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So there I was, enjoying a lovely meal with my wife at our favorite diner. You know, the one where we’d met so many years ago. It’s not a fancy place, no, but it means a lot to us. In fact, we were having our fifth anniversary dinner there, so many years ago, when that mad scientist broke in, on the run from the cops, and started shrinking people down. I’m afraid I got hit by his fancy shrink-ray, whatever he was calling it, as did the mayor and the assistant manager of the diner. Now, nobody cared that I got hit with the ray. Sweet Martha scooped me up quick as a bunny and hid me in her handbag, and she hightailed it out of there before the authorities arrived.

The mayor, he was a bit harder to cover up. How do you explain an inches-tall civic leader to a sleepy little Midwestern town like ours? Of course, people didn’t ask as many questions back then, and we didn’t have the internet, so people generally accepted what their leaders told them, and why not? We had no reason to mistrust the government. Sure, there were scandals, the Daniel Brewster payoff and the mail fraud by Hastings, but our system took care of them well enough.

As for the assistant manager, that was easier to wrap up. It seems he was getting fresh with one of the waitresses when he caught that ray-gun in the back and shrunk him down while she was hugging him. So he got shrunk down the size of a mouse, and that girl wasn’t none too bright, she screamed and stomped him into just a stain on the linoleum. She claimed it was a mouse, the manager claimed it was a mouse, and the authorities had better things to do. Of course, there were some questions a week later when the assistant manager stopped showing up, but word around town was that he skipped out with another girl, and rumor was good enough for everyone back then. It was a more believable story than explaining how his little body got crushed to a pulp beneath a frightened young woman’s inexpensive patent red pump. That’d make a good movie, though, I think. Maybe not.

Anyway, we’re having our anniversary dinner—did I mention it was our anniversary? Yes, our fortieth. I know, it doesn’t seem very glamorous to celebrate a big deal like that in a crummy old trucker’s diner, but it was a special place for us and all we wanted. Martha was having her burger: she always ordered a cheeseburger with fresh purple onion on top, that was her traditional meal there. She shared her fries with me, and once in a while she’d tear off a piece of burger. You know, me at my size, I never required very much. Just a little morsel from between her sweet fingertips, that was more than enough for me.

Now, the manager of this diner was very understanding. He wasn’t the same one from 40 years ago, but he’d heard stories, and Martha even explained about us to him. He didn’t necessarily believe it at first, and when he saw me he didn’t necessarily understand it, but he understood repeat business. Good man. So there I was, parked under my wife’s napkin, folded up like a little tent. I was wearing my original outfit, too, right down to everything I had on me at the time. We kept that locked up in a little glass case. I didn’t wear it around from day to day, you see, because this was the only outfit I had specifically tailored to my new size. I had different clothes at home for kicking around: Martha found some skilled artists online, these miniaturists who just like to replicate tiny objects, and she ordered a full wardrobe from them. Shirts and trousers, mind, no one knew how to make shoes and socks that were worth a damn, but they did fine with long-sleeved shirts and trousers. But every five years we’d come out to this diner, and the new manager reserved our spot at the counter, and I’d sit there nibbling at her French fries and chatting like we always did these nights.

I don’t know why tonight was any different. It was all too fast, it was just a lot of activity and I couldn’t see what was coming, and poor Martha, they blindsided her…

All I know was I was having another fry and she was complimenting me on my appetite. It was a lovely moment and I keep going back to it. But tonight there was this team of college volleyball players, and they were just raising a ruckus, I tell you. The manager and staff had their hands full, scurrying here and there, cleaning up spills, trying to shout orders over the din those girls were raising. I guess I should say “young women,” but sakes, they didn’t have the manners or common sense of toddlers. Spilling this, dropping that, bumping into each other, and their language! Poor Martha looked so sad. She’d been looking forward to a nice, quiet night with me, just like I was, and that storm of young women threatened to ruin everything.

Well, they did ruin everything, didn’t they? I was looking up at my wife, and someone bumped into her or did something with her purse, and she looked away for just a split second. And in that second, someone tore my napkin-shelter off and snatched me up in her fist. I screamed for Martha right away, I’m always half-ready for these emergencies you know, but she couldn’t hear me over the ruckus those girls were raising. They all piled out of the diner and hustled over to their school bus, and that was the end of that.

I was wrapped up in some girl’s huge, sweaty palm. Good night, who knew a young woman could sweat like that? Cold and clammy, gripping me like she’s going to shatter every last bone in my body, shaking me like a can of paint as she ran outside. And when I heard the bus doors close and the hydraulics release, oh, my stomach just sank. That diesel engine revved up and leveled out, and I knew we were back on the highway, and poor Martha was left behind in the dust. I was just sick. I mean, scared as I was for my own life, all I could think of was my poor, sweet wife, how scared she must’ve been to discover me missing. I could make out her voice calling for me as we piled out of the diner, and my heart just broke.

There are times I can’t stand being the size I am. I used to be a powerful, active young man. Always first or second on the track team, a fair shake at basketball, and in between times I was either cultivating a nice little garden or shoveling all the walks and driveways on my block. Community, that’s what I believe in, friends taking care of each other. That’s how we’re going to get through disaster, mark my words. But then that mad scientist shrunk me down and it was just horrible for a long time. It was like being an infant again: can’t walk nowhere a lick, can’t lift anything worth a damn, and so helpless and defenseless. It took a lot of work on Martha’s part to get me through the worst of that, assuring me she still loved me, showing me what value I still had at this size. She’s a good woman. I don’t know if any other woman would’ve been as patient and giving, in our situation.

But I was back to being helpless again. I couldn’t even shove my way out of a young woman’s fist. She mashed me against her chest, and I could hear her heart through her shirt, beating like a jackrabbit’s. Yeah, she’d better be scared! She just kidnapped a person! There are still a few enforceable laws in our degenerate nation, and kidnapping’s still on the docket!

It seemed like we were driving forever, all those girls still screaming their heads off on the bus, and that young woman clutching me to her chest. It was all dark outside, now. I could see yellow street lights zip by once in a while, out the window, but the lights went down on the bus once we started driving. It was a long time before her grip finally relented and she pulled me away from her sweaty gym shirt. She cupped her hands around my entire body, like I was a firefly or a moth or something, and she hung her head directly over me.

She was a cute girl, that was clear. Huge brown eyes, long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She didn’t seem like a bad person at all. I guess kids these days have a different morality than we did back in my day. You don’t just snatch someone off a counter and steal them for your very own. Or maybe you do, I don’t know anymore.

And you’ll never believe what she says to me. She says, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re okay,” she says to me. Can you believe it? She tells me she’s got me, I’m okay! She’s the one who stole me away from my wife! And she’s talking like she rescued me from something, like she’s protecting me! I nearly passed out. I couldn’t believe her unmitigated gall, telling me that I’m okay. I was fine in that concerned diner, young lady! I was just fine before you stole me away from my poor, sweet wife!

