for lack of ambition. No, you just didn't have the mental fortitude for the hookup game at the moment, nor the time. Instead, you head to the kitchen, swiftly grab a ziplock bag of pre-cooked chicken, and place it on the counter. Right now, you’re feeling some chicken salad! And maybe, one or two glasses of that wine you’d been saving.

Pop

The bottle foams as you delicately pour it into the two cups, letting the liquid flow down the sides, melding together in the middle. You don't have any company, but you weren't willing to waste so much of such an expensive bottle. Setting it down, you take the first glass and remove a good bit off the top. With a warm feeling in your gut, you crank up the radio on the adjacent countertop and jam out. All the while collecting the ingredients for the perfect chicken salad.

Skin gropes at you from all sides, a jumble of differing pressure as Lexy’s mother takes several steps, likely moving to another room. The air around you starts to heat up even hotter than the original skillet that had sent you tumbling down here.

The two relatively smooth pieces of flesh mesh together with you in-between. It's chaotic; each step sends several tonnes of ass sliding by at frightening speeds, only for them to shoot back up with an equal measure of force. As for the scenery, you find yourself nearly pressed against Susan's dark hole. You can barely even see it, the absence of light so complete. But boy, can you feel it. Almost as if it's breathing on you.

Sometimes the muscular wall pulsates, and other times it stays perfectly still. You never know when it's about to turn your world on its head; never be any the wiser.

You're constantly struggling to breathe, the weight of Susan threatening to snuff you out at any moment. You think it's bad enough, but eventually, you hear the faint mummers of the latest pop song that's been playing all over the radio. In no time at all, Susan's cheeks become ground zero for a cataclysmic earthquake. Her asshole still taunts you with its musk and heat. The very globes holding you in place bounce in rhythm. However, you're so thoroughly embedded that it hardly makes a speck of difference.

Once your eyes adjust to the lack of light, you can inspect this claustrophobic nightmare. Layers of skin sit on each side, molding around your fragile form and threatening to bend it to its own will each time Susan takes a step. It's only by luck you survive. Being stuck unnoticed anywhere else would likely have been a death sentence. Actually, you aren’t entirely sure you’ll outlive this place, either.

That's when you feel the unnatural urge rearing its head. That pulsing in your groin that's become somewhat commonplace. Even with the oppressive nature of your environment, your infatuation with what's ahead is only growing. Your eyes scan each wrinkle, marveling as it continues to flex unconsciously. Each twitch is small, likely imperceivable to Susan herself. But you're just small enough to observe the negligible events. Over and over, as she keeps herself busy, you get sneak peeks of her inner workings. A hot chamber blinks at you, time and time again. Waiting for its chance to snatch you up.

A sick part of you can't help but feel a call. You want it? No, you need this! Your mind is intoxicated with the very idea of giving yourself to this perfect beauty. Being privileged enough to use her exit as an entrance. You finally push back against the weight around you. It makes the plush in the immediate area jiggle with resistance, fighting you with every push. But it can't stop you, not when you feel like this!

You get right up against the familiar dark stretch of the skin lining her hole. A calm floods through you, touching down on her skin like instant relief—a fire hydrant on the hottest day of the summer. You're elated, finally able to get close to this magnificent part of her. You feel almost drunk, and it's tough to focus. All you can think about right now is what's directly in your eyesight.

Though, you have moments of clarity. At times, it's like a slow drift from warm numb to cold dread. It's clear to you now that Susan was directly to blame for these burning desires. A tiny voice wonders how she'd done so when Alexis had been explicitly clear on the difficulty of casting spells on a body touched by the Other Side. But, you're so far out of your league that you have to stop short of your head erupting into flames.

It's not long before lust takes over again, and you're back to marveling at the tight skin around her ass. You run a hand across the ground, feeling up the dense muscles surrounding the exit. Your dick’s raw from all the previous friction, balls absolutely drained of its life-creating fluid. Yet it doesn't really matter. The need won't be filled until you climax. So you go about fulfilling these unmovable requirements.

Sore and tired, you shove your face against her asshole, not caring if the sudden intrusion leads to being snuffed out by a stray finger. Right now, you need her perfect exit to cherish and shower with affection—you find yourself abuzz with this strange affliction.

Then, there's a sudden pressure. The breath is sucked straight out of you as what feels like several thousand pounds of force crash down. She must have finally sat. You're thrown around momentarily, jostled between her all-consuming hills. When you regain some sense of direction, you realize the already tight space just got smaller. Where you could previously move around with some effort lies only a dense unmoving wall. It presses into you with an uncomfortable amount of force. 

Grunting in frustration, you continue to let these lusty whims dominate you. You have to cum. Not just for anyone, but for her! It's all you can think about. Rubbing your cock into the uneven landscape, you shove your face into the ground and explode with a strained cry. Your body jerks forward, but very little comes out. It's pitiful, much like your size. The firing leaves you panting on your side. Your lungs are burning with telltale signs of exhaustion.

The already sizable pressure pushing on you from behind increases without warning, smearing and grinding you roughly into the surface of her asshole. You yelp as the dark wrinkled flesh enters your mouth once more. It's unavoidable; the puckered anus is a constant in this claustrophobic pocket. Luckily, the sweat you'd been forced to deal with had dried significantly, and the heat, as mentioned earlier, seemed much more tolerable since Susan began moving around again. 

