VENGEANCE IN CORDUROY by Aborigen    Around 11

VENGEANCE IN CORDUROY by Aborigen    Around 11

VENGEANCE IN CORDUROY

by Aborigen

Around 11:30am, Tracy and her friend Chelle decided they'd had enough of work

and split for lunch. Together they served as customer assistants for TangoCorp

HQ, a company dedicated to fun beverages and fruity snack treats. As charming as

the company attempted to present itself, it attracted a surly damn clientele,

and calls were coming in non-stop over the 800 and 888 numbers. Chelle had been

deailng with white trash from Tennesee and Alabama, answering questions

regarding the ingredients in Mango Menace and Assisted Citruside. She hated the

southern states, with their long drawls and poorly-phrased questions. She and

Tracy would relate stories of their phone calls and bust out laughing, to deal

with the stress of customer service.

Tracy, however, was in no joking mood when she punched out. For the past 35

minutes she'd been dealing with a string of obscene phone calls. Whether it was

coincidence or not, it sounded like two different men calling her, connecting to

her patch, over and over. First, she was amused, then she was scared, then she

was angry. Chelle tried to inquire gently as to what was bugging her friend.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Tracy fumed, stomping in her tight

little brown shoes out the huge glass doors of TangoCorp. Frowning, Chelle

followed her out to the elevators and gave her a few minutes of silence. Tracy

would talk when she was ready.

She was soon ready. "Ooh, those pricks! These two guys, right, just kept calling

and calling for over half an hour!"

"What'd they want?" Chelle asked.

"Obscene phone calls!" Tracy exploded. "Heavy breathing and nervous laughter and

panting... and I swear, they were masturbating. I could hear it in their voices,

the way they kinda jerked and gasped... eeeww!! Goddamn, I wish I could wipe the

sound of it out of my ears!"

Chelle might've laughed at the predicament, except for how livid Tracy appeared.

She noted her tight little outfit accentuated her anger quite aptly: Tracy wore

a white turtleneck beneath a short, tight tweedy jumper, with deep brown

stockings to match her shoes. Chelle only showed up in a Nordic skiing sweater

and snug jeans with racing piping down the outseams, flared bottoms spilling

over sneakers with 3" soles. Chelle felt as laid-back and relaxed as her oufit,

while every little twitch of Tracy's body, every shaking fist, each stamping

foot echoed in ripples and jostling throughout her body. Chelle considered Tracy

'well-fed,' though not fat by any means. Chelle herself was rather slender,

everything she wore hung on her casually unless it was purposely tight. Anything

Tracy would attempt to squeeze into would always be skin tight, probably.

"Well, that's what happens at customer service. We have two toll-free lines,

people like that are going to call," Chelle said sympathetically.

"That doesn't give them any right... ooh, I wish I could meet them! I'd kick

them in their goddamn balls!"

Chelle had to laugh at that, the image of a powerhouse like Tracy bulldozing

into some socially-backward, emaciated little pervo in his fourth or fifth

decade on this planet. Tracy spun on her friend, eyes flashing, and Chelle

almost quailed... but her laughter seemed to lighten up the mood, and Tracy went

into a long discourse on the different ways she'd torture and humiliate these

creeps, until they were both weak with laughter. Staggering out of the elevator,

they garnered some strange looks from passersby but paid these no mind and went

carousing off to the food court in the next building.

They got there well before the noon rush, and didn't have to wait in line very

long to get their food. Chelle was grabbing a sub from a sandwich shop, while

Tracy was purchasing an order of egg foo yung and some cream cheese wontons.

Chelle caught up with Tracy as she filled her soda. "Subs, huh?" Tracy asked.

"Don't you get sick of those?"

Chelle sneered and scanned around the food court for an empty table: goddamn

yuppies descended like locusts while their backs were turned. Then something

caught her eye--focusing, she lost whatever it was... couldn't have been

anything dramatic. Just a mood, a feeling... she resumed sweeping around the

room for a table, looking far to the right, then back to the left... there! She

picked up on it, or so she thought. Something about that guy, there... a tall,

thin guy with long brown hair and dark clothing. He seemed to be reading a book,

engrossed in it, in fact. Why would she notice him? Turning her head as if to

scan the room once more, she kept a sidelong glance fixed upon the man, and

waited... until...