Well, I tried to give her an earful, believe you me, but it was just my tiny lungs against the roar of that huge bus. It doesn’t take much to drown me out, I’m afraid. I’ve had to learn a lot of patience, waiting for a quiet moment in which to speak my piece, but that wasn’t forthcoming on this ride, nossir. So I waved my arms and cupped my mouth, you know, the universal sign of shouting, and I guess that was clear enough for her to interpret, because she lifted me up to her head.

It's been a long time since I’ve been held by a stranger. Martha tries not to let that happen too much. We have a few friends who know about me, and they’re very polite and understanding. But this girl, she couldn’t know how to deal with my condition. It’s not an intuitive thing, not like cuddling a puppy or picking up a frog out of a stream. She lifted me up to the side of her head, where long, thick strands of brown hair tugged back and flowed over her ear.

All the ears I’ve seen lately are old, people my age or my wife’s. I can’t even think of the last time I’ve been so close to a young woman, not since my wife was one. Long, thick strands of brown hair tugged back from her temple and flowed over her smooth, rounded, perfectly shaped ear like a river. Not a flaw on her skin, that I could see, just healthy, glowing skin, perfectly formed. And I knew it was a small ear on a small young woman, but I myself am an itty-bitty little thing, so her small ear still dwarfed me. In the darkness of the bus, I could still see tiny, translucent, downy hairs over her skin, and the swoops and folds of the cartilage looked like some kind of plastic. It distracted me, staring at this young, healthy ear. I wanted to touch it. Yes, I’ll be honest, maybe I forgot myself for a moment, but I wanted to reach out and just touch that skin, see what it was like. Was it as resilient as it looked? Was it smooth with youth, or were her features rougher than they appeared, at my size?

She lifted me to her ear pretty accurately, that is, bringing my face right up to her aural canal. Now, that was darkness. The sky outside was dark, the bus was dim, but that little hole that goes right into a person’s head is very dark. There were short, bristly hairs lining the hole, and all the skin curved gently into it. I didn’t know whether she’d be able to hear me, even holding me as closely as this, but I tried nonetheless.

“Take me back to my wife!” I screamed. “You don’t know what you’re doing! She has to take care of me! Please, turn this bus around and give me back to my wife! I promise we won’t call the police!”

That part, at least, was true. How could we possibly go to the police? We were a well-kept secret among a very small circle of friends, but the cops didn’t remember that incident in the diner nearly half a century ago, and if any of them had heard of it, they surely didn’t believe it. There was no evidence: the assistant manager was killed on the scene, the mayor was disposed of after the cover-up, and no one even knew I was there. If that girl would’ve handed me back to Martha, she might’ve gotten a scolding but that would’ve been the end of that.

Instead, her massive head slowly rotated before me. That cute, pink little ear swung away and her soft, peach-fuzzy cheek spun before me, turning and turning until the corner of her lips came into view. This, I didn’t care for one bit. Lots of people have held me up to their ear to hear me, or up to their eyes to study me closely, but no one but Martha ever brought me up to their mouth. I didn’t need that! You never know what hare-brained idea of a joke someone’ll come up with, some idiot stunt they want to do they’re sure will be hilarious, something that usually involves burping on me or pretending to eat me. I don’t care for that one whit, nossir. That is not welcome with me, and so I was not excited to see this young woman, already possessed of poor judgment, slowly bringing me up to her pie-hole.

In the darkness of the bus, my view of this huge head was very limited. Her mouth gaped in front of me, her cheeks swelled on either side of them, and I had a clear view straight up her nose. I could kind of make out her eyes, though it was clearly a strain for her to look down at me, holding me so close to her jaw. Her lips were thin and rosy, even in this light, and badly chapped. What is it about young women these days and chapped lips? Is that a growing-phase thing? You walk around any college campus, and young women are lurching around in whatever ridiculous fashion for that year, trudging along under huge backpacks, and their lips are all torn up and peeling like they just stumbled out of Death Valley. Now, I know I have no place telling young women how to live their lives, but have they heard of Chap Stick? Even a touch of coconut oil would take the edge off, I bet.

I’m faced with great panels of dead skin peeling off her lips, and the problem-solver in me is dying to lay hold of a couple of these and tug them free, just to clear that wreckage area up a little. You know what I mean? I just had that urge to get rid of all the detritus and smooth it all out, but then I remembered it was a young woman’s mouth. I wanted to put my hands right next to those shiny, ridged incisors, for one thing, and that wasn’t want of the cleverest ideas I’ve ever had in my life. What would’ve happened if I tore at some fresh skin, as well? She could’ve popped me into her mouth in surprise, dropped me onto the nasty bus floor, or bitten me clean in half. Anything could’ve happened. A little guy like me in a dumb girl’s hands, I had to play my cards very carefully because the chips were stacked against me.

She whispered to me, and I could barely hear her over the torrent of wind she released. Maybe she thought she was being gentle, but she didn’t know how much air her lungs could hold and what it meant to unleash it all on me like that. Her huge teeth clicked together, too, which was menacing all by itself, but then I could see her tongue writhing and flipping around in her mouth, and now and then I got a glimpse of her throat, all the way in the back. It gave me no relief to stare into that bottomless chasm.

And she licked her lips, with me right there. Her thick, pink tongue came flowing out like a huge lizard or something, something made of flesh and entirely blind but guided by its own instincts. The literary minor in me could easily see it resembling a dragon slithering out of its cave, raising its head to sniff the air and cast about. I watched the glistening blue veins in the underside of her tongue as she carried a dose of her own saliva to her upper lip and smeared it around. All that did was moisten the dead skin and soften it, cause it to lay down for a bit, but it wasn’t going to heal those poor lips. I tell you, if she would’ve left me alone on her mouth for ten minutes…

Hmm. That sounds bad.

Anyway, she told me not to think about my wife, to forget all that. She had me, she was going to take care of me now, and that’s how it was. Well, that was the wrong answer for me, sir. I started screaming up at her, just waving my arms and giving her the what-for… well, screaming right into her slack mouth, pointing furiously up at her nostrils, which maybe wasn’t the most effective oration I’ve delivered in my life. She blew me off – well, not literally blew at me. She dismissed my concerns. She would only repeat that I was perfectly safe and there was nothing to worry about.

Well, now I’m truly distraught. All those insecurities came rushing back at me, being helpless and useless like back in the beginning. Here I was, pinched in a young woman’s mere fingers, hovering before her shredded, stupid mouth, while she tries to convince me that she’s rescued me and I’m supposed to feel safe with her. It was just too much, and I’m not ashamed to admit I cried a little. A little. I rubbed my face to try to calm down and I broke down a little with the stress of it all.

