“Hell-oooo? Anybody there???” Rammy pounded the door angrily, guitar haphazardly slung across her back. “It’s not polite to keep a Number-One Guitarist waiting, y’know!”

Ugh, where WERE they???
This WAS the right place—Bright red, green roof, dog ears on the sides.

She pulled out her message-less beeper and checked the time.

“Oh, I’ll just let myself in.”

To think, they’d called her all the way from HELL for their first recording session in years and they had the AUDACITY to be late to their own band practice???

She kicked the door open and waltzed inside, sulking.

It was a cozy little home, but it smelled like wet dog and there was a mess of stuff littered everywhere, including some dusty old phonograph record-player… thing, with another thing sticking out of it. Hardly the professional-grade studio she’d been promised. Though one thing did catch her eye…

A state-of-the-art surround-sound system complete with loudspeakers, subwoofers, 16-channel processor, bells & whistles, turntables, flangers, harmonizers, distortion, freestyle mode—This would do nicely.

Just had to find the remote… there it was!

She snatched it off the couch and pressed the dark green—but square—button.

In an instant, the dusty record player machine sitting on a table sprung to life, startling the girl. The remote jumped out of her hand as she whirled around, only to be hit with a spiraling ray from the device.

A dizzying sense of vertigo overcame Rammy as the room itself seemed to leap out at her, the ground racing up to meet her while the living room furniture shot overhead. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she’d been shrunk to the size of a bug.

“Oh, this is just perfect. How am I supposed to play my guitar like this??” She fumed, pacing back and forth. That remote was nowhere to be found, and without it she was stuck like this and it was all that stupid MilkCan’s fault—

A series of booming knocks echoed throughout the nearly empty room, interrupting her thoughts.

Oh, what NOW???

“Helloooooo~” Came a distant, muffled voice, “Anybody hooooome???” 

“Great,” Rammy sighed. “NOW they show up…”

The door swung open, and the massive members of MilkCan came filing into the room. Huge, stomping behemoths that towered far, far above the miniscule girl. 

And they had no idea she was down here…

“IIIIIIIIT’S MILKCAN!” Boomed the colossal Katy Kat, overflowing with that infectious energy of hers. “Geez, I’m SO embarrassed… But what’s more rock n’ roll than being fashionably late!?”

That infectious positivity was only infectiously irritating to Rammy, waving her arms and shouting at the top of her lungs as Katy approached. “Down here!!! Down HERE, you stupid—”

The overwhelming optimist took a step forward, her blue-and-purple funk boots looming overhead before slamming down mere inches from the miniature guitarist, nearly reducing her to a little gray stain on the bottom of her shoe.

“Hey, watch it!” Rammy barked, diving out of the way just as her rigged soles clomped down, throwing up a small cloud of dirt and dust. The cheerful bassist cluelessly trotted on, unaware of the bug she’d almost flattened underfoot. 

“Uhhh, yeah, I guess it’s okay if we’re a little late,” That timid, wavering voice could only belong to the band’s guitarist, Lammy. Towering above her in a too-tight cut-off shirt, she’d clearly put on a few pounds in the intervening years, the inklings of a belly bulging over the lip of her washed-out jeans.

“YOU.” Rammy grimaced, gazing up at the hazy face of her sworn rival. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” She shouted, running up to her worn sneakers and beating her fists against them. “YOU SCREWED EVERYTHING UP BY SHOWING UP LATE! YOU MADE ME TOUCH THAT STUPID REMOTE! YOU RUINED MY ONE CHANCE TO MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION! IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU, I’D BE A SUPERSTAR BY NOW!”

Her infinitesimal tirade went completely unnoticed by Lammy, glancing around the room nervously. “H-hey… Wasn’t that other guitarist supposed to meet us here?”

Katy shrugged. “Must be running late—Heeyyyyy come look at this slick surround-sound system!”

“HEY! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING!? GET BACK HERE!” Rammy shouted as the shoe began to rise. She tugged uselessly on a dangling shoelace, but it was the equivalent of an ant trying to move a mountain.

“Typical,” She pouted, crossing her arms. 

“And who’s THIS now???” Rammy fumed, twisting around to stare at the bare feet standing in the doorway. Her eyes followed up to a cherry-red cocktail dress, and a pair of breasts that nearly obscured a mousy face that seemed more bored and tired than anything.

