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Story Notes:

Keep the ball rolling on this thing;
Let's find out what happens to people who make it to the placement center.

Author's Chapter Notes:

Unfortunate Anthony meets up with an unfortunate acquaintance in an unfortunate circumstance.

But seriously, the X Rated stuff starts next chapter. This one's kinda boring, establishing characters, and some bits and bobs about the world.



Awkward didn’t begin to describe the situation.

“Isn’t there anyone else that can process my case?” Anthony asked, desperate to break the heavy silence.

From only a few inches away, by Anthony’s estimate, it was harder and harder to judge distance at his new size, the woman worked uninterrupted. She didn’t even look down at him when she responded.

“No, we’re working with a skeleton crew due to budget cuts. I’ve been given you and the woman you cheated on me with.” She responded, still typing away. Her voice was almost a parody of a detached customer service voice. Except Anthony knew her well enough to recognize the vitriol hidden in that lilting cadence. It was the same as when she was “fine” that he had forgotten her birthday. Or when “it was no big deal” that he hadn’t done anything to help with Christmas shopping.

Anthony hung his head back down. He knew that Grace was still furious about his infidelity, but he hadn’t expected to ever see her again, much less be to be seated on the cap of a soda bottle on her desk, relying on her to process him through the placement center’s systems.


The placement center itself was a depressing scene. Bottom dollar government spending at work, the center was in a basement office of a remote strip mall in the middle of a failed development. Anthony hadn’t gotten the best view of the surroundings, but what he did see suggested the placement center’s offices were the strip malls only tenants. The offices themselves were bare affairs with ancient metal desks, harsh fluorescent lighting, even the fan that tried in vain to cool the hundred square foot box, looked like it was a left over from a time when people would hide under the desk it sat on to shelter from nuclear attacks.

Although he wasn’t eager to be under her care, Anthony had to admit the view was pretty amazing. While he had cheated on her, Grace had some of the most amazing breasts he’d ever laid eyes, hands, or his cock on, and in the almost suffocating heat, she was making the best of a bad situation by wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top, pulled low enough to ventilate, but also to showcase a traffic-stopping amount of cleavage.

It didn’t help that part of what had attracted Anthony to Grace in the first place was her habit of dress. Today Grace’s pencil skirt only came down to her knees. Her blouse, having been discarded over the utilitarian office chair in the heat, wasn’t much of a substantial covering anyway. And then there was Grace’s choice of footwear. Today’s selection was a pair of black open toed strappy pumps, granting her a prodigious five extra inches. With Grace’s ‘casual’ seated position, turned away from her keyboard and screen, one leg crossed over the other and the shoe from that elevated leg dangled precariously off her heel from her pathologically well french pedicured toes, bobbing as she idly kicked her leg.

A sudden explosion of sound and a blast wave of air rocked Anthony back off the soda bottle cap. The accompanying shout of "Tony!" only furthered the shock as he scrambled to take shelter behind the plastic cap.

"Tony! I'm talking at you, the least you could do if you're going to stare at my tits is pay attention so I can get this wrapped up!" Grace's hand had slapped down right next to where Anthony had been sitting and the crescendo of the impact still rang in his ears.

“Jesus Christ, Grace, you could’ve killed me!” Anthony screamed, suddenly more angry than afraid.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Tony. Now answer the question.” Grace said flatly.

Anthony was a bit taken aback, both from the implied threat and from the fact that he had been genuinely so focused on Grace’s breasts that he hadn’t heard the question.

“Uh…” Anthony tried to stall.

Grace’s eyes rolled hard behind her thick rimmed black glasses. “I asked you when you first experienced symptoms. Come on, Tony, this isn’t fun for either of us, but I’ve got to process you, get you to your pod for the night, then work on her file, and after I deal with the deeply upsetting prospect of making sure my cheating ex-boyfriend, asshole, jerkwad, fuckhead, and the woman he cheated on me with, gets placed appropriately, I have like thirty others to process, and that’s just before lunch. So, let’s work on getting this resolved so I can move on, and you fuck around with someone else’s emotions for the rest of the day.”

“What do you mean ‘symptoms?’ I’m not coughing or anything.” Anthony, still defiant, was determined to meet aggression with aggression, even if his aggressor was almost thirty times his height.

“God you are an idiot. I guess shrinking wouldn’t fix that. When did you shrink, you moron?” Grace’s hand hadn’t moved, her thumb and fingers splayed out around the cap.