But then she pulled my hands away. How about that! I’m in the middle of the grieving process, and this young slip of a girl just pulls my arms away like nobody’s business! And then she starts pulling my clothes off! I’m batting at her, trying to push her swollen, pink fingertips away from me, but she just keeps coming for me until she grabs the tails of my coat, and she tugs at it and suspends me in the air over her palm, and I’m just swinging there in the darkness with my arms being pulled painfully backward. So I weighed my options and just slid out of my jacket, landed roughly in her palm. She’d opened her hand now, you see, and spread it out beneath me like a platform. Maybe I should’ve taken that opportunity to jump out of her hand and escape, but I’m no fool: what did my odds look like with the rest of that bus? What if I ran into a young woman even stupider than this one? What if I ran into a mean girl? To say nothing of accidentally getting ground to a mash beneath the sneaker of some young woman who doesn’t even know I’m there! No, I thought the smarter thing to do was to sit tight and watch events unfold, wait for a better opportunity.

She seemed placated for the moment, studying my jacket. She pinched one sleeve between her thumb and finger, and she lifted it up, up, up to her huge eyes, turning it slowly to get a good look at it. I wasn’t about to explain to her what it meant to me, you know, how old it was, and my ritual with Martha. I don’t think she would’ve been interested, and at this point in the evening it wouldn’t have changed anything. I just hugged my knees and looked up at her smooth, pale jaw, watching her stare at my jacket like some fascinating object.

Well, that wasn’t enough for her. “Take off your pants,” she tells me, bold as brass. I mean, who says that to a grown man? It’s bad enough she kidnapped me like I belonged to her, but then to tell me to disrobe before her? On a bus full of young women, out in the open? Why, this was too much to swallow. “Take off your pants,” my left foot!

I started to think about those options again. I could probably survive a fall to the bus seat, I think, and if I knew how these things were built—and let’s face it, there have been no radical innovations to school buses in the last century—I could probably slide down the back of the seat and hide in the springs until the bus reached its destination. And at that point either the girl would forget about me, or she’d be dragged away by whoever was in charge of this circus, and then I’d have a better chance of sneaking out and slipping into the night undetectedly. That’s what I told myself.

But when I crawled over to the edge of her palm and peered over her pinky finger, the bus seat looked much farther away than it had in my imagination. And it wasn’t just a clear shot to the seat: I was staring down into this young giantess’ broad lap. Once again, I could see that at normal size, say, to everyone else, this was not a big girl. She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t brawny, and she wasn’t padded. She was a lean, slender little woman who was probably older than she looked. You know, some people develop faster than others, and some people develop slower. My rationale is that there would’ve been no reason for a high school student to be traveling around with a load of college girls, so she couldn’t have been as young as she looked.

In very short navy gym shorts, her thighs looked lean and smooth. Not muscular, but strong enough to carry her in a good sprint, and lean enough not to spread too much even as she placed her weight on them on a badly cushioned bus seat. There was a narrow valley of forest green bus seat between her thighs, where her creamy skin sloped down into a crevasse. Her thighs shook gently with the contours of the road and the shitty shock absorbers; they swayed back and forth as the driver struggled to find the middle of his lane, and the bounced pleasantly with every bump or crack in the road. Maybe I could’ve fallen to her leg and softened my fall, but she would’ve snatched me up in a heartbeat. Maybe I could’ve aimed for the narrow gap between her lovely legs, but it would’ve been nothing for her to close her legs around me and keep me trapped until she could grab me again. Or she could’ve just held me there for the duration of the ride: I would’ve achieved nothing, and how shameful would it have been to be stuck there? Pinned between a girl’s thighs like that, helpless, riding out the bumps and shocks with her, right up next to her–

Well. Those were awfully short shorts. It was scandalous, they let an entire squad of young women traipse about in those. Things were certainly different when I was her age.

It was useless. There was no escape for the time being. I returned to my seat in the center of her palm and sighed.

She sighed at me, too. She’d brought me right up to her face and smiled at me, and that’s what I looked up at, her grinning maw. Was she trying to comfort me with a look of hideous delight? Was she just pleased and entertained with her miniature captive? I can’t pretend to guess what was swirling around in the chaos of her upper chambers, but she scared the bejeezers out of me. I shucked off my shoes without so much as untying them, and I fiddled my belt buckle open, and I slid out of my pants like they were on fire. If that’s what this big, dumb giantess wanted, so be it. Take ‘em and choke on ‘em.

That seemed to entertain her as well. It was hard to sit there, out in the open, pantsless in a girl’s palm. I didn’t care for that at all, but I really didn’t see as I had much choice in the matter. She extended one long, tapering finger and rolled my shoes around for a while, studying them. Yes, they were pretty fascinating from her perspective, I get that. She must’ve thought they were specially made for me with exquisite detail, from the tiny laces to the microscopic stitching. She must’ve thought they were some kind of miracle. Her mouth hung open, distracted, and she breathed what smelled like her dinner all over me. I tried to hold my breath and wait for her to realize what she was doing, but that seemed a long time coming as well, so I just timed my inhales to coordinate with hers, so I wasn’t taking in too much of her lungs’ exhaust. Maybe that’s harmless but it just made me uncomfortable, to think that I had no options for breathable air but what was coming out of my enormous captor’s mouth.

She picked at the cuff of my pants. I could see where she bit her fingernails short, rough and uneven edges too close to the nail bed. And I don’t mean to go on and on about all the things young women do wrong, but do we need to establish a special school to teach them about painting their nails? I swear, if you could see nothing else on a young woman’s body, you could reasonably estimate her age solely based on the condition of her fingernail polish! Before a certain age they don’t wear any, and after a certain age it’s always a flawless job, but this girl was in the era of her life where she painted them once and forgot about them for weeks. In the center of each nail was an amorphous island of sparkly paint, chipped off on one end and bare from where out outgrew the cuticle on the other end. Do they not notice this? Is this like body odor on a teenage boy’s clothing? They’re just genetically disabled from noticing this feature to themselves? I really wish someone could explain this to me.

Then she picked up my pants and started shaking them. My heart sank to watch everything dump out of them. I may have screamed, seeing my wallet fall out, all the money fluttering away from it. Those were the original bills from nearly fifty years ago! There was no way to spend that money anywhere, not at that microscopic size, so I retained it all like souvenirs! I mean, what if the scientists were able to come up with a cure to reverse my condition? If they could enlarge me again, I’d have all my money ready to go, and that’s a nice little bonus.

But now all those old fives and tens and twenties were fluttering away on the breeze, spreading out into the darkness around the slim mounds of breasts beneath this giantess’ shirt, floating off into places where they would never, ever be found again.

