Pushing His Buttons (1) (Patreon)

Part 1: The Rivalry

Grant tucked his light blue polo shirt into his favorite gray slacks as he stepped out of the parking lot. The giant glass door slid automatically aside and a flow of positive-pressure air washed over him in greeting, bringing with it the scent of polished steel, rubberized weights, and sanitizing spray. The building’s huge interior echoed faintly with the sounds of exertion: slamming weights, sneakers on treadmills, and occasional grunting all against the backdrop of humming cardio machines and the soft murmurs of casual conversation.

Just another Monday at Sculpted Gems Fitness Center.

The overhead lights, brilliantly white and cold, cast a sterile glow over the expanse of sleek, high-tech exercise equipment. These weren’t your dad’s treadmills, bikes, and row machines… Unless your dad was Steve Jobs or Bill Gates. Grant, as the building’s only IT guy, was responsible for keeping all the high-tech bells and whistles properly calibrated each and every day, and tuning any machines that showed signs of disrepair. Part time computer-whiz, part time mechanic. Even though it was his job, the idea of an exercise machine that actually required calibration and maintenance still made Grant roll his eyes to the ceiling.

Grant understood the reason some people paid the gym’s steep (and in his opinion, exorbitant) membership fees, but he’d always thought the idea of attaching expensive computers to your workout equipment was just silly. Ironic, since his job wouldn’t exist without that very thing, but there it was. His ideal workout required nothing more complicated than a barbell and a bench. He wasn’t a hulking musclehead or anything, but he considered his fitness level a step (or two) above everyone’s idea of a stereotypical IT guy, and was happy enough with that.

Sculpted Gems wasn’t really his scene, but the pay was decent while he looked for a more serious gig elsewhere. Not to mention the gym’s core demographic happened to be rather easy on the eyes… The clientele here mostly struck Grant as fit, attractive women looking for an excuse to wear tight spandex out in public while they worked up a mild sweat and pretended not to notice all the attention they were getting. Which suited Grant just fine: he could accept a small pay cut if it meant surrounding himself with copious amounts of flirtatious eye-candy.

Speaking of which… There was another, smaller reason he stuck around, too. A short, dark haired, wide hipped reason… Not that he ever admitted that part out loud.

Grant scanned his badge up at the front desk and exchanged polite smiles with Jenny, the pretty receptionist with flowing red hair. He would have chatted for a minute or two since things seemed slow that morning but he was very eager to reach the employee locker room at the back of the building, for a very special reason… He didn’t want to miss a thing by arriving late!

Nevertheless, Grant slowed ever so slightly when he passed the glass-walled office that belonged to Vanessa—the owner of Sculpted Gems Fitness—and saw her sitting at her desk talking to an extremely busty blonde woman. As he lifted a hand to greet his boss he had just a moment to take in the (very) attractive newcomer…

She looked about his age, and beautifully fit. Even sitting, her flat, bare stomach hardly seemed to crease, and her tight black leggings hugged her legs almost down to her slim ankles and pristine sneakers. Her attention was on Vanessa as she pulled her long blonde hair into a stylish ponytail that left the criss-crossed back straps of her designer pink sports bra visible, and even through the window Grant could see the tension in those poor overburdened straps as they valiantly struggled to support their tremendous, jiggly burden…

Damn. How could something so small support something so big???

Grant recognized her but didn’t know her name. Felicity or Faye or F- something. He’d had a short interaction with her last week when she’d first signed up and was trying to figure out how to pair her phone’s workout app with the treadmill. She wasn’t the brightest, but she was sweet  and chatty, and had given Grant plenty of opportunities to peek down her cleavage—she’d been wearing a very deep necked orange sports bra at the time—as she held the phone close to her chest while gesturing and jiggling about expressively. Not only that, but Grant had also been lucky enough to accidentally glimpse some risque selfies on her phone as she was navigating to her settings… Grant had always considered himself more of an “ass man”, but that had still been a very good day.

But he’d made the mistake of lingering outside his boss’s office too long. Vanessa had spotted him and, quick as a mosquito, darted out of her office to stop him with a cheerful yet indomitable smile.