With movement comes a rash of calm winds that drift subtly across her body. No longer were you sitting in the bakery of her ass. That isn’t to say the area wasn’t still dreary and almost swamp-like in feel. Air thick with moisture. It's nothing out of the ordinary. Basic biology tells you the lower areas tend to radiate heat. The issue was at your size; even the body's most basic functions are against you. 

With your lust gone for the moment, a clearer head can prevail. Briefly, you marvel at the fact you'd been able to survive her presumably taking a seat. With tremendous pressure still smudging you tightly into her asshole, you feel it's somewhat of a miracle you've survived. So much has gone right. The situation might have turned out differently if even one variable had been changed. You could have been a crunchy mess days ago. Or, five minutes back.

The force doesn't relent, entirely unaware of your recent climax. It cares little for your situation, roughly a hundred pounds of woman opposing you. The pace of your breath quickens. Having taken stock of the predicament, you know just how dire it is. In response, you're taking in one unsatisfying breath after another. The air is worth less, each breath tainted with selective toxicity. It's polluted and heavy.

That's when you notice something from what feels like worlds above. The music changes tunes, fading from one track right into the next. It's nothing that stands out. Yet, the beats are far more energetic this time around. You recognize the voice easily as it's some up-and-coming twenty-something. Not your kind of music.

With a surprised yelp, you enter a short period of free fall, half a second at most, before precious oxygen is pressed from your lungs. Susan bounces and rolls her rear casually around the seat, jamming to the latest pop hit. You remain relatively close to her anus, but the cheeks work like two opposing vise grips. Squeezing and twisting in each direction. Each subsequent turn and grind feels like it might be the end, the pressure slowly but surely breaking your body.

You groan out while her body rhythmically assaults you with its weight. You're powerless to stop her, each new motion putting more pressure on you than you thought even your marginally enhanced body could withstand. Unable to expand your lungs properly, you take shallow gulps of air between each impossible-to-predict bounce.

It's not long until the relentless barrage of butt movement has you grinding into Susan's delicate star. The entire front of your body rolls across in circular motions. The musk is intense as well. Being face to face with every inch of the muscle has its natural, normally harmless odor outright attacking your sense of smell.

Desperately, you press a hand to it, hoping your strength will be enough to make it stop. Instead, you're given a much more terrifying sight. Another unconscious twitch, one Susan likely wasn't aware of. Your hand sinks into it instantly, your arm rapidly disappearing beyond the seemingly bottomless hole. Instinctually you try to tug, but there's simply not enough room to pull it free. The sphincter keeps a firm grip on your arm, threatening to sever it at any moment with a tight clench. Or worse, open up and swallow you whole. It's ravenous and ready to devour you at the drop of a hat. You can't bear to think past that. All of the fucked up games Susan could play with you inside her. By now, you aren't sure if this is a game itself. You figure she'd be fucked up enough to do something like that.

Her wrinkled star tenses up in anticipation. It's almost as if it's waiting to make its move. You don't let it, finally finding the strength to pull your arm back, removing it from the humid pouch. You stretch your shoulder and enjoy the fact that you can flex the fingers on your hand again. However, the celebration is short-lived. Soon enough, you’d be back to the anxious chaos of having over a thousand pounds of water beds ready to crush you flat with one annoying itch.

You happily munch away on the hastily prepared chicken salad, enjoying the flavors and cold texture of the simple mix. It's almost entirely unconscious, but as you chew away the new song from that cutie pop star comes on, your butt traces the chair to the music. Now, you aren't usually one to be pulled in by the younger boys, but he's so rugged! The exact opposite of that more effeminate-looking bug boy you'd probably obliterated under your behind earlier.

It's right about now you notice an annoying little itch right down your backside. However, it doesn't linger, and it isn't something you dwell on past wishing for another shrunken plaything. It really is such a shame! You had plenty of predictions for how the bug word goes out, but rolling over on the thing was a boring conclusion.

You send another piece of chicken down your throat with a final gulp. Finished with a particularly satisfying early dinner, you put a lid over the Tupperware bowl and place it on the fridge's top shelf for later. And now you’ll have less hassle for lunch tomorrow.

You take a second just to relax, content in the With a full stomach, the time for taking care of yourself was long past due. You lean back against the counter for a short while. It's easy to continue drifting back toward the incident earlier. Alexis would be around soon, likely finishing up homework before heading over. You’ll have to be somewhat quick.

You stride coolly towards your room, stopping first to get a few things from the closet before starting. The decidedly unsexy part of the prep meant taking a short detour. A towel, just in case, along with a little black bag.

Your sexy bag of tricks! You hold the towel somewhat awkwardly and rifle through it. No need to take the whole thing! Not when you knew which toy you wanted. After shuffling around inside the bag, you produce the object of your sudden search. It's nothing special, a black silicone toy. It features beads of various sizes, the main draw of this relatively basic toy. Each bead in the chain gets bigger and bigger—an excellent toy for some dirty fun. You learned long ago that basic could do the job just as well as some of the fancier toys you’d picked up in the past. Many of them simply gather dust in the closet. But not this one. It had seen plenty of action.