“Oh, uh, it was just yesterday. Or two nights ago. I woke up yesterday like this. Emily too. But she was huge.” Anthony’s anger was mercurial, as he recollected the sensation of waking up in an ocean of bedsheets. Emily, the woman he’d hooked up with a week prior, was in fact, hugh, or at least to Anthony.

“Tony, everything’s huge to you, she’s like a hundred and fifty millimeters. I think a hundred and sixty one if I read her pre-process file correctly. But she’s an outlier in the data set, most people end up like you.” Grace opined.

“What do you mean ‘like me’?” Anthony asked.

Grace finally moved her hand, and Anthony realized only after the massive limb pulled away how tense he was almost being surrounded by Grace’s fingers. Grace rummaged around in the desks drawer and found a ruler, a metal throwback from the sixties. She placed the ruler vertically next to the bottle cap.

“Stand here. This is as good a time as any to get an official measurement.” Grace clearly wasn’t asking.

Anthony climbed up on the red plastic dias he’d been sitting on and hiding behind throughout the interview, and did his earnest best to stretch his spine as he stood on the edge of the cap next to the ruler.

“Oh my God, you idiot, stand on the desk. I don’t need to know how small you are when standing on a bottlecap.” Grace said, exasperated.

Anthony’s face flushed red, he could feel his ears burning, while he stepped down from the plastic and stood in front of the ruler. Again he willed himself to be taller.

“Stop standing on your toes.” Grace ordered. Her index finger came down and pushed his head down, forcing him back on his heels. It was the first time she had actually touched him since he’d been brought into the office, the first time any normal sized human had touched him, the sensation was frightening in the extreme. For the first time, Anthony got a clear sense of how helpless he was to the unaffected population. With as much regard as she gave to hitting a key on the keyboard, and with less resistance than one of those very keys offered, her finger had pushed him down into obedience. The sudden and uncontested display of strength from just one of Grace’s fingers brought to Anthony’s memory the time he had arm-wrestled Grace, when they had first started dating. He remembered how he hadn’t even had to try to beat her. Or when he could lift her in his arms, with just one arm. But now, without any care or effort, just one of her fingers pushed him back down, and it was apparent that if she wanted to, that lone finger could do so much worse.

“Forty nine millimeters. Wow.” Grace chuckled. “You’re not the smallest we’ve ever had in this office, but you’re definitely outside the mean.” She went back to the keyboard and continued typing.

“Grace, uh, I . . .” Anthony wasn’t sure what to do. The whirlwind of confusion seemed to have finally settled down, but the reality of his situation was somehow only now setting in. Grace’s declaration of his height somehow made it real where it was previously just a bad dream. “Grace, can you check it again? Please?”

Grace stopped typing and regarded Anthony. Her face went through a few dozen emotions in rapid succession before she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes in exasperation.

“Look, Tony, I know this isn’t easy. Trust me, I deal with this everyday. You’re life is going to fundamentally change. You’re not going to be able to do the things you used to. You’re not going to be able to go to the places you used to. You need to learn to accept this. You need to learn to accept the reality of what’s happened to you. One of the first steps in that process is accepting your new height of forty nine milimeters. You’re not going to grow if I pull out my calipers and check it again, and I’m not going to be humoring that denial by trying it again.”

Anthony sat back down on the soda cap. “What’s going to happen to me?” He asked.

Grace put her glasses back on and thought for a moment before answering.

“The official process is that we’d record some information, that’s what we’re doing right now. Then you’ll be admitted to a pod here in the office for a semi-permanent dwelling. The pods are isolated from each other, so you’ll have privacy. They have electricity, running water, limited internet access, better than your first apartment.” Grace couldn’t help herself with that jab. “From there, it’s kind of up in the air. The original Permanent Placement Program has been put on hold. There are a few places that accept applicants, but are usually costly. Thankfully, the costs associated with housing when you’re forty nine milimeters tall are extremely low.”

Anthony didn’t take much solace in the decreased cost of room and board for someone in his situation, and his head hung low. For the second time, Grace reached out to him, this time the nail of her index finger found its way under his chin and lifted his face back up to hers. It was gesture that was meant to be placating, calming, and reassuring, and while it succeeded in some measure, Anthony was still keenly aware that the pristinely french manicured nail effortlessly lifting his head to look into her face, looming over him like a sun in the sky, only reminded him of how small he had become.

“Keep your head up, you’ll have time to process all of this later. But for now, Tony, let’s get this wrapped up so I can put you in your pod, and move on to the next subject.” Grace resumed her typing. “So, what happened after you woke up yesterday morning shrunk?”

