John felt the familiar jiggling of Barb’s ample chest around him as she picked up her pace. From outside he heard muffled grunts, and he wondered how his giant guardian was doing, judging from how the humidity and sweat seemed to be picking up, Barb was exerting herself. He coughed as a sweaty drop rolled right onto his face, bursting obnoxiously and filling his mouth with a salty taste.

…

Barb sprinted down the hallway, throwing the stairwell door open and gazing down the center. Dry, hungry moaning echoed up to her, along with the familiar wafting stench of dead flesh. Shuffling undead were already lumbering up the spiraling stairs.

Not getting out that way, she thought miserably, spinning on her heel and running back down the hall. The only other ways down to the ground were the elevator, obviously not an option, and the fire escape. She grinned as she sprinted towards the window at the end of the hallway, where the wrought iron balcony of the escape waited. I’ve always wanted to do this! She thought excitedly, building up speed to leap through it. She jumped, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she soared into the glass pane.

*THUD*

Barb felt pain rock her body as she bounced off the safety glass, and she moaned as she tumbled to the floor. Inside her bra John felt his world invert, and he panicked, flailing and tickling her as he tried to figured out what was going on.

“S-Settle down,” she muttered, tapping the top of her chest reassuringly. She sat back up with a groan, forcing her way back to her feet. Didn’t even crack it, she thought miserably. With a sigh she reached for the release handle on the side, pulling it and causing the window to pop free, allowing access to the fire escape.

*BANG*

Barb’s head whipped around as she saw the stairwell door at the other end of the hall burst open, the first of the zombies shuffling towards her as the crowd pushed its way in. She did a double take, the lead ghoul was none other than her old landlady, a sour faced middle aged woman named Smythe who was always harassing her about late rent in between comments on her lifestyle. Death hadn’t done her any favors, but to Barb she didn’t look much different than she had in life, the same hateful sneer was on her face at least.

“Who’s the deadbeat now Miss Smythe!?” Barb called, slamming the fire escape window shut behind her as she climbed outside. The steel stairs clattered against her feet as she ran down them, grimacing as she saw the handful of zombies still in the alley below. She quickly flipped the drop-down ladder’s release lever, clambering down as quickly as she could as the twitching corpses shambled towards her.

Only a few on this side, she thought, dodging around the grasping hands as she sprinted for the street. She felt movement by her ankle and looked down, her heart leaping as she saw a tiny with pale skin and grey eyes gripping the laces of her combat boots.

“EEP!” she shook her foot as hard as she could, dislodging the tiny zombie before it could climb any higher. She glanced down and gulped, there were at least a dozen of them snarling up at her. Her run became a twisted game of hopscotch, delicately leaping over and around the creatures as she reached the open street. As tempting as it was to just crush the disgusting things underfoot, the last thing she wanted was to miss one crawling up to the exposed flesh of her ankle.

A terrible united moan rose up, and as one the mob turned towards her, shuffling together away from the front of her building and across the empty streets. Barb’s heart leapt, and with shaking hands she almost let out a burst of gunfire at them, stopping herself at the last moment.

Don’t lose your cool, she scolded herself. She turned and started to run, biting her lip as a stitch started in her side. Damn, I really should have tried to stay in shape. She glanced back at the horde, they were slow, but they didn’t get tired…

…

John bounced about in his fleshy prison, buffeted back and forth against the house sized breasts as Barb fought and fled her way through the city. It was a frustrating and anxious experience, and while there was nothing he could do to help her, he felt on edge the entire time.

Her hand dove into her shirt suddenly, causing him to squint as light returned to his world. Her fingers, shaking from panic, gripped around him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs as she pulled him out.

“Careful!” he wheezed.

“S-Sorry,” Barb said, placing him on top of a square grey box.

He frowned, she was flushed, panting, the gas mask pushed up to her forehead as beads of sweat rolled down her face. They were in some kind of warehouse complex, the lines around the parking lot reading “loading zone,” and “designated tiny path.” Behind Barb the same horde of zombies from the apartment complex was slowly working its way through a hole torn in a tall chain link fence.

“B-BARB!” he shouted, his voice cracking, “We’ve got to-“

“The door to the big warehouse has an electronic lock,” she said, pointing to the grey box he was standing on. He looked down and over the edge, realizing it had a display and a keypad. He looked to his left and sure enough there was a small hatch for tiny access.

