Movie Night (1) (Patreon)

… 1: A Friendly Warning …

“John, are you in here??? We’re having a movie night!” Amy’s naturally bubbly voice announced her entrance into the living room, her auburn hair bouncing and broad hips swaying with every step. Practically every part of her curvy body was jiggling as she sauntered casually across the room.

John looked up from his phone with comically exaggerated confusion, “What? When? Here?” Amy was a taller girl, and John (measuring almost an inch from head-to-toe) had to look way way up just to see his normal-sized housemate’s pretty face peering down at him over the cusp of her far-from-normal-sized breasts, despite the fact he was already sitting on the dining room table. Even from below, Amy’s stunningly good looks were obvious: big brown eyes, a smattering of light freckles over soft cheeks, plush red lips above a girlish chin, flowing locks of auburn hair, and a smile so charming that it could knock a man flat. She was the very definition of “kissable”, though she was hardly the type to flaunt it too much.

Amy cutely rolled her eyes at his goofy response, and even more cutely blew a reddish curl of hair out of her face, “Movies. Tonight. Obviously here, duh!” Clearly excited by her big plans, Amy planted her palms on the table’s edge so she could lean over and dazzle her favorite little guy with her most charming smile. Whatever she said next was lost on John, however, because he had lost control of both his eyeballs and brain.

Ever since they moved in together and she found the box of John’s old regular-sized clothes, Amy’s casual wear around the house had become nothing but colorful panties and scavenged t-shirts. Then she’d accidentally shrunk all of his old shirts in the wash, and though John had joked that now they didn’t fit either of them, Amy had declared his shirts to be “super comfy” and playfully insisted on stuffing herself into the ill-fitting garments anyway. This particular shirt, once a perfect fit for John, now seemed pathetically insufficient for his giant friend’s extra plump figure: what little of the shirt wasn’t required to hold back the uncontrollable weight of her breasts dangled like a scant curtain over her soft midsection or bunched up uselessly over her enormous hips. From John’s low point of view it was all too easy to catch tantalizing glimpses of Amy’s soft stomach and jiggly underboob whenever she sprawled out lazily (as she often did). And, as usual, Amy had opted to go braless (because god forbid anything prevent her nipples from showing through every top she ever wore). Despite Amy’s unconvincing attempts to play innocent, John knew this was just yet another excuse of hers to give him something to stare at. Right now for example, he could already see her smirking as she observed the blood draining from his head thanks to her buxom presence.

John struggled not to drool over the exceptionally jiggly eyeful he was receiving, and could only wonder about the view he’d receive as soon as she turned around to leave… Amy’s frontside might have been stare-worthy, but her bulging backside was something else entirely.

Amy’s amused self-satisfaction was palpable, “Like the shirt? I found it in that box labeled ‘John’s old stuff,’ but figured I’d get dressed before she gets here. It’s a liiiittle tight, I think it might’ve been one of yours…” Just to unnecessarily demonstrate what a “little tight” meant, Amy puffed her chest out and stretched her arms over her head, causing her shirt to ride up until her smooth innie bellybutton was practically staring John in the face like a fleshy doorway. By now John had plenty of practice ignoring the constant distraction that Amy posed since she was overly careless about dangling her sex appeal in plain view… but her whimsical teasing still affected him far more than he’d like to admit.

Before John went completely braindead, one of Amy’s words finally got through to him, “Wait, before who gets here???”

The two of them had been friends for so long that Amy had developed a keen familiarity with John’s libido by now, but she carelessly pretended like she didn’t know exactly what had been distracting him. She patiently repeated herself but made no move to stop her chest from wobbling enticingly over his head, or her colorful panties from waving directly in his face, “I said: my bee-eff-eff from college is coming over to celebrate finally unpacking the last box from our move!”

John faked a hurt expression, “Woah, hold on, I thought I was your BFF?”

Amy playfully stuck her tongue out in a -you’re such a doofus- kind of way, “You’ll always be my smallest BFF, okay? Happy? Anyway I told her about our place, and she would not shut up about you once I told her my roommate was a tiny. I think she really wants to meet you.” Amy paused and her lightly freckled cheeks bunched up with a delighted smirk, “But I figure once she realizes what a dork you really are, she’ll at least stop pestering me with questions about you all day.” Amy was still grinning to herself over her sarcastic little jab as she began to turn away, apparently thinking she was just sooo funny, but John knew she was only teasing (as she did so very often).

