Biff didn't
know where he was. He was somewhere dark and stifling hot, very crowded. He was
in some kind of vehicle or container that jostled around a lot, with large
objects that bumped into him and knocked him over whenever he tried to stand.
Screaming was useless, as was trying to find an exit - the entire room seemed
shrouded in dense fabric. He decided he could only wait things out and hope they
made sense later.
His morning
had started simply enough. He woke up in his room lined with posters of football
players and wrestlers. He stretched his developing teenage muscles, had a
shower, and got dressed for the day. At the breakfast table he teased his
younger sister, Megan, though she didn't react as colorfully as she usually did.
Was that strange? Should he have paid attention to that? He didn't think
anything of it at the time. Sometimes she had off-days and wouldn't scream back
at him or run crying for her mom, but today she almost seemed like she was
hiding a smile. He didn't even notice at the time, thinking about the big game
coming up this weekend.
Biff was
line defense on the high school football team, so most of his friends were
ogrish jerks like he was. They had the run of the school, between popularity and
physical intimidation, and so much power ruined their minds. Biff was by no
means the worst of the bunch but he was bad enough, picking on his sister and
her friends mercilessly. She was a sophomore and he was a senior. Megan's
friends had crushes on him for no good reason: he wasn't particularly striking,
he was simply on the football team and they were in search of an idol. He made a
show of chagrin that they followed him around like ducklings whenever he ran
into them, but secretly he was flattered and would entertain fantasies of
getting them alone... or all together. Regardless, he treated them with as much
contempt and dismissal as he did his own sister.
However,
once he got to school that day, they weren't quite so annoying, at least not in
their usual way. Instead of thronging around him and asking him stupid questions
just to get some attention from him, they stayed in their little groups and
grinned at him, turning away whenever he looked at them. At this point he'd
started to get concerned about the odd behavior but his buddies found him and
distracted him from prolonged thought.
"Biff!
Biffster!" they chanted, hustling him down the hallway like bulls. "You all
ready for the big game in two days? You gonna keep us safe while we do all the
work?"
He laughed
and planted his feet, effectively stopping them in their tracks. When he started
to push them backwards they broke apart on all sides and he charged through,
stumbling to recover himself. They laughed about it and joked around some more.
One of their group reached out and knocked the books out of a much smaller kid's
hands. He stared at them in a mixture of fury and fear before finally bending
down to reassemble his homework and scuttling away. This entertained them
greatly and sustained the breeze of mirth they rode that day. Biff happened to
glance down the hallway after the kid and caught the image of Megan's friends
staring at him silently. They were not laughing or smiling, but stared at him
with dark eyes. Biff was a little shaken by this, as he assumed that by dint of
being a high school football player the whole world loved him automatically and
he could do no wrong. It was a little unnerving to see a group of former
admirers turn so dark on him... But again, before he could think about it too
long, his friends jostled him out of his dark reverie and dragged him off to
class.
The rest of
the day went fairly smoothly and he quite forgot about the morning's upset. He
waved his friends off and went to the parking lot for his car (he made his
sister ride the bus so as not to be seen with him), thinking about calling some
of the cheerleaders up this afternoon and arranging for multiple dates over the
weekend. He unlocked his car door and was sitting in the driver's seat with the
door closed before he noticed anything was wrong.
Megan was
sitting beside him in the passenger's seat. "Hi, Biff," she said frostily.
He stared
at her in confusion and mounting outrage. "Megan... Megan!? What the hell are
you doing here, runt? Get out of my car!" He drew back to hit her when he felt
cold metal against the back of his neck. Two little mounds of cold metal, the
stifled giggles of girls in his backseat, and then his body shot through with
hundreds of volts of electricity.
Things got
hazy at that point. He remembered sitting on a huge platform of leather or
plastic with an enormous wall of the same behind him, and then his entire body
was squeezed by... he didn't know what. It was warm and soft, but so completely
massive that it nearly engulfed his entire body. The girls' giggling was
everywhere, resounding in his ears, and he thought he heard Megan saying, "Here,
you guys take him, I'm sick of him." Abruptly gravity shifted, wind rushed
around his head, and the enormous fleshy grip around him released momentarily.