“I don’t know if I can open it,” he said, eyes wide.

“I’ll give you as much time as I can, but uh,” she took one last deep breathe, forcing herself upright, “I think you should hurry; I don’t think I can run another two blocks.” She pulled the gas mask back down, and he saw fight return to her eyes. With a shout she turned around, firing a quick three round burst at the closest of the approaching zombies.

John ran to the tiny hatch, sighing with relief when he saw it didn’t have its own entry code, guess they’re not too worried about tiny thieves on this side of town. He flung it open, then screamed, stumbling backwards as a mottled grey hand shot upwards, missing his face by inches.

A long low moan echoed as a pallid tiny in an alarm company uniform crawled out of the box, a conspicuous bite on his arm. The tiny ghoul stumbled flopped out, reaching at him with a snarl on his face, exposing rotting yellow teeth.

He must have got bit and hid in the box, John realized, scrabbling backwards, then he turned!

“BARB!” he shouted, but his giant companion had her own problems. His heart sank as he saw Barb had switched to full auto, and was spraying in a wide arc, desperately trying to cut down the wave of approaching dead. At her feet the tiny zombies were getting closer, and she barely leapt back in time, stomping vindictively as the creatures nearly reached the tips of her combat boots.

“BARB!” he shouted again, as loud as he could. Thankfully he caught her just as she was reloading. Her head whipped around so fast her gas mask rattled, behind those lenses her eyes went wide, and she sprinted back to him. A gloved hand shot out, grabbing the tiny zombie just as it was about to reach him, tossing it to the ground. A sick *crunch* rang out as she stomped it, ending its undeath. Without even pausing to ask if he was okay she leveled her rifle and began opening fire again, until another sound rang out that made both of their hearts skip a beat.

*click*

“I’m empty!” she shouted.

“Just hang tight!” John shouted, lowering himself into the security panel access.

“B-But John!” she whined, her knees quaking as she looked at the shambling wall of corpses bearing down on them.

“Barb!” he shouted, “you’re the most badass person I know, you’ve got this!” with that he dropped into the control box and out of her sight.

She gulped, then smiled behind her mask, You know what? I am kind of badass! She drew a long bowie knife from its sheath on her belt. She’d looted it from a gas station near her apartment, thinking that no good survivor would be without one. Right… Leon can clear a whole village with one of these, how hard could it be? She ran up with a shout and slashed across the mottled grey face of the closest zombie, cheering with triumph as it moaned and staggered backwards… then righted itself, lunging at her with a hiss.

As her back hit the ground and dead teeth snapped at her face a faraway voice in Barb’s head reminded her that a button to roundhouse kick a staggered enemy didn’t appear in real life. With a grunt of exertion, she managed to roll her attacker over, gaining just enough momentum to stumble up and away. Too late she realized she’d left her knife on the ground, but as she turned back, she realized that some remaining instinct or memory had caused the zombie to clutch the blade in its own hand, growling as it shambled back to its feet. The rest were almost on her, and with a shouted swear she ran back towards the door.

“JOHN!” she shouted, “HURRY!”

There was a loud *beep* and the warehouse door popped open. John climbed back up onto the box just in time to see Barb’s hand reaching for him again, grabbing him up as she sprinted through it, pulling the electronic door closed behind her. Turning around she practically slammed the door lock back into place. There was another *beep* as the magnetic door re-engaged, and she placed her back against it, slowly sliding down with the tiny John still in her gloved hand.

“Barb” he wheezed.

“Huh?” she looked down, seeing him red faced and gasping for breath. “Oh, shit, sorry,” she released him, letting him slide down to the warehouse floor. Behind them muffled thumps began hitting the door as their pursuers feebly pounded the steel door.

“W-We made it,” he rasped, his throat dry.

“Yeah,” she panted, a jellylike feeling of relief spreading through her legs as she pulled her gas mask off, “and by the way… fuck knives.”

“You were amazing out there,” he said, forcing himself to his feet so he could look up at her. Slumped against the door she was still impressive, towering over him like a cliff face as sweat rolled down her face, staining through her t-shirt.

She managed a weak smile, “T-thanks, nobody’s ever really thought I was amazing at anything…”

“Seriously, you saved us both, it was crazy watching you hold those things off, it was so hot-“ he stopped himself, “badass!” he corrected, but it was too late, a blush and a grin were coming over Barb’s massive face.