I apologize for the “breast” reference just now. I have to confess to a certain weirdness of my mind in this state. I don’t know what it is, but to put it in blunt terms, it seems like I never lost the horniness of my youth. Maybe I never would have anyway, had I lived a normal life, or maybe it’s a byproduct of being shrunken down like this, but as my long-suffering wife may attest, I’ve been randy as a billy-goat for decades. So to find myself in the grip of a young woman, just coming into the full flower of her womanhood, dressed according to the declining morality of the new century… it was all a bit too much. I had thoughts about her, thoughts I’m not proud to admit to, but thoughts that shouldered their way to the fore of my imagination nonetheless. I’m not asking for forgiveness, I’m just stating how it was, what I was going through at the time.

So, yes, I watched that paper money drift away, and it drifted across her chest, and I couldn’t help but notice how her young breasts pushed at her white gym shirt. And I already hinted at what went through my mind when I saw those firm, bare thighs of hers, as well as wishing for a few private moments with her lips. Condemn me if you will, but I must sing my song honestly for posterity. I do no one any favors if I lie about any of this.

But it was painful to watch my personal effects fall out of my trousers and spill out everywhere. “Sorry,” she said, or something to that effect. Her voice was distracted and dull, and I knew she had no idea what she had done. I could’ve explained it to her but I doubt she could have appreciated it. All I knew was that I was kneeling in the center of her broad palm on all fours, like a dog, and I looked up and saw her grinning at me.

Did I amuse her? Was I a ridiculous old man, doing something silly? I just wanted to scream, I wanted to hit something, but I was helpless and exposed. I just curled up, hugging my knees to my chest, turning my head away to try to block out the world. I’d had enough. In fact, this was too much, the indignity of losing my jacket, willingly pulling my pants off. It was just too much to bear.

And then she told me to take off the rest of my clothes. I tell you.

I don’t know if I screamed at her or if I just froze like a catatonic. I just saw red, brother. That was the living end. I’d been pushed to my threshold and it was all I could do to hold myself together.

Well, that wasn’t enough for her, as it shook out. Something struck me in the ribs, and I collapsed to her hand in pain. What was it? Nothing more than her fingertip: there it hovered in the darkness, round and smooth and pink. It came at me again, and I lashed out to knock it away, for all the good that would do.

The girl went to town on me at that point. She easily overpowered me, pulled my legs out, and slipped my socks off without one iota of effort. Before I knew it, she’d tugged my silk socks off and whisked them away. Those socks: I’d bought them specially for that date, way back when. I was going out with Martha, and she was the most beautiful woman in my world, and I wanted to be something special for her. I got shoes that matched my belt, and I special ordered a nice pair of silk socks from the city. They’d arrived in the mail just the day before, and I couldn’t have been prouder of them. Imagine! But that was a big deal back then. It was a big deal to me, but I wanted to look my best for that woman. Ever since then, I’d been so careful with those socks, putting them into storage. We didn’t have the equipment to darn them, if any holes were to appear, but I’d taken care of them pretty well. They were worth every penny, a quality American product.

And here was this large, dumb young woman, peering at them like some kind of curiosity, like a ladybug sitting on the tip of her finger. It was like she was stripping away my memories, plucking them up and staring at them uncomprehendingly, and tossing them away like used tissue. She jerked the shirt right off my body, too, like she did my jacket. Tiny buttons snapped and sprayed off, arcing over the slight hill of her palm and receding off into eternity. I can’t even go into what a nice shirt that was, where I’d gotten it, how much it cost. It’s too painful to think about, when that girl just let it float away on the wind like nothing more than a spider web. It was there, and then it was gone.

Before I knew what was happening, she balled up her little fist and extended her thumb, and she pinned me to her palm. Now my anger was starting to share some space with alarm: this young woman, not known for her sensitivity or judgment, was squashing me beneath her mere thumb, and you’ll never believe why she was doing this. It was to pull off my underwear. She didn’t even ask or demand it: she simply pressed down on me like an unruly bug, and she picked at my silk boxers until they came off my legs, and then I was as bare as the day I was born. I had no idea how I was going to explain any of this to my poor Martha.

She couldn’t blame me for any of this, surely. She had to understand this was entirely out of my control.

I tried to cover my private parts from this crass, thoughtless young woman, but it was difficult to reach around her thumb. Her knuckle pressed into my hips, and the tip of her thumb was just below my jaw, so I couldn’t crouch or bend up, whatever you wanna call it, to cover up my masculinity.

She took my underwear, these nice silk boxers, and goddamned if she didn’t try to slip them onto her own finger. I’m starting to think she might be more than just dumb, she could be a little soft in the skull, if you know what I mean. Who does this? What the hell was going through her mind? She tore them to shreds, needless to say. I was about to say something, when she thwacked me in the jewels.

For such a large girl, and she was the size of a building, she could move quickly. She just said, “Are those your balls?” like she’s never seen a grown man before, and her finger came out of nowhere and thudded me right between the legs. I mean, I was kinda bent over, exposed, you know. It’s not like she could’ve wedged that huge thing between my thighs without, maybe, tearing a leg off or something. All I know was I was crouched and pinned and embarrassed as hell one moment, and the next moment I couldn’t breathe. All I could see were stars.

I think she lifted her thumb off me at that point, if not before. Either way, I just kinda rolled to the side and gasped for breath, wondering if I’m going to die tonight. If this is how this girl explores a fragile specimen, perhaps I’ve already been written off in the great ledger and it’s just a matter of a few hours of her clueless torture before my body finally gives up the ghost. I’m not seeing a lot of hope here, is what I’m saying.

Then she told me to spread myself out. No goddamned way, right? I waved her off, I kicked at her fingertip, all I wanted to do was protect myself from her next great idea. Sure enough, she started pulling at my arms and legs like she was getting ready to disassemble me right there in her palm. I was terrified, I don’t mind telling you. I looked up at her, and there was her huge eye just staring at me, unblinking. Her pupil was huge, I could see right up into her eyeball, and I could see a dim reflection of myself in her lens. Curved, like a fish-eye effect, my little naked body, crouched and quivering in her hand. It was not one of my proudest moments.

She came closer, which I didn’t even think was possible, and she butted me around with her nose. It was a cute little nose, what they call a button nose, but at this size it was like the corner of a car. She shoved me around her palm and informed me that I was being difficult, that she was having a hard time, and that I needed to start working with her.

Insanity piled upon insanity. My head nearly exploded at this. She was having a hard time? Oh, great gobs of geese, what I wanted to scream at her. But she’d already demonstrated her lack of comprehension by visual and auditory cues, so what would’ve been the point? I just shook my head at her, telling her no, trying to ward her off. And again, I don’t mind telling you I was crying. Well, that was with tremendous frustration, wasn’t it? I was weak, I was exposed, I was in the palm of an idiot woman-child who had God-only-knows what plans for me, on a busload of screaming, overexcited young women, plowing through the night to whatever unknown destination.