John couldn't help but be a little excited, and not just because Amy’s humongous bubble butt was coming into view; a big friend of Amy's was clamoring to meet him? That could be fun… or dangerous. As if arriving at a similar conclusion, Amy suddenly turned back with her hands on her wide hips, “Oh, that reminds me..." John always thought that Amy looked hotter than ever when she tried to give him her 'serious' face (especially since she was so bad at coming off as anything other than ‘girlishly cute’), but the mere size of his gigantic housemate looming overhead (and the fact that John was barely eye-level with her panties) still achieved the intended authoritative effect. "I think it’s only fair to warn you that Chloe’s, like, a bit of a handful." Amy grinned as if she had a secret, “In more ways than one.”

Though her affections for John ran deep, it was alarmingly unusual for Amy to be the least bit careful or considerate of anyone John’s size, let alone when it came to his safety around other girls, and John took notice. Though the ‘handful’ comment was intriguing… John tried not to sound too curious, “If she’s even half as clumsy as you are, I’m as good as squished already. And god help me if her ass is anywhere near as big.”

Amy smiled in spite of the joke, cheerfully indifferent to her own reputation for constantly crushing tiny people without even realizing, “Har-dee-har, tiny man. For your information she is quite the looker, so you had better be on your best behavior.”

John tried to downplay his interest in this apparently-beautiful mystery girl, “Please. I live with ‘a looker,’ who in case you hadn’t noticed is currently waving weapons-grade boobage in my face. Plus it’s not like I don’t already have to spend all day staring up at girls a million times my size anyway.” And that was all true enough: when any normal-sized girl was large enough to quite literally use the roof of a multi-story apartment building like a stool, you stopped noticing minor differences in size and basically just categorized them all as “big.” And “big” didn’t even begin to describe Amy, who’s curves were so outrageous that many dozens of John-sized people were put at risk of being crushed flat any time she forgot to look where she was sitting (which was a very common occurrence with her, so John knew his math checked out). John insisted, “I think I can keep my hands to myself for one night, Amy. Why, I’m the very pinnacle of good manners.”

Amy was flattered by the “weapons-grade boobage” comment, but didn’t believe John’s claim for a second. Just to test his assertion she bent slightly forwards, instantly drawing his gaze downwards as the shirt fabric strained even more noticeably against her substantial chest. The shirt failed to hide her two puffy nipples as they bobbed well out of John’s reach, and Amy snickered at his lack of eye-control, “Uh huh, right… Well, if I know Chloe, she’s going to wear one of her sluttiest outfits tonight just to mess with you, so my advice is to get ready for a night of very difficult-to-maintain eye contact. Honestly, ‘handful’ doesn’t even remotely do her justice, let alone her, like, pretty huge-a-rific curves. She’s a bit shorter than me, but she’s still a total knockout.”

That got John’s attention. Amy was damn attractive by every definition, so if this mystery girl was considered a “knockout” with “huge-a-rific curves” by her standards... John noticed Amy giving him a smirk, apparently she was all too amused by his visible interest in her hot friend. Unable to resist sharing a bit of gossip with her favorite tiny guy, Amy mentioned, “You remember that college freshman I told you stories about, the sassy one everyone called ‘The Squish Bitch?’ That’s Chloe.”

John paused, "...the one who crushed a whole classroom of little people?"

Amy nodded as if it was a fond memory, "Yyyup! Over a bet, for the whole day.”

John had a hazy recollection of Amy sharing stories from her college days, about an especially feisty young friend of hers. Amy and this girl had gotten into a playful little bet to see who would come to class with more tiny students stuck to themselves on the first day. Amy had accidentally sat on her two puny class-project partners and figured that would be enough to win, so she left them stuck while going to meet Chloe in their next class together. When Chloe sat in front of Amy and subtly pulled up her skirt to show off just one poor tiny student who’d been plastered to her huge ass, Amy assumed she was a winner for sure (two beats one!). Chloe spent all class fidgeting in her seat and occasionally crushing the poor guy if she leaned back too much, but when the bell finally rang Amy went over to brag about her victory, Chloe casually bent over and revealed that she’d practically lined her thong with a whole class of poor senior guys. She’d even had a few more stuffed into her bra all along just in case she needed an ‘ace up her sleeve.’ If John remembered the end of that story correctly, she and Amy went to lunch without bothering to peel any of them off. So apparently that was the devious girl coming over to watch movies with him and Amy tonight.

Suddenly John realized that Amy’s warning might have had some merit, “Got it, no hitting on Amy’s friend, Little Miss Hot-as-hell.” Just to seem more sincere he added, “Scout’s honor.” and did a little hand gesture that he thought might look convincing.

Amy chuckled, “Wise choice. Trust me, she’s sooo not worth the trouble, especially for a little Casanova such as yourself. You’d only get yourself squished before you could finish one stupid pickup line.”