Ah-ha! Chelle thought. He's staring at us! He's checking us out! Sure enough,

whenever the man thought Chelle was looking away, he glanced up at the couple of

them without moving his head and stared intently, as if studying them. Chelle

smirked to herself and turned to see if Tracy had noticed it. Tracy was filling

her soda and dabbling with the different flavors available, she hadn't noticed

anything. Narrowing her eyes, Chelle tried to pick up on the man in her

peripheral vision...

He was staring at Tracy's ass. Dead at it, practically turning his whole head to

face them. Chelle glanced reflexively at her friend's ass. Tracy, as previously

noted, was rather built, even voluptuous, certainly curvy, however you wanted to

say it. While featuring only average-sized breasts, maybe 38-B, Tracy had

developed what was known in vulgar, inner-city parlance as a "ghetto booty": a

full, prominant pair of buttocks, slightly largish but no less firm. In Tracy's

outfit, today, every little movement gave it an anxious litle wiggle. Pushing

for ice, it jostled. Pushing for Cherry Coke, 7-Up, Hawaiian Punch, it bobbled

each time. As Tracy hopped over to pick up a lid and straw for her drink, her

curvaceous rump fairly danced on her hips...

Snapping out of her trance, Chelle tore her eyes off her friend's ass and, for

something to distract her, ended up staring dead at the tall dark reader. He

flinched, also shaken out of his trance in staring at Tracy's buttocks, and

stared right into Chelle's eyes for two full seconds before blushing profusely

and diving into his book.

Chelle smirked darkly to herself and leaned over to her friend. "Trace... don't

look right now, but you see that guy about three tables away from you, in the

black sweater and jeans?"

Tracy pretended to hear a noise in the next restaurant, but looked over to where

the man was sitting out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah?"

"He was staring at your ass."

Tracy choked on her laughter. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Staring right at it. Hardly even hiding it."

Tracy's mood darkened a little. "He was..? Staring at me..."

"What nerve, huh? Just staring at you like a piece of meat."

Chelle didn't realize what emotions she was playing upon - more than anything

else, she was just thinking aloud to her friend. Tracy, however, was in a

particularly misandronistic mood this hour, after her solicitous phone calls.

"That fucking asshole," she growled, alarming Chelle. "That goddamned prick...

just staring at me like that, in front of everyone..."

"Yeah, hey, Trace," Chelle tried to soothe her friend, "let's just go find

somewhere else to sit, okay?"

"Fucking staring at me... like I want to be stared at!"

"Trace, c'mon, you're raising your voice... people are starting to stare..."

Tracy laughed harshly. "Someone's been staring, that's the problem!" she barked.

"Ha ha ha! Staring his fucking eyes out! Hey, buddy!" She called to the

stranger, as Chelle tried to tug her arm. "D'you get a good eyeful, huh? You got

something to stroke off about tonight!?" The man glanced up once, blushed

deeply, and hid behind his book again.

Chelle's cheeks were burning deeply as she spun Tracy around to face her.

"Tracy!!" she hissed in a stage-whisper. "Chill the fuck out, okay!? He's an

asshole, don't let it get to you! You're fucking embarassing yourself! Let's

just get a damned table and try to enjoy the rest of our lunch break, okay?"

Chastized, Tracy nodded quietly, her long, straight brown hair shaking over her

shoulders, her full lips in a dark pout. "Shit, I'm really sorry, Chelle, I

just... you know. It got to me."

"I know it did, hon. It's okay, getting upset."

Tracy forced a smile. "Doesn't matter, anyway, he's gone."

Chelle blinked, then turned to find the man, and blinked again: it did seem as

if he had taken off in the middle of their confrontation. She looked around but

didn't notice any dark strangers racing off through the crowd of yuppies and

temps. Strange...