“Hot?” She laughed, looking down at herself, his brain’s probably fried from all the sweat, she thought. With a grunt she forced herself to stand up, grinning as the tiny man’s head traced up in awe at her full height. With a tired sigh she unclasped the tactical vest, letting it fall to the ground behind her. Her soaked anime t-shirt went next, and John found himself transfixed by her immense breasts, heaving with every panting breath, and stretching the nylon fabric of the blue sports bra.

Part of him wondered if the fear and adrenaline was making him feel this way, or maybe the wafting effects of Barb’s sweat… or maybe this was just the natural reaction of a man when a pair of house sized boobs were hovering overhead. Regardless of the cause, he was staring, thinking of nothing more than diving back between them.

Barb chuckled, squatting down over him. Even like this she was a towering colossus of a woman, but at this angle he could see the valley of her cleavage, drawing him in, inviting him. The drying sweat on her skin glistened slightly, and unconsciously he took a step forward.

“You were pretty great out there too,” she said softly, reaching to pick him up, “getting that gate open really saved our asses.” He felt her pinch the back of his shirt, and her other hand came up next, gripping his pant leg and tugging them off in a now familiar motion. It didn’t take the giant fingers long to strip away the rest of his clothing, and before he knew it his wrists were pinched over his head, letting his body dangle over Barb’s grinning face. “Why don’t you just relax while I take a look around this place?” she said.

“Yeah, t-that sounds great,” he stammered, feeling his heartbeat pick up as his blood rushed low in his body.

He felt himself lowered down, his feet easily slipping into the well lubricated gap between a pair of boobs bigger than his apartment. He gasped as he felt the sensation of her soft skin against his own, the friction was pleasing, and tingles of excitement danced up his spine as his knees, then his waist, and then finally his shoulders disappeared between the fleshy pillows, leaving only his head poking up out of them.

Barb smirked, slowly bringing her hands to either side of her breasts, pressing them together. John grunted, feeling the pressure on his body increasing as she slowly kneaded his fleshy prison, churning the soft, damp skin against him in a twisted full body massage.

“How’s that feel?” she taunted, fighting a laugh at the way the tiny man tried desperately to keep a straight face.

“G-Good,” he stammered.

Time to knock the little guy out! She thought, giggling as she increased the speed and pressure of her motions.

John lost control of his face, a goofy nearly pained expression coming over it as the twin pillows pressed into him with renewed force, nearly drawing him under like an insatiable tide as he fought both to keep himself form climaxing and to keep himself from slipping down into the valley below.

It was a losing battle, with every gentle push of her palms against the sides of his prison bliss shot through him, causing him to go momentarily limp. He began struggling to keep himself upright, and as she saw him starting to slip Barb giggled overhead, her voice a rumbling wave crashing down on him. Her sweat permeated every inch of him, the crisp smell of her exertion and the salty feeling on his skin, marking him as her conquest while she slowly drove the point home.

Barb bit her lip as she felt the tiny boy go rigid, no doubt spraying his seed into the abyss of her cleavage. He spasmed for a few moments as she slowed her own motions, not wanting to overwhelm him, and as the rolling droplets of her sweat washed his cum away like an ocean, he finally collapsed.

“Goodbye John,” she teased softly, kneading her breasts just a few seconds longer, letting the limp tiny become swallowed up by her cleavage as his head disappeared beneath the waves, sealed off in her sports bra to rest and recover.

Damn, she thought, feeling him settle against her, this apocalypse has been great for you Barb, add Sex Goddess to the resume, right under Zombie killer!

She sighed and glanced around the warehouse. It was mostly empty, with less than a dozen large crates strewn about standard industrial shelving. A lonely looking forklift was parked in the corner, along with an office marked “security.”

Whistling to herself Barb walked towards it, and inside her bra her tiny fellow survivor felt his world jiggle with each step, and with a dumb smile he let himself sink further in. John’s world was nothing more than her breasts, and as he settled into the bottom of the sports bra he let his mind go blank, enjoying the sensation of warmth and safety.

The security office was a simple desk and some monitors, all dark without any electricity. With a sigh Barb opened the desk drawer, then smiled.

“Well, what do we have here?” she pulled the small chromed revolver out, it wasn’t an assault rifle, but it was something, and she tucked it into the waistband of her pants. The next item excited her quite a bit more, and as she pulled the green bottle of Mountain Dew out and cracked it open it didn’t matter that it wasn’t cold, or that it was a bit stale, it was the best soda she’d ever had.