You stroll down the hall, eagerly laying everything out and settling on the bed. But wait! You’d forgotten one thing! Reaching down, you grab the clear bottle between your mattress and nightstand. Perfect. You let yourself fall back, placing the towel underneath as you carelessly fall into place on your back, the towel intending to act as a safeguard for any mess later down the road.

            You’re graced with long-awaited light and the sweet breeze of open air. It's not something you expected so soon. Simultaneously, Susan’s cheeks deem fit to let you go, just as a far-reaching shadow moves across the ground, with you at its very epicenter. You're left very disoriented and can't don't correctly capitalize on the window of near immunity that had fallen right into your lap. Instead, you're met with the thunderous unclasping of a plastic bottle.

You realize what's happening too late, watching in startling clarity as a finger hastily applies a gel-like substance. Not long after, it comes in for the kill. Still, in the dark danger zone, you're throttled with the full brunt of Susan's application. She's cautious, making sure to coat the entire area thoroughly. A methodical habit that you can't help but resent. It's both painful and disorienting; the pressure she's applying to you is more than you've ever been subjected to. However, it's brief, and after teasing the area lightly, she moves on to something you can't see.

Well, in that case, you'd have to crawl out of here and make your way up top. Though, your cunning plan quickly hits a snag. The thick substance keeps you locked in place and ultimately trapped back in this hell you'd been trying so desperately to crawl away from. You know two choices are being laid out before you. Fight like hell and probably die, or lay down and let Susan have some fun with you in the way? You want to go with the first option; always the first option! But your body aches. Bones are likely bruised and fractured. The underlying pain makes you cry out when you try to push away from the flexing anus. One of many ways your body is screaming for rest. You couldn’t possibly fight.

             You weren't in control anymore. Susan was. Whether she knew it or not, your fate rests entirely in her hands. Or rather, her body.

Chris; 5:40 PM

You give a single large pull, the lube thick enough to keep you petrified inside like some tiny fossil. Groaning, you yank your head above the fluid. Your whole body feels callous at this point. Drowning, suffocating, nearly crushed, lifes flashed before your eyes more than you could possibly explain to anybody willing to listen.

Tired and in pain, you're helpless to stop Susan as she loudly runs a finger through her soaked folds. It's tremendously loud; even within the pocket you find yourself inside. It's terrifying to imagine all that power directed at you. Something tells you it's good you got the ass over somewhere else. Anywhere less confined, and you could be in the eye of the storm right now.

Susan makes a series of low moans that can be heard over her dripping arousal. She's not putting on a show by any means, but she's so massive that it's hard not to notice every nuance in her breathing. Her face burns brightly; the seductive nature of where you are, combined with the atmosphere, is driving you wild. Yet you aren't in a position where you can satisfy any cravings.

Instead, you look anxiously at the shadow looming just overhead. You’re stunned by its immensity. Like most objects, your size makes it challenging to discern. But it clicks as it comes in closer with no signs of stopping. An anal toy. It features a series of tiny black silicone beads, each more prominent than the last. Remarkably similar to one an old flame had.

Your teeth make contact with the soft surface of your lower lip, arousal soaking your lower half. It's unbelievable how turned on dredging up those memories made you. It's hard to recall a time you were this soaked through. In all honesty, Alexandra's little boy toy was barely on your mind. While the idea that he could be lost somewhere on your couch lingers in the back of your mind, what really has you going, is thinking about the late hubby.

You glance over the smutty fantasy novel on your nightstand—the pages upon pages of romance peppered with smutty bedroom dealings. Certainly won't need that cheap thing. Your imagination is more than enough. All you had to do was think back to that night.

Ugh, it always came back to the day that pushover of a man left your life forever. You remember how microscopic he looked compared to that dildo and how alive it made you feel. That unparalleled rush of having that dumb man at your next to a mold of his penis, a gag valentines day gift that had been made in more carefree times.

Even now, running a finger up your lips, you stare up at the ceiling, remembering how carefully you had to tuck him right underneath the pale-pink head of his artificial cock. So small he could be hidden beneath the ridge of his cock head. He'd disappeared from sight.

Oh, and how carried away you got! You couldn't feel him at all and, frankly, never did. But still, the idea of that lazy good for nothing inside your actual ass? The man practically worshiped the ground you trod on, but even for him, it couldn't have possibly been a pleasant experience. And that's precisely what always made thinking of that night so incredibly tempting. The amount of misery you could inflict with such little effort, and above all else? Knowing you have the power to do anything you dream.

The first and smallest of the beads comes at you, and like usual, you're powerless to do anything but watch. Bizarrely, Susan's asshole twitches reflexively before it even makes contact. Opening ever so slightly, ready to be pried open forcefully by the toy. The lubes coat evenly along the surface—the gel's unbelievably glossy, shining the wrinkled exterior into an oily and bright sheen.

You're quickly swept up in a whirlpool of lube as Susan spreads it out along the dark brown spot. The black-colored material makes contact on the opposite side but makes little difference. It's immensely disorienting, forcing you to close your eyes to make the world stop spinning. You feel like you've been through a blender and back when it stops.