The drummer, Ma-san, entered carrying all the band’s equipment in one big ball. Trilling gibberish, she tossed it all in the corner of the room.

(“Don’t touch anything, we could lose our deposit.”)

“Ugh, guess YOU’LL have to do…” The shrunken guitarist sulked, approaching the massive mouse-thing. “HEY! DOWN HERE!!” She yelled. “A LITTLE HELP???”

Ma-San’s ears twitched, picking up a faint chirping noise from somewhere. She glanced down and spotted the little gray… something buzzing near her foot. The longer she stared at it, the more it annoyed her. The drummer’s thick, bushy eyebrows knit themselves together and a vein pulsed in her temple.

She hovered a foot over the unknown speck as she trilled in irritation.

(“Bug.”)

Rammy gulped. “Uh-oh.”

The annoyed giant’s foot came crashing down, barely missing Rammy by a hair’s breadth as she leapt out of the way. She wouldn’t get so lucky next time.

“HEY!!! WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU!?”

Her cries were barely audible to Ma-San, already raising her foot into the air again.

(“Die.”)

The clammy sole-ceiling came crashing down on top of Rammy, kneading her into the low-pile carpet. 

(“Get crushed get crushed get crushed get crushed.”)

Beneath Ma-san’s bare foot, Rammy was struggling to keep it together. Each twist sent shockwaves of agony pulsing through her body, mashing the unfortunate girl into her dirty sole. Just when she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, she felt the pressure release as Ma-San raised her foot and inspected the floor.

(“Hello are you crushed yet?”)

Rammy groaned and limped along, her hatred slowly turning into survival instinct. Sh—she thought she was just some… measly little bug…

How humiliating…

Ma-San tilted her head, trilling inquisitively.

She reached behind her and slowly unsheathed a pair of drumsticks.

(“Ugh, just stay crushed!”) She chirped, raising a fist in the air.

“Stop it! I’m not a bug!” Rammy shrieked as the giant drummer began pounding the floor. “Don’t squish meeeee!!!” The skyscraper-sized drumsticks beat down all around her as she raced to escape the manic mouse, in some ironic twist on a worn-out trope.

Meanwhile, Katy and Lammy were still in the process of setting up.

“So… Where do you think she is?” Lammy asked, tuning her guitar. She strummed it a few times and grimaced. “Oh no no no, the acoustics in here are all wrong!”

“Hey, relaaaxx!” Katy offered, playing a few carefree notes. “I’m sure she’ll show up! And even if she doesn’t, I’m sure she has a good reason! Like maybe she got caught in traffic or she forgot something or there was a pizza place on fire and she had to help put it out and then—and then they had a big pizza party to celebrate!”

Lammy scratched the back of her head. “That’s… Well…”

“Where’d you say she’s coming from again?”

“Umm… Hell?” Lammy got on her hands and knees and began the arduous process of plugging in the equipment. “Ohhh… Which one’s the AUX again? It’s been so long since I’ve done this…” She moaned, struggling to keep her pudgy midriff from spilling out. 

Maybe Ma-San would have some words of encouragement…?

Lammy glanced at the drummer, skittering around the living room and beating her fists against the floor like some tantruming brat.

Maybe not…

On the floor, that annoying gray bug was still scurrying around, taunting her. Ma-San couldn’t stand it, and each time it managed to avoid her thundering drumsticks and pounding fists made her angrier and angrier. 

The bug scuttled underneath a chair, just out of her reach. She pawed at it uselessly, scowling at the speck before lifting up the seat with her bare hands and tossing it across the room.

(“Where are you??? I’m not done SMASHING you yet!”)

Ma-San gurgled furiously, pressing herself flat against the floor and scouring the living room for that pesky bug. She dragged her chest along the floor as she obsessively trawled the low-pile green carpet, unintentionally scooping up a little stowaway.

Outrunning Ma-San’s rampage was far more tiring than it seemed from the giant’s perspective. Her slow, plodding movements were no less destructive for Rammy, who had just barely managed to avoid her fists. As she dragged her breasts along the floor, the miniaturized guitarist felt herself get swept up by the massive mouse.