Now… how do we get to that mall? She glanced out the open security office door at the forklift, and a plan began to form.

…

Peter squinted in the sunlight, trying to shift his body away from the rays. All he managed to do was make the charm anklet jingle a little, shifting a gaudy pink heart charm and a smiling teddy bear the size of his torso on either side of him. Celia had used dental floss to tie him to her charm anklet, looted from a jewelry shop down in the mall. The thick coconut smell of suntan lotion assaulted his nostrils as she casually crossed her legs, shifting him against her oily skin. She’d insisted he’d be working on his tan too, and accordingly he was in a rather short pair of neon green swim trunks. Silently, he thanked whatever god might still be listening that the tiny clothing store hadn’t had a more revealing speedo style like Celia had wanted.

“Ah, nothing like a little sun,” Celia muttered, crossing her arms behind her head. She’d set a beach chair up on the roof of the mall to work on her tan, every now and then shooting smug looks down at the tiny man shackled to her ankle. Where the moans and cries of the undead below put Peter on edge, the cheer captain seemed unbothered by them, smiling with her eyes closed behind her sunglasses.

“Take a look at this,” one of her cheerleaders, a black girl named Cassandra, shouted.

Celia leaned up, squinting as she pulled off the sunglasses. Cassandra was on guard duty, and so while Celia had allowed herself the luxury of changing into a bikini for tanning, Cassandra was still in her cheer uniform. It was one of her rules, when you were on duty you were in uniform, discipline had to be maintained after all.

“What is it?” Celia growled, slipping into her flip flops. Her feet crunched across the rooftop gravel, each step causing Peter to sway, his stomach lurching with each footstep as the anklet charms jangled around him.

“Tiny zeds,” Cassandra said, “a lot more of them than there used to be.”

Celia gazed down over the edge of the mall, looking into the thronging masses of undead that had surrounded her mall-fortress. The dead were pallid, rotting things, with greyed eyes and yellowed teeth that all seemed to lurch in excitement at the site of her, bunching up against the brick wall and grasping feebly at the two girls, safely out of their reach. Sure enough there were tiny zombies on the ground between the feet of the larger ones, only a few inches tall from Celia’s perspective, and only just barely visible from up on the walls. They seemed almost oblivious to their larger cousins, their dead eyes gazing up hungrily at the living cheerleaders.

“Something must have drawn a bunch of the tiny ones over from their side of town,” Cassandra guessed, “people moving around maybe?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the tiny side of town is pretty fucked,” Celia said, smirking as she glanced down at Peter. She shook her ankle a minute, causing the chain to rattle and startling her prisoner. She chuckled a moment before turning back to the undead mob, “I mean think about it, one full size zombie over there could probably tear up any fortifications they could make, they’re dead pretty much the minute one of these things knows they’re in there.”

“Yeah,” Cassandra said, not taking her eye from the rifle scope, “It’d be like Attack on Titan or something.”

“Attack on what?” Celia asked with a frown. “Is that another one of those Japanese cartoons? We talked about this Cassie, those are for losers.”

Cassandra gulped nervously, “Y-Yes Captain Rhodes, losers…”

Celia frowned as she noticed something odd about the mixed sized horde below them, “Cassie, let me see that rifle a minute.” The black girl nodded and pulled herself away from the scope, handing the bolt action carbine to the cheer captain. She shouldered it herself and gazed out through the eyepiece, scanning the crowd and getting a better view of the tiny zombies near the feet of the larger ones. “Well I’ll be damned…” she muttered.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked, curious.

“Look, the big zeds don’t step on the little ones, and the little ones kind of… part for them, I guess.”

Cassandra looked down at the group closer to the wall and watched. As the larger zombies plodded aimlessly through the mall’s parking lot, the tiny zombies near their feet would lurch out of their way, some of the larger zombies even paused their seemingly aimless shuffling to allow for paths to form.

“Fucking weird,” Cassandra said, shivering, “those things can’t think, can they?”

“I don’t know,” Celia mused, “I mean they’re us, kinda… and we try not to step on tinies usually, so maybe they remember it from when they were alive? Who knows what the virus or the space radiation or whatever is doing to them? The nerds on TV couldn’t even agree on what this was before everything went dark.”