POP

"Mmmm…" Susan moans, feeling the tug of the toy. The bead is suddenly sucked through the middle, leaving you still stuck but unharmed. The heavy suction could be sensed, and the noise? Deafening. But there isn't any time for you to reflect, as the next bead in the line is already knocking on Susan's back door. It's much the same, except more generous in size. You aren't sure if you'll be lucky enough to avoid its influence this time.

Fortunately, Susan's taking things slow. She flexes the muscles of her ass, a chill wracking her body as the sphincter clamps back down with a tremendous amount of force. The show of strength is so casual and effortless that it's chilling.

Horrifyingly, she decides to take another. The immense orb plows into the hot flesh, clashing against her sphincter. The entire anus flexes to take it, pushing you further out as it opens slowly. It inches forward, ready to assist you in being swallowed whole. You avoid being taken under by fractions of an inch, though a third is quickly knocking. The increase in bead size is noticeable this time around, and you're left in a panic. Silently, you brace yourself for what's to come. Before it even impacts her wrinkled star, you knew it had you.

You can feel the silicone press into you, covering you completely. Sandwiched between the cold toy and the overwhelmingly hot wrinkled floor. But you aren't stuck for long, as it's soon eagerly opening to accept you. There's so much pressure on your face it's painful. There's a small snap as the pressure momentarily increases, just enough to twist your nose to the side.

The strokes of her fingertips are loud, striking like thunder from the unseeable above. Divine drum beats, electrically charged. Rhythmic and imposing. The sounds seemingly coming from everywhere at once soon fade out as her ass greedily accepts you like all the other beads, yours demonstrating little difference from the others.

Even then, your inevitable journey inside isn't quite complete. Susan’s exit plays with the bead, her asshole clenching experimentally around it. However, being stuck to a thick patch of lube on the side leaves you relatively safe from the guillotine of muscle playing around just overhead.

You tease the third bead extra hard, its size substantial enough to make you feel filled. Took long enough. Those first two just weren't cutting it. Your mind floats to the subject of your ex again; the long-lost insect quickly becomes the target of your fantasy. Imagining that gross little pill bug trapped amid the chaos below your waist sets you absolutely alight!

You push the third one through after enough playing around. Working on your clit, you're soon ready to tackle the fourth. It's such a simple toy, making it so beautifully functional. Of all the toys you've had over the years, you often ended up back at this exact design.

With the fourth bead knocking on your flexing exit, you focus more on your more feminine areas. You let a hand run down toward your wet lips, tracing familiar patterns into your clit. From there, you messily rub it across your pussy. Everything is drenched, arousal spilling readily down your thighs.

It's not often you need a second shower, but this real-life fantasy you've gotten caught up reliving has done the job better than you ever hoped. You feel so feminine, but more so, you're invigorated and hot! Is this confidence now burning inside you related to the death count for your ass? It must be. 

Two. The number of lives claimed beneath you.

You can do whatever the fuck you want. And nobody could possibly say otherwise. Unless, perhaps they'd enjoy being fly for the remainder of their short, sad lives! At this point, you've come to realize the world's your plaything.

The idea of turning someone so base and undersized into a stain without even realizing it? It sets you off and influences you to gradually work another bead against your makeshift entrance. There's a light pop as it's tucked inside. You coo lightly, tugging at it and loving the feel of the tension against your muscles.

There's a booming squelch as another bead is pulled inside by Susan's powerful muscles. Though, you can't see much of anything. It's dark, and you're going in and out of consciousness. The stress, aches, and exhaustion have caught up with you. It's almost like a fever dream, stuck in a musky tunnel of ass, the smell inescapable. Each lube-filled breath you fight for is foul, the air having little value in this place. But it's enough to keep you alive. And if breathing ass is what you had to do to make it home, that's what was going to happen! 

There's more commotion as Susan rocks her hips outside, having fun and working herself to a slow and satisfying release. It's, of course, all unknowingly at your expense.

You wonder how far this will go or how long you'll last. The situation seems rather grim, and you can't help but feel next time you drift off, it may very well be your last. A tragedy with mild undertones of irony. Lost inside the asshole of your best friend's Mom. Not the way you thought it would end, but it's somewhat fitting.

Common sense says you’ll spend the foreseeable future here if you slip off, so you're giving your all to avoid it. You can feel the goop binding you to the toy start to loosen, spelling out your almost certain doom. You imagine either being crushed by the toy or left inside. You don't want to think any further about what it entails.

The entire area undulates, and you know exactly what's happening. However, it's soon evident that the turmoil wasn't about to end as Susan rode out her orgasm. Luckily, your prison continues to hold firm. 

For once, you're glad to be so thoroughly stuck.

You let release take you, the feeling in your butt fueling the waves of pleasure deep within you. An incredible climax from reliving an unforgettable night. You let out the last of your pent-up stress in one heavy breath, a faint smile on your lips as your head sinks back into the pillow. 

The only way this could be better is if that boy hadn't wandered off. Or maybe you had rolled over by mistake? You weren't much of a turner in your sleep, but it's a real possibility. One little unconscious shake could send him to several dangerous places for someone of his stature.

You lie there for a while, eyes closed. You aren't tired, just relaxed. Everything weighing you down is good and gone! That was precisely what you needed to move on from this icky business. 