Before Amy could leave, John (against all his better instincts) called up jokingly, “Speaking of, when you were telling Chloe about me, did she ask if I was handsome, or did you make sure to tell her right away?” Now, Amy absolutely adored John, but even she had limits to how much backsass she’d tolerate, and it only took two fingers for the 400’ goddess to gently lift John off the table and raise him into the spacious alcove created by her shirt and overhanging chest. John caught Amy giving him a sarcastic -I bet you think you’re clever!- roll of her eyes before he was unceremoniously shoved up the front of her shirt. When her finger came back out his body was no longer in her hands but instead very visibly trapped between the warm jiggly surface of her boob and the stretchy t-shirt fabric. Amy snickered, “Something like that: I told her that you had a cute habit of getting yourself into big trouble with bigger girls, heehee!”

Amy could (by her own playfully guilt-free admission) be something of an oblivious clutz, but she was still perfectly aware of the fact that she possessed the two biggest, squishiest tits most tinies would ever lay eyes on in their whole lives, and she was also more than happy to throw her immense sex appeal around whenever it suited her. In this instance that meant sandwiching John up against the two jiggliest parts of her body as “punishment” for his harmlessly satirical little comment, forcing him into a position that he could (or rather, had to) enjoy but could do nothing about. Not even for a moment did Amy stop to consider how unfairly trivial it had been for her to render John’s active libido entirely inert and at her mercy using only an undersized shirt that had once, ironically, belonged to him. This sort of playful behavior had been the source of Amy’s nickname, “Boobzilla,” which John had first given to her as a joke but was becoming increasingly all-too-literal for the numerous tinies she unwittingly bulldozed on a near daily basis.

Knowing she now had John’s full attention, Amy gave a “gentle” bounce up and down in the hopes of teasing him for his earlier sarcasm, though her great big chest continued to wobble and jiggle much longer than she’d intended (a misunderstanding Amy obviously found far more amusing than John). As the mere inertia of her own breasts smooshed John’s tiny body flatter and flatter over the course of several seconds, Amy added insult to injury by talking in the exact same conversational tone she always did, “Okay, Chloe’s gonna be here, like, any minute or whatever. Are you gonna behave yourself around her or not?"

John managed a stifled shout, “What if she hits on me first?”

At first Amy insisted, “Don’t change the subject!” Then her careless giggling shook John’s entire body, “But if she does… you’re on your own, romeo. I mean, if you can’t even handle these puppies, you’re doomed as soon as Chloe sets her sights on you.” John dearly hoped that Amy was joking with what she said next, “But if you’re not gonna take this seriously, maybe you’d rather spend our inaugural movie night like this, instead of on the couch with us girls? And eff-why-eye, mister Twenty-Questions, I will totally let her play with you if she asks, whether you’re still stuck down there or not."

Considering the situation he was already in, John quickly realized it was better not to “poke the bear” by arguing in his own defense, even though it seemed like Amy was the only one refusing to take things seriously. Plus, right now there was literally nothing he could do except hope that Amy wouldn’t be so careless as to forget where he was when this conversation was over… being stuck to the surface of her boob would be a less than ideal way to sit through a whole movie, and Amy’s obliviousness was a well known hazard for anyone small enough to be inadvertently flattened into a living body-sticker. He also knew Amy didn't need any encouragement with leaving him there as long as she felt like, since she was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of his erection pressing against her.

It took some effort to draw another breath into his lungs since there wasn’t much room to breathe with Amy’s stifling flesh already filling the entirety of the shirt, but John managed an apologetic sounding -ssfffrrrnnn!- noise. That seemed to satisfy Amy, who’s insultingly whimsical voice announced, “Good! If you think you won’t be able to keep it in your pants all night, you might have enough time to jerk off before she gets here, or something…” *ZZZZ!* *ZZZZ!* Amy’s gigantic breasts suddenly shook as a loud buzzing noise sounded from her cleavage, interrupting whatever lewd suggestion she was about to make, “Hold that thought, someone’s texting me!” John was forcefully squashed aside as Amy fished her phone out of her own cleavage, then left waiting as she read whatever notification had popped onto the screen.

Unfortunately for him, Amy’s very short attention span had just been stolen by an untimely text from Chloe. Amy chuckled at something Chloe must have said, then narrated her own typed response, jostling her chest with every tap and swipe she made, “k cya in 10... just getting dressed... LMAO ❤❤❤” Wait… getting dressed? That was just a cover for getting him out of here, right!? John was once more squished against the tight shirt as Amy sauntered off, turning his prison into a storm of fleshy motion.

