"What do you mean, 'do with me'?" Biff asked, suddenly alarmed. "I mean, I know I'm in a dream, I can control myself to some extent, I should be able to control any of you. What's that, lucid dreaming. That's what I'm doing." He spoke nervously and too loud, as if trying to convince himself of this before the situation ran out of control.
One of the girls, Trinidad, found this concept funny as she'd studied psychology to some superficial extent. She decided to play with him. "If that's true, Biff," she announced to the little man, who spun around to face her, "what would you like us to do first?" The other girls looked at her in surprise but she winked at them surreptitiously. Indeed, Biff was not looking at her face, but surveying the rest of her. She was a monolith of Doc Martens, lean tan legs, olive drab woolen skirt, tight gray sweater with firm breasts poking behind the stretchy fabric, and a blue kerchief knotted upon her long brown hair. There was a lot of her for Biff to admire—in actuality, Trinidad could've held a sign-language dialog with her friends, not to mention actually going so far as to write out her message to him while he ogled at her. Her legs were folded Indian-style and above her 12-hole boots her skirt formed a taut platform of wool, beneath which a cavern of teen thighs and fabric plumbed impenetrable darkness.
Biff took some time replacing his popped eyeballs back in his skull, and thought about all the things he could do with her. He said, "How about you let me climb up on those boots of yours, first?" He felt this would be a safe way to test the waters and find out just how much he could reasonably get away with.
She nodded, unfolded her legs, and stretched out one boot before him. Sole on the ground, knee poking up at a sharp arch, lightly muscled tan thigh disappearing into the soft wool skirt, her glowing hazel eyes regarded the audacious little man with amusement. She wouldn't let on to the rest of the group, but she secretly found the prospect of a tiny man (and he had a great body, this robust defensive lineman, she had to admit) completely at her disposal. Of course there was only so much she could do with him with her friends in the room, but she felt she could tease him and have a little fun for a while before anyone got suspicious. "Come on up and see me, Biff," she purred to him, tapping her smooth knee with one fingertip.
Heart pounding, Biff worked his way unsteadily across the carpet and knelt upon the toe of her boot. The cool black leather beneath him was broad and waxy smooth. Before him was a very accessible "ladder" of a dozen crisscrossing laces, but there would be a few feet (to him) of unnavigable terrain as he reached her shaven shin. He stood up on the arch of her footgear and gazed upward, a little unsure of himself.
Behind him, Jennifer whispered, "Go on, Biff." Andi also urged him on, curious to see where this would go. Heather merely observed as he bent over, wrapping his tiny little fingers around the first few laces, his little butt poking up in the air. She felt a hysterical moment in which she imagined taking the whisker off a broom, say, and poking at his tiny anus with it, just to watch him dance and shiver. She covered her smile as the other girls started to cheer Biff on.
With voices resounding all around him, fear gave way to an exultant enthusiasm. Never in all his short career of football games at the athletic field had he heard such a roar of encouragement, even in his greatest moments. Emboldened, he found it was nothing at all to grab a lace in each hand, plant his feet in very prominent footholds, and slowly scale the Doc Marten. The girls' voices rose as he reached mid-shin without breaking a sweat or getting winded.
Trinidad held quite still and a slight grin curled the corners of her pink lips as the tiny nude man crawled up her boot. This is how it should be, she thought to herself, a man completely at my mercy, crawling up my boot. What a classic symbol for domination! And he thinks he's in control, and it'd be nothing for me to knock him back down and put him in his place, beneath my boot... Her pupils dilated like a cat sighting its prey and she drew a sharp breath. How would you like that, little man? she thought to the tiny figure with the ridiculous grin accessing the top of her boot. How would you like to be reduced to a stain beneath my sole? All that muscle, all those workouts you've put yourself through, all for nothing. Everything ended in one quick little crunch.
She glanced at the girls around her, all of whom were rapt and cheering the tiny man scaling her boot like a lizard. All except for Tory, on her left, who seemed to be staring at something else, something beyond the tiny man... Looking down, she was startled by how erect her own nipples had gotten, poking through the bra and being especially accented by her sweater. Abruptly she felt Biff's tiny, hot palms plant on her shin right below her knee, and she yelped and swatted him off her leg. He slid down her laces and tumbled to the carpet just in front of her, sprawled between her boots.