“Uh, Emily and I tried to make sense of it. We both freaked out pretty hard.” That was true enough, but he didn’t want to mention that he had taken it much harder. “We tried to call out for help, but we couldn’t make it to the nightstand to get to a phone. It took us a long time to finally climb down from the bed, that was mostly her, she … she had less difficulty getting around and …” Anthony let his words fall off, he didn’t really want to recount what had happened as he and Emily had rappelled down the side of the bed using their sheets. Being told he was only forty nine millimeters was bad enough, but admitting that his new girlfriend had carried him in one arm as she had descended the vertical face of their mattress was a new level of embarrassing.

“What was that, Tony? Come on I need to be thorough in this report.” Grace could probably tell he was trying to avoid something. Grace had always been more perceptive than was convenient for Anthony.

“She, she carried me down from the bed.” Anthony admitted.

Grace snorted as she fought to contain a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Grace!” Anthony shouted, indignant.

Grace’s barely contained chuckling spilled out into laughing. “It absolutely is, Tony. It absolutely is. Okay, so she carried you down from the bed, how did you get found?”

Anthony couldn’t decide if he should be grateful for Grace’s moment of sympathy, or furious at her finding humor in what, he knew, was funny, but also deeply upsetting to his ego.

“We tried other ways to get people’s attention, but the apartment is on the third floor. We couldn’t get anyone’s attention. The Nile lady was delivering a package and we have that thing where they leave it inside the door, Emily and I were standing in the doorway when she came in.” He said, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

“Okay, and she brought you here to the placement center?” Grace followed up. She continued typing, unabated.

“Yeah, she said it was on her route. She let us in a box she was delivering and then she set us on the passenger seat where we rode here.” Anthony summarized. There was no need to tell Grace that Emily had been forced to help him up into the box, or that Emily had saved him from falling out of the box multiple times on the ride over.

“Great we’re almost done.” Grace said, still clacking away at the keyboard. “Last question; who have you had contact with since contracting the disease or displaying symptoms? That means ‘who did you tell that you shrunk?’” Grace asked.

“Uh, Emily knows, obviously, and the Nile delivery lady. I didn’t catch her name. She didn’t ask ours, I don’t think. And I guess, you. Once we got here, some receptionist got us to the waiting room. And that's where we spent the night." Anthony stated flatly.

"So you didn't meet with anyone? What about the Nile delivery lady? Did she express concern at contracting the disease?"

"Only her, I haven't even had time to think, let alone deal with this. Uh, she didn't seem worried, she mentioned this was like the fifth time something like this had happened." Anthony recalled.

"Have you called or messaged anyone?" Grace asked.

"No, we couldn't get to our phones, or her tablet, or the laptop." Anthony stated.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. I’ll finalize this documentation, but first let’s get you to the temporary pod. It’s a little less nice than the regular one, but it has clean sheets, a change of clothes, and a pretty awesome jacuzzi bath. You want to ride in the carrier over there, or …” Grace extended her hand, palm up in front of Anthony. The implication of the invitation was benign enough, but as Anthony dismounted the bottle cap and placed on hand on Grace’s extended middle digit, he looked up. Beyond her glasses there was just the briefest look in her eyes that sent a shudder through his entire body.

As quickly as it had come, the dread passed, leaving only a lingering feeling of unease as he crawled into Grace’s waiting palm. Her fingers curled up gently behind him. He had thought to stand, but as he moved to the center of her hand, she lifted him away from the desk, the sudden rocket acceleration upward sent him collapsing into her palm, clutching at one of her digits like a mast on a rocking boat.

Grace couldn’t fight a chuckle, but Anthony didn’t have the gumption to get upset, he was too busy trying to regain a sense of stability as Grace started walking with him in hand. As a small gesture of kindness, or just habit, Anthony couldn’t tell which, Grace pulled the hand carrying him close to her chest, creating a more tangible ‘wall’ which he scramble to as a point of security, although the flimsy fabric of her spaghetti strap could hardly be called secure.

Anthony was certain the sight of him clinging to the light black fabric at her tit was what brought along the next round of laughter, but even worse this time he was clinging to the chest that was laughing so his ability to voice his concerns were minimal. Fortunately the trip was brief, just out of her office and right across the hallway to a room that Anthony hadn’t been in. The room was something else, up and down the walls were tiny door, reminiscent of bank vault doors.