Vanessa, a 32-year old fitness enthusiast, carried a vigorous and positive energy that Grant couldn’t help but respect on some level, although her peppy, carefully “inoffensive” attitude made prolonged interactions with her somewhat exhausting. Still, she was a good boss. She was slim and toned, always kept her brown hair in a neat little bun, and good looking even if her curves couldn’t possibly match the absurd likes of that buxom bombshell behind her. Her small shoulder muscles lightly flexed as she gestured towards Grant.

“Grant, we talked about this.” Vanessa’s hands rested on her hips as she looked Grant’s attire up and down.

“C’mon Vanessa.” Grant replied, following her gaze down to his tucked in shirt and gray slacks. “I’m the IT guy. I fix the computers and software and motors and stuff. I don’t need to dress for a marathon.”

“It’s a uniform, Grant.” Vanessa gestured toward the logo affixed over the left side of her petite chest. “Go put it on. Please and thank you.”

Grant sighed reluctantly but nodded his head all the same.

“Thanks, Grant.” Vanessa pepped, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “You look handsome in it anyway! You should want to wear it.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Grant said with a flattered smirk as he retreated to the backroom to find his employee locker.

“Oh, and Grant?”

Grant paused at the door, trying not to let his impatience show.

“If you see June back there, tell her that her 11 AM is here and I’m almost done signing her up.” Vanessa said, gesturing toward the blonde woman playing on her phone in the office.

Grant grinned with genuine pleasure. “You got it, boss!”

June never liked being told what to do, least of all by him… He couldn’t wait to tell her.

* * * * * * * * *

As he pushed open the door, Grant heard the slow, methodical Slap… Slap… Slap! of sneakers against the linoleum floor and the odd frustrated grunt. He was already grinning when he rounded the corner and saw his 4’11”, dark haired, wide hipped nemesis (and secret part time crush)...

June.

She was jumping up and down in front of the row of triple-stacked staff lockers, reaching for the highest row. With each momentary burst of airtime, the determined girl was able to spin the elevated combination lock a few degrees before her well-worn sneakers hit the ground again, causing a ripple to travel up her gargantuan thighs and into her humongous rump. It looked like a very tedious process for someone as short as her, and she was clearly getting irritated with the challenge, since she was the type to prefer an easy-won victory followed by copious amounts of smug, undeserved gloating over her competitor.

To anyone else, the scene might have looked either comedic or downright pitiable… But Grant knew the shortstack’s punishment was well deserved. Overdue, even.

This wasn’t the first antagonism between the two of them, not by a long shot. June had gotten on Grant’s nerves almost the minute she walked in the door about a year ago, got herself hired as an instructor, and on her very first day greeted Grant, her senior coworker, by grinning up at him, “Sup, poindexter?” Then he’d immediately gotten on her nerves by replying, “Not much, shortcake.” She thought he was an arrogant jackass, and he thought she was an insufferable brat. They were a match made in… Hell, probably.

From the moment they met, June had seemingly taken Grant’s superior height as a personal insult, as if it were entirely his fault she stood more than a foot lower than him. He’d once made a joke about her “short” temper, but that had, predictably, not been well received. Neither of them was ever willing to back down or compromise around the other. They tried to remain at least semi-professional around Vanessa, who turned a blind eye toward their antics as long as it didn’t interfere with their job performance… Even when June went through that phase of “accidentally” tripping Grant in front of clients just to make him look clumsy. Grant endured it all as stoically as possible, and got back at her by inventing new and creative ways to call attention to her height disadvantage. Addressing her as “shortcake” was a simple, tried and true favorite of his, especially since it never failed to make her cute little face scrunch up with seething contempt.

Their workplace rivalry escalated when she began leaving wads of gum stuck to his chair, his locker, and, once, his personal laptop. She didn’t care in the least that he had over a year of workplace seniority over her, or for his requests (then demands) that she knock it off, or for Vanessa’s uselessly polite interventions.

Finally, Grant lost his temper and had to fight fire with fire.

June wasn’t dumb by any means, but she also wasn’t the most organized person. In fact, “scatterbrain” may have been an apt description of the hyperactive girl. It had been trivially easy for Grant to swipe her phone just long enough to disable her morning alarm, then set two more to go off at full volume first at 3:00AM, and again at noon. June showed up to work the next day late and disheveled, her green eyes heavy-lidded and her hair resembling a knotted, black and bright pink bird’s nest. He’d expected her to fly off the handle and whine to Vanessa about what he did, but instead the feisty little thing only slugged him in the shoulder (ow!), and chuckled almost fondly, “Touche, tough guy. I’ll ease up with the gum, but get ready for payback.”