Sufficiently satisfied, you tighten a hand around the end. Your teeth come down around your lips habitually as you pull them out one at a time.

PopPopPop

However, on the third to last bead, you put everything on ice. Perhaps somewhat childishly imagining the late hubby plastered to the dot, waiting to leave your ass. A little piece of artificial material holding a shell of a man. A personality fitting his size. What was that really like for him, you wonder? Sure, you've fantasized thoroughly, but what was it in actuality? The harsh reality?

It was likely dark; that much you figure is a given. You flex your sphincter around the orb. Refusing any exit from the lowest part of you as you think. Clean has always been your middle name, but it's hard to picture just how miserable it would be in a place like that. It's nearly comical how alien the world beyond that muscle is to you. But then again, nobody stops to get a good look at the inside of an asshole. Except maybe, a medical profession, you figure. 

You continue to wonder, the afterglow only now starting to fade. Was it difficult to breathe? It must be! The content of the atmosphere is toxic, and it's the only defining trait? Everything inside is worthless. Destined for disposal.

It fits the late father of your children, who practically worshiped the thing. After thinking about what you'd done to him so long ago, a gear starts turning in your head. Seems like he had a point. The very hole he was so enamored with did have the ability to take lives after all. A decider of life and death. You like that thought, pulling the last two beads out with two delayed pops.

The dark tunnel growls at you, roaring with the might of your worst nightmares. There isn't much movement, and you're terrified that the witch might have fallen asleep. Your perception of time is non-existent here, so when action resumes, it's oddly somewhat of a relief. What she's doing, however, is much more worrying. 

Susan's removing the beads. It’s a slow and jerky process, as each one requires a careful extraction and a steady hand. It needs to happen, and it's the best-case scenario in your situation. But it makes you decidedly nervous. One jerk in the wrong direction, and you'll be stuck in this hell.

The air down here's making you lose it. Though, surprisingly you haven't passed out yet. And strangely, those urges you've been feeling haven't reared their ugly head for some time now. Maybe it wore off? Or another possibility… Being surrounded by Susan is keeping it in check. But that doesn't make much sense, does it?

Eventually, it's your orb's turn. But unfortunately, Susan isn't entirely done playing yet. The bead is mashed by the muscles of her ass, the sphincter closing harshly around the top. Suddenly, you're feeling pretty lucky to be stuck where you are on this death instrument.

It mashes your vehicle, the matriarch's muscles toying with it casually. Repeatedly, the bead is assaulted from above and below, sporadically shaking and throwing you back and forth. You cry out, scared as the rapidly thinning coating around you has your body slipping.

Falling is game over, and you know it. Even if you had the energy to move, you'd be pulled under the very object that has kept you so safe this entire time. Whether suffocation or the pressure does you in, you struggle to think of any other outcome should you be thrown off. The muscles are too violent and mindless to leave any chance for survival.

Mercifully, Susan relents. The colossal mother pulls the two out with a single pop and a belated squelch. There's a gasp from Susan at the last noise; deafening, as is everything she does. It doesn't matter, though. You're far too exhausted to do anything but hang your head in the sticky syrup.

Susan casually tosses the anal toy onto the bright white towel below. You lean to the ground, down on all fours, panting and taking in much-needed air. Quickly breaking the loose strands of lube that keep you bound. Flung to the bristled ground, you cough and hack, the fresh air making you forcefully expend all the filthy air in your lungs. A final long wheeze leaves you panting and your lungs burning for oxygen.

The toy lands nearby, narrowly crushing you into a weird stain on Susan's towel. You shriek on the impact, reeling back on hands and knees uselessly as it creates a dip in the terrain you can't help but be pulled into. Your entire observable universe turns into a whirlwind, Susan shifting over you, making your whole head turn in an attempt to track some of the gargantuan lady’s movements. It's mostly for naught, though, as you only manage to catch blurry glimpses of skin, your eyes having trouble focusing on the sheer size of her. Distracted, you fail to stop yourself from tumbling back into a particularly flakey patch of lube and fluid. 

It's downright tragic. Just as salvation is at arm's length, you're ripped back. You're graced with a smell that will never leave your memory. The scent of Susan. Raw and unfiltered, it lingers on her toy and, to a lesser extent, on you. Instantly you realize how bad the situation is now. Susan went off to do god knows what, but you can’t help but feel the lady is far too cleanly to leave a toy sitting around for long without giving it a proper wash. If you didn’t get moving, that would spell a brutal end. Scrubbed away mercilessly, or maybe even washed down the drain with a mixture of lube and cum. Both scenarios were vivid and close enough to reality that you’re adequately motivated to fight like hell.

Yet, all the motivation in the world can’t will your battered body to move. Your eyes are heavy, and you give in. Not a moment of weakness but one of exhaustion. Perhaps somewhat hilariously, the drying lube is enough to stop your little journey cold.

Susan; 6:17 PM

            The water runs down your legs, gliding across the smooth surface and directly into the drain. The ferocious whirlpool of suction swallows anything in its way, lightly gurgling as you let out a sigh and run your hair carefully through both hands. 

