Movie Night (1) (Patreon)

(Hey everyone! This is the re-release of the much reworked, FINAL iteration of the Movie Night story. Thank you all for your patience, and please enjoy!)

… 1: Amy’s Arrangement …

Amy’s delightfully bubbly voice announced her entrance into the living room, “Jooohhhn, are you in here???”

“I’m on the table!” Measuring slightly less than an inch from head to toe, John had been sitting at an appropriately miniaturized desk that had been placed atop the much larger living room table. This put him in the perfect position to watch his normal-sized housemate sauntering over, her long auburn hair and far-from-normal-sized curves bouncing the whole way.

After coming to a stop next to the dining table and looming her impressive body overhead, Amy cheerfully announced, “We’re having a movie night tonight! Won’t that be fun!?”

John looked up with comically exaggerated surprise, “What? When? Here?” Unfortunately his comedic delivery was wasted due to the fact that, even after looking all the way up, he could barely meet Amy’s gaze over the cusp over her own obtrusively overhanging bosom. A common perspective for him, really. But even from such an awkwardly low angle, Amy’s stunningly good looks were plain as day: big brown eyes under flowing locks of auburn hair, a smattering of light freckles over soft cheeks, plush red lips above a girlish chin, and a smile so delightful that it could knock a man flat. All in all, the term “gorgeous” barely did her justice, though to her credit she didn’t let it go to her head.

Amy cutely rolled her eyes at his response and 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 in 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 as soon as she bent over.

Ever since the two of them had moved in together, Amy’s casual wear around the house had become t-shirts scavenged from John’s unused regular-sized clothes and pairs of colorful panties (and sometimes she only bothered wearing one or the other). Then she’d accidentally shrunk all his shirts in the wash, and although John had first joked that now his clothes wouldn’t fit either of them, Amy had declared them to be “super comfy” and continued her tradition of wearing them around the house anyway. And since Amy’s THICC-ness rating scored somewhere between “pleasantly-voluptuous” and “accidentally suffocate you with a hug,” she was essentially forcing his old shirts into a life-or-death struggle every time she got dressed.

This particular shirt (once a perfect fit for John) now seemed pathetically insufficient for his giant friend’s plump figure: what little of the fabric wasn’t required to support the uncontrollably jiggly weight of either breast was left to contend with her soft midsection. From John’s low vantage point it was easy to feel overshadowed even by the slight recess in wrinkled fabric that defined Amy’s cavernous belly button, but that was far from the most distracting thing in sight, oh no. For that, John had to look skywards, where it was becoming incredibly apparent that Amy had—as usual—chosen not to wear a bra today.

As Amy bent over and allowed her monstrous tits to cast John into shadow by casually hanging them directly above him, it became impossible for the smaller man to ignore the two yoga ball-sized nipples that bulged prominently against her shirt over his head. Despite Amy’s repeated and unconvincing claims that she had no intention of being a distraction, John knew she was enjoying the chance to do exactly that.

Amy snickered at the attention she was receiving thanks to her exceptionally buxom presence, “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 just a liiiittle tight…” Just to demonstrate what her idea of a “little tight” meant, Amy gently nudged her massive breasts together, which was enough to put visible strain on the shirt as the fabric struggled to support the weight of her jiggling assets.

By now John had plenty of exposure to Amy’s habit of carelessly parading her immense sex appeal around for her own amusement, but her whimsical teasing still affected him far more than he liked to admit, especially since she rarely gave him any choie but to stare impotently up at a giant pair of jiggling tits that was just begging to be fondled and played with. It was particularly frustrating to think that, given his relative size, any interaction with Amy’s chest was far more likely to leave him crushed or stuck somewhere jiggly before achieving any satisfying result...

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, so she patiently repeated herself but made no move to stop her heaving chest, soft belly button, and colorful panties from all wiggling enticingly 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 stuck her tongue out sarcastically, “You’re still my smallest BFF, okay? Happy? Anyway I mentioned our place, and she was amazed when I told her my roommate was a real live tiny! She doesn’t seem to think anybody could survive more than a day as my roommate without getting stepped on or something, can you believe that???”

John muttered under his breath, “Maybe she’s on to something…”

Amy tried to respond with a snarky glare but only managed a cute frown, “Very funny. An-y-way you little wiseass, she insisted on coming over and seeing you for herself. She’s already on her way, but we’ll pick out a movie when she gets here!” Amy grinned and began to turn away, already preoccupied with thoughts of a fun evening.