She felt her arm being tugged by Tracy. "C'mon, let's go see what the peeping

Tom reads on his lunch break!" Stumbling, Chelle followed her friend and breezed

past the man's table. He apparently abandoned half a mushroom and sausage pizza,

a pink lemonade, and a copy of Michael Talbot's The Holographic Universe. "Heavy

material," Tracy mused sarcastically. "Don't see any cum-stains on it, can't be

his..."

Chelle smirked and was about to look for another table, when her glance shot

down to where the man had been sitting. Her eyes widened with incomprehension

and extreme surprise, her gaze slowly crawling up Tracy's body until streaming

with full force at her friend's face. Unable to bear the impact of the

significant look, Tracy asked slowly, "What is it, Chelly? You okay?"

Nodding slowly, Chelle deliberately set her sub sandwich on the little table,

across from the paperback. "I think we should sit here, Tracy. Make like we know

him or something."

Tracy gave her a screwed-up grin, confused. "What? What the hell for? This isn't

our table..."

Chelle leaned over the table slowly, ponderously, to lend weight to her

argument. "I think... we really should sit here... to-day," she pronounced with

quiet strength, almost desperation, jerking her head to the seat across from

her, her black waves of hair tossing in echo.

Staring blankly at her friend, Tracy's gaze drifted down to the seat where the

voyeur had been sitting, until her eyes widened too. "Oh, my God," she

whispered, raising one hand to her heavy, stupefied lips.

There on the blue vinyl seat, cowering before her towering body, was a

diminutive, reduced version of the dark stranger. Less than half a foot tall,

still wearing his sweater, jeans and boots, he recoiled against the back of the

chair, jerking his head around to gape at the distance to the ground. Fearfully,

he crawled to the center of the chair, so as not to fall to the tiled floor some

distance beneath him.

Tracy stared at Chelle in wonder, gently pulling out the man's chair and very

deliberately seating her prolific ass upon the tiny man. "Yes, I really think we

need to sit here today," she said, slowly grinning as she felt the squirming

body beneath her, "at least for a while."

Chelle stared across the table at her friend, as Tracy's fingers idly thumbed

through the pages of The Holographic Universe. Chelle was in shock, her face was

pale, and her fingernails bit into her knees, where her hands rested on her

legs. Tracy was humming contentedly to herself, grinning at her friend, or

picking at portions of the unfinished pizza. She shifted in her seat.

"Don't!" Chelle almost shrieked. "Don't move!"

Tracy looked up at her dully. "Why? What's up your butt?" she asked, giggling,

and squirming her pronounced ass on the vinyl chair.

"Tracy, you're killing him!!"

Tracy pretended to yawn. "Oh, he's fine, I can still feel him squirming... ooh,

that's nice!... but don't you worry about him. He surrendered his human rights

the moment he started staring at me."

Chelle was aghast. "What do you mean, his human rights? He's still a person, and

if you squoosh him all over that seat, it's still murder. Please be careful!"

She found herself possessed of an almost inordinate nurturing spirit towards the

diminutive prisoner, almost surely crushed beneath her friend's generous

derriere.

"Oh, come off it. I mean, look at the size of him now... he's basically an

insect, a toy." Tracy grinned indulgently. "Oh yes! A toy for me! I mean, how do

you think he shrunk down? God obviously looked down from Heaven and said 'Hey,

man, that's fucked up. How about I just turn the tables on that lecherous little

freak and see how he likes being the victim for a while?' And then bam!, He

shrinks this little fucker down to a more manageable size, as a gift to me!" She

shook with laughter, reaching over to take a drink of the little man's lemonade.

Her friend couldn't believe her ears. "You can't be serious, Trace... we have to

get him some help, we have to find a lab or something, like a doctor..."

Tracy looked at her friend condescendingly. "Ri-i-i-ight. I'm sure the doctors

down at Fairview-Riverside Hospital take care of this all the time! 'Hey,

doctor, my husband shrunk down to the size of an action figure! Can you help us

out?' 'Oh, sure, sit him up here on the table and we'll have a look at him.'"

She was clearly enjoying her seat of power, so to speak, laughing mockingly and

clenching her ass around her squirming little man.