You’d always liked the modern look your shower gave the bathroom, even if it was a little square for your liking. Nothing fancy, but the lightweight tempered glass had been an excellent choice to have the late hubby install.

Delicately, you smooth the locks of hair and let it all hang behind you, feeling the water drip down your back. “Sorry, honey!” You start practicing the excuse you’ll be delivering to your irrational daughter. She’d never see it your way if you’re honest with her—the girl’s stubborn, just like her father! But on the other side of the equation, Alexis has fight in her. Something her Dad always lacked. A coward to the very end. 

“I did everything I could, my dear.” You don’t sound invested enough. Clearing your throat, you give it another try. “Magical overload, honey. Same as your father.” Too direct. You decide then and there that you’ll let your daughter lead the conversation. Much easier that way. No need to get yourself worked up over any of this, Susan.

             Working your way down, you apply some face wash before moving further below, ensuring it's clean of any lingering stickiness. As usual, the combination of lube and moisture made quite the mess.

             You take a rag from the white caddy sitting on the side and lather it up with that lavender body wash you’d gotten the other day. A low hum escapes your mouth as the scent reaches your nostrils. The rich aroma of lavender is irresistible!

            Working gently across your lower body, you wipe away any signs of sexual acts. Any indicators that you’d cum harder than you had all month are gone in a snap. Well, save for the toys. But those would get a proper wash long before Alexis heads over. 

Finishing up on your sparkling clean exterior, you ring out the rag and hang it over the shower head. You make sure to thoroughly clean up even the deepest parts. It only makes sense after having some dirty fun! 

Soon, the once pleasant warmth of the shower is beginning to overstay its welcome. So, with a creaky turn of the facet, you step out and hastily dab off with a towel before reaching for the lotion.

The smell you wake to is potent enough to burn your nose. It takes a few disorienting moments for you to remember what happened. Right, still stuck to Susan's well-used toy. Fortunately, the smattering of sticky fluids rapidly starts to dry and flake off. With one strong grunt of effort, you break free, forehead smacking into the moist, but thankfully not adhesive, spot amongst the towel.

Picking yourself up, the minor exertion is enough to confirm what you initially suspected. It took everything out of you to make that effort, and now your entire body is screaming in alarm. Each muscle feels sore, and several bones are bruised by the earlier forces. You’ve never been hit by a car, but if you suffered anything permanent, it's sure to be the excuse you’ll use.

Despite being so powerful, the intensity of the scent has seemingly faded over time. Though, maybe, you’ve started filtering out the smell like frequent smokers, oblivious to the odor that’s invaded their clothes. It’s hard to know. Having spent so much time in such an intense area of Susan, maybe you’re getting used to the pitfalls of being so easy to abuse. 

Regardless, you’d be freezing right now if the spot of cum you’d fallen into wasn’t still so warm. Caked in several layers of god knows what, the collection of dried-out fluids flakes off your skin as it dries. It's hard to hold back the disgust, but you manage it. Wiping and tearing off what you can, you know there isn’t any time to overanalyze the situation. Susan would be back, and even if you’d escaped the death grip of her butt beads, you don’t want to be caught in the next load of this lady's laundry when she inevitably goes for the towel.

It takes you some time to stumble across the damp spot, away from the oppressive toy that had nearly claimed your life. How long you end up walking exactly, you can only guess. A few minutes at most. Startling how long it takes you just to make the edge of a person's linen, you accomplish exactly what you set out to do. Just as a distant rhythmic thumping catches your attention.

The door is pushed open casually, and a force of destruction heads through. She knows exactly where she’s going and shows no hesitation as she clears the immense distance gap in only a few strides. It's impossible not to stop and watch something that powerful simply be. Your legs refuse to move, forcing you to hunker down and marvel at her movements. 

            Susan’s wet, most notably her hair still somewhat frazzled and weighted down with water. She’s thrown on some generic at-home clothing, gray sweats, and a cheap white tank top.

She comes in too fast for you to really soak in the details. It hardly matters anyway, and soon you’re eyes are growing wide at the tremendous showing of force as she effortlessly picks up the black beads and wipes the fluids vigorously off and onto the towel. 

Thousands of small bristles run along the toy's silicon surface, removing the black beads of anything easily discernable. It's odd to watch, almost like you're watching a death that could have been. A nervous chuckle rises from your dry throat. What if you hadn’t woken up? Lingering on a question like that seldom helps the situation, but it's so jarring. Yet another close call with death. You wager it's likely the tenth time today. And that’s probably being reserved.

“Time for a wash,” Susan mumbles under her breath. A sequence of words you aren’t thrilled to hear in conjunction. “No!” You yell out instinctually, legs finally deciding to give you back control. But it's too late, and she’s already grabbing for the end farthest from her. Humming the whole way, she folds the messy part of the towel by lifting it, sending you hurtling towards the massive swaths of gray making up Susan’s pants.

Pure terror is the only way you can describe those few seconds spent desperately paddling at nothing. At any time, you were ready for it all to stop and life to fade. But you only get the all too familiar feeling of pain as you impact something stretchy, grasping at it with your hands in a panic... It bends to you, allowing you to kill some of the inertia during the fall. However, it's not enough to stop the wind from being knocked from your lungs.