All he knew was rushing air and tumbling gently through space before slamming
into a broad, fabric-covered wall. He tumbled into a larger sheet of fabric and
immediately settled into a valley of warmth.
He couldn't
tell what was beneath the huge sheets of cloth but they were two long, massive,
soft hills or ridges that ran along either side of him. His ears exploded with
more squealing, and the valley he rested in rumbled and jostled with violent
activity. He thought he heard a girl's voice shrieking, "Eeek! He's on me! Get
him off! Get him off!" and impossibly more laughter, before another fleshy grip
seized him and crushed the air out of his lungs. Before he blacked out he dimly
perceived being thrust into the room in which he currently dwelled, and that was
that.
There he
was, not knowing where the hell "there" was nor understanding precisely what had
happened. All he knew was that when he caught up with Megan she was in for the
beating of her life, and he probably was going to direct his friends to mess up
her little friends as well. And nothing had better have happened to his car,
that was for sure.
He had no
idea that in scant minutes, that stupid car was going to be one of the last
things on his mind.
Biff was
temporarily blinded when the light blasted into his little room. Shocked, he had
no way of fighting the enormous fleshy grasp that plucked him out of the chamber
and tossed him onto a broad plain of ropes, it felt like. Made of some synthetic
material they bounced him and held him aloft. He covered his eyes and ears as
the area exploded with laughter from giggling girls all over again.
He tried to
make out the voices: "Oh my God, it's really him!" "Look at him, he's so tiny!"
"Oh, isn't he cute! I wanna dress him up!" At that point, the high school jock
realized he was completely nude and curled up in a ball to cover himself. This
only spurred on more laughter and giggling and the booming young voices grew
more incomprehensible.
There were
several loud crashes all around him, as if an old-growth forest were being
felled all at once, and his heart raced in terror. The giggling subsided and it
seemed as if the entire room held its breath. Finally, something nudged into his
shoulder; alarmed and frightened, Biff ignored it and the voices tittered. The
nudging returned insistently and he swatted out blindly at the object. The
voices went "OoooOOOOoooohh!" in mock-awe and giggled some more. Biff finally
hazarded a look around to try and make sense of what was going on.
What he saw
astounded him. He seemed to be looking at an extreme close-up of a carpet, first
of all. That was the immediate and easiest thing to identify. What was harder
were the canyon of huge, soft-looking boulders in tan, black, and blue. He
realized that the latter were covered in some huge, coarse fabric while the
first type was more porous and had a glow to it, as if it were made of several
fleshy layers.
Biff felt a
knot forming in his stomach as he looked up, and saw the boulders went off into
the distance, a distance he couldn't see because it was blocked off by enormous
girls' bodies and heads. A huge girly hand hovered behind him, wielding a pencil
the size of a flagpole and nudging its eraser into his shoulder.
The huge
girls' heads, stretched in hideous grins with gaping eyes staring down at him,
shifted and giggled. "He's moving!" one of them said. Another hissed, "He's
really alive! He's so small! Get him again, make him stand up or something."
With that, the large pink rubber hovered above him and attempted to force its
way between his chest, arms, and legs from the side.
Not because
it had wedged him open, but because it hurt too much to resist, Biff had to
unfold himself but his hands flew immediately to his crotch as he rolled to his
back. The enormous girls screeched and giggled some more at the sight, and the
pencil fell with a muted thunderous clatter beside him.
Apparently
he was surrounded by gigantic teenage girls and he was completely naked.
Attempting to put two and two together he rasped a question to his audience.
However, between his tiny vocal chords and the clamor the girls were making he
was unheard. "Hold on, guys," one of the girls said boomingly, "he's trying to
talk." The girl's head loomed closer to him, her long, thick hair spilling
around his body like a waterfall of gold. "Go ahead, Biff, what were you
saying?" she said almost tenderly.
He cleared
his throat and allowed himself to sit up; the girl's nose was only a few feet
away from him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked.
