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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Erotica · #2199560
Andrew begins his attempts to get Rachel's help, while she unknowingly begins his torment.
“I lost the biography we were supposed to read, I’ve been borrowing Amelia’s and…” Rachel’s voice thundered from the heavens like the force of nature she had become to him. So rapt in his own circumstances, he had failed to notice the first few rumbles of Rachel’s footfalls as she returned to her living room, carrying two books and a laptop. She’d also put on her glasses and pulled on a long t-shirt. ”Andrew?” She interrupted herself, pausing a few steps away from the coffee table. “...I told you not to go anywhere! You better not be in Amelia’s room!” The massive, towering goddess of a woman dropped her books on the table and laptop on the chair opposite of the couch, then turned on her heel and headed out of the room.

The appearance of the giantess had left Andrew in his tracks, jaw agape pants slightly more moist than they’d been moments prior.

“R-Rachel’s a giant…” He said aloud, as though speaking them would make them easier to believe. “G-giant...fucking...nerd…” He stared at the books that she’d left on the table, the size of city blocks and more. Even the text of the pages themselves would have been larger than the minuscule jock at this size. With no ability to comprehend the situation, Andrew collapsed where he stood.


Meanwhile, Rachel herself immediately headed for Amelia’s room, the door wide open, as usual. It was clean, immaculate even, complete with a small comfortable chair and extra blankets. The framed store-bought catch phrase that Amelia often quoted hung perfectly over the bed, “Home is where the heart is.” Rachel always appreciated Amelia’s willingness to make her room a comfortable place for anyone to occupy. With no sign of Andrew, she turned to check the shared bathroom, finding it empty. Finally, she checked the kitchen, the only other place he could have gone, also finding it abandoned.

“That asshole...he showed up just to leave again…?!” Rachel clenched her fists. This was the last straw, a slap in the face. It was nothing less than a silent declaration of war between the two. Professor G would hear about this, she was going to send such an email. Storming back into the living room, Rachel grabbed her laptop and threw herself onto the couch, preparing her fingers to type with a fury unlike she had ever typed before.


Somewhere, in the blissful dream world that was Andrew’s mind, he was snuggled in bed with Kate. The two were enjoying each other’s company, just being cute together. Things had been rough lately, Kate had confessed her love for Andrew, who hesitated and only sort of returned the sentiment. She accused him of being afraid of commitment, more interested in winning this rivalry between he and Rachel than developing their relationship. They’d almost broken up that night when he’d started yelling, something he was prone to do when frustrated, a habit not interested in entertaining. Since then, they’d been taking things more slowly.

He was woken from the reverie by the sound of Rachel’s footsteps as she erupted into the room, thin eyebrows furrowed with a scorn that would have intimidated Andrew even if he were not the size of a flea. Regardless, he had to get the girl’s attention and get to a hospital, a science lab, or more likely, a priest who could save his soul. Getting to his feet, he began to wave his hands, despite knowing how futile it would be, like a dust mite flagging down an unwitting human. She was grabbing her laptop, massive strides carrying her the short distance from the chair across the room toward the couch.

“Rachel…! Rachel!” He screamed at the towering woman, a final, earthquake-inducing footstep delivering her directly in front of him now. It was the closest she had come to him since this shrinking incident had begun. Rachel, as tall as any mountain and twice as deadly, cast a shadow on Andrew darker than the pits of hell. From here, on the couch, Andrew had an unrestricted view of Rachel’s toned legs, just above her knees. A tall expanse of tanned, feminine pillars, dotted with small freckles wider than he was lead up into the athletic shorts she wore, just barely covering her full, round butt. Each of Rachel’s perfectly curved ass cheeks were planetary in scope, each easily encompassing the hemisphere of a distant moon, if not a small planet itself.

Or, at least that’s what he compared them to, as Rachel turned to face away from him, those same moon-like cheeks he was watching giving a full eclipse of all light, while the goddess above began to sit directly where he was standing.

“No...oh no, Rachel! Stop! Don’t fucking sit on me! Look where you’re sitting, watch the hell out!” He screamed at his infuriated classmate, as her luscious rump encompassed everything he knew, shorts riding up her thighs ever so slightly in the process. Was this how it would end? Smothered and crushed under the weight of his nerdy rival’s ass? Would she ever find out? Would she ever care?

He had no time to consider these details, Rachel, ready to scribe an email that would surely get him kicked from class or worse, was planting her backside in this spot with such a force that he would be wiped from existence before she even settled fully.

“Rachel...please, I…!”


Andrew’s world shifted into one of pain and undeniable pressure. He struggled and writhed against the fabric of her shorts, panicking, desperate to survive. The sheer weight of the girl’s rear alone would have required Herculean strength to escape, if he didn’t suffocate first.. There was no liberation from this hell, yet...here he was, alive, firmly between the monumental cheeks of the enormous woman's perfectly sculpted ass. This was indeed a memory he would live to remember for the rest of his life...however short that may be. For now, he would contemplate the situation, and pray to the goddess above him that she would eventually give him his freedom. After all, this was her world now, he was simply trying to survive in it.


Rachel attempted for a third time to construct an email that was both indicative of how disrespected she felt, but respectful of the title of the recipient. Professor G was a well known, level-headed instructor, patient and persistent, but commanding of every ounce of respect that she’d earned. Rachel wanted to show that she appreciated that suggestions, but that there was no saving the grade of a student like Andrew. He wasn’t stupid...just careless and rude.

