“SHIT!!”
Gabriel jumped in his seat.
“How did he even see me?”
Gabriel shifted. He fidgeted. He twitched. He maneuvered his lithe fingers with the precognitive reflexes of a trained pianist as he played the keyboard and mouse to near perfection, garnering headshot after headshot as his gamertag skyrocketed up the leaderboard. At least until a perfectly timed futuristic laser sniper put an end to his streak.
“Dammit…” Gabriel slumped in his seat and took off his headphones. The thudding EDM and K-Pop of the video game soundtrack disappeared; what replaced it was the droning fan that caused the clothes hanging off his dresser, deck, and bedframe to stream in the wind like tassels. The unfortunate news of the air conditioner being on the fritz had to be broken to the young thespian in person, but despite his lack of preparation he was determined to not let this revelation kill his vibe. Gabriel always liked to unwind in the evenings with a bit of gaming, and though he was forced to take off every article of clothing sans underwear to achieve a semblance of sweaty comfort, tonight would be no different.
But the heat wasn’t the only problem, Gabriel thought as he queued into another match. There was something else bothering him that he couldn’t quite parse. He’d noticed it when he was walking home and wondered if it was in his pants. But in spite of their removal, the odd, itchy sensations returned. They were disparate, but seemed to pop up all around his crotch when he needed it least, pulling him out of his flow state. It was annoying as hell!
Gabriel was preparing to take a shot with the crossbow when another spurt of movement seemed to occur. He missed, his cover was blown, and even through his best efforts Gabriel was tagged and taken out only moments later.
“Ugh, fuck.” This wasn’t just a simple misplay. Gabriel was mad now. He stuffed his hand inside his underwear and dug around, scratching hard at his pelvis to alleviate the source of the itch.
Little did he know that each errant scratch which only mildly inconvenienced him was apocalyptic for the passengers within his briefs. As uncomfortable as young Gabriel was in the sweltering heat, the condition inside the underwear was hellish. It was a sweaty, muggy, slippery hell of skin and musk and constraint, and one by one so many of the students seemed to pass out. So futile was their position that many of the dozens of students who remained realized if they did nothing, they’d sooner suffocate amidst the fog than survive any longer. So, scrambling in the dark like headless chickens, they (mostly) independently started their trek. Fighting against gravity, they slid along the moist surface of his hips, trying to drag themselves between skin and fabric and hopefully reach the fresh air of the rim of his underwear. Only to be scratched into oblivion by his groomed and trimmed fingernails, reducing dozens of the students to streaks that mixed in indeterminately with the sweat that exuded from his pores.
“Oh… that’s so much better…”
Gabriel had forgotten his bullshit loss minutes ago, and he fell into his scratching. He wouldn’t often be so candid, but being naked in your own room tends to free one of inhibitions. His hands snaked down to his ballsack where they dragged lightly at that perfect sweet spot of pressure to soothe the apparent inflammation that once aggrieved them. They traveled to the slightly hairier sections of his undercrotch, truly putting those who were trapped and tangled within the garden of hair growth out of their misery as they were extinguished.
They even dug into the depths of his crack, snaking through to get at the itch that was truly wedged deep in the tighter spots, and taking the horrendously unlucky who found themselves stuffed between Gabriel’s cream-colored buttcheeks with them.
“Oh helllllll yeah… right there…” Gabriel bit his lip and lost himself in his self-pleasure, almost orgasmic feeling. His butt was generally as hygienic as the rest of his body, yet the presence of tiny, squirming particles both laden atop his cheeks and between them in the further recesses of the crack almost made the boy wonder if he had inadvertently contracted fleas. They were at least as satisfying as fleas to smush, scratch, and smash, and he did all three. The lives that had already been suffocated or obliterated by his dominating rear when he’d sat down, or even back when he was walking home and his dual loaves slid and bounced together… would soon find that they were far more fortunate than who remained squeezed between these twin malleable walls of flesh. Those that still toiled within the depths of young Gabriel’s ass could only cry out for mercy as his hand, a bringer of light and an ender of civilizations, dug in search of more of these pesky parasites to punish. They squashed and splattered and rubbed away countless souls, and each death brought a euphoric sigh to Gabriel’s perfect lips.
By now most of the survivors had put together the reality that the classmate whose underwear they’d fallen inside of was Gabriel – his voice was unmistakable after all. But now at their size, that voice was nothing short of godly in spite of its near-soprano register. The dreadful realization that the one who held their lives in his hands – or, well, his shorts – was the lead in the school play… it was practically brain-breaking for some of the students. Others still held hope they could commune with this megalithic creature, whether as a human or god, for some form of aid. All were cast into a panicked despair as the rampaging hands of their new owner dragged a trail of invisible death and carnage across the ecosystem that was his sweat-laden crotch.