The heads
rose up into the air and belted out with laughter, hysterial laughter. The girl
who'd spoken to him stayed and laughed as well, and Biff could see straight up
into her mouth. Her eyes clenched, her nose wrinkled, all horribly exaggeratedly
from his perspective, and he stared straight past her huge pink lips and
glistening sharp teeth, up her squirming, moist tongue and deep into the dark
recesses of her throat as she hollered laughter upon his tiny, naked body.
When they
could compose themselves a few of the girls assured him it really was just a
dream, a dream come true, and he could do whatever he wanted to in perfect
safety. Biff wasn't the brightest bulb in the the ceiling but this answer made
some sense to him and it helped him ease up a bit. Just a little, because even
in a dream, enormous teenage girls crowding around you like... well, like little
kids staring at a bug still made a guy nervous, but he could adjust to that.
And since
this was a dream, there was no sense in shame, so he forced himself to stand up
- no mean feat on a wobbly shag carpet - and the giggling died down to the
previous breathlessness. He just looked up at the girls sprawled around him and
smiled nervously. They stared at him with huge eyes and laser-like intensity,
which made him a little self-conscious, but he wasn't going to let this defeat
him. He strode over to one girl dressed in black stretch-pants and clunky-soled
sandals. "Hey, I recognize you!" he said as the realization it. "You're Andi!
You're one of my sister's friends." She stared at him with huge brown eyes and
chestnut hair that curled beneath her jaw, nodding slowly as her mouth spread
into a little grin. "Wow, you're in my dream, that's incredible... and you!" He
pointed at the girl next to her, wearing faded jeans and Birkenstocks (he
identified them at first by their pants and footgear because that's primarily
all he noticed about them). "You're Heather, another of Megan's friends." He
looked around himself slowly, at the ring of gigantic girls sitting around the
floor like a mountain range. "You're all Megan's friends, all those girls that
pester me in the hallways and stuff," he said, thinking aloud. The giggling
began to die down a little but he went on. "Man, it's gonna be one of those
dreams, I guess, huh?"
"One of
what dreams?" asked Heather, tossing back her mane of
straightened-but-still-very-curly blonde hair. The other girls were interest in
hearing him ramble, too, now that he was talking.
Biff
laughed at the thought of it. "You know, one of those sexual dreams, a wet
dream," he said. Some of the girls laughed, a couple backed off, but everyone
wanted to hear more and asked him what he meant. Working it out for himself as
well as his audience, he went on: "Well, look at me. I'm all tiny and stuff, and
you girls are huge to me. This is, like, completely the opposite of real life,
you know, where I'm all big at school and you girls are shorter and stuff. In
reality I could probably hold my arms out and two or three of you could hang
from them, but here in this dream where everything's the opposite, you're all
much more powerful than I am. Get it?"
Some of the
girls looked at each other. Others stared at him, not sure whether to be angry
or to laugh at his arrogance. Most of them were sneaking peeks at his tiny
little butt and penis whenever he turned around to talk to different girls. If
he noticed he didn't show it, but it was likely he was completely oblivious to
anything going through their minds since, after all, it was his dream.
"What makes
you think we're going to have anything to do with you, you little creep?" asked
Andi, considerably less taken with the scenario than Biff seemed to be.
Biff
laughed again, "Because that's the nature of the dream!"
Jennifer,
the girl with long straight blonde hair who'd spoken to him before, leaned in
again and asked him, "What makes you think this is a sexual dream? Maybe it's a
guilt dream, where we make you sorry for all the shit you give us every
single day." Her suggestion was met by encouragement and agreement all around,
but Biff couldn't see the others because once again she leaned in too close and
encircled him with her hair. Her enormous face hovered almost threateningly
above him as he stood there. One of her locks of hair fell from her forehead and
draped over his shoulder.
Biff was
shocked by how erotic the sensation was, as if her head of hair had reached out
to him, to wrap around him and draw him in. When Jennifer saw the tiny little
erection this caused she pulled her head back and left it on display for the
rest of the group. Some of the girls went "eeew!" but most were, again, very
curious and just observed him. "Well," he said, thinking carefully, "I guess it
could be that, but right now all I feel is a lot of horniness, so I'm guessing
that's the nature of the dream."
