Celia, 1:19 PM

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You breathe a cloud of smoke, flooding the relatively dark apartment before letting the bong drop next to Heather. She jumps from the impact across the shiny wooden surface. Cute, but you pay the reaction little mind and instead sigh, content. Chris is still soaking in the sink, his skin tender from being left in your stomach for a few minutes longer than you'd intended. Oops. It hadn't been intentional; you'd never actually want anything to happen to him. But the thought? Even the general taboo of it is outrageously hot to fantasize about.

You catch your dark train of thoughts and muse over how utterly sick they were. But hey, a girl likes what she likes. Still, that was unlike anything you've ever felt. The raw surge of power is a feeling you already yearn for again as a fresh high takes hold, gripping your senses in a vise. You take the opportunity to lay back, resting your head against the armrest on the end of your couch, entirely naked. Your clothes had long since been removed, several articles draped across the back of your sofa. It's so pleasant to be living on your own, having complete freedom to do whatever you want.

There's a quick moment of clarity, and your eyes widen as you consider perhaps you'd gone too far. The insides of a person have to be downright disgusting in person. Gross and slimy, thinking back to high school biology. But you shrug it off. That perverted little fuck probably loved it. You don't fully get the dynamic between him and your sister, but there's clearly more going on than just friendship. No way in hell somebody would willingly shrink themselves just for the wow factor, right? Far too scary unless some perverse sexual motivation is involved.

You look over at Heather from her spot between your dildo and bong, a fitting place for the runt. From your perspective, the view is almost perfect: a little ice queen sitting between a still warm sex toy and a half-packed weed delivery system. The scale of the two ordinary objects is practically astonishing in comparison. Her tiny body can’t measure up to either of them. It's hard not to try and imagine what her view must be right now. It's so… pathetic.

You find a hand drifting back towards your lower lips, operating with a will of its own. Your middle finger lightly drags itself from the bottom to the top, carefully parting slick flesh. You linger on your clit, parting its hood and feeling the familiar jolt of sensations as your finger makes contact with the bundle of nerves once again. It's sensitive from so much use, but that isn't about to stop you. The movements of your hand simply adapt, growing more cautious and careful in their repetitions.

Bullying people is always something that gets you so ridiculously hot. There's really nothing that can compare, as far as you're concerned. You flip over onto your side, eyes focusing on Heather. Her well-proportioned tits, now small, just like her body. You wonder if she feels less womanly as a result. Probably, you sure would.

You observe in utter disgust as this burnt-out stoner starts masturbating for the second time today. You've had ample time to view her naked body, her physique surprisingly well-kempt despite an otherwise lazy demeanor. She has a slight fuzz across her arms and a minor patch of hair around her vulva, stubble lining her entire lower region. Most of it's pretty short, though a few strands that equate to nearly half your size do catch your eye. Not meticulous in her grooming, but sufficient as far as you're concerned.

Though, the whole display in itself is a huge turnoff. You'd never been one of those girls. The girls who took their college years as an excuse to experiment with who they really are. No, you liked dick. Plain and simple. Anything else is almost repulsive. You shiver at even the thought of doing anything sexual with a girl, trying your hardest to block out the close-up encounter with Alexis' lady parts earlier.

Then, the bitch turns over on her side, looking right at you. The blacks of her pupils stare directly into yours, emitting a palpable sense of curiosity. There's hope that maybe she'll let you wash off this disgusting drool you have caked across your naked body. But once you gleam the hand still firmly between her legs, you realize this is far from over. An interlude to the second act of sexual gratification.

"Hey girl, how's it feel to be like, a fraction of my sex toy?" Celia grins, prompting you to look towards your left, sizing up the toy deep inside of her not long ago. The purple dildo, still slightly moist from its foray inside your captor, stands far taller than you. Is this really how Chris saw everything? Then it dawns on you: he's even smaller. You shudder, regret coursing through you as you realize the hell he must have gone through stuck the back of your pants last night. You'd thought it cute initially, but seeing the world as you do now, it's hard not to picture your asshole like a stubby monster, hungry and ready to feast on its latest meal.