“Ahhhh…” Gabriel sighed. He prepared to queue back into another match… but the earthy aroma that wafted from his hands told him they were due for a wash before they should be allowed to touch any part of his PC. Gabriel cringed, and he got up from his rolling chair – when he felt a growing pressure in his groin.
“Ohhh…?” he asked to nobody in particular. Apparently, the pleasure of his recent scratching had gone beyond the surface level. He reached a hand to his cloaked groin and gave it yet another proud squeeze, jostling its passengers as he admired his girthy meat. “Not now… but soon.”
Gabriel poked his head out his bedroom door, then tiptoed to the bathroom in none but his tighty-whities. He unsheathed his cock and watched it spring to life, an utterly impressive 6-inches worth of muscle and sex. Gabriel was of course a virgin, but he made sure his cock saw plenty of action in his off days.
Unbeknownst to him, he was giving a different kind of show. There, along the rim his cock, were some of the last remnants of survivors. They clung to the rubbery smooth shaft like their life depended on it. But one among them seemed fortunate enough to have been flung to the tip, the relative closest any of them had ever been. Tatiana had a direct view of Gabriel’s planetary face, high up in the sky as he seemed to smirk down directly at her… he was looking at her!
“Gabriel?! GABRIEL?!?!”
But he was only looking past her. Tatiana felt the rumbling beneath her and had to hug the vein to keep from getting jostled as he relieved himself in the bowl.
A few minutes later, Gabriel had brushed his teeth, washed his face, and climbed into bed before the heat drew out another thin layer of sweat. But the young man still tossed and turned and writhed in frustration. He needed rest! The play was tomorrow after all. But rest now seemed more and more improbable. So, he eschewed his blanket and reached for the script in his backpack. He murmured to himself nonchalantly, “Might as well get some last-minute practice in.”
The leftover mites lodged in his briefs had been through nothing short of utter torment. Jostled against tangling fabric and gelatinous flesh, forced to breathe in copious amounts of musk and sweat, and in many cases forced to witness and hear the cries of their unlucky brothers and sisters in suffering as their bodies were ripped apart and squashed while their gargantuan captor was none the wiser. But the surviving students, agonized and brutalized all along the skin of Gabriel’s hips and thighs, felt him go horizontal. It wasn’t an ideal situation; particularly for the half dozen or so who’d escaped the massacre within the boy’s rear and still had to contend with being between a soft place (his butt) and a soft place (his bed). Still, they could feel it. He was retiring one way or another. Would this period of rest be their opportunity? Could they take advantage of his lethargy to group up, maybe even escape, maybe, just maybe utilize their combined skills and talents to contact the upper world and get rescued?
Tatiana hoped so… yet she could barely even formulate words. She’d been stuck for the longest on the very tip of Gabriel’s dick as it poked into his underwear, almost gazing into the winking urethra of the boy. She was being assaulted by the pillar’s smell, she couldn’t get the taste of it from her mouth, and she was so very tired. Her own screams had run out, and she could do nothing but mouth soft, impossible prayers in the hope the winds would carry them to Gabriel’s ears. “P-please…”
Tatiana had everything once. Money practically flowed out of her parent’s ears, the teachers loved her enough to let her get away with everything she ever wanted, and boys threw themselves at her feet. And yet, her academic life was a hell beyond anyone’s imagining for one simple reason. There was just one thing she wanted.
Gabriel’s attention.
She demanded it. She craved it. She couldn’t live without that boy’s gaze, his touch. She deserved it! She had everything. So why… why did he always seem preoccupied with that creep, Elsie? Why? After everything, after her earnest tries to connect with Gabriel at rehearsal, after her attempts to protect Gabriel from whatever the fuck Elsie was putting in his pants? Why, after everything, had she been reduced to this? To such a state? An unseen bug literally glued to the dick of the one she loved?
Tatiana could even imagine a universe where she’d be elated at this turn of events. She knew in no uncertain terms she was soon to die. Her body was too decimated to entertain thoughts otherwise. But it would’ve been worth it to die and give herself to the pleasure of the boy she worshipped even at full size… if it didn’t mean that Elsie would steal him from under her. That made her rage. That made Tatiana hold onto hope, to the belief that she could get out of this situation, rectify this mess.
The boy alighted his soft chestnut hair on his pillow. He took a glance at the script, and put it down. He began his rehearsals.