John couldn't help but feel intrigued, even excited—and not just because Amy’s humongous bubble butt was finally coming into view. A big girlfriend of Amy's? That could be fun… or dangerous. As if sharing similar thoughts, Amy suddenly turned back with her hands sternly set on her wide hips, “Oh, I think it’s only fair to warn you that she can be, well, a bit of a handful. You’ll need to be on your best behavior around her!”

Though the “handful” comment was worrisome, John responded sarcastically, “Well 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 and shamelessly crushing tiny people everywhere she went, “Har-dee-har, mister judgemental. First off, I don’t squish, like, that many people.” John rolled his eyes: even Amy must have known that was a bold-faced lie. Amy caught his eyeroll and teased, “Second, yes, god help you because it’s huge, and if you aren’t careful you’re going to end up a butt sticker.” That got John’s attention. “Third, I don’t want you staring like a horny idiot all night long just because she’s a total looker.” That also got John’s attention.

John tried to downplay his interest in this apparently-beautiful mystery girl, “Please. I already spend every day around girls a million times my size, what’s one more?” And that was all true enough: when any regular-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, whose outrageous curves could put many dozens of John-sized people at risk of being crushed flat the moment she forgot to look where she was walking or sitting (both very common occurrences for her, so John knew his math checked out). John insisted further, “And let’s not forget that I live with ‘a total looker,’ who, in case you forgot, spends most hours of the day waving weapons-grade boobage right in my face. I think I can keep my eyeballs under control for one night, Amy.”

Though flattered by her tiny roommate’s comments, Amy couldn’t help but comment on the obvious difficulty he was having with keeping his eyes from wandering all over the mounds of flesh that his hands could never reach, “Uh huh, right… you’re the very model of discipline and self-restraint down there.”

“Hey, it’s hardly fair to expect me not to even peek when your boobs practically fill the whole sky for me.”

Amy’s chest bounced slightly as she shrugged off John’s dilemma, “Well, if I know Chloe, she’s going to put on one of her sluttiest outfits just to mess with you, so my advice is to get ready for a night of very hard-to-maintain eye contact.” So, the mystery girl’s name was Chloe...

John grinned, still very much enjoying all the unnecessary jiggling Amy was doing above him, “So what you’re saying is I should get all my staring in now, and conserve the energy I’ll need to keep eye contact for later?”

Amy gave an amused chuckle, “Haha, and here I’d thought your brain had already lost too much blood to be a little smartass!” Despite ribbing John for staring just seconds ago, Amy happily maintained her alluring pose while she answered, “You can try, but dunno if it’ll help. Chloe’s a bit shorter than me, but she’s a total knockout, and she totally flaunts it.”

That got John’s attention. Amy was damn attractive by every definition, so if this mystery girl was considered a “knockout” by her standards... John couldn’t stop himself from teasing, “Even more than you do?”

Amy was caught between a bashful grin and a defensive pout as she tried to deny her not-so-subtle exhibitionist tendencies, “I do not!” John couldn’t ignore that she made no attempt to stop her unrestrained chest from wobbling vigorously overhead as her indignation devolved into secretive giggling, before she caved to his accusation. “Heehee, okay fine, sometimes I do. But she does it way more! And she loooves crushing tinies when she catches them ogling her. She’s, like, a total tease.” Amy smiled as if her friend’s perverted cruelty was just the cutest little quirk any four-hundred-foot-tall girl could have.

Eager to share some gossip with her favorite tiny guy, Amy blurted, “Oh my god did I ever tell you the stories about her when we were college freshmen together?”

John paused, vaguely recalling mentions of an especially feisty young woman she’d befriended in college. “...is she the one who was always taping little students to big girl’s chairs before class? The one everyone called Bratzilla?"

Amy nodded happily, "Yep, that’s Chloe! Before any test she’d always wear a short skirt and then totally lift herself onto whatever desk had tiny people trying to study, just to throw off the grading curve. She got, like, super good grades that way. Isn’t that funny?”

The casual way Amy discussed her friend’s inclination for tormenting people of his size made John worry; Any one of those tiny people could have easily been him. John gulped, “Uh… s-should I be worried?”

Amy smiled reassuringly, “Oh don’t worry! I totally, like, got her to agree to a truce for the night! No squishing my little buddy allowed.”

“Really? You did?” John could hardly believe his ears: though her affections for him ran deep, it was alarmingly unusual for Amy to be the least bit careful or considerate of anyone John’s size. Needless to say her foresight and concern for him was a welcome change of pace.