"You're not
feeling any horniness from me, buster," said an angry girl seated behind
him in combat boots and a plaid skirt.
Bill got a
look at the angry young woman behind him and stumbled back a step involuntarily.
"Okay, maybe not off of you," he agreed, "in fact... yeah, now it feels more
like a guilt dream. But what do I have to be guilty about?" He spread his arms,
directing the question to his forum. "You girls are fucking annoying,
always pestering me with your stupid questions about football, following me
around the halls..."
"Get over
yourself," said Jennifer, "we never do that." The other girls wanted to agree
with her, but they were finally seeing their behavior from his eyes and couldn't
speak up too loudly, in all fairness.
"You do
too!" he laughed. "You so way do! Every day, I'm so tired of it!" He drew a
breath to mimic the girls in falsetto, whiny voices, but suddenly he was hit by
a wall of force that knocked the wind out of him. Andi, sitting across from the
girl in the plaid skirt, named Tory, brought her leg up behind him and booted
him in the back with her thick-soled sandal. She didn't want to really hurt him,
but she did want to shut him up.
Caught
completely off-guard, Biff flailed gracelessly through the air and happened to
land directly between Tory's thighs, inside her skirt. Tory shrieked and started
bouncing erratically where she sat, trying to scoot away from the tiny person
inside her clothing. "Andi, you bitch!" she laughed, "Get him out! Get him out!"
She started kicking her legs and raising her hips in an attempt to have him fall
out.
Biff,
completely confused, reacted to sliding down by trying to crawl up the sheet of
fabric. He caught his grip by latching his toes onto the hem of her skirt and
started grabbing at threads to pull himself up and was making quite a bit of
headway when suddenly his world fell down and Tory's enormous (to him; in
actuality it was small and firm) butt came crashing down upon him, squashing him
flat against the floor.
The girls
were in hysterics, rolling with laughter, pretending to chide Andi while
attempting to help Tory out, who was kicking too hard to let anyone close to
her. She got tired and sat back down; her eyes grew huge when she felt the solid
lump beneath her cheeks. At her expression everyone else fell silent and stared
at her, then down at her skirt, where they could just see two tiny feet poking
out. Tory looked at them all, then slowly leaned over to peer inside her own
skirt, and she saw Biff's legs lying limp between her inner thighs. She didn't
think about all her girlfriends staring up her skirt. She didn't think about the
tiny football jock getting wedged in her ass. All she thought was that perhaps
she had killed a man.
She spent a
lot of time thinking about it, from Biff's perspective, as he struggled to
breathe but could barely move beneath the teenager's enormous buttocks, sheathed
in satin though they were. His world, already darkened from the thick fabric of
Tory's skirt, was beginning to dim further as she thought and thought about what
had happened and he needed oxygen more and more desperately.
Finally
Jennifer had the presence of mind to help Tory to her knees and had Heather
catch Biff as he slid out of her skirt. Cradling the jock carefully in her hands
she rested him once more upon the carpeted floor and all the girls crowded
around to stare at the tiny, potentially broken little man.
Presently
the air fell into Biff's lungs and he opened his eyes to find them all staring
at him. Groggily he said, "Still dreaming, huh?" The girls laughed with
tremendous relief and sat back down around him until Jennifer spoke up.
"No,
seriously, guys," she said, ever the voice of reason, "what should we do with
him?" All the teenage girls' heads turned in his direction. Biff wasn't sure
whether this would be a sexual dream, a guilt dream, or something else entirely.
"What do
you mean, 'do with me'?" Biff asked, suddenly alarmed. "I mean, I know I'm in a
dream, I can control myself to some extent, I should be able to control any of
you. What's that, lucid dreaming. That's what I'm doing." He spoke nervously and
too loud, as if trying to convince himself of this before the situation ran out
of control.
One of the
girls, Teghan, found this concept funny as she'd studied psychology to some
superficial extent. She decided to play with him. "If that's true, Biff," she
announced to the little man, who spun around to face her, "what would you like
us to do first?" The other girls looked at her in surprise but she winked at
them surreptitiously. Indeed, Biff was not looking at her face, but surveying
the rest of her. She was a monolith of Doc Martens, lean tan legs, olive drab
woolen skirt, tight grey sweater with firm breasts perkily displayed in the
stretchy fabric, and a blue kerchief knotted upon her long, straight brown hair.