Then she stuck out her tongue and slid it between my legs. I shit you not, this is exactly what happened. I was curled up, clutching myself, sobbing with the insanity of it all, and her hot, wet tongue forced itself between my shins, then my knees, and then it flowed up between my thighs. I don’t know why! But it’s just a large muscle, and it was much stronger than me, so try as I might I was unable to keep my legs shut. That thick, huge tongue just kept coming and coming and it forced my legs apart.

At this point I was staring up into her black and cavernous mouth, out of which her writhing tongue spilled. As sexy as this all might sound to some people, I was frightened out of my gourd. All I could see was a row of glistening teeth arcing right above me, with the odor of whatever she had for dinner pouring out in a hot mist, and the one muscle dedicated to shoveling food into her throat was overwhelming me physically. I complied, I’m afraid. It was a useless struggle, so I stretched out and gave this behemoth what she wanted. She said something about needing to look at me better, and I really didn’t feel like going along with this, but I had no choice.

She asked me about my penis. “Of course that’s my penis, you idiot,” I said. “What the hell are they teaching you in school these days?”

She asked me if it always pointed like that. Like what, I wondered. She caught me by surprise. But I looked down and, sure enough, I’ve got an erection. Betrayed by my own body. Oh, my God, what would my wife think of me? I’m three times this girl’s age and she’s given me a stiffie. I just looked away, wanting to die.

She raised me up in her hand real close to her face and she started breathing on me. Why? I have no goddamned idea. She just opened up that huge maw of hers, and her throat stretched open wide, and she went “huuhh” and poured out all of her used-up air all over me. I barely had time to hold my breath. What in the world was this supposed to achieve? Warm, humid air flowed over my bare legs, my belly, my chest, over my head and arms. My cock seemed to like it. Liked it even better when she started nuzzling the tip of her nose into it. Betrayed by my own body, I tell you. I just lay there, frozen stiff, frightened and fearing of my life, and she started rubbing into me. I stared at her nose, the smooth and glossy skin, the dark little follicles with tiny, pale, short hairs sticking out of them, trying to turn this into an intellectual exercise for myself, you know. If I could distract myself, stop thinking about this young woman rubbing her tremendous snout into my crotch… well, I don’t know what that would’ve achieved either. All I knew was it didn’t feel right to turn my head and think of England, if you know what I mean. It would’ve been wrong to poor Martha, and… later, probably… I would’ve felt sick about myself enjoying the advances of a naïve young woman.

And then she… wow, I really don’t want to talk about this. She ran the thick, blind tip of her tongue over her chapped lips, leaving them glistening and moist. I say blind, because it looked for all the world like the damned thing was alive. She had some burger crumbs in the corner of her mouth, and the thing guided its head over to the corner and it probed at the crumbs and whatever stain was holding them there, and it worked and worked on the corner of her lips until it was all clean. I mean, I know how this works, you can feel food on your face, but at this size, watching this happen up close, it really took on a life of its own.

I’m afraid I was gaping at her because she suddenly stopped and asked me what was up. I didn’t want to say anything, I was embarrassed at being caught staring at her like this. What must she think?

Then she asked me if I liked tongues. “Do I have a nice tongue?” she said, in her husky whisper.

I’ve never heard of such a thing before in my life. Tongues? Do I like tongues? What do I know from tongues? What makes a cute tongue, a sexy tongue, and ugly tongue? And this little girl wants to know if I’m into tongues. I just did not know how to cope with this evening.

Well, maybe I should’ve said something to discourage her, because immediately she began rubbing her tongue into… ugh. She started licking my, you know, manhood. All of it, everything between my thighs. Her tongue was thick and hot and wet, and all those taste buds were rippling over my skin, running up from my butt over my balls and up along my cock, and… I don’t know what kind of ice-blooded saint would’ve been able to resist that. All right? My body responded and I had absolutely no control over this. I was frightened and fearful in the hand of an idiot goddess, and she was lavishing her tongue all over my naked body, and she just lapped at me like a piece of candy.

I have no idea why. I’m not a young guy, I’m not in terrible condition but I don’t think she would’ve noticed me on the street, if I were her size. Why was she into me like this? Why was she sucking on me and getting right down into my intimates? This is all quite beyond my imagination.

“That’s better,” she said, like I’d done something good. What? God only knows, and then she really went to town on me. Her thick tongue was everywhere, all over my legs, covering my chest, slathering my face. And she repeated it all, over and over again, like she’s studying me or she missed a spot. Maybe it was supposed to be sensual, but it was kind of disgusting to be bathed in a young woman’s saliva. Because that’s all that was left, a thick layer of translucent slime all over my skin. I was itching for a bath, and not a tongue-bath. Hell, I would’ve given up everything just to be back in Martha’s possession again, back in our old house, putting this evening behind us.

Instead, she just lapped at me like she’s trying to strip my skin off. And I don’t want to look, you know, staring up into her throat and teeth like that. I’ve been over that enough: it’s terrifying. It’s like a dinosaur getting ready to eat you or something. But when she covered my face, I started to lose it. I jerked my head back and forth, trying to find some air to breathe, and she just wouldn’t let up, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t kick her or punch her in any meaningful way. I opened up my jaws and latched onto a taste bud and I bit down as hard as I could.

Such was my surprise, that she could feel it. It didn’t come off in my mouth or anything, and I don’t even think my tiny teeth could draw any blood, but she felt it, all right. Or she stopped, at any rate.

Then she told me I smell good. This girl is fucking nuts.

She brought me up to her face again, just beneath her nose, and cold air starts whisking up over her palm and over my soaked body. She was inhaling, see? She was sucking in gallons of air through those huge nostrils right above my body. Could she actually suck me up into her nose? I don’t know, I don’t think so, but goddamned if she wasn’t trying. Even without any teeth in those inky black holes, it was still frightening to see this giantess snuffling at me like some tremendous beast. She switched from long gusts to short, snuffling bursts like a dog might do. Air was rocketing back and forth, roaring in my hearing, as her round, smooth nostrils flared at me inches over my naked body.

Suddenly she stopped and looked around. Why? I didn’t know, I didn’t hear anything. Did she know something I didn’t? But when she looked down me again with that blank expression, she lowered her hand down the length of her body to her lap. What now, I wondered. She answered that question quickly, pulling the bottom of her shirt out and slipping me up it.

Oh no, I thought. This isn’t going to be good. Why in the world did she need to do this? What made her think of it?