“Welcome to the temporary pods. You’ll be spending a little bit of time in here, like I said, these aren’t as nice as the regular ones, but that will need to be tailored to suit your specific symptomatic parameters.” When she noticed Anthony’s bewildered look she clarified. “It needs to be customized for how small you are. Most of the stuff in this pod are still going to be slightly large for you, because it’s made to fit the average post-shrink size.”

Near the back of the room, between the banks of circular doors on either side before coming to one of the few on the back wall. Grace knelt down, giving Anthony an extreme sense of vertigo mixed with every nightmare he had about falling at the same time. When she came to a stop, Anthony was mildly annoyed to hear her say.

“Hmm, not this one, full up.” Grace pointed to a small green indicator light on the door, similar to dozens and dozens of lights he’d seen on other doors. Grace then stood, this time she cupped Anthony to her chest, whether intentionally or not, he couldn’t tell, as she stood. The effect of being lifted suddenly many many times his own height was minimized, but he was suddenly reminded of the degree of control she had as he was pressed between her palm and her breast.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Anthony scream, to little effect.

“Ooops, sorry, Tony, didn’t want you to fall.” Anthony looked up as she re-leveled her hand, to see her beaming smile, those bright teeth bared in the same kind of sadistic grin she used to get when making him guess plans.

“That’s not funny!” He screamed at her.

“It absolutely is, Tony. But we’re here.” Grace reached out and spun the tiny door’s handle, it really did seem to be a vault door.

When it opened on internal hinges, the effect was only magnified. The door itself was impressively thick, at least to Anthony’s reduced size, with multiple seals. Beyond was a sterile white room, with a couch, a table, even what looked like a massive television screen. It was only with some disappointment that Anthony realized the screen only looked massive to him. It couldn’t have been larger than a compact phone.

Grace gently tilted her palm toward the door, hinting that Anthony needed to release his grip on her shirt, before extending her hand toward the room. Anthony took a few cautious steps on her palm. He was keenly aware of how high up he felt. While the door was only at chest level for Grace, that meant a surely fatal fall for Anthony. The steps to take him off her palm and on to her fingers were agonizingly slow. When he reached her fingertips, he pause, looking back at her for a brief moment.

“When do I get moved to the regular one?” He asked.

Grace didn’t respond immediately, instead tilting her hand up and away from herself, effectively dumping Anthony into the room.

“I’ve got a lot to process tonight, but I don’t expect you’ll spend too long in here. Just relax, and while you’re here, Tony, take a long bath and then a shower. I don’t want you smelling like you just got back from riding in a delivery truck.”

Anthony wanted to follow up with more questions, he had more concerns, and he wasn’t sure how well he’d handle being alone, but Grace didn’t give him the chance. Instead her grin widened as she shut the door. The last thing he saw of her was her smiling face, waving with the hand that had just carried him.

“See you real soon, Tony.” She said as the door silently sealed.

Anthony was left to himself, the room was eerily quiet, and he realized what she had meant by ‘privacy’. On the way in he and Grace had passed at least a hundred of these makeshift residences and even though Grace was just outside, he could hear nothing of the world outside.

The room, and it was just a single room, was what an apartment realtor would call ‘efficient use of space’. There was a shower/tub in the corner, a couch that looked big enough to sleep on, one small table and a chair for it, and of course, almost one entire wall dominated by a television, with a touch-pad next to it for controls.

Anthony needed a distraction, he walked over to the touch pad and hit the universal i/o switch with both hands. The pad thankfully registered and the TV burst to life, with an ad for a local car dealership in media res. Some part of Anthony knew he never would have gone to that car dealership, even if he hadn’t shrunk, but the illusion of normalcy, of seeing a man dressed like a wedding-formal-cowboy-survivor-of-a-rhinestone-factory-explosion inviting him to ‘come on down’ and test drive his ‘gently loved’ inventory of domestic and import cars was strangely calming.

Turning his attention to the shower and tub, Anthony was reminded that this place was not built for him. After stripping off the hospital gown robe provided to him, he stepped into the shower/tub combination only to find the controls out of his reach. Fortunately the people who had built this cubbyhole of a studio had been considerate enough to hide a step stool in the tub, which Anthony used to reach the controls to turn on the water. Using both of his hands, he managed to move the lever to on, and hot.

One scalding hot shower later, complete with a floral scented liquid soap/shampoo/conditioner/degreaser, which Anthony had needed both hands to open, Anthony found himself relaxing in the tub, floating really, in the oversized basin. He wondered idly if Emily would have even fit in the tub, she hadn’t shrunk as much as he had.