There was a lot of her for Biff to admire so, in actuality, Teghan could've held
a sign-language dialog with her friends, not to mention actually going so far as
to write out her message to him while he ogled at her. Her legs were folded
indian-style and above her 12-hole boots her skirt formed a taut platform of
wool, beneath which a cavern of teen thighs and fabric plumbed into impenetrable
darkness.
Biff took
some time replacing his popped eyeballs back in his skull, and thought about
what he'd do with her. He said, "How about you let me climb up on those boots of
yours, first?" He felt this would be a safe way to test the waters and find out
just how much he could reasonably get away with.
She nodded,
unfolded her legs, and stretched out one boot before him. Sole on the ground,
knee poking up at a sharp arch, lightly muscled tan thigh disappearing into the
soft wool skirt, her hazel eyes amused at the audacious tiny naked man. She
wouldn't let it on to the rest of the group, but she secretly found the prospect
of a tiny man (and he had a great body, being a guy in his late teens and on the
football team, she had to admit) completely at her disposal. Of course there was
only so much she could do with him with her friends in the room, but she felt
she could tease him and have a little fun for a while before anyone got
suspicious. "Come on up and see me, Biff," she purred to him, tapping her smooth
knee with one fingertip.
His heart
pounding, Biff worked his way unsteadily across the carpet and knelt upon the
toe of her boot. The cool black leather beneath him was broad and waxy smooth.
Before him was a very accessible "ladder" of a dozen criss-crossing laces, but
there would be a few feet (to him) of unnavigable terrain as he reached her
shaven shin. He stood up on the arch of her foot and gazed upwards, a little
unsure of himself.
Jennifer,
behind him, said, "Go on, Biff." Andi, also curious, urged him on. Heather just
watched as he bent over, wrapping his tiny little fingers around the first few
laces, his little butt poking up in the air. She felt a hysterical moment in
which she imagined taking a strand of her hair or the whisker off a broom, say,
and poking at his tiny anus with it, just to watch him dance and shiver. She
covered her smile and stared as the other girls started to cheer Biff on.
With his
voice resounding all around him, fear gave way to an exultant enthusiasm. Never
in all his short career of foodball games at the athletic field had he heard
such a roar of encouragement, even in his greatest moments. Emboldened, he found
it was nothing at all to grab a lace in each hand, plant his feet in very
prominent footholds, and slowly scale the Doc Marten boot. The girls' voices
rose as he reached mid-shin without breaking a sweat or getting winded. Teghan
held quite still and a slight grin curled the corners of her pink lips as the
tiny nude man crawled up her boot. This is how it should be, she thought
to herself, a man completely at my mercy, crawling up my boot. What a classic
symbol for domination! And he thinks he's in control, and it'd be nothing for me
to knock him back down and put him in his place, beneath my boot... Her
pupils dilated like a cat sighting its prey and she drew a sharp breath. How
would you like that, little man?, she thought about the tiny figure with the
ridiculous grin accessing the top of her boot, How would you like to be
reduced to a stain beneath my sole? All that muscle, all those workouts you've
put yourself through, all for nothing. Everything ended in one quick little
crunch.
She glanced
up at the girls around her, all of whom were rapt and cheering the tiny man
scaling her boot like a lizard. All except for Tory, beside her, who seemed to
be staring at something a little closer to Teghan... Looking down, she realized
with a start how erect her own nipples had gotten, poking through the bra and
being especially accented by the sweater she wore. At once she felt Biff's tiny,
hot palms grab her shin right below her knee and she yelped and swatted him off
her leg. He slid down her laces and tumbled to the carpet just in front of her,
between her standing boot and the boot yet lying on the ground.
All the
girls looked up at her in surprise, cut off in mid-cheer. Andi asked, "What's
up, Teghan? He almost made it to the top!" The other girls "yeah, yeah"ed along
except for Tory, who glanced knowingly at Teghan and looked away.