Since then they’d fallen into a strange sort of… Equilibrium, for lack of a better term. It was a relationship rife with petty rivalries, mutual annoyances, and endless back-and-forth revenge pranks, but a completely unspoken sense of mutual respect and understanding had now developed beneath the surface. It could almost be called a friendship.

They still argued, but now the insults were met with chuckles and only sarcastic frowns. They still heckled one another, but now they also tried to cheer one another up on their bad days. The nicknames continued, but now they were uttered with sly grins and met with sarcastic eyerolls. Grand and June, to their mutual surprise, actually started to enjoy one another’s company. Bickering gave way to good-natured ribbing, and then good-natured ribbing gave way to increasingly flirty banter…

And that’s where the real trouble started.

When they first met, Grant tried to convince himself that June was “Too annoying to be attractive.” But as he was forced to interact with her day in and day out, he began to realize that when she wasn’t being a deliberately intolerable nuisance, she was actually pretty clever and fun to be around. Unfortunately, with this revelation also came the horrible truth that the abrasive shortstack was, in fact, infuriatingly hot.

June may have been an antagonistic firebrand, but there was no denying she had spunk, and lots of it. The hot pink streaks running through her dark shoulder-length hair always reminded Grant of some poisonous jungle frog (danger!), and she often had to blow bangs out of her own eyes (a habit he hated to call cute). She was nicely tanned, and despite her occasional ditziness her emerald eyes could shine with a certain mischievous cunning. She had small piercings in her ears, a little silver stud in her nose, and, as she was all too happy to share in private one day, had recently pierced one of her nipples—“Betcha can’t guess which!” she’d teased while bouncing proudly up and down.

And although June’s bottomless well of energy (goblin-energy, to be specific) and role as a gym trainer both served to keep her in good shape, her body still retained enough “padding” to make her soft and jiggly instead of lean and muscular. And some areas were much more padded than others… Despite her size, June still boasted a chest of impressive size and perkiness that complemented her bouncy nature quite wonderfully.

But it was June’s lower half (or, more accurately, her lower 2/3rds) that Grant found most distracting of all.

June’s thick legs were like meaty tree trunks on her little frame, and her ginormous backside was simply a marvel to behold whether it was stretching another tiny pair of shorts to the breaking point, resting atop some lucky chair, or bouncing along in time with her quick strides. Stationary or in motion, June’s ass deserved—nay, demanded—attention. She might have thrown on a baggy hoodie or t-shirt from time to time, but her huge round ass and long thighs were always in sight. Which meant that poor Grant was trapped for 8 hours a day in the presence of a curvaceous and feisty young woman who never wore anything but tiny, form-fitting gym shorts in various shades of black or purple.

Then there were the days where June came to work straight from the gym (all employees received a free Sculpted Gems membership) with a light sheen of sweat over her whole perky body. Grant’s entire shift would become an endurance exercise, as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting down her glistening cleavage any time she puffed her chest out mid-argument, and to ignore the oddly exciting smell that came off her body every time she strayed too close, or, God forbid, brushed up against him in the hallway… Or worst of all, the way her shorts sank nearly out of sight each time she’d bent over to retie her shoelaces or pick up another item she’d dropped. Those days were almost impossible to get through.

And no matter how aggravating Grant found her behavior at times, he was unable to stop seeing June as his super-stacked coworker with a cute smirk.

Then she took a week-long vacation with family, giving Grant an entire, uninterrupted 9 days straight of simple, peaceful, June-free time to himself. As soon as Grant heard he’d have a vacation from the little tease, he was relieved. Finally, just a normal work week.

But he hated it.

It was the most boring, uninteresting week of Grant’s life. Even the attractive gym-going ladies seemed to have lost some of their luster. He actually found himself counting the days until June’s return, just so he could have some excitement back in his life. With dawning horror Grant realized that, despite his best efforts, he’d developed a crush on the bouncy little she-devil. Oh, crap.

On her first day back, June (more wonderfully tan than ever) gave him a back-breaking “Hey again!” hug, pulled him aside, and eagerly forced him to look at every single one of her travel pictures, far too many of which included pictures of her in swimsuits, or unbuttoned shirts, or reclining on a warm tropical beach… It was torture.

