The experience beneath Mariah’s butt, for Ben, was something akin to having an entire defensive line of football players dogpiling him in a heap. Except it was one woman, with the lunar shape of her ass cheeks compressed down into his spine, practically molding him like clay to her insistent shape. He felt the prodigious mound of the woman’s rump spread itself liberally across his back, activating his vertebrae to cling together for dear life. It was hard to imagine this same butt was once made invisible beneath her lab coat; now, it was on the verge of smothering Ben beneath its sheer mass.
“Oh, this is so kind of you, Ben,” Mariah mocked. “A girl could really get comfortable on a seat like you.” She threw her hands in the air, snapped her fingers, and began to rock back and forth as though in time with a catchy, quick-tempo pop beat. The rotund diameter of her rear grinded from the small of Ben’s back and up to his neck, stretching out the unbelievable pressure on a second-by-second basis as far as she could shake her hips. Ben was the dough, and Mariah’s butt was the rolling pin.
“Mariah!” he wheezed, red in the face. “P-Please! Stop!”
“It’s funny, I thought I heard something, but I must not have, because Ben’s a gentleman who doesn’t mind letting me use his puny body as a chair after he earns me enough money in three weeks to retire if I wanted to, while he’s still stuck taking the subway like a funny little peasant,” she simpered, a song in her heart.
Ben huffed and puffed, struggling even to take regular breaths now. The jabs at his own comparatively shaky financial situation were only adding insult to injury. How was it right, that the woman he’d made rich, could do something like this out of the blue whenever she wanted? Shouldn’t she be thanking him? At the very least, leaving him the hell alone, so he could shrink down to nothingness in peace!
“C’mon, Ben. Whatcha gonna do? Or should I say Benny, to someone of your… height-challenged type?” Mariah taunted. She flexed her bulbous cheeks and heard Ben’s back pop as though a chiropractor stuck him in the marrow. “Maybe you’d prefer a name like Benny, just so people keep their expectations for you where they belong. At floor-level.”
“Erghhh!”
“Ooh, that’s the spirit, Benny. Roar for me like a little lion cub,” Mariah egged him on. “Go on. Try and get up. If you can even budge me, I’ll stand right up, and you can go back in your little mouse hole somewhere.”
Ben made his best attempt. He paused, gathering his breath, loosened his muscles. And then he thrust. Every which way, he attempted clawing out from under Mariah, even bucking his hips up against her oppressive globes. Kicking, swinging his fists, thrashing his head into her sides. None of it made the slightest vibration in Mariah that she wasn’t executing herself with her gyrating, musical movement. The man was utterly, completely, sickeningly, maddeningly helpless under this woman he’d hated the very sight of every day for five straight years.
“God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to do something like this to you,” Mariah seethed. “How many times I’ve thought about this in my sleep, and how many times I’ve… touched my-”
At last the elevator screeched back to life and opened up to Ben’s floor. The doors slid apart, revealing Kendra on the other side. The woman was clutching a stack of heavy file storage boxes to her chest, but when she saw what was happening inside the elevator, she quickly set them down and stooped down into the car.
“C’mon now, Mariah,” Kendra groaned, rolling her eyes. Her hands cupped near Ben’s face, unsure whether she should try and tug him out from under the weight of his tormentor; wisely, she apparently decided against it, in case his head popped off like a grape.
“Hey, Kendra!” Mariah said brightly. She patted Ben’s unoccupied legs several times, batting his swinging limbs back to earth with ease. “Grab a seat. There’s plenty of room.”
“I… have a lot of work to get through today, with the promotion and all,” Kendra said. “Maybe it’s best to just let him out, yeah?”
Promotion? Not that Ben wasn’t happy for Kendra, but how was everyone but him moving up the food chain so fast, while he remained static?
Nevertheless, he was eternally grateful that his only ally in the building had appeared in his moment of greatest need and lowest oxygen. By now, his lungs were all but collapsed under the juicy, beanbag-like glutes of the woman he once looked down upon with such easy disdain.
Mariah’s rear end muscles clenched taut, just for good measure, at Kendra’s suggestion. Perhaps a reminder of what could’ve happen to Ben and his brittle bones if Kendra hadn’t discovered them in the elevator.