“D-Dammit!” A furry, matted wall slammed into her from behind, carrying her into the air as Ma-San lifted herself off the floor. Rammy bore the G-Forces with gritted teeth, feeling her eyes sink into her skull until they reached the terminal point, and she went flying into the air.

(“Ugh! Where IS—”)

As the bug went airborne, the two of them locked eyes for a split-second.

“Ohhh no,” Rammy groaned as gravity grabbed hold of her and she face-planted on Ma-San’s boob. Above her, the drummer’s voice boomed with a smug satisfaction.

(“Now I’ve got you RIGHT where I want you…”)

The flesh beneath her hefted and heaved as Ma-San groped her breasts playfully, throwing the bug off-balance. Next a building-sized finger came crashing down, mashing her into the pillowy surface of her boob. Like a cat playing with her food, she was toying with her.

“Ugh, just kill me already!” Rammy complained, to nobody in particular. As the finger let up, she stumbled to her feet, listing a little too far. The flesh steepened and Rammy found herself quickly tumbling head over heels into an uncertain abyss. Caught in a warm, sweaty crevice of flesh, she let out a cry of agony as she realized she’d got herself caught in her cleavage.

Ma-San chirped alarmingly.

(“Hey! Get back here, I’m not done with you!”)

Her thick paws attempted to pry apart her hefty tits and fish out her little plaything, but her fingers were too thick and clumsy to grab ahold of her. They only succeeded in getting Rammy wedged deeper and deeper, much to the shrunken girl’s chagrin.

(“I was looking forward to having a little something to suck on during practice…”)

A chill ran up Rammy’s spine as glimpses of lamplight eked into the cleavage. Being buried in boobage wasn’t how she saw herself dying, but it was better than being this brutish brat’s mouth-slave.

Wiggling a pinky into the depths, Ma-San accidentally pressed down on Rammy’s head and with a squeamish ‘SCHLOP’ she slid out to freedom. As she plummeted from the exposed underboob, the continued trills of frustration told Rammy that Ma-San hadn’t even noticed. 

That was ONE good thing to happen to her, she reflected as she fell past her—Good GOD she didn’t even wear underwear???

Quick thinking helped her grab onto the very edge of Ma-San’s dress, leaving her dangling just beneath her uncovered nethers. Rammy didn’t even want to THINK about the consequences if she dared give her tormentor an errant itch down here…

She waited until the giant let out a bored huff and started stomping around again to let go and land amongst the threads of the carpet.

It… wasn’t as soft a landing as she thought it’d be, but as Ma-San trudged off still pawing at her boobs, she counted herself lucky she’d gotten out of there in one piece.

Now… who to turn to next???

The mouse was clearly out of the question, and the giant cat stomping around in her great big boots made her want to LET herself get crushed, what with that obnoxious positivity of hers.

That only left…

Her.

She balled up her fists and stared at the wiggling backside of Milkcan’s guitarist, still hunched over the tangle of wires and electrical equipment. As much as she hated Lammy with every fiber of her being, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Rammy carefully maneuvered herself into the least-likely position to get squashed—right beneath her. Above her, Lammy let out a frustrated sigh, and all at once her muffin-top came spilling out of her jeans like a styrofoam dam.

“Ack!” She flinched, only to realize that that tubby tummy was hanging a good few dozen stories off the ground for her. Still, it was a perilous sight for the bug-sized guitarist, even if it was somewhat cathartic. After all these years, she’d really let herself go…

“Aw geez…” Lammy rumbled, peeking upside-down at her exposed belly. Blushing, she tugged down uselessly on her crop top, but it just wasn’t happening. “I really need to get you under control…” She sighed, grabbing a fistful of flab and jiggling it.

It was almost hypnotic, watching the ceiling wobble and ripple like an ocean of belly fat. It almost made Rammy blush… B-but she couldn’t let herself get distracted by this bug’s eye view!

She spied her next opportunity to get noticed and hastily took advantage of it.

The mic, of course!

EVERY band needed killer vocals, Rammy thought as she scaled the hatching metal. And when Milkcan FINALLY got around to picking up the mic, she’d be right here in front of their face!

All she had to do was wait…

…

…

…

Wait, was Lammy even the one who did the—

“I got it!” She beamed, finally plugging in the right cord.