That night June’s gigantic, bronzed, bikini-clad posterior appeared in Grant’s dreams, causing him to wake up in an embarrassing state. And that was a secret he’d take to his grave.

For a time Grant managed to safely conceal his feelings by limiting himself to only occasional, furtive glances at June throughout the day, and by continuing their unspoken tradition of trying to prank each other at least once a week. She’d still drink his beverages the moment he turned his back, he’d still hold her belongings out of reach over her head, and things went on as “usual” for them. It was especially difficult since June was a very physical and rambunctious person: she’d punch him in the shoulder one minute, give him a quick hug the next, and was constantly shoving him aside with her huge hips. It never even seemed to occur to her that maybe she was forcing him to think about baseball and puppies to avoid pitching a tent every time she slammed her bouncy little body into his.

But the disastrous, catastrophic turning point was yet to come.

Only a few weeks ago, June had bent over to grab her water bottle off the floor. She’d had a horrendous wedgie, and Grant couldn’t resist attempting to sneak just the quickest of peeks… And June had caught him. She’d seemed shocked at first, but then she’d looked over her shoulder and stuck both her hips and her tongue out, “Stare harder, why dontcha?” Then she’d firmly slapped her ass with both hands, not just once but repeatedly—Whap-whap-WHAP!—and strut away with the kind of smug grin she always wore after she found some new way to one-up Grant, leaving him to sort out the very conflicting emotions suddenly cascading through his mind (and the very confusing stirring in his pants).

No matter how many times Grant insisted he’d just been looking over her head, or staring at someone else, or observing what type of knot she used on her shoelaces (yeah, he wasn’t a good liar), June only smiled knowingly, “Uh huh, sure thing, playboy.” The secret was out: June knew he had the hots for her.

Ever since that moment, the balance in their “equilibrium” had shifted irreversibly in June’s favor, like an avalanche that could never be pushed back uphill.

The change was subtle at first: June began standing much closer to Grant, “accidentally” bumping into him with ridiculous frequency, gently squeezing his arms and shoulders through his shirts in greeting, leaning against him when she reached for anything on a high shelf, and constantly finding new excuses to bend over whenever he was near… Not to mention layering heavily suggestive innuendo into random conversations just to see if she could make him blush. She was testing his restraint, and collecting evidence against him, as if curious to see just how deep his interest ran.

And once June concluded that Grant not only found her attractive, but utterly irresistible, she wasted no time in weaponizing the sexual tension between them. She was exactly as irksome and antagonistic as before, except now she knew her main rival’s secret, shameful kryptonite, and she could use it any time she felt like gaining the upper hand. Whenever Grant annoyed her (or merely won one of their little disagreements), she’d make it her personal mission that day to leave him with an awkward boner at the worst possible moment, never really caring whether he actually deserved the resulting frustration or not.

Things spiraled further out of control when June abandoned all pretense of even justifying her actions in the first place, and started teasing Grant even when she’d already claimed victory over him, or without any valid cause whatsoever. Sometimes Grant suspected she got off on making his life difficult, like when she’d mimed vigorously sucking a cock while he was trying to speak to Vanessa.

June made every week (every day) a trial to survive, though by now it had become a familiar (if no less frustrating) routine between the two of them. But the power had gone to June’s head. Possibly thinking she’d become impervious to retaliation from Grant, she’d let her competitive side take over, and filled the entire week with petty agitations, turning it into a 5-day cavalcade of irritating pranks, one after the other.

Obviously, Grant couldn’t let her get the last word in.

Over the weekend Grant had plotted his revenge, making this only the most recent chapter in his ongoing prank war with Sculpted Gems Fitness Center’s shortest, bounciest, and most insufferable staff member.

Because he knew June’s weak link: her height. June loathed the fact that Grant towered more than a foot above her. She couldn’t talk face-to-face with him unless she found a stepstool, and all he had to do to keep things away from her was put them somewhere slightly elevated. Her naturally competitive ego just couldn’t tolerate his innate advantage over her, and she hated being reminded of her “shortcoming” every time she had to look up at him during one of their arguments or ask him to reach something for her. And no matter how easily she could fluster or embarrass him, he’d always be bigger.

So, obviously, Grant had placed her spare change of clothes in one of the gym’s highest lockers before heading home for the weekend. And now, amidst the rapid percussion of his rival’s sneakers against the Employee’s Room floor, he was not only tasting that sweet revenge, but he was also enjoying some secondary rewards. Big, jiggly, bouncy rewards.