Cassandra looked serious a moment, “You know my dad used to be into voodoo, and he used to say that when there was no more-“

“No more room in hell, dead will walk the earth, yeah, you say that all the fucking time now,” Celia laughed, causing Cassandra to blush. “Also, I met your dad at parent’s week last year, Cassie, he owns a bunch of Taco Bells and he teaches Sunday School, I don’t think he’s ever even heard of Voodoo.”

Cassandra scowled, brushing one of her braids out of her eyes as she adjusted her army helmet, “It sounds cool, okay?”

“Like the first few times sure,” Celia giggled, “now you want a theory about all of this? My dad used to watch the news after work, and sometimes he’d mix himself up a gin and tonic or two and tell me about what was going on in the world.” Celia brought the crosshair of the rifle up on a zombie, an ugly looking bastard with half the grey skin on his face gone, the creature was milling around near the gas station across the street from the mall. “Celia, he’d say, people are getting dumber every year! People are too dumb to live, and sooner or later, they’re going to get too dumb to die.”

“So that’s your theory?” Cassandra asked, smirking a little, “people got too dumb to die?”

“Yep,” Celia said with a smile, steadying her shot, “and when someone’s too dumb to figure something out by themselves… you help them along.” She squeezed the trigger, there was a burst of crimson and the zombie collapsed to the ground, flattening a few of the tiny zombies unfortunate enough to be underfoot.

“Nice shot,” Cassandra breathed, clearly impressed.

Celia smirked, hefting the rifle by the stock and handing it back to the other cheerleader, “Daddy also taught me to shoot,” she said casually. She glanced up at the sun and frowned, “I think you’re about off duty Cassie, and you’ve earned yourself a little Petey time.” She reached down and unclasped her charm anklet, causing Peter to flail a moment as she lifted the gold chain up.

“Wow, thanks!” Cassie beamed, cupping her palms as Celia dropped the piece of jewelry, and the tiny man attached to it, into her hands.

“Be good for her,” Celia said, blowing the tiny man a kiss as Cassie eagerly walked towards the roof access.

…

Peter hefted the nail polish brush, biting his lip as he delicately brought it down the front of the gigantic toenail in front of him. He sighed, stumbling backwards and gently placing the brush down as the twin smells of acetone and nail polish stung his nostrils. Tiny pedicures had been something of a niche luxury service on the giant side of town for decades. While he didn’t look down on the people who performed them exactly, Peter had never expected he’d end up giving them.

Cassandra looked up from the magazine, smiling as she saw he’d completed his work. He flinched away as she leaned down, and as she noticed his fearful reaction she frowned.

“Hey, you okay Peter?” She looked down at her toes and bit her lip, “you did a great job, honest!” He nodded, but didn’t look up at her, and she frowned. “P-Peter? I’m not going to… hurt you or anything.”

He breathed out slowly, “Thanks Cassandra…” he wasn’t sure what else to say, he hadn’t spent much time with this particular girl since everything had gone mad, but she’d always been a little nicer to him than the others.

“I-It’s all just for fun,” Cassie said nervously, “you doing our nails and stuff, you know that right? When we get rescued-“

“Cassandra,” he cut her off, a little sharper than he intended, “do you really think we’re getting rescued? Or that Celia has any intention of getting us out of here?”

“S-She’s just looking out for everyone,” Cassandra stammered.

“She’s gone insane!” Peter practically shouted, throwing the nail polish brush down, “she’s treating you girls like soldiers, and me like her personal pet!”

“The world is more dangerous now,” Cassandra said defensively, “we need order, and we need to keep tinies like you close to keep you safe!” He just glared at her, and her lip trembled a moment, “L-Look, I’m sorry Peter… but we’ve got to follow Celia right now, it’s our only chance to survive! When…” she bit her lip, “when we’re more stable, I’ll talk to her about… things.”

“Yeah… sure,” he muttered.

Cassandra frowned, reaching down slowly. Instead of grabbing him she laid her hand out, letting him have the option of walking onto it. He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then stepped into her hand. He struggled to stay upright as the giant girl’s soft palm lifted him into the air, bringing him face to face with her.

“Hey, I’ll figure something out,” Cassandra promised with a small smile, “I’ll just tell Celia you want to spend more time with me or something… She’s under a lot of stress, but she’s still the same Celia right? I’m sure when she realizes how you feel about this, she’ll calm down on some of the wilder stuff.”

