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Author's Chapter Notes:

After enjoying some time together the night before, Lexy and Chris take the bus over to her mother's house. With any luck, she'll be able to reverse this nightmare. Or, so they hope.


Tags: [Humiliation] [Size Difference] [Caring] [F/m] [Prepping for Mom]

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.


The following day;

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.


Alexis, 10:08 AM


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.


Chris, 10:13 AM


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.

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