Her long fingers tugged her bra away, what looked like a stretchy sports bra, and right above me is the young woman’s boob. Huge to me, not huge to the rest of the world maybe, but there’s the flat plane of her belly and then this swelling mound right above me, and that’s what she brings me to. I screamed my head off, I demanded her to put me down and knock off this nonsense, but her breast just came at me closer and closer, growing larger and larger, and then I was inside her bra, and then she shoved her nipple right in my face.

It was a big, pink, wrinkly stump sticking out of the hill of her breast. It was already hard, like all of this was getting her excited, and she just scooped me up and shoved me into it. I screamed at her to stop, I swore at her, and I threatened for as much good as that did, but she just kept rubbing me into her nipple. I tried to fight her off with my little arms, punching at her soft skin, shoving her away, but her little hand was stronger than my entire body and she rubbed me into her without any effort at all.

I heard laughter, outside of her shirt. It wasn’t like the noise of the rest of the bus, it was up close and very clear. And it didn’t seem to be this girl’s, because I was lodged up against her rib cage, see. I could feel her breathing, I could even hear her heart right through her boob, and she was not the one laughing. I just about shit myself at this point, because it was bad enough to be subject to the whimsy of this dim bulb. She’d been caught and it sounded like someone thought it was funny, and that was not good for me.

Another young woman asked her what she was doing. The girl who had me, she couldn’t even think of a decent lie. “You’re scratching an itch!” I screamed up at her. “You’re rubbing out a cramp! Tell her it’s none of her goddamned business!” I just felt her lungs fill up with air as she gasped in surprise.

Abruptly there was another hand up her shirt, in her bra with me. This other hand had longer fingers, and these flexed and groped in all directions, finding me on the third try. My vision went red as this new hand squeezed me and whipped me out of my giantess’ shirt. Fabric and wind roared around my head, and then I was out of her shirt.

In the dim light of the bus, two huge, green eyes were staring at me. Like a cat’s, but colder and evil. Two huge, unblinking green eyes, flickering slightly to look up and down the length of my naked, wretched little body. Finally I had the chance to cover up my genitals with both hands, for all the good that did.

And then there was someone behind her, a taller, louder, stupider girl than the one who kidnapped me, and she wants to see what this new girl has in her hands. I can sense all the excitement shifting in the atmosphere, all the new attention being attracted. Well, I guess a young woman massaging her own tit in the back of the bus is going to attract some attention.

There was a struggle. What it was, I don’t know, but the new girl tossed me up into the air, and the bus went spinning all around me. I thought that was it, I’m going to hit the ground and shatter into a dozen pieces, and poor Martha’s going to bed a widow. This is how it ends.

If only. There was a tremendous pain in my lower leg, and the entire world went upside down but I froze in space. I held there, swinging from the fingertips of another girl. Not the one with green eyes, because she was nearby, yelling at the girl who’d kidnapped me. No, I’m hanging from the hand of the goofy girl who wanted to know what was going on. “Oh my God, it’s a tiny little man!” she screamed, and I clapped my hands over my ears but couldn’t keep the noise out.

That got the attention of another young woman. I saw her rise out of a nearby seat, straightening her clothes, rubbing her eyes, wanting to know what was going on. The girl with the green eyes told the big, goofy girl that I’m some kind of snack, and without question she hoisted me up into the upper atmosphere, and I hung from her fingers, staring down into the cavernous pit of her mouth. She laughed, looking at the other young women, and she opened up her mouth impossibly wide. It’s all teeth and tongue and a stretching, quivering throat beneath me. I thought I was going to pass out.

Yet another girl showed up and wanted to know what was happening. This was just getting worse and worse, what with me naked and surrounded by young women. I almost wanted the big, goofy one to eat me, just to get it overwith quickly. I could hear the girl who stole me, she was whimpering. No strength, no backbone, just whimpering like a sick puppy. The goofy girl stuck out her tongue, which looked abnormally large, and she just mopped me over it, dragging me back and forth. She was laughing the whole while, of course, gusting her putrid breath at me and wiping me over her tongue. “Do it, already,” I yelled at her. “Just chomp me in half and end this. What the hell are you waiting for?” Because I had no idea. She told everyone I tasted salty, and they all found this hilarious. Why’s that so funny? Don’t ask me.

The sleepy girl, she got up and stared at me real close. She looked Mexican, I thought, not that that had anything to do with anything. She just leaned in and tells everyone to hold up. Her thick, black eyebrows were working up and down, up and down, and she yells, “What the fuck is that Dee-Dee’s got?”

Such language. These girls don’t know anything about basic anatomy, but they can curse like sailors. I tell you. But at least I have a name, now: the tall, goofy girl’s Dee-Dee. That’s a name I can give to the police, if I ever get out of this. And then the evil girl with the green eyes, she started calling the one who stole me Rachael. Rachael begged them to give me back, Rachael was on the verge of tears. I was practicing Rachael’s name so I didn’t forget it.

All the girls lost it at that point. The evil girl with green eyes is cracking up about something, Dee-Dee’s gaping at me like I’m a ghost or something, the Mexican girl snapped back in surprise, and then the last girl… I’m sorry, the only way I can describe her is that she had huge breasts. Enormous. Each one larger than a man’s head. No young woman should be built that way, and they were in the way of everything. They were mashed up against Dee-Dee, who announced to everyone that I’m naked, and there’s those huge green eyes staring at me, and below me is the chasm of those enormous breasts on a young woman’s body.

There was a flash of moment, and I looked up in time to see the Mexican girl tackle Rachael, who made a move for me. Too little, too late, she found a trace of bravery in her after all. I almost wish she would’ve gotten to me, too. Maybe she could’ve protected me. Likely not. But the Mexican girl pinned Rachael down on the seat, and then she turned around, and if that one young woman’s breasts were enormous, this girl’s butt was even larger. I nearly forgot my own terror of dangling in the midst of a small crowd of obnoxious, morally questionable young women when I saw poor Rachael get mashed underneath that tremendous ass. If she didn’t crack a rib or something, I don’t know how.

All hell broke loose at this point. Dee-Dee wanted to get a selfie with me, and someone told her to put me in her mouth. I screamed, I threatened her, and I fought like the devil, but damned if she didn’t place me on that huge tongue nonetheless. I was frightened out of my senses at this point. One of these idiot girls had actually put me in her mouth! One of them held up a camera just as I slipped down the girl’s tongue, headed straight for her throat! Oh, how I screamed! My own voice echoed in my ears as I screamed, scrabbling at taste buds, teeth, whatever I could grab to not go down there, but she closed her jaw and everything went dark, and I thought that was the end of it.

I didn’t get very far, as it turned out, before she started coughing up a storm. Nice gag reflex, little lady, I thought. It was a cacophony of deafening noise, and her throat started clutching at me and her tongue was writhing like a crocodile, and I was fighting against it all just trying not to go down, and then suddenly I was out of Dee-Dee’s mouth.