“Oh, all right. Spoil the fun, why don’t you?” Mariah chuckled. She took her time getting up, planting both palms flat on the elevator floor and taking special care to deposit her entire body weight squarely down into her ass cheeks one last time for her squashed rival’s benefit.
Ben, all three-foot-eleven of him, looked like a discarded crash test dummy. Crumpled on the floor in a heap, his clothing wrinkled and even torn at the joints where the fabric was most vulnerable. His cheek and jaw were raw and bruised from where he’d face-planted into the elevator car floor on Mariah’s initial flying derriere assault, akin to trying to head-bump a weather balloon. He had no chance.
Wordlessly, Kendra gathered her materials back up and took Ben by the hand. At seven-foot-four, the woman had to bend down a little to grasp his fingers in hers. When she did, it was like putting his own hand inside a baseball glove: warm, a little clammy, but comforting all the same. It occurred to Ben how easily this woman he’d come to respect and appreciate so fondly could simply crunch the bones of his hand like a fortune cookie if she cinched her fist. But of course nothing could’ve been further from her mind, at least he hoped, as he was guided like a sniveling child into her new office.
For the next half hour, Ben was treated to some soothing care he sorely required. He sat up on Kendra’s thighs upon her bar stool seat while she dabbed at his swollen cheek with an ice pack and washcloth. Occasionally, she’d even comb her long fingers through his hair in a motherly, calming fashion. Ben had to admit it felt good receiving some office TLC after he’d been thrown around, sat upon, and used as a human stool for a month now.
“Maybe you ought to take the stairs from now on,” Kendra suggested as she caressed the man’s pink cheeks with her enormous palms.
“That’s probably a good idea,” he admitted. He was about to transition into his secret theory regarding the contents of ForLit, but realized it felt unnatural to bring up the elephant in the room of their constantly shifting size differences. Kendra was smart; she had to have pieced together the insanity already herself and, just as Ben was so passively allowing, had not done a single thing about it. Perhaps because she was directly benefiting from it in much the same way as Mariah, as even Kendra had gone in for the new, flashier wardrobe thanks to her stock earnings.
“What ever happened between the two of you to make things get so bad?” Kendra asked at length.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Ben admitted. “I guess sometimes people just… react… poorly, and… sorry, there’s a chemistry joke in there somewhere, but my head hurts too much to figure it out.”
Kendra giggled. “That’s all right, I’m sure it was funny.” She dabbed at his cheeks again, then gently took his jaw between both of her opened palms. The woman easily cradled his entire head between the lengths of her lithe appendages. “Feeling better?”
“Much. Thanks,” he said, going to slide off of her legs, but realized the drop was steeper than he remembered. Instead, Kendra clutched the man up to her chest, squeezed him into her supple tits, and then lowered him to the floor like a vet might with a recently neutered dog.
“I suppose I should get to the lab,” Ben shrugged.
“All right. Take care of yourself, Ben. Use the stairs. If I see Mariah coming your way again, I’ll do my best to give her a run for her money.”
Which was probably quite a lot, if said money was in American dollars.
“Thanks again, Kendra,” Ben said as he exited the office.
“Don’t mention it.”
When the disgraced Blend tech arrived at his deserted workspace, since his desk had since been repurposed for the offices of one of the recently promoted female techs, he found an email already there from Ms. Hoshoku.
Benjamin.
Marketing campaign work today. Car will pick us up out front at 10 am sharp. Don’t be late.
Ms. Hoshoku
Finally it was happening. This “teamwork” concept that was going to display the creators of ForLit breaking barriers of class, wealth, and office rank. As if ForLit needed the help; from what Ben had seen thus far in the past month, the drink was doing well enough on its own shrinking all the men to rats and inflating all the women into goddesses. Couldn’t Ms. Hoshoku have at least given him the heads up so he could bring a change of clothing, in case he was accosted by a business rival’s hot, medicine-ball ass cheeks in the elevator? The odds were getting higher by the day, after all.
Yet he already knew this was happening today, whether he liked it or not. There was never any backing out of a deal with Hoshoku. It was just a question of accepting it now.
And of all the days he had to get beaten up by Mariah, today was not the ideal day. Ben looked drearily down at his partially tattered shirt and child’s jacket, realizing the left arm of it was actually ready to be shorn right off with about a finger’s worth of pressure. He sighed. This wasn’t going to go over well, he imagined.