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4

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He tried to put the best spin on it he could. After all, he was able to listen to her voice all day—all right, the conversation was one-sided, as Wendy's responses were largely blocked by Jill's head—but Jill's voice reverberated through her skull and his body, and he was aware of every murmur and aside she mumbled, not to mention every word she spoke aloud.

He tried to put the best spin on it, but let's be honest: he failed. He hadn't gone through this to be stuck in Jill's hair all day.

And so he stewed, impatiently, waiting on a chance that kept not coming.

He was about to swear a blue streak for the eighth time that day, when suddenly, all the hair around him pulled away, and he found himself falling.

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It was almost just what Jill needed.

She and Wendy had just kicked around—the bookstore, lunch, a bit ofshopping—nothing earth-shattering, nothing really very interesting to the casual observer.

Just a nice, relaxing day, with no kids and no grading and nothing on the schedule. A day to relax and have fun.

Indeed, it was so nice and relaxing that she couldn't conceive of any part of her day out that could be the least bit stressful.

At any rate, she was home at last, after bidding her kid sister adieu, and was cleaning up the house just a bit; Dan would be home soon (and taking her out to dinner), and she wasn't put together at all. Not that her husband demanded that—far from it. But she was a girl, and she liked to look good. And so she peeled off her shirt and shorts, and removed her functional bra and panties for a less functional, more decorative set. She had a turquoise summer dress hanging on the doorknob, and she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to decide what to do with her hair. She liked the ponytail, but it wasn’t dressy at all.

So sighing, she grabbed a spray bottle with water and reached back, sliding the scrunchie off with careless ease. Letting the hair fall, she began to spray the water, loosening the kinks and preparing it for combing.

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Will tried to grasp the hair as best he could, his hands slipping on the vines until finally he gripped the tawny rope near its end and held on as it crashed, along with a hundred thousand twins, against the back of Jill's neck.

He tried to think of where he could go now; he looked down the vast distance to Jill's perfect behind, and saw to his fascination and horror that she was wearing a white, lacy thong. What's going on? he thought to himself, and then had no time to think.

It came upon him like a sudden squall, a downpour of heavy, pelting storm that bashed against him all at once. He barely had time to realize it had hit him when his grip loosened on the rain-soaked ropes of Jill's hair and fell.

He reached out, screaming all the way, and hoping for a miracle.

He got it. Jill bent slightly and flipped her hair forward, combing it out. Will impacted just to the right of her left shoulder blade, and began sliding down the bare skin of her back, until he hit a small, two-foot deep ledge.

He grasped it and tried to figure out what it could be—why was there a white ledge on Jill's back? It wasn't until he looked to his right at the looming clasp that he realized hewas clinging to the back of her bra.

The next twenty minutes or so were slow going. Will had been immobilized for hours, and he was still trying to shake off the atrophy of it; he wanted badly to go home, have a dozen beers, and pass out.

But he knew that if he could just hang in there and make the journey, her left tit was within reach.

He couldn't get this close without seeing it.

And so he journeyed slowly, carefully around her port side, carefully traversing the dangerous area where her arm could come down at her side and crush him, holding on for dear life as she threw a dress over her head, and at long last he made it to the left cup, and exhausted, pulled himself inside.

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The dinner was nice, of course.

Jill and Dan went out to Patna, an Indian restaurant they both liked. They ordered Chicken Vindaloo, they flirted, they shared a bottle of wine.

Dan Belisle was not the most demonstrative man; his friends liked to joke that you could cut off his arm and his response would be, "Hey, guys, I don't like that much." But Jill had known him and loved him a long time. She knew him well. And she knew he was turned on as all get-out.

She was, too. She wasn't sure exactly why—oh, not that Dan wasn't enough, mind you,but she was a bit hornier than she got even when she was horny. She smiled at that; she felt good. Her bra wasn't even itching anymore.

They had talked about going to a movie, but Jill said, quietly, "You know, I think maybe we should go home after dinner. Do something there."

Dan took the hint. He wasn't demonstrative, but he wasn't stupid, either.

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Frankly, Will thought, he was lucky to be alive, much less where he was at the moment.

He had rested in her bra cup for some time, visiting her nipple, breathing in the scent ofher flesh, and just resting. He should've been content with that.