There was a brief, chilling fall through space, and then I hit the floor of the bus. I was stunned, slowly realizing that I wasn’t injured too badly, but mostly reeling with the shock of nearly being eaten and then falling through this tremendous height. I just had to lay there for a second, collect my senses, catch my breath, you know? This was too much. It was just too much. I just needed a moment to calm down.

They couldn’t allow that, could they. No, they started screaming bloody murder, but the worst? The worst was that I’d landed in the middle of all their sneakers. I looked up at them, these huge, towering shadows of giddy young women, and I was surrounded by white soles and canvas, and then those huge shoes started flying up and crashing down around me.

I might have shit myself. I don’t think anyone could blame me if I did. Not like I was shitting my pants or anything, those were long gone. I shrieked and curled up, protecting the back of my head with my hands, drawing my knees to my chest, just trying to make myself as small as possible. But honestly, I was waiting for the death blow. There were at least three idiot giantesses screaming and stomping all around me, and there was no good reason for me to have survived that.

One of them wasn’t stomping, though. One shoe, one pristine white sneaker, nearly glowing in the night, slowly lifted and hovered just above the rubber flooring of the bus to come at me. It nudged me and I rolled over a few feet. It lifted just over my body, and the sole lowered, vast and shadowy, and it rolled me back to where I was. Scared as I was, terrified by being so close to such a stupid death, I knew who this was and the glowing green eyes up in the dark heavens confirmed it. All these other young women were dizzy and giddy, but this green-eyed girl was nothing but evil. I knew this already.

The Mexican girl yelled something, and believe it or not, that got all the other girls’ attention. Well, almost all the other girls: you could guess that the green-eyed woman reached down and scooped me up, as slowly as you like. All at her leisure. She was in control of herself at every moment, and I guessed that she could control the others pretty well.

It wasn’t any warmer in her hands than it had been on the bus floor. Softer, sure, and probably cleaner, but that was it. This girl had ice running through her veins, and it was no comfort to be held in her cupped hands, not at all. If anything, it made me wish I could’ve pushed my soul right out of my body and died on the spot, rather than find out what she had in store for me.

“Now, what should happen to you,” she said. I will never forget this. She purred these words, savoring the way they sounded, and I swear to God I could see the wheels spinning in her head. Yes, she was just like a cat, one of those devil-cats you could see in vintage cartoons, the embodiment of evil. The way her green eyes glowed at me in the darkness, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she could grow claws right out of her fingers. It would’ve been in keeping with her motif.

The other girls were checking in on Rachael, still pinned under the Mexican girl’s huge butt. But the woman who had me, she told them that I should go into the cleavage of the girl with the large breasts.

Honestly, as far as tortures went, that didn’t sound too bad. If that’s all the wanted to do with me, I would consider myself lucky and go along with it for as long as they found it amusing. Anything to get me out of the grip of this she-devil.

Dee-Dee started braying like a donkey. The way her eyes rolled in her sockets, the way her mouth practically unhinged to laugh like that, she totally reminded me of that. The girl with the large breasts, she wasn’t one for words. She was a plain girl, I remember that, and mostly she just smiled. She moved silently, too: she showed up behind Dee-Dee without making a noise. So the girl with green eyes brought me over to her, and she slowly opened her hands, you know, splitting them apart like a bowl with a seam in the bottom. Her pinkies separated, and there was just a drop down into the deep and plunging cleavage of this silent young woman.

Something about this unnerved me. Getting embedded in some nice, large boobs? That sounded great, under all other circumstances, but there was something about the energy among these girls that made any nice thing sound horrible, if that makes any sense to you. So the evil woman’s spread her hands open, and… I grabbed at her fingers. I surprised myself, I didn’t want anything to do with her, but damned if I didn’t grab at her fingers, my little legs swinging in the empty air.

They thought this was hilarious. They cackled, they howled, and they were all cheering for me to go in there. I’m hugging the green-eyed girl’s little finger like a lover, clutching it for all I’m worth, and she’s making a big show of shaking me off, but not trying too hard, you see. She’s an entertainer, she’s a performer. She’s making a dramatic demonstration of trying to get me off of her finger, but I’m tenacious. I couldn’t have moved her pinky finger to save my life, but I could clutch to it as though my life depended on it.

Well, the girl with large boobs, she just smiled at me. It was almost a gentle smile, a warm smile. She placed her little hands on either side of her huge breasts, and she pushed them up, and she rocked them back and forth under me. What was this supposed to achieve? I had no idea. I just stared down at her, the huge mountains of pale skin in a tank top, watching one boob rise up and the other sink, then shift, rolling and heaving back and forth. It was… it was frankly mesmerizing, I have to admit. There’s just something about breasts that keys into a man’s being and compels his attention, I think.

But I was staring too hard, getting lost in the gentle, lulling motion of her huge breasts, and then she surprised me. I don’t think the green-eyed girl lowered her hand at all, I think it was all this silent girl’s doing. In one second, she let her breasts relax and spread apart, and then suddenly they came at me, and they’re on either side of me. Before I knew what happened I was deep in her cleavage, and her boobs slammed shut, and the green-eyed girl snatched her hand away and that was it. I was lost in twin mountains of overwhelming boob flesh. That was all there was to it, over in a second, and nothing but darkness, warmth, soft skin…

It really wasn’t too bad. Lying there, sealed in the tomb of boobs, I wondered what I’d been so frightened of. Right away, it was incredibly comforting. I didn’t know this girl, sure, and I didn’t know what would happen next, but… I wanted to stay there. My body started to relax: I could feel my shoulders releasing their knots, I could feel all my muscles unclenching, like a warm flow of ocean wave was running through me. I moaned a little, I remember this because there wasn’t much room to breathe, but I didn’t mind at the time. I was just rocking back and forth gently, sandwiched in soft, sweet skin, and I wanted it to never end. It was affecting my brain, being in there, even though I couldn’t see anything. Just knowing that I was mashed up against one huge mammary, and another one was mashed up against me… it was so comforting. I might have kissed her, you know, her skin. It’s hard to remember, but I might have turned my head and pressed my face into the wall of flesh and kissed her, out of gratitude. I was just happy to be there… I know I’m repeating myself, but I don’t know how else to say it. I was smiling so much it hurt, I remember that too.