Amy was back to smiling her typical cheerful smile as she headed for her room with an excited bounce in her step. If she had thought to spare even a single downward glance or listened for only a moment, she might have spotted her favorite guy in the world bouncing along with her or heard his muffled cry for attention buzzing not far from her pink left nipple. Hell, if she’d stopped to concentrate at all she would have felt the telltale sensation of John’s tiny clothed erection repeatedly squishing into her much larger form with every step she took. Instead, Amy turned on some music and began gleefully dancing around her room as she tried to decide what to wear. John sighed: just another night with Amy...

...

Half an hour later there was a knock at the door. Amy sang, “I’ll get it!” as if John was even capable of reaching the doorknob without a helicopter. Despite spending the past thirty minutes holding different shirts and sweaters up in the mirror, Amy had not only failed to pick out something else to wear, she’d also completely failed to notice the indent on her t-shirt where John was still stuck to one enormous boob. He’d spent the entire time bouncing in various directions or being flattened any time she lay on her bed to text, all the while hoping she might eventually hear his cries for help over her upbeat music and distracting phone. Plenty of giant girls might have been a little more clumsy or careless than usual, which was understandable since it was hard to keep track of people not much bigger than a single finger digit, but Amy really took the cake.

Though to her credit, Amy had managed to find time in her busy schedule of texting and listening to music to put on some colorful, comfy socks, apparently meeting her standards for “getting dressed.”

As Amy stepped into the hallway she called, “John! Chloe’s here!” and waited for him to appear. Of course, his faint response was nearly inaudible against her. Realizing something was afoot, Amy made a thoughtful face and looked around, unwittingly swaying her gigantic chest back and forth a few times as she fidgeted impatiently. By pure chance Amy happened to glance into the large mirror hung in the hallway as she waited for John to turn up. At first she simply admired her own reflection, but the lack of distractions also allowed her to (thankfully) spot John’s tiny form still wobbling along with her. Seemingly surprised by his presence, Amy smiled and pulled him out, “There you are!” While his eyes adjusted to the light John took a moment to bitterly consider the fact that all it took to trap him in (or free him from) a state of perpetual immobility and sexual frustration was the whimsical decision of just one ditzy young woman. Of course, Amy being Amy, the first thing she did once she got him out of her shirt was casually inquire about his arousal, “Did you have time to rub one out? It doesn’t look like it...”

John tried not to sound too frustrated, “No, you left me stuck in your shirt again, remember?”

Amy’s careless smile didn’t falter, “Oh, I did??? I totally forgot I put you there… my bad ❤!” John frowned; right… ‘her bad.’ Amy’s big eyes flicked downwards and she snickered to herself, apparently amused by the trouble she’d caused, “Wow, will you even be able to make it through the movie with that thing in your pants? Heehee, if you can’t follow the plot with us girls distracting you, I’m sure Chloe won’t mind filling you in afterwards!” As was typical with her, Amy was all too happy to make light of John’s frustrating situation, especially since she wasn’t the one who was going to have to sit through a whole movie with an inconvenient boner (she’d probably even been enjoying the sensation of him bouncing against her for the past half hour whether she knew what she was feeling or not).

John returned a sarcastic glare, “As long as you and Chloe can resist using my lap as a chair for more than five minutes, I think I’ll survive.” Amy had a habit of struggling to keep her hands off John whenever she was feeling playful, even at extremely inappropriate moments, after all. But John caught the semi-concerned look on Amy’s face: she was terrible at hiding her thoughts. “What?”

Amy seemed unusually coy, “I mean, I think I can manage, buuut…”

John was getting nervous, “But what?”

Amy tried and failed to hide a suggestive smirk, “Weeell, I probably should have warned you earlier, but Chloe has this habit of sitting on tiny people whenever she-”

Another impatient knock at the door cut her off, and a muffled female voice called from the other side, “Come on already, it’s cold out here and I’m not wearing pants!”

Amy set John down on the very small entry table by the front door, “Alright I gotta let Chloe in before she freezes to death. Don’t worry about what I said, just... don’t let Chloe catch you staring.” Amy glanced once more at John’s crotch, “Maybe, uh, try not to think about sex?” Though her entirely useless advice had undoubtedly been made in the best of intentions, John felt anything but reassured... But despite the immense aggravation Amy often caused him, she was just too much of a charming sweetheart (careless cocktease or not) for John to stay mad at her. All he could do was gently adjust his pants, which had thankfully remained intact throughout Amy’s shenanigans, and wait to meet Chloe, aka The Squish Bitch.

Read Part 2 and 3 here!

(Edited: March 14, 2021)