“But soft, what light through… what… what light… dammit, dammit…” He grunted in frustration as he grabbed the script and thumbed through it. He put it down again. “What soft light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is… is the sun…”
Gabriel sighed. As much as he wanted to rehearse this tonight, his heart just wasn’t in it. His room was hot, he had just had multiple victory royales stolen from beneath him, his body was itchy and scratchy… he was willing to power through all of this. But knowing that come the day of the play, he’d have to perform next to Tatiana? That bimbo of all people? Especially when his true love in Elsie was so close, so near to the role…
Gabriel huffed. It sucked major ass. But the show must go on.
He may not be able to lock lips with Elsie onstage. But in the sanctity of his imagination, he was God. Gabriel closed his eyes, and he eradicated Tatiana from his mind’s eye, completely and utterly. And in her place, the soft, placid features of Elsie were set. He cooed as he imagined her, and he felt a stirring in his loins. But Gabriel had to focus. He returned to his script reading.
“It is my lady! Oh, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were…”
Even as he read, Gabriel feared what might erupt in his body and soul. He knew he shouldn’t be using Elsie’s visage in his head without her consent. He knew this was wrong, it felt wrong. But it just felt… right! He was of two minds, and it drove him crazy. His heart was beating fast, his pores had begun to moisten… and in his underwear, something was growing.
Tatiana felt it. Still hanging onto the smooth outlet of his slit, she felt something was going to happen, and soon. The rumbles of fluids that thudded from the massive organism she was attached to were like the tremors of a record-breaking volcanic quake. Something was emerging, and it made Tatiana’s own heart race. She couldn’t even move, but she knew she had to. She knew that there was going to be a shift, a change. But she couldn’t do anything.
“Please, Gabriel, Gabe… don’t do this…” Tatiana’s logical brain knew she was far beyond being heard at this point. But she had no other options. She muttered into his dickflesh like a madwoman because there was nothing else for her.
Gabriel on the other hand had embraced his lust. It had awakened a fire in him since unseen, and it brought a new fervor to his performance. He imagined himself onstage, lit up by brilliant spotlights from left, right, above, below. As he declared his utter adoration to his blushing, one singular love. “She speaks! Speak again, bright angel, for thou are as glorious to this night, being over my head…”
Gabriel sat up, pushing against the baseboard with his feet and leaning his back against the pillows. He couldn’t relax in a supine position. Beneath him, this sudden shift once again brought his entire upper body weight down on the mites who were enacting their plans to crawl up his bumcheeks and emerge past the label of his half-decade old underwear. The softness of the surfaces of his rear or the bed did them no favors; they were choked out of existence by his lunar derriere before long, and subsequently crushed into splotches following a brief readjustment of his position.
“…as is a winged messenger of heaven…”
Gabriel was truly lost in himself now. One hand held the script, yet even as his eyes glazed over their words, he didn’t truly see. He only felt his love.
Elsie…
Overwhelming love.
Elsie… E-Elsie…
The word danced silence on the thespian’s tongue and sent his heart aflutter with every repetition. Gabriel’s body was reacting to his imagined scene when he could finally hold Elsie close in an embrace. His other hand quested for his crotch area…
“…as is… a winged… a… winged… oh fuck…”
Tatiana’s miniaturized brains had been in metaphorical ribbons.
The stiffening of the utter dick she’d been perched upon was not lost on her. The fabric of Gabriel’s underwear he’d likely kept since grade school was growing taut as the tremendous meat pushed against its vessel. Tatiana had it better than most; the direction the cock was forced to turn left her in the tiniest of tents to hole up in just atop the glans, a pocket of free motion which seemed to shrink ever so slowly. It was a dreadful, incomprehensible situation, but even in her mindless state this location of respite still left the girl just enough room to… well, exist. It was dark and miserable and only served to fuel Tatiana’s impending mania and anxiety, but it was, for the moment, safe.
But then, edged against the chasm-like slit that composed of the entrance into Gabriel’s hulking dick, she could see the emergence of something that shimmered and shined, even in the low light. And in this cramped location, Tatiana could not get away. It nipped at her, grabbing sticky hold of her in its glacial encroach on her enclave. Tatiana was hyperventilating now. She tried to pull herself out of it, to no success as the dick pushed up against the seams of the undies. Harder and harder.