June may have been borderline intolerable most of the time, but she was definitely easy on the eyes... After congratulating himself on justice well served, Grant let his gaze wander a little bit.

Despite her full curves, June was sporty, even a little bit of a tomboy. Today she was wearing her signature outfit: a stretchy purple tank-top / sports-bra hybrid that showed off plenty of midriff, and her favorite pair of nylon-mesh dolphin shorts which accentuated her bottom-heavy frame to an almost inappropriate degree. The skimpy shorts had taken a daring journey upwards after all that adorable jumping, and now a tantalizing portion of June’s big, plush, peachy cheeks were bulging out the bottom. The fabric clung lovingly to the generous curves of her round, well-defined glutes, but remained just loose enough in the deep cleft that parted her cheeks down the middle without creating too absurd of a wedgie, at least for now. And with every hop in place, everything was sent into bouncy disarray, over and over again, hop-jiggle-jiggle, hop-jiggle-jiggle… It was hypnotizing. At least two-thirds of her wonderfully bronzed, tan skin was on full display.

Grant didn’t know why Vanessa let her get away with wearing so little, even in a gym, while constantly nagging him to stay in uniform. Did she think it would attract more business or something? June’s butt would have been considered large even for an average-heighted girl like Vanessa or that buxom blonde, but on her short stature, it was enormous. And it seemed like every soft inch of her lower body was constantly searching for a new way to squeeze itself out of her inadequate gym attire and into his line of sight.

It had never gotten over the injustice that the girl that did literally everything in her power to antagonize him also got to spend all day every day parading that jiggly thing back and forth in front of his face… Especially in those booty-accentuating shorts. How could he possibly even the odds??? At least the view couldn’t be beat…

Maybe next time she pissed him off, he’d go the other direction and hide her things somewhere lower or in a smaller space… if there even was such a thing as too low or too small for someone as vertically challenged as June. Instead of jumping and jiggling, she’d be down on her hands and knees, sticking that massive ass of hers waaay out. As massive as her backside looked when under the influence of gravity and the over exaggerated swing of her hips, the thought of her perfect cheeks spreading towards him as she bent at the waist was enough to drive Grant crazy. He made a mental note to reconsider this plan at a future date. It would be delightfully ironic, considering the fact that there was no one smaller than her at the fitness center whose help she could enlist.

Honestly, Grant could have watched June struggle all day. Places beyond her limited reach were in abundance: if anything she should have been grateful he didn’t put her stuff somewhere even higher, lest he render her adorable, frustrated bunny hops completely useless.

He grinned as he imagined her ascending a stepladder to retrieve her belongings, then had to stop himself once he started picturing her climbing from below. No doubt she’d make him hold the ladder steady for her, and it wouldn’t be possible for him to keep his eyes from wandering up her shorts as she waved that huge bouncing ass of hers over his face… Which was invariably how these things went. She’d do something unbelievably irritating, he’d retaliate with a harmless prank, and 9 times out of 10 his plan would backfire and he’d be left staring in frustration at the careless jiggle-show she was putting on in plain sight. Like right now, for instance. Here he was, trying to enjoy the fruits of his well-justified labor and June, through no deliberate action on her own, was taking control of his mind. It was so unfair.

Well… Just a little more staring couldn’t hurt. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? He’d pay dearly for this little prank later, as he always did, but for now he could simply stand back and appreciate the spectacle of June’s vigorous efforts. Grant’s victories over the curvy little firecracker were rare and hard-fought. He had to savor each and every one as long as he could.

Finally, June bounced to a stop, confident that she’d correctly entered the combination for her lock. She stretched up on her tip-toes to get her fingers around the lock and the room became eerily quiet with the tension of the moment. She gave a firm tug down, and...

…nothing.  “Fudge-sticks!” June stomped her foot in frustration, sending yet another shockwave through her ample backside. “I did it right, you big dumb lock!” She smacked a small fist against the metal locker, as if a hissy fit would solve her problem. She gave a long sigh, and seemed prepared to catapult herself right back into the air all over again. On some level, Grant couldn’t help but admire June’s unwavering spirit. She was certainly obnoxious, but he couldn’t say she wasn’t persistent.

Grant decided he could spare her another round of fruitless jumping. It was time to make his presence known.