Whatever was going on outside of this lovely young woman’s breasts didn’t matter. They could all go to hell, this troublesome volleyball team. They could go straight to hell and never come back. All I wanted to do was just lie here and float in a bath of love. That’s exactly what it felt like: I could just hear the young woman’s heartbeat, and her heat flowed into me, and I felt so close to her. If there was a good person in this entire group, it had to be her, this one who was embracing me wholly. Yes, an evil person couldn’t do that. This one, she had to be the sweetheart who fell in with a bad crowd. But now she was showing me her good side, hugging me, covering me, protecting me from harm in these huge, beautiful breasts…

I mean, yes, I loved my wife, but… it was really hard to think about that right now. I just kind of detached myself from all worldly cares and existed in the moment, wedged deep into this gentle young woman’s bosom. I wished I could hug her at that point! I wanted to stroke her cheeks and brush her hair, feed her candy, anything to make her feel as wonderful as I felt in this moment. Was that even possible? Maybe she held the secret to perfect happiness locked in her chest and there was no equivalent to it anywhere in existence. That made it all the more precious, that she was sharing it with me. Oh, this lovely young woman, I owed her so much for what she was giving to me…

But then I needed to breathe.

Her warm skin was slightly moist, and it stuck to my body. Adhered, more like. As did the swelling wall of flesh behind me. I was squished tight, and there was no fissure for air for me. As badly as I wanted to dwell within this haven forever, my lungs were starting to burn and spasm. I hated myself for it, but I reached up to where I knew the surface of her breasts must be… but I didn’t feel anything.

My lungs began to twitch, my diaphragm started to spasm. They were making demands I couldn’t ignore. I dug my fingers into that sweet flesh, desperate for a handhold. I tried kicking at her, to push myself up, but there was just no way to get a foothold on anything, to find any kind of ledge or resistance to push against.

Air came to me. She must’ve pushed her breasts up or something, I really don’t know the physics of tits, but I found myself surfacing in her cleavage. I drank the air in greedy gulps, but then my head whipped forward and back. It bounced against her breasts each time, but it was a violent motion. My arms flew around too, uncontrollably. The huge, leering faces of the stupid young women were just blurs, streaks of colors within the dim bus atmosphere. This lovely young woman was rocking me back and forth in her tits, but violently, with aggression. I tried to plant my arms before me, stabilize myself, but the force was too strong. Her boob surged in front of me and knocked me back; her breast behind me rose up and blasted into me and knocked me forward. It was happening too fast, and it was hard to breathe, getting thrown around and crushed like I was. What had happened to my heaven of a few moments ago?

She paused, and there were those huge green eyes glowing overhead once more. Dee-Dee had her phone out and was filming the girl’s huge breasts, and the evil girl was grinning at me, and I just tried to get out of there. Fall be damned, shoes be damned, I had to get away from these girls. I clawed at the girl’s breast, trying to haul my body out of its prison. I shoved at her tit, but my arm just sank into her soft flesh, then sprang back as though nothing had happened. I was pasted to her skin in a light coating of sweat, and I really tried not to think about whose that was.

Just before I could free my hips, the young woman spread her breasts apart once more. Now’s my chance, I thought, as her huge tit peeled itself off my back, and I started to scramble over her boob, but she just gave it a little shook and I flew backwards into the chasm, back into the haven that I had come to dread. And sure enough, those tremendous breasts slammed shut upon me once again.

I didn’t feel love, this time. I didn’t feel soothing relaxation. There was just an overwhelming sense of loathing, waiting for something horrible to happen. And there was definitely no air to be had, as I was much deeper into this cleavage than before. If this girl didn’t want me to get out, I wasn’t getting out. Who was going to rescue me now?

The answer came in a bizarre and unlikely twist. A long tongue burrowed into my neck and swiped over my shoulders and head. Oh no, I thought, unable to turn around.

Then came the teeth. The breasts spread apart with the force of Dee-Dee’s huge face coming after me, and I could breathe, but I couldn’t get out of the way of those flashing, horse-like teeth and that huge, lashing tongue. She was laughing, braying like a beast of burden, her sickening breath filling the narrow passage as she came after me. What was I supposed to do here? Was she really going to eat me this time?

The broad walls of boobs slid over me. They started to slide upward. I couldn’t believe it: Dee-Dee was making room for me to get away. Was this on purpose? I didn’t stop to question it: when that huge, gaping maw came after me, the cleavage opened up beneath me, and I scrambled down.

My arms found emptiness, and I shimmied my shoulders through, with Dee-Dee’s tongue lapping at my feet and butt, but when she shoved her face closer, those huge breasts spread and I tumbled out, sliding along the inside of her tank top. I bounced against her soft belly, made a mad grab for her navel but was too slow to hold it, and I slid on down.

There was a scream. Who made it, I couldn’t say, but then the fabric was jerked away from me and I fell through the air and struck a bus seat. It stunned me, I landed the wrong way, and my thoughts weren’t coming very quickly. I tried to just breathe, collect my wits, if everyone would just leave me alone, slowly growing cold on the fake-leather textured vinyl bus seat. But what were the odds of that?

There were those green eyes, again. My blood turned to ice. I was helpless and weak, groggy from the fall, nearly asphyxiated, and she was right there on top of me. “You look really worn out, little guy,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. She was enjoying this. She went on a malicious little monologue for my benefit. All the other girls were looming around, gawking. Rachael was still squashed under those tremendous buttocks, and I wondered if she had trouble breathing like I did.

I heard a new voice, one that hadn’t spoken up until this point. It was another girl, not one of the group, wanting to know what was going on.

“Help,” I croaked. My voice was useless, but I was desperate. “Help me, call the police.” It was a nightmare, you know, one of those nightmares where you need to scream but you just can’t draw enough air into your lungs. I was living it, and it was every bit as scary as in a dream.

The evil green-eyed girl turned around to deal with the interloper. Her lean thighs ran straight up into a short skirt. I could see her panties, I thought, that damned section of my mind unable to focus on my dire peril. Yes, I could see her panties, and I could see her pert little butt, and I could see the swelling mound of her sexuality between her thighs. I was about to die, and these were my last thoughts, and I don’t know who could blame me for this.

Now, that was just a second of time, mind you. I glanced up at her thighs and panties in the one second before her panties came screaming down at me. I raised one arm to shield myself, and those pert buttocks slammed upon me and covered me completely, and I don’t know how I survived with the full weight of an evil giantess perched upon me. The bus seat had some give, sure, but enough to save me from being flattened by a young woman’s ass? I didn’t know, but I’m here to tale, so I guess that says something.

Her butt began to grind into me. I cried out in agony, my arm bent in the wrong direction. Her cheeks swelled around me, rolling me back and forth. Through her panties I could feel the crack of her ass slide over me to the left, then return and glide to the right… then pause, and slide back over me again. That’s what she was doing: she was trying to wedge me into her butt. Charming young woman on all counts. I could picture her smile, bright and knife-like in the night, while she figured out where I was under her ass and rolled me back and forth until I fit into her crack.

Goddamn it. So weak and helpless. 

 

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