When his skin wrinkled beyond even his tolerance, Anthony pulled the plug in the tub, again with both hands. His next stop was the couch, noticing before he sat down a series of fabrics folded underneath it. From beneath the couch he pulled sheets, a comforter, and multiple fresh hospital gowns. He made a ‘bed’ of the couch and the sheets easily enough, but got another grim reminder when he donned the first of the shirts, the one labeled ‘shrunken medium’ and found it fell passed his feet to the floor. He quickly shimmied out of it, through the neck hole, humiliatingly enough, and found the ‘shrunken xsmall’ which fit him as the one he’d originally been issued, which is to say, comically too big, but close enough to wear.

It was a simple enough matter to turn out the lights, another touch pad next to the door, before he retreated to the couch. He wrapped himself up in the sheets and comforter, and let himself drift to sleep, serenaded by the soothing sounds of local access television.

Anthony’s dreams were surprisingly calm. Exhaustion and the surreal nature of his waking moments meant his subconscious would’ve needed to work overtime to even match the bizarre nature of his new normal.

It was in these dreams that he was aware of the lights in the room snapping on. Harsh brilliant white clarity flooded in. Anthony tried to seek shelter under the comforter, muttering something about ‘five more minutes’, but his world was suddenly rocked as a creature seized him. The beast constricted around the blanket and sheets, caring little for them, or seemingly even himself as it wrapped around him and held him tight. Then, as though the thing were attached to rockets, he was pulled out of the pod and into the relatively hot room where the lights were still turned off.

The thing that had grabbed him turned him upright, and while he was still disoriented, dizzy, and nauseous from the impossible forces placed on his body while was seized from sleep, he instantly recognized the bright crimson lipstick that Grace loved. And her voice was unmistakable. This time, however, she exercised no courtesy in handling him. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but her grip was tight enough to make breathing an obstacle, screaming or yelling was out of the question.

She also showed no care for his comfort at being in close proximity to someone so comparatively large, as she held him mere inches from her face. For the first time as she spoke, he could feel her hot breath wash over him. “Hello, Tony. Didn’t I tell you that wouldn’t need to wait long?” Grace asked.

Anthony tried to process what was happening. Moments ago he’d been peacefully asleep, for the first time in what seemed like forever. Everything had finally calmed down. The fear and terror of being forty nine millimeters that had finally faded into a hoarse whine in the back of his mind, came screaming back to the forefront of every thought as all he could see were Grace’s lips, her teeth, her tongue, and as she spoke to him, the dark void of her throat beyond.

“I hope you rested up, Tony…” Grace said. She pulled him in, pressing his head just below her nose and inhaled deeply. Anthony was beyond wanting to scream. He wanted out. But there was no release as Grace sampled his scent more and more. “Oh, Tony, I’m so glad you washed up. I picked that scent myself, it goes so well with you little fucks. I’d say ‘I hope you like it, because it’s the only thing you’ll be using from now on’, but really I don’t give a fuck if you like it or not.”

There was little time to process everything that was happening, and even less to adjust as he was unceremoniously peeled out of the sheets. Grace showed none of the concern she had demonstrated earlier, her fingers roughly pulling away at the fabric, ripping and shredding it at times, until Anthony found himself curled up on her palm, wearing only the hospital gown.

“Aw, Tony, are you scared?” Grace taunted. “Good, being scared is going to serve you well. But I don’t think you’ll be needing that shirt any more. Take it off.”

Anthony couldn’t think straight. Nothing made sense anymore, and while he understood the words that were spoken to him, his body failed to respond. Instead he curled tighter into a ball, his hands clutching at his head.
Although she was clearly not in the best state, her more massive size afforded her a better opportunity to readjust, what little opportunity could be had.


“You’re going to learn to obey real quick, Tony, let me show you why.” Grace’s hand slowly began to close around him, her fingers curling up and over him. As the cage of muscle and bone begane to grow smaller and smaller, panic began to set in. Anthony sprung up from where he had fallen into the fetal position and made an attempt to leap out of her hand. If he had succeeded, something in him knew he would’ve still fallen to his death, but it didn’t matter has her fingers had come too close.

Anthony fought against the closing digits, with every ounce of his being he pushed against them, to create an opening. He tried to pull them apart to afford him just enough room to slip through. Everything he tried yielded nothing as the fingers yielded nothing to him. Instead they closed in. Anthony felt one of his legs slip between her fingers, but still they didn’t stop. An arm managed to get trapped between another pair of finger, but still Grace kept tightening her grasp. Soon it wasn’t a matter of avoiding the fingers, as they held him firmly in place, but still Grace didn’t let up. Anthony could feel his bones creaking under the pressure. The leg that hadn't slipped between fingers was folded awkwardly behind him. His chest was being compressed so tightly that his screams were cut off.