You groan, hanging over the side of what can only be Susan’s waistband. A lucky fall and an even more unexpected set of circumstances. With a heave, you throw some lingering energy behind your arms, your body hurting in too many places to keep track. It takes some effort, but you can rest on the waistband itself. Not big enough to straddle it, you cling to the top shakily as she walks into the other room. Each step she takes clears miles relative to your size, and generates an expected amount of force. It has you clinging so tightly your fingertips are starting to go numb.

ThumpThumpThumpThump

Her socked feet continue to hit the floor one after the other, nearly bucking you off in one of eight possible directions. It becomes quickly apparent that it's only a matter of time. All you can do is hope for the best.

Sure enough, as Susan turns the corner to the laundry hamper, you’re chucked cleanly off the side, rolling into a sea of soft skin as you slip under her waistband. It's the last place you want to be, but maybe it's better than getting swept off the ground like some crumb. Still, it's hard not to feel like all this effort was adding up to a big waste of time. All this struggling, all this pain and near-death experiences… and for what? To be scraped off this bitches shoe?

Lavender grabs your nose as you lose yourself in the lightly tanned ocean of flesh around Susan's waist. It presses you against her band as she bends over to pick up a stray pair of socks. Both skin and elastic assault you, not giving you enough breath to eke out a desperate scream. You fall through as she stands back to her full height, the rapid absence of space sending you on a forced adventure through her pants.

The descent itself is miserable and hot. Not to mention full of Susan’s oppressive lavender-scented lotion. Disoriented by both heat and chemicals, you feel like you’re baking in an industrial-sized oven. It wears you down, pressure coming from any side at any time, only working you further downwards.

It's tempting to close your eyes and let the controlled fall take you. You’re exhausted and tired of the frustration from being so minuscule. You push forward anyway; too many people would be hurt if you gave in to this circus. You’ll fight until the end if that’s what it takes.

Shuffling a stack of papers into a cheap green folder, you slip it into your purse and leave it hanging messily out the top. However, you aren’t concerned with something so small right now. Not anymore.

The scene has been replaying since you’d dropped him off. And your unease has only grown since. Something’s horribly wrong, and you’d been so desperate and emotional at the time that you weren’t looking closely for any of Mom's old tricks. The sweetness in her voice was almost sickening, an unexplainable unease coursing down your back at the time. She was in rare form yesterday, likely because that psycho is up to something.

Your pace has been picking up since you decided to head back to the family, nearly in a jog by the time you leave your study space in the library. How could you have possibly thought you had time for homework?

Furiously running down the stairs, a thought you hadn’t thought of in a long time pops into your head.

Tears pour down your face, standing alone on the night of the Senior’s Ball. It's jarring. You’re Mother scoffs, forcefully wiping the wetness with her sleeve. When your mother offered you a shoulder to cry on, you expected comfort, only to get a cold and calculating response.

"Confidence, honey. Don't you dare let that boy see this side of you.” She says with a steeled look. She didn’t bother looking at you anymore, staring off at something only she could see. “Once he sees how he can hurt you, thats how he'll reel you in! Don't be a fool, dear."

Mom's response was perplexing back then, and in time you grew to learn it was a result of an entitled woman who had gone unchecked for far too long. You'd been over Mom's bullshit for years, absolutely fed up with her taking every opportunity to micromanage your life.

Although there's some familial love that'll forever remain with you, most days, you barely want to even look at her, let alone have a prolonged conversation with the lady. It's a big reason you'd been so eager to get out on your own, even if staying with Mom was the infinitely more affordable option.

Even with your Mother's history of being herself, you can't seem to bury this awful feeling deep inside. You don’t have any way of knowing what’s going on behind those closed doors, and the suspense is driving you insane.

Mom never was the gentle type. Deep down, you don't think she'd outright hurt Chris. But, maybe she'll be too careless! The female embodiment of tough love, the woman, often felt that lessons were better learned. What little support you received was often from your Dads side. Before Mom pushed them out, that is.

Family history aside, you can’t waste a single second. You need to reach that house. Throwing open the last pair of doors leading to the lovely campus exterior. You’re in a full sprint by the time fresh air registers. You wouldn’t have stopped in the first place if it wasn’t for the steep stone stairs leading down from the west wing exit. But you’re forced to stop as a set of three descending stairs and a ramp sits ahead, each one making its way down to a half-filled parking lot.

            Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself. A small part of you is left hoping you’d return to find Chris re-enlarged and sent on his way. You shake your head at the very thought. It’s doubtful, a panic-inducing realization.

“You’re the knight in shining armor this time, Lexy’,” You say with a pinch of disbelief, reverting to chewing on your bottom lip nervously. However, letting anxiety get the best of you wasn’t an option here. 

You scroll through your contacts furiously, but nobody you can think of that would be able to grab you on such short notice. Think Lex, think… Although you pride yourself on staying in shape, it would take even a seasoned marathon runner a good chunk of time to make it across town. You need to use your head and not your legs.

 Already going through the steps of ordering an Uber, your mouth nearly falls as Heather nervously shuffles past you. Her entire demeanor is less intense than it used to be, and she comes off as almost timid. She continues walking, hoping against everything that you wouldn’t pay her any mind. You sigh, knowing how poorly this conversation was bound to go. Quickly heading after her, you’re halfway down the stairs when you call out, “Heather! Wait up!”