Amy beamed with pride, “Not to brag but I’m sort of a master negotiator!” Then she leaned in just to brag after all, “You’re welcome, by the way!”

Still surprised by his good luck, John asked, “How’d you even get someone as bossy and competitive as Bratzilla to actually agree to a truce?”

Amy suddenly paused, “Oh, right, about that. Chloe had a few, umm, minor terms before agreeing to the truce thing...”

Oh no. “Such as?”

“Well, for starters you can’t hit on her, no matter what she decides to wear tonight.”

A challenge given Chloe’s supposed attractiveness, but certainly manageable. John sighed with relief, “That’s all? That’s not so bad!” But Amy was still chewing her lip nervously, and John dreaded asking, “...what else did you agree to?”

Amy counted off on her fingers as she tried to remember each of Chloe’s increasingly humiliating demands, “Ummm, no staring or ogling... no making fun of her height... no distracting her during the movie… no looking at her ass when she bends over... no arguing with her when she’s right… no inappropriate boners, especially if she accidentally sits on you… no fondling her without her express permission...”

John groaned and interrupted Amy, “Okay okay, I get it! If it will stop her from crushing me as soon as she walks in the front door, I’ll be a model citizen!” Just to seem more sincere he added, “Scout’s honor.” and did a little hand gesture that he thought might look convincing. “Wait, who’s going to enforce this truce, anyway?”

Amy pondered that question before her face lit up with a smile, “Ummm… Oh oh, I know! I can be like the referee! That’ll be fun!” While Amy seemed enamored with the prospect of being in charge for a night, John had to wonder if she was capable of taking her duty the least bit seriously. She had a bad tendency to blow off the slightest responsibility as soon as it became remotely inconvenient or boring for her.

Hoping to clarify the exact nature of this “truce” John asked, “So what happens if I break a rule?”

Evidently Amy hadn’t put much thought into the details of the truce because she had to stop and think up a fair penalty, “Uhhh, well I guess since I’m the ref or whatever… I’ll, y’know, have to like... squish you, and junk? Maybe just a little bit?” Of course. The penalty for violating the “no squishing” pact was being squished. Amy didn’t seem to appreciate the irony because she happily added, “Oh, or Chloe could do the squishing! I’m sure she wouldn’t mind!” Amy shrugged lightheartedly down at her miniature companion, as if she had deemed the whole arrangement to be perfectly fair and reasonable.

John sighed despairingly. A great big cocktease of a flirt was coming over, there were a thousand arbitrary rules that he had to follow, and his only defense was the biggest, clumsiest ditz he’d ever met? So much for Amy being a master negotiator! “And what if I decide this truce totally sucks and decide not to agree to any of that?”

Amy glanced away with blushing cheeks, “Well, that’s the thing—and don’t be mad! Buuut I sorta maybe kinda… already promised on your behalf?” At the very least Amy seemed to regret the predicament she’d put her tiny friend in, though it was little solace for John who, as usual, was the one who had to face all the consequences of her incredibly short-sighted behavior.

Well, it was apparently too late to turn back now. John sighed and rubbed his temples, trying not to let his irritation show, “Fantastic… so no bothering Little Miss Hot-as-hell unless I want to get turned into a John pancake. Does that sound about right?”

Amy smiled, clearly foreseeing a night of careless fun and already overlooking the burden she’d placed on John, “Yep! Don’t worry, the two of you are going to get along just fine!” Somehow, John had his doubts.

With everything decided, Amy began to turn away once more. But John suddenly had a thought, “Wait, Chloe has to abide by all that crap too right? What if she breaks one of those million rules?”

Amy blinked dumbly, as if the possibility of having to reprimand Chloe hadn’t occurred to her. “Yeah, I guess she does, uhhh…”

Against all his better instincts, John jokingly suggested, “Maybe you could punish her in, say, some kind of jello-wrestling match? That sounds fair to me!” John grinned, thinking his satirical comment was just hilarious, before he suddenly found himself soaring through the air, “H-Hey!”

Now, Amy absolutely adored John, but even she had limits to how much backsass she’d tolerate, and it only required two fingers for the 400’ goddess to lift the bitesize jokester by the shirt in front of her freckled face while she gave him a sarcastic -I bet you think you’re sooo clever!- glare. Clearly Amy was striving to put on a stern act while struggling to hide her appreciation for his joke, because she was failing to come off as anything other than “girlishly cute.” But since she was also the size of a skyscraper and perfectly capable of imprisoning him within her stuffy belly button for the rest of the night if she so chose, well, she still achieved the intended authoritative effect.