Then, with all the suddenness of a breath, the hand opened back up. Anthony could breath again, his limbs weren’t being bent or smashed, and mercifully, he could lay out on the palm.

“You have one last try. Strip, now.” Grace ordered.

Before he could even comply, she began closing her hand, as she had before. The reminder of the order, combined with the renewed threat of being crushed in her hand shot Anthony to his feet. He pulled the gown over his head and threw it with all his might away from him. He suddenly felt that being dressed was as anathema to him as any poison.

There Anthony found himself, standing naked on Grace’s palm, his chest heaving as he tried to come to terms with everything that was happening. When the adrenaline of nearly being crushed alive wore off, so to did his resolve and he fell to his knees, staring up at Grace’s countenance.

“Good boy. Now, hold still.” Grace’s commands didn’t broker any discussion, instead her hand seized him and held him still. He couldn’t see what she did, but her other hand soon returned with what he recognized in the light from his pod as a toiletry bag. She deftly unzipped it and when it opened he was stunned to see a woman’s form in one of the translucent plastic sections of the bag. It only took him a moment to recognize Emily, squirming and pushing against the clear barrier that held her in place. It was also readily apparent that she was screaming, although Anthony couldn’t hear her.

“I was going to put you in your own section, but, since you’re so fucking small, and you seem to enjoy her company, let me make the trip back to my place much more enjoyable.” Grace unzipped the section containing Emily, who still couldn’t navigate an escape. Grace pulled the bag open and Emily fell to the bottom. Before the shrunken woman could regain her footing, Grace dumped Anthony into the same chamber, all the while laughing as he tumbled into the nude form of his current girlfriend.

“Tony?” Emily said startled. “What the fuck is going on?”

Anthony had no opportunity to respond as Grace turned the bag back over. He had only a moment to consider what was happening before Emily’s comparatively giant form slammed into him, causing him to see stars. Almost all around him he could hear the sound of the zipper being pulled, and the confines of the TSA compliant compartment of the toiletry bag suddenly became very cramped. Anthony found his head pressed against Emily’s pubis, his face right in her tastefully maintained bush. At his size, however, there was more than enough hair to cover his face. His immediate struggles only wedged him slightly deeper in her crotch.

“Fuck, Tony, watch it down there!” Emily managed to get out, even in the extremely restrictive confines.

While very little light made it into the toiletry bag, it was still a rollercoaster ride. As Grace handled the bag, Emily and Anthony were tossed and tumbled, even though they were held pressed together by the small confines of the bag.

The bag stabilized for a moment, no longer tumbling or turning, and although Anthony could see nothing, Grace must have held the bag right up to hear mouth because both he and Emily could clearly hear her taunting.

“I hope you two are comfortable in there. My place is almost an hour away, so you’ve got some time to get even better acquainted.” Grace’s laughter shook their prison before the world around them spun and tumbled like never before, culminating in an impact that pressed the captive pair even further together.

The light then went completely out, and all Anthony was left with was the humid and hot crotch of his girfriend in his face, while her torso pressed against him unable to move, one arm over him, trapping him in place even further. Anthony groaned as Emily readjusted herself, in doing so, twisting his own torso into an uncomfortable pose.

“Emily…” He struggled to even get out individual syllables. “You’re crushing…” Another painful pause as he writhed, trying to catch breath that wasn’t filled with pubic hair. “Me.”

“Sorry, Tony, there’s not much room in here, hold on, let me try something.” Emily did indeed try something, but when she had finished moving her legs, and her arms, and her abdomen, Anthony found himself slipping a bit further down, his face dragged along her bush, and a bit deeper. With one final, subtle rotation of her leg, Anthony’s head slipped between her thighs, and pressed his face against her labia.

He mumbled a cry of protest, but it became apparent Emily couldn’t hear or understand him, buried deep in her crotch.

“What was that, Tony? I can’t make out what you’re saying, let me… nnnnggh… let me try to…” There was a painfully long pause. Anthony’s head and neck were subject to squeezing and pulling, a bit of twisting and turning, each motion resulting in a muffled cry of pain or fear.

“Bad news, Tony; I’m stuck, and that means so are you.” Emily said flatly.


It was going to be a long ride.

Chapter End Notes:

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