Jules - After Hours

Content Warning: This is a 'Size Kink' story with elements of Shrinking, Unaware, Cruelty, Humiliation, Fart-Play and Death. If you are distressed by such things, look away now.

Author's Note: This story was written for a fellow size-content creator called 'Jules', who can be found on Twitter with the handle @Jules68677161 - and is posted with her enthusiastic consent. 

...

Blood pounds in my head as my feet pound along the woodwork of the table, arms flailing madly over my head in a desperate attempt to be seen. My plan to deflect the incoming strike by sticking close to the tea-cup is abruptly snuffed out when the building-sized hand casually pushes it aside, shifting the towering piece of crockery like it was nothing.

A spasm of panic forces me to duck my head uselessly, as though my profile could be any more reduced right now. I stumble as the fly swatter raises far above, aimed lazily in my direction.

“JULES!” I scream, voice ragged with the strain of repeated efforts as she remains oblivious to me, occupied as she is with the far more interesting phone call drawing her attention. A warm chuckle escapes her throat as she smacks the swatter down at me. I hurl myself bodily aside, skidding across the tabletop with a grunt of effort as the blowback from the fly swatter washes over me, rolling me several more inches away.

Jules replies to her friend on the phone, the topic something utterly unrelated to the unexpected bug scuttling about during her afternoon tea. Offhandedly I hear her mention my name, hope flaring briefly in my heart - until she explains that I never showed up; likely held up at the shop as usual. Dread floods back in as the fly swatter lifts once more, prompting me to leap to my feet and scramble for dear life. In a desperate bid for attention, I rush in the only direction I can think of: straight toward Jules.

I all but leap into the air with each step, springing upward to try and make my movements seem as un-insect-like as possible. Jules glances aside as I do, the swatter hanging poised above like the sword of Damocles as she listens intently to a comment from the other end of the line.

“Oh ho ho ho, don’t tempt me,” Jules rumbles in response, “I don’t think they’d enjoy it as much as I would.” Her gaze returns to the table, settling where I’d been moments before. Her eyes narrow in confusion, looking further across towards her crockery. I skid to a halt as she rises from her chair, the sudden motion as alarming and colossal as watching a mountain hoist itself up from the ground and move suddenly towards you.

She reaches across the table, reaching for the tea-cup, the sugar bowl, the steaming pot; her search for me takes her further and further away from where I truly am. Her hand comes down for support, palm colliding with the wood scant millimeters away from me. The impact is immense, a combination of ground-quaking force and displaced air whipping me off my feet and blasting me back through the air. I hit the edge of the table, hands scrambling for purchase before I’m sent plummeting down into the abyss below.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment I am convinced this is the end; I will hurtle down to the ground and be liquidized on impact. I open my mouth to scream, and find myself winded as the fall abruptly ends on a soft, pillowy surface that seems to expand beneath me. I tumble several more inches before I come to a halt, groaning in a cocktail of winded pain and utter relief. I slump onto my back, breathing heavily as I look up - and my eyes widen with horror.

Above me stretches the vast, overwhelmingly plump shape of Jule’s backside, her superior posterior struggling against the fabric of her pants. Raw instinct shuffles me backwards a few inches, until I realize suddenly where I am. No matter where I run now, there’s nothing but chair in every direction - and a long, lethal fall beyond.

I try to draw in breath to scream, but my lungs are still recovering from the fall.

“Jules!” I wheeze in pain, raising a futile hand above me. “Jules! Look down here Jules! Don’t sit on me!”

With a shrug of irritation, the clink of shifting crockery ceases, and Jules bends at the knees to lower herself back into the chair. My heart lurches into my throat.

“W-wait! WAIT! JULES! STOP! N-”

WHUMP.

The pressure is unreal. The only thing that stops me from being instantly pulverized is the support of the cushion beneath, but it is abundantly clear even now that it’s not going to save me for long. Jules settles back down into the seat, more and more of her magnificent bulk crushing down on me. My mind races in those final moments, all the things I want to say, all those things I want to do, millions of plans concocting in a desperate, hair-brained attempt to escape from this absolute doom.

I try to take a breath, only to find nothing but ass for my mouth to take in. There is a rumble above my head, the sort of primal gurgle that can really only mean one thing where I am. My thought process chugs as I struggle to comprehend that yes, this really is happening. Misfortune upon demeaning misfortune, to be shrunken out of the blue, to be overlooked and ignored by the woman I’d been there to meet, to wear myself ragged avoiding being swatted like a bug - and now to wind up here, crushed beneath her titanic buttocks as her insides prepared to deliver one final humiliation upon me.

Her body shifts almost imperceptibly as…

PFFFFBBBBBTTTTT.

I would cough if I could, but there isn’t even enough air to draw upon to breathe. I retch soundlessly as she farts on me, the sound and stench like nothing else in the world. As I feel the end coming, despair washes over me at the sheer enormity of just how hilariously pathetic that end is going to be. I had come to her house with dreams of intimacy, of passion, of the prospect of delicious sexual bliss and to feel the thrill of riding high on that wave of pleasure.

Instead, my life is going to end beneath her ass - gassed and squashed without her ever even knowing I was there… Irrelevant… powerless… nothing.

There is a brief spike of panic as I barely hear Jules over the pounding of blood in my head.

“Well, at least I can put my feet up now without being rude.” She laughs as she hefts her feet off the floor, the full weight of her body focused now on m-

SPLATCH.