"Tracy, it's just WRONG... someone's going to miss him. Maybe he had a

girlfriend? What happens when he doesn't show up for work?"

Snorting derisively, Tracy pushed her chair away from the table. "Look, Chelle,"

she snarled, "I thought you were my friend. You should be happy I finally have a

chance to get my revenge on a little asshole like this. He probably doesn't have

a girlfriend or he wouldn't be staring around for a new one, and for all we know

he could be temping somewhere. Temps can go home at lunchtime if they want,

happens all the time." She stood up over her friend, pretending to brush her

bottom off while palming the tiny man into her fist. "I'm tired of this

conversation now, and I'm tired of you getting all weepy and protective of this

little prick, and it's none of your business anyway! Now, excuse me while I go

to the bathroom, and when I get back we're going back to the office, and I don't

want to have to listen to you whining about it any more, got it?!" Due to her

size and solid stature, Tracy posed a serious threat to someone as gentle and

soft as Chelle.

Chelle was suitably chastened by the tongue-lashing, and hung her head, slumping

over the table. "Okay, you're right, Trace," she murmured, "you won't hear

another word about it from me. It's all on your head."

Tracy preened. "Good girl, thank you. I'll be back in a minute," she said,

slipping the tiny man into her pocket and nearly skipping off lightly to the

restroom.

Once inside the bathroom Tracy's peaceful expression melted into one of gleeful

malice and she darted inside an unoccupied stall. She took the little man out of

her pocket and held him in her palm, lifting him up to her face. "So, this is

the fuckwit who likes to stare at women's body parts, eh?"

The tiny man quailed in her hand, still gasping from having been crushed under

her ass. Her cross face glowered at him like a ferocious billboard. He barely

found the gumption to stammer, "I'm... please, I'm sorry..."

Tracy laughed, dangerously close to a cackle. "So what if you're sorry! It's way

too late for sorry, little man! You had your thrills, and now you're going to

pay for them!"

The tiny man looked as if he were going to pass out. "What... what are you going

to... do to me?" he choked out, kneeling in her palm, his tiny feet tucked under

his tiny butt.

This stopped Tracy for a moment. She hadn't considered what she would do with

him. "Well, I could twist you apart between my fists..." she turned around,

adding, "...and I could just flush you down the toilet, I guess..."

The tiny man shrieked in fear.

"Or maybe I'll just drop you into the toilet and take a shit on you, pee all

over you, see how you like that... that'd be a nice view of my ass, wouldn't

it?" Tracy tossed back her head and laughed, tickled with the thought of pooping

on her little tormentor; her laughter echoed sharply in the narrow stall.

The tiny man sobbed into his hands, pleading with her.

Suddenly she fell quiet and studied her captive with a very serious glare. She

asked darkly, "What if I swallowed you? I bet I could just pop you in my mouth

and... probably have to take a few bites, couldn't swallow you whole. You're

quite a little morsel."

The little man collapsed backwards and lay quite still.

Tracy, enjoying the terror she induced him, chuckled softly to herself and

studied the tiny man. "Oh, little man, wake up..." she crooned, holding him

close up to her face. "Little ma-a-a-an, are you okay?" Tilting her head

curiously she regarded the tiny passed out man in her hand. "Hmm, looks like

he's gone into shock. Better remove all restrictive clothing." He offered no

resistance as her other hand hovered over the tiny body, long, burgundy

fingernails pulling off the tiny boots, which she stashed in her bra. She

plucked off his sweater as well, tearing it very little from what she could

tell, and stashed that with her boob as well. She was tugging on his jeans when

he finally came to.

"Ah, my little man wakes!" she laughed. "Come on, I'm getting you undressed,

pull your jeans off for me."

"What!? I can't, not with you watching!!" he yelped, bringing his knees chastely

up to his chest. "I thought you were gonna eat me, anyway! How come I'm still

alive?"

Tracy's smile faded a little. "That was just one of the things I could do to

you. Now get out of your jeans before I jerk you around, ripping them off...

with my teeth," she growled.

The tiny man's eyes widened. "You wouldn't..."

