Biff was temporarily blinded when the light blasted into his little room. Shocked, he had no way of fighting the enormous fleshy grasp that plucked him out of the chamber and tossed him onto a broad plain of ropes, it felt like. Made of some synthetic material they bounced him and held him aloft. He covered his eyes and ears as the area exploded with laughter from giggling girls all over again.

He tried to make out the voices: "Oh my God, it's really him!" "Look at him, he's so tiny!" "Oh, isn't he cute! I wanna dress him up!" At that point, the high school jock realized he was completely nude and curled up in a ball to cover himself. This only spurred on more laughter and giggling and the booming young voices grew more incomprehensible.

There were several loud crashes all around him, as if an old-growth forest were being felled all at once, and his heart raced in terror. The giggling subsided and it seemed as if the entire room held its breath. Finally, something nudged into his shoulder; alarmed and frightened, Biff ignored it and the voices tittered. The nudging returned insistently and he swatted out blindly at the object. The voices went "OoooOOOOoooohh!" in mock-awe and giggled some more. Biff finally hazarded a look around to try and make sense of what was going on.

What he saw astounded him. He seemed to be looking at an extreme close-up of a carpet, first of all. That was the immediate and easiest thing to identify. What was harder were the canyon of huge, soft-looking boulders in tan, black, and blue. He realized that the latter were covered in some huge, coarse fabric while the first type was more porous and had a glow to it, as if it were made of several fleshy layers.

Biff felt a knot forming in his stomach as he looked up, and saw the boulders went off into the distance, a distance he couldn't see because it was blocked off by enormous girls' bodies and heads. A huge girly hand hovered behind him, wielding a pencil the size of a flagpole and nudging its eraser into his shoulder.

The huge girls' heads, stretched in hideous grins with gaping eyes staring down at him, shifted and giggled. "He's moving!" one of them said. Another hissed, "He's really alive! He's so small! Get him again, make him stand up or something." With that, the large pink rubber hovered above him and attempted to force its way between his chest, arms, and legs from the side.

Not because it had wedged him open, but because it hurt too much to resist, Biff had to unfold himself but his hands flew immediately to his crotch as he rolled to his back. The enormous girls screeched and giggled some more at the sight, and the pencil fell with a muted thunderous clatter beside him.

Apparently he was surrounded by gigantic teenage girls and he was completely naked. Attempting to put two and two together he rasped a question to his audience. However, between his tiny vocal chords and the clamor the girls were making he was unheard.

"Hold on, guys," one of the girls boomed, "he's trying to talk." The girl's head loomed closer to him, her long, thick hair spilling around his body like a waterfall of gold. "Go ahead, Biff, what were you saying?" she said almost tenderly.

He cleared his throat and allowed himself to sit up; the girl's nose was only a few feet away from him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked.

The heads rose up into the air and belted out with laughter, hysterical laughter. The girl who'd spoken to him stayed and laughed as well, and Biff could see straight up into her mouth. Her eyes clenched, her nose wrinkled, all horribly exaggeratedly from his perspective, and he stared straight past her huge pink lips and glistening sharp teeth, up her squirming, moist tongue and deep into the dark recesses of her throat as she hollered laughter upon his tiny, naked body.

When they could compose themselves a few of the girls assured him it really was just a dream, a dream come true, and he could do whatever he wanted to in perfect safety. Biff wasn't the brightest bulb in the the ceiling but this answer made some sense to him and it helped him ease up a bit. Just a little, because even in a dream, enormous teenage girls crowding around you like... well, like little kids staring at a bug still made a guy nervous, but he could adjust to that.

And since this was a dream, there was no sense in shame, so he forced himself to stand up - no mean feat on a wobbly shag carpet - and the giggling died down to the previous breathlessness. He just looked up at the girls sprawled around him and smiled nervously. They stared at him with huge eyes and laser-like intensity, which made him a little self-conscious, but he wasn't going to let this defeat him. He strode over to a chubby Korean girl dressed in black stretch-pants and chunky-soled sandals. "Hey, I recognize you! You're Andi! You're one of my sister's friends." She stared at him with huge brown eyes and chestnut perm, nodding slowly as her plump lips spread into a little grin. "Wow, you're in my dream, that's incredible... and you!"

He pointed at the girl next to , wearing faded jeans and Birkenstocks (he identified them at first by their pants and footgear because that's primarily all he noticed about them). "You're Heather, another of Megan's friends." He looked around slowly at the ring of gigantic girls sitting around the floor like a mountain range. "You're all Megan's friends, all those girls that pester me in the hallways and stuff," he said, thinking aloud. The giggling began to die down a little but he went on. "Man, it's gonna be one of those dreams, I guess, huh?"

"One of what dreams?" asked Heather, tossing back her mane of wavy honey hair. The other girls were interested in hearing him ramble, too.

Biff laughed at the thought of it. "You know, one of those sexual dreams, a wet dream," he said. Some of the girls laughed, a couple backed off, but everyone wanted to hear more and asked him what he meant. Working it out for himself as well as his audience, he went on: "Well, look at me. I'm all tiny and stuff, and you girls are huge to me. This is, like, completely the opposite of real life, you know, where I'm all big at school and you girls are shorter and stuff. In reality I could probably hold my arms out and two or three of you could hang from them, but here in this dream where everything's the opposite, you're all much more powerful than I am. Get it?"