“You know how those work, right?” Grant’s brow wrinkled into a convincingly sincere expression.

The petite girl’s head snapped around, twirling her short black hair and pink highlights behind. Despite her cherubic soft cheeks, and adorable button nose, June had daggers in her green eyes.

Grant was unfazed. He looked right over her head to the locker. “You twist right, left, and right.” Grant gestured instructively with his hand. “I could show you if ya want, unless you wanna get back to your bunny-hopping.”

June’s expression softened. The silver stud in her nose glinted as her nose twitched in stifled amusement, but there was no way she was letting him off the hook that easy.

“Oh, so I have you to thank and kill for putting my lock all the way up there?”

Grant smirked, “Well, it was just sitting there on the bench yesterday. I figured I’d help you tidy up a little.”

“Yeah?” June said, crossing her arms over her large chest. “And you figured you’d just move all my clothes up there too, huh?”

“I mean… They needed to be locked up somewhere safe. What if someone stole them? I was thinking only of your benefit, I assure you.” Grant feigned absolute humility, “No need to thank me, by the way.”

“Oh believe me, I won’t.” June snapped with a dramatic eye-roll. “For all I know you took my gym clothes home and did weird stuff before you tossed ’em up there.”

“Ha! You wish, shortcake.” Grant said quickly.

June sensed the slightest hint of fluster in Grant’s exaggerated scoff. He’d tried to sound confident, and to distract her with a jab at her height, his ‘go-to’, but the hesitation in his voice and the red flush of his cheeks told June she’d already gotten under his skin. So what if he’d zinged her with his stupid prank? So what if he was a little taller than her? So what if he was some smart guy who knew stuff about physics and math and computers? So what if he made more money than her? She always had a card to play against him, and she always loved finding an excuse to play it.

Smiling like a shark that smelled blood in the water, June sauntered up to Grant, letting her wide hips sway a little more than needed, and was exceedingly pleased to see his eyes dart down across her body for just a split-second before hurrying back to her face, as if afraid of being caught.

But she couldn’t just let him stare in peace. June smiled sweetly, “And what did I do to deserve it this time, Mr. Hurt Feelings?”

Grant frowned back, “Oh, where to start. Monday, you ate my entire lunch then belched in my face.” The entire ciabatta sandwich (an expensive one, too), the apple, the protein bar, everything! He didn’t know how such a small person could fit so much food away—Where the hell could she have kept it all??? Did it all go straight to her thighs and ass, like the old joke went? Those parts of her were definitely thick enough!—But when he confronted her she only burped and acted like she hadn’t seen the “GRANT’S LUNCH. NOT FOR JUNE!!!” written clearly over his lunch bag. Her exact words had been, “Ooh, is that what that said? I only used the bag as a napkin, so I didn’t read any of that junk. My mistake!” Then she’d nearly hip checked him off his feet (“Oops!”) as she strutted off looking mightily pleased with herself. It might have even hurt a bit if not for all the cushion.

And that was only Monday.

“Tuesday,” Grant continued sternly, “You walked in on me changing for the hundredth time, then you put my wallet down the back of your sweaty shorts and made me fish it out.”

June smirked as she saw Grant beginning to flush at the mere memory of that little workplace escapade. He went on, “Wednesday, you stuffed your smelly gym clothes into my locker, then used my shirt like a sweat rag so I smelled like you until I went home and washed.” He made sure to leave out the part where he found the smell, a mix of fruity body wash and feminine scent, oddly rousing all the way home. “And Thursday—”

Here was where June started giggling to herself. She’d never heard all of her crimes listed in order, or so quickly, before. She was almost proud of herself. “Thursday was when I bumped into you and made you collide with that super busty chick you were talking to, right?”

“I was getting to that.”

“Heh. I was pretty proud of that one. She didn’t seem to be happy about her big cans being used to catch your fall. But hey, at least you got to see them jiggle a little! You should probably be thanking me, now that I think about it.”

Grant’s face turned an embarrassed and angry shade of red, “Hilarious, June.”

June smiled as if she indeed thought of herself as a comedic savant, “And don’t forget about Fridaaay!”

Grant glared: they both knew perfectly well what had happened Friday. Just after Grant had finished setting up and programming the new NordonTrak treadmill Vanessa was so proud of, a two hour ordeal, June “accidentally” spilled her sports drink all over the motor compartment just so he’d have to stay late after closing time and fix it.