For effect, Tracy snapped her jaws at her little captive, a sharp clack that

echoed a little in the bathroom stall. It had its desired effect: the little man

shucked off his jeans as if they were on fire.

Tracy grinned again, taking up his black denim jeans in her fingertips. "Now the

boxers and your socks, if you don't mind." When he looked like he was about to

resist, she leaned her head in close to him, opening her jaws over his entire

body. He stared up into a moist, pink cavern lined with monstrous ivory teeth,

wherein lay a huge, thick glistening tongue the size of a baby blue whale.

Beyond this gate to hell gaped a huge dark tunnel, her throat. His scream echoed

in her mouth, with a shrill cry, "They're off! Take 'em!"

She withdrew him and stuffed the rest of his clothes into her bra. "See where I

put your stuff, little man?" she smarmed to her captive audience. "You can get

them yourself, if you survive me. You just gotta endure whatever I do to you,

and then climb Mt. Tracy to get your clothes back from my boob!" She laughed,

shaking herself all over exaggeratedly. From his point of view, she rumbled like

a voluptuous volcano.

The tiny man's voice was dry with dread. "What do... whaddya want me to do..?

What do I have to do to survive?"

Tracy shrugged. "You know, I really can't think of anything, so... how about a

good fucking? I haven't had it in a while, and it's about time you did something

for me. I could use a nice, hard orgasm, think you can manage that?"

The tiny man stared at her in disbelief. "Me... and you? That's... that's crazy.

What could I possibly do for you?"

The cruel giantess hemmed and hawed at her little prize. "That's true, you are

pretty inadequate for the job... heck, I've seen big fat cocks bigger than your

whole body!" She laughed for a moment, then the laughter faded as she stared at

him with intense, fiery eyes. "That's it."

"What's it?" he ventured cautiously.

"That's how we'll do it. You're going to fuck me... or rather, I'm going to use

you to fuck me."

"What!?"

"And if you can make me come... then you've earned your freedom. You just have

to climb up to my breasts and get your clothes back, and you're free to go. I

promise."

The little man stared at her in horror, but with the spark of hope behind his

eyes... a dim spark that entertained the thought of escape... "Okay... okay,

I'll do it. I don't see what choice I have, anyway."

"Absolutely none!" Tracy cackled. "No choices at all! You're mine, and you're

going to do exactly what I say!" With her free hand, she hurriedly tugged at her

snaps and zippers and buttons, until she'd managed to work the bottom of her

jumper free and hike her tights and panties down. Taking a seat on the edge of

the toilet lid, she stretched out her legs and held the man away from her. "You

get a good look at me, little man," she muttered, "everything, from head to

foot. I may be the last thing you see before you die. I wonder where you'll

go... Toy Heaven?" she laughed, lowering him below her belly, between her

thighs...

"No! Please! Lady... miss... I don't even know your name!" he called up from her

crotch.

She shrugged in return. "What's my name matter? You may call me your goddess, as

far as you're concerned."

"Goddess, please don't do this! Anything else, please! You'll kill me!"

Grinning, she said, "What a way to go, huh? Some guys dream of nothing but warm,

sweet pussy all their lives... and now you're going to get enough for a hundred

men! Tuck in, chap!" And with that, she cupped her palm around the back of the

tiny, naked man and brought him into the thick, dark hair curling around her

labia.

"No! No, goddess, please! Help me!" he cried.

Clucking her tongue, Tracy just shook her head and slowly rubbed the tiny,

fighting body into her pussy... "Oh, God," she gasped, upon contact. It was kind

of a shock to feel something that tiny wriggling against her lips, as if she

were being fingered by a very young boy, but it wasn't unpleasant so she

continued to grind him into her.

His screams were muffled and staggered, when his head rose from her labia and

fell back into them, rising and falling, screaming and silence. Tracy ground him

harder into her pussy, loving the feeling of the solid little lump of man

against her. "Hey, little man, you're not feelin' too bad. It's almost like

having a detacheable penis for the weekend!" she chuckled, moaning softly as his

tiny arms sloshed through her thick folds of skin. Her lubrication was kicking

in and her juices started to flow from between her lips, coating the tiny man.