‘’Ugh...I should just go for my jog like I planned…’ She thought to herself. It was barely 9:45 A.M., plenty of time to get a few miles in, come home, and enjoy the rest of her Saturday. She could speak with the professor in person before class, after she’d calmed down. She stood with a sigh and walked to her abandoned sneakers by the door, and adjusted her shorts for the wedgie she’d acquired. Reaching down to grab her sneakers again, still tied from earlier, she pulled them onto her slender feet and took a step toward the door.


He thought that some men might have even enjoyed being smothered under some girl’s ass, even if she was as bitchy as Rachel. Though he was really more of a tits guy himself, he could appreciate a nice round ass when he saw one. Being buried by one however, that was going a little far.

It seemed like he’d been here, compressed under the weight of this nerd-girl’s butt for hours, though he knew it couldn’t have been much more than a few minutes. Still though, the combined weight, and ever-increasing heat was beginning to wear on him. He hadn’t even gotten a good chance to try to get Rachel’s attention before she already nearly killed him, and still could. He knew for sure, however, that he would have a whole new respect for women doing glute exercises in the future.

As he contemplated these things, he heard the springs of the couch below began to squeal, and the weight begin to lift. His hopes lifted...was she moving...? Was this his chance to escape? His heart began to pound in his chest, Rachel was standing. As he prepared to have the weight removed and his freedom restored, he felt something tug at his arm, then his opposite leg. As light began to flood in, he felt something shift, lifting him into the air. His vision cleared, and he realized all too quickly that he was snagged in the fabric of Rachel’s shorts.

“Fuck me…” Her swore out loud, watching the couch become a distant land below, eclipsed by the shadow of Rachel’s rounded rump.

The process of Rachel’s walking felt like an amusement park attraction he never wanted to ride. As her thighs tensed and flexed to propel her massive body forward, the corresponding ass cheek would shift, threatening to pull him deep into the dark, deadly ravine of fabric wedged tightly between them. If he allowed it to happen, he’d surely be mothered between the shifting globes of woman flesh as she carelessly walked. Above him, shadowed by the over-sized shirt, was the waistband of Rachel’s shorts, likely a few feet wide for him. If he could climb and reach it, he’d have at least some room to maneuver, instead of hoping his strength would endure him for the next several...who knows how long. Grabbing the next higher thread above him, Andrew began trying to pull himself free to begin his ascent to the peak of Mount Rachel’s ass.

He wouldn’t have to endure for long though. Within two more monumental strides of the colossus girl he was scaling, Rachel had reached her destination, just as Andrew had pulled himself free, fully supported by his own strength now. Still lodged between the two ass cheeks, Andrew continued his ascent, undeterred by the change in difficulty; climbing an unmoving giantess was much easier than climbing a moving one. Inspired, he climbed harder and faster, determined to reach his goal. That is, until yet another shadow darkened his sky.

Rachel’s slender hand came from the heavens with the power of a titan, french-tipped nails cutting through the air with a feminine grace that Andrew was humbled by. Each of her fingernails were the size of aircraft hangars, the fingers themselves curled into position, fingerprints easily as far apart as he was tall.

“No...Rachel!” He screamed yet again, closing his eyes and awaiting impact.

And impact it did, Rachel’s fingers took ahold of the fabric below him, gripping it in her powerful hand and pulling. It happened more quickly than he could process, swathes of black fabric shifting dramatically in one way or the other, subjecting poor Andrew to it’s whim. Keeping his grip was an impossibility, and he was tossed from the girl’s shorts, diving into a freefall.

The pad of Rachel’s thumb only cushioned Andrew’s fall enough to prevent permanent injury, and it did not spare him any bruises. Being an athlete spared him in this incident, and he was able to quickly grab a hold of one of the dozens of swirling thumbprints that provided the texture of Rachel’s thumb. He clung to that flesh for all of his life, and Rachel continued to pull at her wedgie, unaware of the tiny jock who she’d both endangered and saved simultaneously from the hi-jinks at her ass. Once the offending fabric was free, the thumb let go, and Andrew was taken for yet another ride.

Clinging desperately to the warm, soft flesh that had saved his life, Andrew felt the winds wiping at his face as though he was standing at ground zero of a tornado. He tried to bury his body within the fingerprint as best as he could, hoping that whatever destination the hand was headed would provide for a safe landing. He didn’t have much hope, given his pessimistic nature, but he didn’t want to give up yet.

His collision with yet another new surface was not as gentle as the one prior, Rachel’s thumb had a softness to the flesh that cushioned him. This new, rugged surface, did not give nearly as much. It was synthetic, rubbery, and he rolled several feet before clinging to the surface to stop himself. Out of breath and weak, he opened his eyes to gauge his new surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was that just several yards away to his right, Rachel’s thumb was gripping the fabric nearby. He knew time was limited, and he considered making his way back there to be carried off again. Taking a last look around, he’d made up his mind, until he looked directly ahead of him, and realized that he was only a body length away from a sprawling, yawning chasm, spanning a few hundred yards across. Gasping, he turned around to see what was behind, and was humbled by the sight. Towering, winding, tree like spirals of some synthetic rope created a looping, cascading tunnel the raised a dozen feet over his head and higher. Directly below him, on the patch of fabric he sat on, he realized was text, in font three times his size.


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