That surge of regret turns into shame as you think harder about the situation. God, you really shoved him against your asshole of all places. How absolutely mortifying! His taunting earlier suddenly makes sense, no longer seeing it as gloating but therapeutic.

Are you… a bad person? It's a challenge not to see yourself as one.

Your moment of self-awareness is cut short as she reaches a finger towards you, quickly knocking you on your butt with relative ease. You yelp in surprise as the finger fondles your breasts relentlessly in an unexpected all-out assault. You can’t hold back the blush, which is immensely uncomfortable, but her soft finger feels electrifying against your sensitive nipples. You squeak out a moan, before covering your mouth in embarrassment.

Celia laughs, her voice booming from her elevated position. "Aw, so you do enjoy it, don't you? I bet little miss pouty likes being bullied!" The witch snickers.

"N-no! It's not like that! It's just been a long m-morning. You hit the right spots, that's all!" You huff, flustered and aroused. You'll be damned before giving her this minor victory. But you're sure she knows exactly what's going through your head. The look she gives you is remarkably telling of her intentions.

"Of course I do! I know where to touch," She leans in closely, still turned over on her side, "I am a girl, after all. And girls know girls." She smiles, and your blush only intensifies. No, this isn't right! You liked boys! Not girls! But she already got into your head; even that statement is starting to feel doubtful.

"Umf, you know, if you didn't look so gross right now, I'd take you up on some fine dining between those legs. But, you kind of stink." She says, referring to the dry saliva coating your skin and hair. Her hand continues to work her entire pussy, looking you up and down like a tiny piece of meat. You feel objectified and violated as if you’re something less than human.

"Fuck, look how small those tits are!" She says in mock awe, "Bet full-size they're pretty big. But now?" She sneers without skipping a beat, her hand burrowing deeper into her gooey lower lips. "You know how men are." She says the word with an ounce of disdain, "I doubt they'll want some smelly girl and her small chest."

She's just trying to get under your skin, but, upsettingly, it's working. You know you'll have your original size back soon, but you feel so worthless. Disgusting and in dire need of a shower. Her comments strike a nerve, and your lip starts to tremble.

Celia bites her own lip, just as you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. What if she never turns you back? Would she keep you like this, a punching bag to bully while she gets herself off?

"You're so smooth too. What, you got some dick appointment coming up? Kinda ironic if that's the case. You're probably smaller than whoever's cock you were planning on sucking!" She lets out a big laugh, especially pleased at the jab she delivered straight to your gut. "Maybe they can rub you over it or something. Make the best of a lame situation."

Your usual confidence is gone, dashed across the rocks. It makes you feel like a kid again, standing in the shadow of someone infinitely more powerful than you could ever be. It's daunting, but you try to pick yourself up, wiping tears from your eyes. "It's not like that!" You say, emotionally.

"Oh really?" She shoots back, a smug look splain across her features. She's reading you like an open book. Fully confident, unlike you.

"Mmm, why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Or not. I honestly don't care. You do you, I guess." She states with some underlying amusement, her gaze not breaking from your watery eyes as she plays with herself.

"I wonder what your little friend is up to," Her eyes narrow, "You know, I really could have digested him if I wanted. Turned him to shit." She seems to take a special joy in that, her lower body twitching in response. How could Celia possibly be getting off on this? She seems so smug, but you want to puke. It’s straight out of some horror flick; you aren’t sure what to do. Where to start.

Maybe there was a way out of this, some way to escape! You aren’t thinking clearly, the panic of knowing you could be next making your mind race. Weary and desperate eyes scour the plains of the drab coffee table, mess littered across it with no end in sight. There really is no way out. Not without Celia's aid. You want to scream, mind ablaze with the need to get away. But the witch is ever vigilant, keeping a watchful eye on you as she continues to get herself off. She keeps up a rhythm, and eventually, there's a shudder from the massive girl. It starts in her toes, working through the rest of her body like a surge of electricity. Every part of Celia's body clenches with satisfaction and release. All you can do is turn your head in shame.