June snickered, “At least I stayed late to help you with stuff!”

“Is that what you call it? I only remember you pestering me all night.”

June sang back, “I bet that’s not the only part you remember, bench boy.”

Oh yes, Grant remembered. It had only been the two of them in the building. He’d been lying on the floor to reach under the broken machine when the curvy shortstack plopped herself down on his back, just so she could rest her bare feet on his shoulders and heckle him while he worked. Grant had fervently claimed to hate every minute of her tiny toes playing piano against his spine and her expansive ass bouncing up-and-down into his lower back, and thankfully his waist had been against the floor so she wasn’t able to see the growing evidence to the contrary between his legs.

Like he said, things were complicated between them.

Grant growled at the memory, “So yeah. I spent a whole week dealing with Sculpted Gems’ little monster. That’s what you did to deserve this, four-foot.” Grant gestured to the locker beyond her reach, using her least favorite nickname just to goad her.

June’s eyes narrowed, “Five feet. I’m five feet tall.”

Grant began to grin again, slowly retaking the initiative, “Four foot eleven, you mean.”

“And three quarters!!! You always round up, stupid. Didn’t they teach you that at college? Everyone knows that. I’m five whole feet of jiggly fun.” June insisted, proving the point by bouncing on her toes and sending attention-grabbing tremors through her considerable chest, wide hips, and pink hair. Was there any part of her that didn’t jiggle???

Grant forced himself to ignore the distraction, “If you’re five feet, then it’s five feet of pure evil. Like a little demon chihuahua, or a goblin, or a—Oof!” June forced Grant aside with her gigantic hips, interrupting his taunting and nearly knocking him over as she strode past, making sure to really grind her ass into him for good measure before she was done. Goodness, she had a lot of muscle in those legs…

June rolled her eyes and grabbed something from the bench, “Whatever, bookworm. Here, I brought an olive branch for, like, some of that stuff you’re so upset about from last week.” She tossed a paper bag towards his head.

Grant caught it, and the salivating smell of a warm breakfast sandwich nearly exploded into his nostrils. It was an order from Hot Joe’s, the best coffee and breakfast place in town, which usually had a line out the door each morning. She must have waited nearly half an hour before work just to get it for him. “What??? This is—”

“It’s lunch, genius. Yours.” When Grant blinked in stunned silence, she added snidely, “And then you’re supposed to say ‘Thanks June you’re the best and sexiest coworker a guy like me could ask for, I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you’. So you’re welcome.”

Just when Grant was starting to actually feel a little guilty, June pointed up at the locker and barked, “Now get my stuff down, punk.”

Ah, there it was. That charming magic between them.

“I mean… What’s your plan if I don’t?” Grant asked with a bold sneer, carefully setting the bag on a top shelf. “It’s not like you’ll reach it on your own.”

As Grant spoke, June set her hands on his broad shoulders and gently redirected him in front of the locker. Even as a personal trainer, she understood that she couldn’t overpower him physically, but that was fine. It meant that if he was moving from just a light push, he was willingly going along with what she wanted, and June loved that. Being able to effortlessly steer and control someone so much larger than herself made her feel so… Powerful.

But Grant was too busy teasing her for her height to notice what she was doing. “You gonna call the fire brigade and ask if they’ll let you borrow one of their ladders?”

“Nah.” June looked up at him with a confident, naughty smile. “I’ve already got a ladder of my own.”

June waited for the realization to dawn on Grant’s face, then with an insolent grin she leapt up and wrapped herself around him. Grant flinched as June’s slender arms encircled his neck and her decidedly not slender legs wrapped around his narrow waist with mildly alarming strength. Having over 13 inches of height on her, Grant easily supported the short, sporty girl’s weight as she straddled his front, but her momentum still carried him backwards and caused him to crash into the lockers.

She was clambering right up his torso like a determined spider monkey scaling a tree… How could his simple revenge prank have backfired so quickly???

Next chapter.

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I am very excited to finally reveal this secret collaboration project between myself and the talented size writer, Bridget_drkW. There is plenty more to come, with many chapters featuring some delicious shrinking, all manner of crush, humiliation, teasing, a very smug shortstack, and more!

Let me know what you think in a comment or on Discord!

(This story was released 2 weeks early for all $10 members)