Flustered,
she tried to cover her tracks, as well as her budding nips through her sweater,
and folded her arms. "He displeased me," she said, "he took way too long. That
kind of performance would never be accepted on the football field, and there's
no reason we should accept it here. Am I right, girls?" Though they didn't know
what she was talking about, they cheered nonetheless and Teghan felt she'd
gotten off the hook. "As for you, little man," she said to the sprawling naked
figure beneath her leg, "your punishment shall be swift and severe. Take this:"
and, so saying, began to enact the second part of her fantasy by lifting her
foot off the ground and bringing it back.
All Biff
saw was the underside of her thigh tensing up before a huge shadow passed
overhead, and he stared up into the pale brown sole of her Doc. Alarmed he threw
up his hands to ward off the sole, which slowly lowered upon him. The heel
landed somewhere below his feet, but his feet were quickly pinned as the rest of
the sole followed. His hands met the soft rubber and though his arms strained
with the effort he was unable to slow the boot's descent; indeed, Teghan never
even knew he was resisting.
The other
girls looked on uncomfortably as Biff struggled for space beneath the black Doc
Marten, and a couple noted Teghan's eyes starting to glow with a fiery light
they didn't quite understand. Teghan licked her lips and lowered her sole some
more...
Biff cried
out, "Jennifer! Andi! Someone, pull me out of here! Don't let her crush me!" The
girls squirmed uncomfortably but were unwilling to act on their instinct in case
Teghan was making some kind of extended joke. The expression on her face didn't
lead them to think she was kidding, however, so Jennifer spoke up: "Teghan,
that's enough, let him out."
Trancelike,
Teghan responded, "No, the big tough jock must be punished for his failure to
perform." She laughed to herself, "Otherwise, how can he be corrected? What's
his incentive to do his best if there are no repercussions for his failure?" She
started to feel, even through her boot, the resistance of a tiny lump of meat.
She paused for a moment, to dupe him with some sense of relief, then resumed the
slow, gradual pressure.
Biff had
coaches before about as cruel as this girl, but he'd never dealt with punishment
or discipline as intense or endangering as this. "Come on, someone! This isn't
funny!" he called out. "It's really starting to - ooff!! - hurt!" He
craned his head backwards but couldn't read anyone's faces: above him was only
sole of boot, and beneath that was a selection of knees, clothing, and footwear.
Abruptly,
four enormous pink fingertips burst into view and slammed into position just
above Biff's head. Cursing herself for bothering at all, it was Tory who finally
gripped the toe of Teghan's boot and held it fast. "That's enough, Teghan," she
said quietly. She started to lift the boot up, but Elise was determined and
pressed down extra hard, glaring at the punk chick beside her who dared to
contradict her.
"He's got
to be punished!" Teghan said sharply. "I'm going to crush him into paste, that's
what he deserves!" Later she would look back on her vehemence with a combination
of fright and confusion, unable to guess what it was that caused her to behave
so irrationally. Locked in the midst of these surging emotions, however, she
grit her teeth and leaned forward against her thigh to apply greater pressure to
her foot, and Tory had to strain to keep it up but still it came down upon Biff.
He was beginning to experience real pain and cried out.
The girl on
Teghan's other side, Paula, quiet and inactive up to this point, finally shoved
into Teghan's shoulder and heaved her backwards, giving Tory time to lift the
boot up and swoop the tiny man out of the way, back into the middle of the
group. Teghan fell back and glared furiously at the girl; a shorter, plump girl,
Paula shrank back immediately and mumbled an apology. But it was clear from the
other girls' expressions of surprise and alarm that they weren't going to let
Teghan walk all over her. When she sat back up she assessed the situation and
apologized to Paula and the group hastily, adding that she didn't know what came
over her.
That
momentary delirium would become a theme among the group, anyone interacting with
Biff directly. They wouldn't figure out why until much later, and even then it
would only be their best guess. Would it come in time to preserve Bill's
well-being? Would they realize before any of the girls embarrassed themselves
too badly or committed a dreadful act too dire to recall or ever forget? Only
time would tell.
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