"Oooh," She gasps, one final spasm racking her nerves before relaxing all together. "I can't even believe how hot this stuff is making me!" She shoves two fingers in her mouth, sucking the substance off readily. An act you find so rancid it nearly makes you gag. Celia slowly pulls the finger away from her sopping cunt, and stands up to presumably grab something to wipe off with. She disappears beyond a door before you notice a lingering wet spot on the couch where she'd only just laid. So trashy.

With nothing left to do but wait, you take another gander at the sex toy sitting nearby. It reeks of feminine arousal, and you quickly find yourself covering your nose; musk and pheromones are incredibly potent for you at the moment. It's so vile that you quickly look away, trying to put it out of your mind. But now that you’ve locked onto the scent, it lingers. Strong enough that turning away leaves a sour taste on your tongue.

Back to your own thoughts, you sit criss-cross on the ground, trying your best to hold everything together for the time being. Meanwhile, Celia thumps her way back into the room a few minutes later, laying down a towel and gently placing a tiny man beside you. Chris! You could kiss him right now! Hell, at this point maybe you will.

She casually lays the towel down over the wet spot and flops against the sofa, a new pair of panties around her waist. Had you been on better terms with her, you might even remark on how cute they were. Pink and lacey. Despite their appeal, you have difficulty considering any other possibility besides a lucky pull from her panty drawer. Whatever, at least Chris is safe and sound. You'd been petrified of something terrible happening, either him dissolving or Celia forgetting him somewhere. Being the burnout she is, it's only natural that the possibility lay in the back of her mind.

You surprise even yourself by sprinting over to Chris and giving him the biggest hug you can. Quiet literally picking him off the ground. Even more shocking, he reciprocates. After a brief but much-needed embrace, you ask the first thing on your mind. A simple, "Are you okay?" It's been eating at you since she placed him in her mouth. It looked so scary and alarming. Truthfully, despite your concern for Chris, a part of you is glad you hadn't been in his stead.

"I'm… okay, I think. Been through worse these last couple of days, but this is definitely up there." He looks shaken and disheveled. His skin is red and sore in spots the acid brushed against repeatedly. God, the whole thing is so sickening. How could someone just swallow another human being?

There's subtle rhythmic breathing coming from the couch, a quick snort drawing your attention. Celia has fallen fast asleep. You don't know what time it is, but it’s undoubtedly too early to be passing out, right? Light still shines through the drawn curtains, confirming your earlier suspicion. This girl is such a hopeless mess.

Seeing Chris with an odd look across his face, you do something you rarely ever do. You lean in, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you. If it wasn't you, it would have been me." You say nervously, the entire line of events making you exceedingly uncomfortable.

"And about the other night. Um, I'm-" But he stops you with a hand. Direct but considerate. 

             "Don't be. It was scary, but I know you wouldn't do it again if you could go back. Besides, I sort of have this obsession with butts. It was fun in a way." He says, blushing. It's cute. You can't help but smile. There's something oddly charming about him, and you’re just now getting a chance to see it.

"I'll make it up to you once this is all over. Maybe I could treat you to lunch? Wait, no, that's kind of dumb." You say, still lacking confidence from the events of earlier. How could such a simple gesture make up for such a massive mistake? But Chris doesn't let it go.

"Honestly, it sounds fun." There's exhaustion in his voice, but he still sounds excited. You start to tear up, regretful for how bitchy you'd been. This has been such a tremendous learning experience for you. Maybe you needed something like this, a wake-up call.

"Hey, Chris?" You ask inquisitively.

He scratches at his sore skin, half distracted. "Hm? What's up?"

You clear your throat awkwardly, "You're… kinda cute, you know. Just thought I'd say something." You look down towards your feet as he smiles, seemingly taken aback at the unprompted compliment.

"Thanks, Heath. You're really pretty yourself." Finally, there's a sense of hope, a welcome change of mood for both of you. With some luck, everything might work out in the end.