Sarah's Find - Chapter 8

You wake up on the soft, warm surface of her thigh. Groggily, you look around. Not surprisingly, she is still seated at her desk. Fortunate for you, of course, lest you want to navigate the carpet. Glancing upwards only reveals the wall of her red tank top and the underside of the immense cliffside that are her breasts. Her face is completely obscured by the swell of her bosom. You think that you should try to climb up to those big mountains in an attempt to reach her ears, or at least to be in her line of sight. You're still not completely sure why she hasn't looked for you yet. You've seen other tiny people around her. Is it possible that you're so small that she cannot tell the difference between you and others? It doesn't matter. Either way, you need to reach safety and getting back into her awareness is the best way.

But when you take a step, your foot becomes stuck. For a second you think that it's caught in the material, but then you notice that you've stepped in a thin layer of faintly green slime that is smeared on. The image of her finger reaching into the cavernous nostrils floods back to you, as well as the other tiny person you had encountered in there. You don't know where that guy ended up, but you know that he is likely still inside of her. Becoming unwillingly fused into her anatomy, her systems. With any luck, he's already dead so that he doesn't have to live through any further madness. All because she picked her nose at the worst possible time. The absurdity of the whole thing is not lost on you in the slightest. Hell, her belch had threatened to blow out your eardrums entirely. Every small action she took was like an earthquake of activity to you and anyone else like you.

And then you gaze across the expanse of her thigh. Her warmth is still enveloping you, and you admire the thickness of her. Between her legs you see the etchings of her womanhood peeking out defiantly against the yoga pants. Your insatiable lust, temporarily quelled earlier, begins to creep back in and you want to go down between those immense, fleshy thighs and rub your arms against her. Would she feel it? Could you do anything for her at this puny size? There was certainly nothing preventing you from trying like hell. But then a more powerful image comes: her bending over before you in those blue denim jeans. Her posterior overflowing your vision, overwhelming all your senses. The memory retains a great deal of that power and you are now certain where you want to be.

Eagerly, you walk across the generous expanse of her thigh and head towards her crotch. You then begin to sidle across the fabric towards the other thigh. Distantly, you hear occasionally sounds of massive keys being pressed and flashing lights from her computer screen. She is silent. How long were you out? You don't know and, with lust frying your brain, you're not sure you even care. There's more pressing matters. But, when you're halfway across, her right hand slowly falls from the desk and lands atop the thigh you just left, sending a small ripple through it. The hand slowly runs down towards the knee before reversing itself and tracing back and up the belly. Eventually, it reaches the underside of the bosom. It cups the right breasts, bounces it slightly, and then squeezes. She moans softly. You don't watch all of this; you're too focused on her own goals, but you hear the moan and it excites you, validating your actions. As you reach the other thigh, you bound across it and begin to climb down towards the seat of her chair. The moment you do, the hand up above slides back down to the thigh and extends its fingers down into the crotch. Her legs spasm slightly, closing against her hand, a louder moan coming from above. The spasm flings you off the yoga pants but the seat is soft and cushions your fall well.

Now you face the mass that is her ass. Not long ago you were inside these very pants. You don't want to be in there again, but you cannot help feeling as if you want to be underneath her again. At least this time you won't be inside her. This is a bad idea. Part of you knows this quite well and is screaming at you to get back up to her head so you can finally be safe. If you end up under her, you'll be squished. Oh, but that's not true, the lust speaks up, the chair is soft and so is her booty. It won't squish you. But you'll be smothered, the more rational side speaks, suffocated or some other damned thing. It doesn't matter how, what matters is that you'll likely die. But you don't go back to climbing back up. Instead, you stand there staring. Even though you see only some of it, the small portion of her rear that you see still overflows your eyes. You simply are incapable of beholding it in all of its glory at this utterly pathetic size. It won't stop you from trying, of course. But, in defiance of your inner reason, you begin to wonder how you can get underneath that wonderful rump?

It turns out that the question solves itself for you. Suddenly, she lifts herself on her right leg, the left side of her ass hanging up in the air for you to behold. Her left hand comes into view, sliding across her thigh before running down onto her buttcheek. She squeezes it once, twice, then her hand runs back down her thigh, comes back up to her ass, then squeezes the cheek again. The hand releases, pulls back, and then smacks the fleshy rear with a smart, deafening report. The air of the move blows you off your feet and you are now sliding down the massive indent in the cushion left by her big booty. You know this is happening, but only faintly. You're too busy watching what is happening above as the hand eagerly grabs and squeezes the cheek again before giving it a series of smaller pats. She moans again and her left hand disappears out of sight before her ass comes slamming down onto you.

You manage to avoid bearing the full brunt of her weight, as your tiny body has slid far enough down that when she lands, you are tucked neatly between her buttcheeks, much like before. Also like before, you are immediately and tightly wedged. You hear the sound of her hands rubbing up and down her body. You hear her groan and moan sensually. You even think you can hear the distant, but powerful, beat of her heart all the way down here. Her motor is running. Now you finally realize that. And you are stuck in her ass. The danger reveals itself, once again eroding your lust, replacing it with exasperated reason. Why on Earth had you put yourself in this situation again!? What is wrong with you!?

There is not even a moment of time to even consider this as the ass lifts off the chair as she stands. Looking down, you can just just barely see the distant seat of the chair below through the narrow slit of her tight rear. Looking up, you see her hands are busy running the fingers through the long, flowing locks of her hair. She sighs deeply. Perhaps she is imaging her boyfriend's fingers running through those locks? Or his strong hands slapping her ass as she had done before? You didn't know. You couldn't know. But whatever is on her mind has got her going, and you don't want to be here when she decides to feel herself up a bit more. As if to punctuate that point, a boom, accompanied by a quake that ruptures through the flesh of her ass, bursts in your ears as her hands comes down on her butt again. You feel the tightness around you loosen as her fingers grab and squeeze. They jostle the cheek, which further begins to shake you from your meaty prison. Knowing that if you slide free you risk falling far down into the carpet, you grab the threads of her yoga pants and begin to pull. Another spank, this one the hardest so far. To you it sounds like an artillery shell going off. Feels like it too.

“Ssss!” A hiss emits from her lips up above. It is followed by a warm, pleased “Mmmmmmm...”

Then, she begins to shake. Like a bowl of jello, her rear jostles and sways with her movement. You dig your fingers into her pants and hold on as tightly as you can. Up above her hands run their fingers through her hair again. Then, her shaking stops and her hands go around to her front, most likely to feel the swell of her chest again. She sighs and moans again before casting her hands down along the sides of her stomach towards her waist. It is there that her fingers dig into the hem of her yoga pants and begin to pull. Alarmed, you begin to climb as fast as you can. The pants are tight and she wiggles her rear to coax them down, giving you just barely enough time to grab the top of the black thong that imprisoned you earlier. She bends, pulling her yoga pants down to her ankles, and then straightens, stepping out of them and kicking them away. You follow her hands as they reach back up to her boobs (which you can practically HEAR her jostle and grab) before again sweeping over her shoulders and running her fingers through her hair. Then, she looks over her shoulder and smiles. You follow her gaze and see that she stands before a full length mirror that stands against the wall. She looks at her reflection approvingly. Your view becomes strained as she wiggles her rear again. This is followed by another mortal shell spank, this one somehow much loud as the flesh of her bare hand meets the bare butt.

Then, she turns and begins to walk. Unrestrained by the tight yoga pants, her big booty bounces with each step, causing you to have to hold on to avoid being jiggled off. You can't see ahead of her but you saw her bed in the background of the mirror and you can only assume she is heading there. To do what, you can only speculate but it might be time to move.