All the girls looked up at her in surprise, cut off in mid-cheer. Andi asked, "What's up, Trinidad? He almost made it to the top!" The other girls yeah-yeah’ed along except for Tory, who smirked at the Latina knowingly.
Flustered, Trinidad tried to cover her tracks, as well as her budding nips through her sweater, folding her arms. "He displeased me," she announced. “He took way too long. That kind of performance would never be accepted on the football field, and there's no reason we should accept it here. Am I right, girls?" Though they didn't know what she was talking about, they cheered nonetheless and Trinidad felt she'd gotten off the hook. "As for you, little man," she loomed above the tiny man below her thigh, "your punishment shall be swift and severe. Take this!" So saying, began to enact the second part of her fantasy by lifting her foot off the ground and swinging it over him.
All Biff saw was the underside of her thigh tensing up before a huge shadow passed overhead, and he stared up into the pale brown sole of her boots. Alarmed, he threw up his hands to ward off the sole as it lowered upon him. The heel landed somewhere below his feet, but his feet were quickly pinned beneath it, as the rest of the sole followed. His hands met the soft rubber and though his arms strained with the effort he was unable to slow the boot's descent; indeed, Trinidad never even knew he was resisting.
The other girls looked on uncomfortably as Biff struggled for space beneath the black Doc Marten, and a couple noted Trinidad's eyes starting to glow with a fiery light they didn't quite understand. She licked her lips and lowered her sole some more...
Biff cried out, "Jennifer! Andi! Someone, pull me out of here! Don't let her crush me!" The girls squirmed uncomfortably but were unwilling to act on their instincts, in case Trinidad was making some kind of extended joke. The expression on her face didn't lead them to think she was kidding, however, so Jennifer spoke up: "Trinidad, that's enough, let him out."
Entranced, Trinidad responded, "No, the big tough jock must be punished for his failure to perform." She chuckled darkly. "Otherwise, how can he be corrected? What's his incentive to do his best if there are no repercussions for his failure?" She started to feel, even through her boot, the resistance of a tiny lump of meat. She paused for a moment, to dupe him with some sense of relief, then resumed the slow, gradual pressure.
Biff had coaches before about as cruel as this girl, but he'd never dealt with punishment or discipline as intense or endangering as this. "Come on, someone! This isn't funny!" he called out. "It's really starting to—ooff—hurt!" He craned his head but couldn't read anyone's faces: above him was only sole of boot, and below that was a selection of knees, clothing, and footwear.
Abruptly, an enormous brown palm burst into view and slammed into position just above Biff's head. Cursing herself for bothering at all, it was Tory who finally gripped the toe of Trinidad's boot and held it fast. "That's enough, Trinidad," she said quietly. She started to lift the boot up, but Trinidad was determined and pressed down harder, glaring at the punk chick beside her who dared to contradict her.
"He's got to be punished!" Trinidad said sharply. "I'm going to crush him into paste, that's what he deserves!" Later she would look back on her vehemence with a combination of fright and confusion, unable to guess what it was that caused her to behave so irrationally. Locked in the midst of these surging emotions, however, she grit her teeth and leaned forward against her thigh to apply greater pressure to her foot, and Tory had to strain to keep it up but still it came down upon Biff. He was beginning to experience real pain and cried out.
On Trinidad's other side, Heather finally shoved Trinidad's shoulder and heaved her backward, giving Tory time to lift the boot up and swoop the tiny man out of the way, back into the middle of the group. Trinidad fell back and glared furiously at the girl. Heather shrank slightly and mumbled an apology. But it was clear from the other girls' expressions of surprise and alarm that they weren't going to let Trinidad walk all over her, or the tiny little jock. When she sat back up she assessed the situation and apologized to Heather and the group hastily, adding that she didn't know what came over her.
That momentary delirium would become a theme among the group, anyone interacting with Biff directly. They wouldn't figure out why until much later, and even then it would only be their best guess. Would it come in time to preserve Bill's well-being? Would they realize before any of the girls embarrassed themselves too badly or committed a dreadful act too dire to recall or ever forget? Only time would tell.