But at one point, for reasons he couldn't quite remember, he'd decided he wanted to seeher face again. He really hadn't since the morning. These could be the breasts of any girl with a B-cup.

And so he'd struggled to the top of her breasts, then up the strap to the collar of the dress, and then—

—then he emerged on her shoulder as she turned her head, her hair whipping against him and sending him sliding down, and then off her chest.

Where he landed was hot and sticky, and the smell was vaguely familiar. He tried toright himself, realizing to his horror that he was sinking into a quicksand made out of vindaloo.

Jill sat, goddesslike above him, spearing truck-sized chunks of chicken. He waved to her,but to no avail; it wasn't long before she scooped up some rice, some sauce, and some Will and began to raise it to her lovely lips.

Will had dreamed of touching them with his; for half a second he thought this would be afitting way to end it. But he shook off the fantasy and quickly bailed out just as the fork cleared the table, falling hard into a sea of white—the napkin on Jill's lap.

He lay there for a few minutes, breathing hard, before turning around and seeing her left knee, bare and smooth, peeking out from beyond the hem of her skirt.

The journey inside the skirt was inevitable from that point; he couldn't stop himself.

And so it was that he slid himself through the elastic of her panties and into the blast furnace of her crotch.

It was awesome. The gates of a beautiful temple, the portal to a magic world.

Or Jill's enormous pussy. Whatever. All Will knew was that this was something he'd always dreamed of.

He pulled himself up through her bush (trimmed and neatened, but not shaved into a landing strip, he noted approvingly—a girl should be human, he'd always thought, and girls had hair surrounding their vaginas) and toward his ultimate destination.

He wanted, just once, to give her a thrill. Even if she didn't know, he wanted to make her feel good.

And so he stroked her clit as he stroked himself.

And he wished he could do so much more.

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By the time they got home, Jill was horny enough to fuck a tree, and the tiny man she didn't know existed at that moment felt like he'd run a marathon.

Will was just about to finish. He had done everything he'd come to do. It was time to go home. He'd just sneak out of Jill's panties when she got undressed, and he'd find a way out tomorrow.

Jill, though, was nowhere near finishing. And unlike Will, she had a partner who was ready, willing, and able to help her out.

They had barely gotten through the door when she hit her husband with a forceful kiss, one that said in no uncertain terms that it was time to get a move on. Dan reciprocated in kind, already working on the buttons on his shirt as they broke and headed upstairs, laughing together in the unspoken language of love.

Will felt the first spasm, and then the bouncing of Jill as she ascended; he held on tight, trying to figure out his exit strategy, hoping she was going to the bathroom soon.

Dan pulled her dress up over her head and the two fell onto their bed together. They embraced and kissed, as Dan deftly unhooked her bra. Jill unbuttoned his pants and slid them off his waist, pausing to give an encouraging pat through his briefs. Then she removed those, too.

Will was surprised by the fall. What the devil had happened? Maybe Jill had decided to lie down, watch TV. Not that he had time to contemplate this, of course, as he had fallen himself, sliding away from her clit and onto her lips, which were slick with lubrication. He tried to right himself.

Dan pulled her panties off.

Will screamed.

Jill kissed her husband hard, and said just one word.

"Now."

Will watched, aghast, as his best friend's silo-sized cock aimed right for his position, and came toward him.

He was caught full in the chest and pushed deep inside her, coughing and sputtering. The penis pulled back, and he fell to the pelvic floor, before it slid back in, hitting him again, pulling out, hitting again…and again…and again….

As he lost consciousness, he saw the explosion of his friend's ardor.

It was, he thought, the last thing he'd ever see.

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Will awoke.

That in and of itself was surprising. The fact that he was full-sized, in a hospital bed, was more surprising.

He felt awful—his left arm was in searing pain, his left leg completely numb. He felt bandages on his head—he didn't even want to know what they were for.

The last moments of his memory flooded back just as he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Huh?" he said, turning awkwardly to see the concerned face of his friend Dan.

"You gave us quite a scare, mister. We thought you were a goner."

"How—"

"Jill found you on the kitchen floor—man, you were frickin' small! Do you have any idea how you got into our house?"

"Uh….no," lied Will, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Not surprising—the folks from the Society said you probably had been drugged, and you were looking for help. They didn't think you'd remember much. I'm just glad you're not dead, man."