That’s not going to go over well, Peter thought grimly, but he didn’t say anything. Cassandra was the closest thing to an ally he was likely to get. His only hope was that she’d see how crazy the cheer captain had become before it was too late. With a sigh he collapsed backwards into her palm, enjoying the way her soft vanilla lotioned hands felt against his back. And how long will the lotion last, I wonder? He thought, looking around the empty nail salon, and the power, and the water, and the food…

“Enjoy the pedi?” a familiar voice rang out, causing his hair to stand on end.

“Hey Celia,” Cassie said as the cheer captain, now in her own school uniform, sauntered into the shop. “Yeah, Peter’s really good at them now…” she shot a glance at the tiny man in her hand and her heart sank from the expression on his face. “Uh, listen, Celia, could we talk about-“

“Not now Cassie,” Celia said dismissively, “we’ve got a bus full of survivors at the loading dock, the other girls are going out to clear some room so we can get them in here.” As if on cue, they heard the sound of distant gunfire, and Celia beamed, “This is so exciting! Our first new recruits!”

“Recruits?” Cassie asked hesitantly.

“Well of course we’re going to have tryouts for the new people,” Celia said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ve got to see who’s cheerleader material, separate the wheat from the chaff!” She reached over, and before Cassandra could react, she swiped Peter out of the other girl’s hand, gripping him tightly and bringing him up to her face. “Who knows Petey? Maybe they’ll have some tinies, you can show them how we do things around here.”

Peter shot a look back at Cassandra, come on, you know this isn’t right! He thought miserably, but from the way she shuffled uncomfortably he knew that she wasn’t going to come to his rescue, not now anyway. Celia casually flipped up the back of her skirt, and he paled as he realized where she planned to carry him. He was about to beg for somewhere, anywhere, else, but the world blurred, and the next thing he knew he was being slipped down the back of the cheer captain’s bright blue panties.

Peter slid against the satiny fabric, coming to a rest between her soft buttcheeks. He tried to adjust his position, but he heard a smug giggle, and then a moment later he was lifted upwards again as his captor hiked up her panties.

“Gotta wedge yourself in there good Petey, you’ll be safer,” she taunted. She turned to Cassandra , who had an odd expression on her face the head cheerleader couldn’t quite place, “Come on Cass, let’s go meet our new squad mates.”

Cassie followed behind her, stealing a glance at the captain’s bottom and thinking over the tiny man trapped there.

I’ll talk to her when things are settled down, Cassandra thought desperately, t-then we’ll all move past this!

As the pair walked to meet the rest of the cheer squad, and the sound of moaning undead and gunfire grew louder, she wondered when she’d gotten used to the weight of her pistol holster as part of her cheer uniform.

…

“So let’s recap,” John said, pacing the security officer’s desk while Barb skimmed the forklift operations manual, “we don’t have an assault rifle anymore, but what do we have?”

“This guy,” Barb replied, playfully flourishing the small chrome revolver, “a box of .25 ACP, a dead fridge full of warm mountain dew, and a grenade.”

John paused, “a grenade!? Why didn't you use that-“

“I forgot about it,” she said defensively, “besides, you should save that kind of stuff for boss fights.”

“Boss fights,” John chuckled, “right… and there was nothing in the crates that would help?”

“Not unless the zombies are scared of Pokemon Beanie Babies,” Barb said with a shrug.

“Okay then,” John said, coming to a halt between Barb’s socked feet, propped up on the desk while she sat in the security guard’s swivel chair. He blinked a minute, suddenly feeling his heart pick up as the smell of her sweat coalesced on him from both sides. Focus up, he breathed out, “The forklift… can you drive it?”

“How hard could it be?” Barb said, turning the manual page.

“I guess there isn’t an OSHA guy anymore,” John admitted, “but it has no cover on the driver’s seat, if we get bogged down…” he didn’t have to finish, the pounding of the dead against the steel warehouse walls could still be heard.

“We’ve got this,” Barb said, snapping the operations manual shut, “we’ll go tomorrow morning… once we’ve rested up.” A mischievous grin came over her face, “in the meantime…”

John grunted as the towering pillars of her socks closed on him, causing him to grunt as the sweaty fabric pressed and squeezed his body. Barb giggled as she slowly started shifting her feet, rubbing them against him mercilessly as he fought for escape. He already felt himself rising to attention, and he wondered how much “rest” the giant girl intended to let him have.