More precum was oozing forth, much more. The need that filled Gabriel was strong, uncontrollable. He’d stopped paying attention to the script for a while now; his hand had focused on foreplay, getting at that unfathomable edging sensation of trying to rub one out through the fabric of ones pants and undergarments. It was a slow, deliberate process, and in that slowness the steady growth of his dick was all the more agonizing for the tinies still trapped amongst his balls. Buried beneath a testicle the size of a meteoroid, one Capulet extra was disassembled into a stain under the sac, her screams into his flesh the final performance she had to give to the world. The Montagues weren’t faring much better; many if not most of them were ironically fastened against his stiffening rod as it grow and grew and grew, struggling against the tightening tighty-whiteys, spread out flat against the dominating obelisk that was his cock. Bulldozed repeatedly from outside by a wildly rubbing hand set of fingers with no real rhyme or reason or plan beyond excising as much pleasure from this exercise as possible, it was no surprise that the Montagues were all but decimated after scarcely a few minutes of foreplay.
But the real game was only beginning.
Tatiana was blinded as the underwear were peeled open and lamplight dripped within her hovel. Lamplight eclipsed by the darkened visage of a horny god.
“I… G-Gabriel?”
Gabriel did not see her. Even though she was nestled in the expanding whorl of cum, oozing from the slit and dribbling down like icing on a fudge sundae, he could not see her.
The icing, however, would provide suitable lubrication.
Gabriel grabbed hold of his cock now bare for all to see, inadvertently smearing the pinprick remains and smushing anyone left alive, and he began to stroke, up and down, collecting more and more clear and viscous precum to assist with the lubricant. Tatiana tried to swim upstream, but the consistency of this trap was that of molasses, she could not make ground.
“Gabriel, Gabriel!!”
His fingers were repeating, up and down. They coated his girthy pole in a clear sheath of subtle, fragrant precum. And they were coming for Tatiana with a repeating, oscillating fervor that inched closer and closer to Tatiana’s futile motions as she ran/crawled/swam/ whatever’d her way as far from the hand, as far from this pool of liquid as possible… but where could she go? There was nowhere… was there? Could she find some way out of this mess? This sick joke that she had no business being a part of?
She looked up at the face of the boy she once loved. The boy she still loved. And she fell to her knees in the sticky pre-splooge. And she begged.
“PLEASE… PLEASE, GABRIEL! GABRIEL, PLEASE SAVE ME!! PLEASE… I LOVE YO–”
She was caught.
Tatiana was scooped into the stroking of Gabriel’s motions just as he began to fap in earnest. The speed ramped up. Simple precum with no lotion or other form of lubricant wasn’t the young man’s preference, but it was all he had available at the moment, and besides his mind wasn’t functioning properly anyway. He could only think, feel, dream of one thing. Elsie, his lips on hers, hers on his, them hugging, kissing… she imagined, lewd as it might’ve been, his lips attached to his cock, he imagined her there, loving him. He imagined how soft she might feel, how bright her smile was, her freckles, her everything…
Tatiana hadn’t even lasted a full twelve seconds; her body was stripped and streaked into a red smear from the sheer force of his rubbing, rolled away like clay. And when Gabriel finally climaxed, the ensuing deluge washed every last trace of her into a nothing. A deluge that was strong, powerful by any standards, but especially for one whose frame was as otherwise feminine and boyish as Gabriel. It coated his dick in a true flurry of thick, goopy snow, trembling down the shaft, rolling along his balls, and spurting ever still even as Gabriel relaxed into his bed, his breaths evening after the exertion. The flood filled the lungs of the last survivors, mostly scattered technicians and the occasional Capulet extra, drowning every last trace of humanity that once existed undetected within the loins of the young actor.
Gabriel panted between breaths. “I think… that’s enough practice for tonight…”
***
The inexplicable disappearance of almost 10% of the student body was an optics disaster, but not as much of a disaster as the hypothetical cancellation of the school play, which turned out to be a rousing success despite the odd tragedy. It was purportedly held in honor and memory of the students lost, but Elsie couldn’t give more than two hoots. Even though hundreds of tearful pairs of eyes were trained on her… she was not nervous. For before her were the only two eyes she cared about in the world.
And Romeo, perched upon his ladder as he peered into the open window of his true love, said: “What shall I swear by?”
Elsie was so entranced in his visage she almost forgot her lines.
Almost. But perhaps the lovestruck hesitation only enhanced her portrayal of the character.
She shuffled, abating the urge to scratch herself in this itchy dress. And she sang to him, to the audience, to the world at large, “Do not swear at all. Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self which is the god of my idolatry…” Elsie batted her eyelashes. “And I shall believe thee.”
Elsie was already casting the name of that pretender to her role out from her mind. Clearly, this was meant to be. And though she didn’t know exactly where that whore went in the midst of all of this, Elsie was sure that never again would she buy mysterious powder from a Deep Web marketplace.