"Yeah, uh…me too," said Will, not sure at all that he believed it.

"Anyhow, I've gotta get to work—I just stopped by on my way in to see how you were doing. You've been out for a week! Man, I hope you remember some of what happened. Now that I know you're alive I'd love to hear about what happened."

No, you wouldn't. "I hope so, Dan."

As his friend left, Will mustered up a question he didn't want to ask. "Uh—Dan, Jill found me…in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. She went downstairs for water after…uh…before bed, and she came up with you. Man, I'm married to a remarkable woman. She stayed calm while I was freaking out."

"No doubt," said Will, with a sinking feeling.

"Anyhow, she'll be by later today—I know she's been asking me if you were up and around yet. She's real interested in how you're doing."

"I bet," said Will. "Thanks, Dan. For everything."

"You'd do the same for me."

Will grimaced. "Yeah."

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The next few hours were a blur of doctors and nurses checking him, advising him about his broken arm, his shattered pelvis, the four different anesthetics he was on, the concussion that they hoped was healing, the broken skull, the laceration on the back of his head. Will took each one soberly, calmly, hoping that the injuries were enough to forestall judgment.

It was three hours later when she arrived.

She was back to normal—beautiful, radiant, amazing, and petite. She looked at him calmly, almost dispassionately. With a quiet "Hello, Will," she took a seat at his bedside.

Neither of them talked for a good minute. Finally, Will said, as he knew he had to, "Dan says you told him you found me in the kitchen."

Jill smiled wanly, and said, "Yes, that's where I told him I found you."

Will closed his eyes, wishing away the truth.

"We both know that wasn't where you were."

"I know. I'm sorry—"

"Sorryr52; Right. Will, what in God's name were you thinking?"

"Jill—"

"You were in my pussy, Will," she said, quietly. "Why?"

"Because I couldn't take it anymore, Jill. Because I had to get you out of my system. And that wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry. I just…."

His voice trailed off.

"So you've had a crush on me?" asked Jill, bluntly.

"Yeah," he said.

Jill frowned a little. And then said, quietly, "Nobody's ever had a crush on me before."

"Huh? What about Dan?"

"He loves me," said Jill. "But that's not a crush. He got me. A crush is unrequited."

"I guarantee you, Jill, dozens of men have had crushes on you. Possibly hundreds."

Jill smiled a bit at that. "Yeah, well, if so, none of them have shrunk themselves and explored my genitals. Will, you could've been killed."

"That's not what bothered me. Jill—I shouldn't have done that to you. I was wrong. And…whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. If you want me to take off once I get healed, go head to Arizona or somewhere and disappear…I'll do it."

"No," said Jill, firmly. "That's not what I want."

There was silence. At length, Will asked, "What do you want, then?"

"I want you to get healed. I want you to find a girl who isn't me, and I want you to fall in love. I want you to have a good life, Will, and be a part of our lives, because you're my husband's best friend, and in your own incredibly stupid way, I know you were trying to consummate your crush in a way that didn't hurt Dan or me.

"But Will, I figure you owe me two things."

Will's head was swimming. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Anything," he said, and meant it.

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Will was as good as his word.

Jill and Dan certainly benefited; he had promised Jill he'd try to "remember" some details—sketchy, of course—of being tiny, and relay them to Dan wistfully.

It had the desired effect, especially Will's vague-but-specific-enough "memory" of seeing Jill from the floor. That image had been all it took to convince Dan to contact theSociety and get his hands on some safer means of shrinking. Jill was pleased; oh, shrinking Dan to six inches tall wasn't good permanently, but once in a while it could be fun, and it gave her the same charge she'd felt when she pulled Will out of her pussy—initial shock, and then an incredible feeling of power.

And Dan got to shrink down and play with his wife. That was quite enough for him.

The second part of Will's promise never was acted upon. He had no intention of ever repeating his misadventure, so he had no reason to ever warn Jill of when he was going to.

No, he found as he recovered that he was quite cured of his need for Jill. Oh, he still found her attractive, still got cold chills sometimes when he looked at her. And there was more there now, of course—a shared connection that they would always have.

But she was no longer the unobtainable object of his affection. He'd had one night with her, and even though it didn't lead to anything else--it was enough.