            You stride forward with a renewed sense of self-worth. You’re positively glowing after everything is said and done! It's always been clear you were cut from a different cloth, and you’ve always regarded yourself rather highly. But the ease of the runt's disposal has just been another example of the vastly unfair playing field mortals are trapped in. The entire situation resolved itself with only as much effort as taking a nap.

             Shrinking is a powerful tool indeed. Perhaps far more potent than you could have ever imagined. It's gotten you thinking. Why? Because magic has limits. The most considerable being energy. A dynamic of give and take that even the dullest children raised around magic understand.

             You recall a spell potentially capable of generating a raging inferno! The catch, is it's often seen within the community as a cheap parlor trick. Something to light candles or cigarettes without a lighter on hand. But shrinking seemed so much different. The strain on your abilities is surprisingly tame compared to some more advanced spells you’ve uncovered. 

             It’s only an estimate, but you gamble it's possible to shrink five or six fully grown men out of existence before exhaustion catches up. You’re sure that with this in your toolbelt, you’ll be able to make quite the shake-up given the proper planning. And perhaps a hint of intimidation when needed.

            With a grin sunk into your face, you head into the kitchen. Even with the massive potential shrinking could provide, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves. Not without an army of small ones, at least. However, it occurs to you that you forgot to set the scene!

With some urgency, you reach over the kitchen table towards several stacks of books. All ordering catalogs and magical nonsense, but without looking too closely, your daughter would never tell the difference. For your purposes, these are “research materials.” You give yourself a mental pat on the back for the last-minute trickery. Thankfully, both the spines and covers had long since faded.

            You adjust the various books carefully and scatter around a few pens and pads of paper for added believability. The stage has been officially set. Now, to do some tidying in the meantime! You grab the broom from its space in the cozy side closet and get to work!

             It's dim. The light peeks through Susans's sweats as she moves rhythmically with the broom. Each renewed motion threatens to throw you into the panty prison, to be possibly lost within the humid darkness. Or worse, hurled to the ground below. In the interim, you’ve managed to grasp hold of yet another waistband. A second chance for you to hold on tight. And in all honestly, you think it might be doable! She has to be close to finishing, you figure. And she is. Susan’s ready to sweep the mess right into the dustpan. 

Unfortunately for you, she bends over. The area where the stomach meets the groin touches briefly as she wipes the debris. Unknowingly, Susan’s slathering you between islands of flesh and fabric, both equally suffocating. She bends, moves, and turns in place, ensuring everything is neat for her daughter's arrival.

How you survive Susan laying into you so thoroughly is anyone's guess. A result of luck and your small size, possibly. Standing up to her full height creates a brief window of space just around her band. It's impossible to avoid sinking even deeper yet, and soon, you find yourself somewhere much scarier.

            Darker even still, your eyes adjust to the light quickly, though you don’t need sight to know where you are. It's evident from the same musk you’d been subjected to in spades earlier. However, it's far more subdued this time, and you’re glad not to be choking on each lungful of air.

            Focusing on the details is challenging as you cling to the thin, unassuming fabric making up the gray cotton of Susan’s undies. The entire garment is loose but self-contained. Leaving you to be whipped around by unmatchable g-forces. You’re flung against stretchy walls, only for Susan's next step to send you flying back.

Not privy to the immediate world outside, all you can do is your best to place yourself within Susan’s panties. And judging from the colossal crack fissure up most of your vision, you’re on the backside. Fortunately, you can keep a moderate amount of distance this time. That is, until Susan decides to bend over.

You’re entire life flashes as her left cheek comes for you, the panties bending around her ass while she grabs some inane item. The fabric presses heavily into your face, furthering the feeling of being crammed into a putty. Rammed against the unending gray, you scream into muffled fibers. It isn’t so much painful as it is intensely claustrophobic.

And it refuses to let up. Susan shakes and wiggles her ass to the tempo inside her head, smearing your already roughed body into the inner fabric of her modest panties. Air becomes a hard-sought resource, her ass crushing the life from your insect-like body. You couldn’t possibly know what she’s doing, but it quickly drops from your list of worries as the shallow expansion of your lungs isn’t enough. You lose consciousness, surrounded by a cozy blanket of Susan's tush.

            The harsh cleaning chemicals waft through your nose, and a sparkling kitchen stands before you. Satisfied, you let the dish towel drop delicately into the reflective basin. It's a relief to have it out of the way. However, all the sweeping, swiping, and general cleaning has your panties quite literally in a twist. Not one to censor yourself in the sanctity of your own home, you take them by the sides and thoroughly adjust the plain-looking garment, ensuring they’re a snug fit along the contours of your body.

            Soon after, there's a knock at the door, sudden but not at all unexpected given the time. “One moment!” You say, rushing to put the cleaning supplies away.

            “Mom?” Alexis questions faintly from behind the smoothed-over wood of the front door. You try to put on a face that screams sympathy and head for the entryway. It’s time to let her down gently on the consequences of toying with her birthright. Maybe next time, she’d think twice before using what she failed to first pay proper respect.