A shrieking feedback assaulted Rammy, causing her to clamp her hands over her poor ears. Any longer and she would’ve gone fully deaf. She quickly hooked her feet into the criss-crossing mesh to keep from being thrown off as Lammy picked up the mic and rocketed it into the air.

“Here you go,” Is what it looked like she was saying as she handed it over to—

Wait, handed it over!?

Then who was—

OW.

NO.

The round, pink button nose and thin, catty lips of the ear-poppingly positive Katy Kat greeted Rammy’s grimacing face as she twisted around to face her auditory assaulter. 

Who the HELL just started screaming into the mic without even doing a proper mic test, or a sound check, or—or—or—

Wait a second she was on a microphone why didn’t she just try to—

Her booming voice easily overpowered Rammy’s rare flash of logic. She made a few playful popping noises with her mouth, each one blasting Rammy with the sonic force of a hurricane. Finally, her legs gave out and she went flying through the air, carried by Katy’s obnoxious noise.

Rammy soared through the air like a crippled gnat, flailing helplessly. She knew it wouldn’t work, but she tried flapping her arms anyway.

In the distance, she could just barely make out the hazy form of her anxious nemesis. The faintest hint of a smile graced Lammy’s lips as she stared through Rammy. That stupid, talentless hack of a musician was still just… ignoring her.

Like she wasn’t even there.

It made her feel… Worthless.

It was a horrible, squeamish feeling that she usually tried to bury with rage and blame on other people who were jerks and deserved it, probably.

She wasn’t—Oh shit.

Lammy had spun around and crouched to pick up her guitar, her sagging jeans revealing the final destination for the shrunken ram-girl careening through the air.

“OH NO NO NO—THIS IS ALL YOUR FAAAAAUULLLLTTTTT!!!!” Rammy shrieked as she went ping-ponging into the depths of her rival’s exposed buttcrack.

Lammy neatly slung her guitar over her shoulder and stood up. Blushing, she hooked her thumbs into her jeans and pulled them back up. H-how embarrassing…

She just hoped Katy & Ma-San hadn’t been paying attention—and hadn’t noticed she wasn’t wearing underwear.

Laundry Day was always two days too late…

She tepidly tapped her heels and plucked at her guitar strings, unable to stop herself wiggling in place. Every minor fidget was felt in the depths of her washed-out denim jeans, each seismic shift of her legs turning into an earthquake for her unknown butt-bug...

Rammy wasn’t happy.

She fought against the stuffy prison, ensnared by the butt of her sworn enemy, the bane of her existence, that dainty, ditzy fat fat FAT FATASS.

How was it that letting herself gain so much weight only made it easier to ruin her life!?

It was hopeless, every struggle against the sweaty cheeks only caused Rammy to slip down further and further. But she wasn’t going to just let herself get swallowed up without a fight!

…Which, unfortunately, was just making it easier and easier for her to disappear between Lammy’s grinding cheeks.

“Aaaaalright!” Came Katy’s voice, mercifully muffled by several tons of ass flesh and denim. “Ready to start warm-ups before we KICK IT INTO HIGH GEAR!?”

Ma-San trilled distantly.

(“I apologize for my earlier outburst I honestly don’t know where that came from but I’ve had some time to clear my head and I’m ready to channel my frustration productively.”)

“Uhh… Yeah, I guess…? Shouldn’t we still wait for… Oh, forget it.”

There it was.

Even as she was drowning in her adversary’s ass, she couldn’t help but utterly despise Lammy’s innocuous insecurity. That sappy, low self-esteem game she played with herself—she didn’t have the RIGHT to act that way. Someone as talented as her flubbing her words all the time and acting so anxious and unsure of herself—It made Rammy sick.

The only thing worse than being hopelessly inferior to someone was having that someone never even realize just how skilled they were compared to you. If they thought THEY were trash, then how did they feel about the people they were better than? The people who, as hard as they tried to practice and learn new skills and follow basic tutorials with 5 steps or less, could just never match their level…?

It made her mad.

It made her FURIOUS, even.

And as Ma-San twirled her sticks and tapped them together signifying the countdown, as Lammy clenched her asscheeks in paralyzing anxiety, as Rammy succumbed to the catacombs of her crushing defeat, only one thought fizzled in her mind.

Oh how she HATED that MilkCan…