Some of the girls looked at each other. Others stared at him, not sure whether to be angry or to laugh at his arrogance. Most of them were sneaking peeks at his tiny little butt and penis whenever he turned around to talk to different girls. If he noticed he didn't show it, but it was likely he was completely oblivious to anything going through their minds since, after all, it was his dream.

"What makes you think we're going to have anything to do with you, you little creep?" asked Heather, considerably less taken with the scenario than Biff seemed to be.

Biff laughed again, "Because that's the nature of the dream!"

Jennifer, the girl with long straight blonde hair who'd spoken to him before, leaned in again. "What makes you think this is a sexual dream? Maybe it's a guilt dream, where we make you sorry for all the shit you give us every single day." Her suggestion was met by encouragement and agreement all around, but Biff couldn't see the others because once again she leaned in too close and encircled him with her hair. Her enormous face, her glacier-blue eyes hovered almost threateningly above him as he stood there. One of her locks of hair fell from her forehead and draped over his shoulder.

Biff was shocked by how erotic the sensation was, as if her head of hair had reached out to him, to wrap around him and draw him in. When Jennifer saw the tiny little erection this caused she pulled her head back to leave him on display for the rest of the group. Some of the girls squealed but most were, again, very curious and just observed him.

"Well," he said, thinking carefully, "I guess it could be that, but right now all I feel is a lot of horniness, so I'm guessing that's the nature of the dream."

"You're not feeling any horniness from me, buster," said an angry voice behind him.

Bill got a look at the punk chick behind him and stumbled back a step involuntarily. In the distance, puffy purple clouds rested above her furious expression, her full, purple lips drawn down in a deep scowl. A violent-looking punk band shirt clung to her body, and her hips were wrapped in the traditional red plaid skirt with spiked belt. Long, slender, bare legs stretched from within and ended in well-worn German tanker boots. He felt the intensity of her glare.

"Okay, maybe not off of you," he agreed, "in fact... yeah, now it feels more like a guilt dream. But what do I have to be guilty about?" He spread his arms, directing the question to his forum. "You girls are fucking annoying, always pestering me with your stupid questions about football, following me around the halls..."

"Get over yourself," said Jennifer, "we never do that." The other girls wanted to agree with her, but they were finally seeing their behavior from his eyes and couldn't speak up too loudly, in all fairness.

"You do too!" He laughed. "You so way do! Every day, I'm so tired of it!" He drew a breath to mimic the girls in falsetto, whiny voices, but suddenly he was hit by a wall of force that knocked the wind out of him: Andi brought her leg up behind him and booted him in his back with her thick-soled sandal. She didn't want to really hurt him, but she did want to shut him up.

Caught completely off-guard, Biff sailed the short distance into the depths of the punk skirt, sliding neatly along Tory’s thighs. She shrieked and started bouncing erratically where she sat, trying to scoot away from the tiny person inside her clothing. "Andi, you bitch!" she shrieked. "Get him out! Get him out!" She started kicking her legs and raising her hips in an attempt to dump him out.

Biff, completely confused, reacted instinctively and tried to crawl up the sheet of fabric. He caught his grip by latching his toes onto the hem of her skirt and started grabbing at threads along a rough seam to pull himself up, and he was making quite a bit of headway when suddenly his world fell down and Tory's enormous (to him) butt crashed upon him, squashing him flat against the floor.

The girls were in hysterics, rolling with laughter, pretending to chide Andi while attempting to help Tory out, who was kicking too hard to let anyone close to her. She got tired and sat back down; her eyes grew huge when she felt the solid lump beneath her cheeks. At her expression everyone else fell silent and stared at her, then into her skirt, where they could just see two tiny feet poking out from beneath her underwear. Tory looked at them all, then slowly leaned over to peer inside her own skirt, and she saw little white legs lying limp between her inner thighs. She didn't think about all her girlfriends staring up her skirt. She didn't think about the tiny football jock getting wedged in her ass. All she thought was that perhaps she had killed a man.

She spent a lot of time thinking about it, from Biff's perspective, as he struggled to breathe but could barely move beneath the teenager's enormous buttocks, sheathed in satin though they were. His world, already darkened from the thick fabric of Tory's skirt, was beginning to dim further as she thought and thought about what had happened and he needed oxygen more and more desperately.

Finally Jennifer had the presence of mind to help Tory to her knees and had Heather catch Biff as he slid out of her skirt. Cradling the jock carefully in her hands to check on his condition, Heather rested him once more upon the carpeted floor and all the girls crowded around to stare at the tiny, potentially broken little man.

Presently the air fell into Biff's lungs and he opened his eyes to find them all staring at him. Groggily he said, "Still dreaming, huh?" The girls laughed with tremendous relief and sat back down around him until Jennifer spoke up.

"No, seriously, guys," she said, ever the voice of reason, "what should we do with him?" All the teenage girls' heads turned in his direction. Biff wasn't sure whether this would be a sexual dream, a guilt dream, or something else entirely.