“And let me guess, we’d be wearing skimpy little bikinis, and you’d be the only audience member?”

John grinned sheepishly, “Something like that! Wait, what are you…” He hadn’t noticed Amy stretching her shirt out beneath his dangling feet, and before he could offer a single word in his defense he was unceremoniously dropped into the chasm. As Amy let the skintight fabric snap back into place he was immediately sandwiched up against the very jiggly surface of her boob, visibly trapped in place and ready to be scolded at her leisure.

Amy was (by her own playfully guilt-free admission) something of an oblivious clutz, but she still possessed the two biggest, squishiest tits in existence, and had a tendency to throw her tremendous size and sex appeal around whenever it happened to suit her. In this instance that meant holding John captive up against the two heaviest, jiggliest parts of her body as “punishment” for his harmlessly satirical little comment, thus forcing him into a position that he could (or rather, had to) enjoy without the option to go any further. 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 in the first place. Since John’s whole body was smaller than an almond, Amy’s basketball-sized chest was more than enough to utterly engulf and immobilize him from head to toe without requiring an ounce of effort on her part.

Intending to retaliate for John’s earlier sarcasm while she had his full attention, Amy gave a “gentle” bounce up and down, though her great, big, unrestrained chest continued wobbling and jiggling for far longer than she’d expected (a mistake she obviously found far more amusing than he did). As the incredibly tight fabric of John’s own shirt repeatedly smooshed his tiny body right into her bare skin, 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. Are you gonna behave yourself around her, or not?"

John managed a stifled shout, “I don’t remember no sarcasm being on that dumb list of rules!”

As she considered John’s point, Amy made sure to put her hands on her hips in what she assumed was an appropriately “referee” like pose. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be enforcing the rules of the truce just yet, but she wasn’t about to admit she’d made a mistake and look stupid in front of John! Amy’s continued posing shook John’s entire body, “Maybe not, but no talking back to big girls was probably a rule, right? And if you aren’t even going to try and take this seriously, I can always just leave you in there for the movie!”

While it certainly seemed like Amy was the only one refusing to take things seriously, John quickly realized it was better not to “poke the bear” by arguing in his own defense considering the situation he was already in. Plus, right now he had to focus on making sure Amy wouldn’t carelessly forget where he was as soon as this conversation ended… being stuck to the surface of her boob would be a less-than-ideal introduction to Chloe, let alone an ideal way to spend their inaugural movie night, and Amy’s obliviousness was a very real hazard for anyone small enough to be inadvertently flattened into a living body-sticker. He also knew Amy didn't need any encouragement to leave him there as long as she felt like, since she was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of his erection pressing against her. He could already imagine her insisting on giving Chloe an “eeextra biiig hug” once she arrived, whether he was stuck down there or not...

It took some effort to draw another breath into his lungs since there wasn’t much room left 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, whose insultingly whimsical voice announced, “Good!” Amy’s finger suddenly crashed into him from behind, pinning him directly against her warm flesh as she suggested, “By the way, 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 yet again 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 notoriously short attention span had just been stolen by an untimely text from Chloe. Amy chuckled at something she read on her phone, then narrated her own typed response, jostling her chest with every tap and swipe, “k cya then... 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 completely failed to notice the indent on her t-shirt where John was still stuck to one big round 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 clumsy or careless, which was understandable since it was hard to keep track of people no bigger than a single fingernail, 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 comfy colorful socks and spandex yoga pants that left extremely visible panty lines running across her backside.

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 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. “There you are!”  Amy smiled, seemingly surprised by his presence. Rather than free him she simply turned to view John’s predicament from a different angle while she asked, “Did you have time to rub one out? It doesn’t look like it...” Amy spent another moment marveling at the size of John’s teeny body splayed against her gigantic boob (and the fact that she could still feel his boner) before finally realizing that he wouldn’t come unstuck without her help, “Oh, right…”

In the blink of an eye, John was pulled free. While his eyes adjusted to the light John took a moment to bitterly consider the fact that all it had taken 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, she seemed to have no recollection of her original involvement in his entrapment, “What happened? Did you get squished while I was changing or something?”

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

Amy’s careless smile didn’t falter, “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 as if she was 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? You better hope Chloe doesn’t decide to enforce that ‘no inappropriate boners’ rule when she gets here!” 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 erection (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 frequently insisted on sitting in John’s lap, size difference be damned, 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 gets—”

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!”

Without finishing her thought 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...” 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 so often caused him, she was just too much of a charming sweetheart (careless ditz 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 Bratzilla.

Next chapter.