She could feel how slick he was getting... with all his kicking and struggling,

he almost slipped between her fingers a couple of times, and she had to rub him

harder still into her cunt.

"Knock that off, little man," she warned him, "or I'll have to really restrain

you. You don't want me to drop you on the floor, now, do you?" But he wouldn't

listen, clutching handfuls of her pubic hair and kicking his tiny legs in and

out of her labia... she gasped some more, as he teased her with threatening to

slip right inside her, and suddenly she saw no reason why she shouldn't just go

all the way with this. Wrapping her fingers around the tiny pair of legs, she

gripped him tightly and said, "Hold on tight, little man, you're in for a rough

ride now." Whether he was ready or not, she began to grind the little man

head-first into her cunt.

Still struggling, he tried to grasp for anything in his reach, much to Tracy's

delight. His little arms fishing around and swiping sent gentle tickling ripples

through her hips, getting her wetter. Even though he fought against her, she was

receptive enough to begin to allow his head, and then his shoulders. "Whoa, you

really can kick, my little fucktoy!" she gasped, feeling him jerk in her

fingers, even as his upper body squirmed and wiggled its way into her vagina.

Once he was inside, it was almost like taking a full-sized penis into her,

except for all the activity: he squirmed, he wriggled, he writhed, he twisted

about inside her tight passage, and her moaning became more frequent and

enthusiastic. "Ohhh... mmmmmmmhh..." She pumped her fist into her pussy,

thrusting the little man in and out of her cunt, then held him inside her and

slowly, slowly clenched around him... and she swore she could feel his arms, his

face, even his tiny little nose pressed up against her vaginal passage! She

hissed her breath and yanked him out, pulling him up to her face.

"Little man," she said breathily, "I just want you to know... you feel fucking

incredible right now." She closed her eyes and licked her swollen lips. "I

wanted you to know that in case you suffocated inside me, or I broke your spine

or something... because I'm going to fuck you hard, little man, and I really

don't think you're going to survive." His screams fell upon deaf ears as she

drew him back down to her cunt and fought to shove him back inside, getting him

aligned with her vaginal passage and thrusting him over and over inside herself.

Stomping her feet, Tracy could barely take this amazing sensation. On one level,

it was just a great masturbatory experience, thrusting a foreign object inside

her and getting off on it; on another level, it was a power trip--no guy was

yelling at her, telling her to roll over, telling her how fat she was. Just one

little man, screaming for his life, with her fist wrapped around him! On yet

another level, one she didn't really think about, was the quiet, dark thrill of

holding someone's life in her hand, the combination of her sex and his untimely

demise combined... "Mmmmm, oh, little man... where have you been all my life?"

Grunting ferociously, she fucked herself harder, pounding the little man inside

her vigorously, his shoulders and chest fighting for space as she clenched

around him, squeezing hard enough to break his bones... his bones! "MMMMmmmm, oh

yes! MMmmmmm, my God, yes!" The thought of shattering him with her pussy alone

sent a ripple of pleasure through her body. Her vagina was a weapon, in its

truest sense!

"Oh, Christ... this is incredible!" she cried. "Harder... gotta do it harder!"

He must've been reaching up inside her, because she felt tiny arms and hands

grabbing at her vaginal tissues, looking for something to brace himself with,

and this too tingled every last square inch of her skin. Groaning louder, she

pumped him harder and harder inside her, grunting with every thrust, eagerly

fighting for the orgasm...

Suddenly her stall door burst open: Chelle's foot came down, having kicked the

door in, and she stared at her friend in horror. "Tracy!! What the fuck are you

doing to him!?"

Laughing, Tracy continued to fuck herself, getting off on Chelle's look of

terror as she stared at the tiny, helpless man disappearing inside her cunt,

glistening with her own orgasmic juices. "Just... one minute, I swear... I'll be

done in... a minute... oh, God..."

"You psychotic bitch! You're done now!" Chelle yelled, twisting on her left foot

as she sent her right foot up, smacking across Tracy's jaw. Clanging her skull

against the toilet pipes behind her, Tracy released the tiny man to clutch her

head. Chelle stared at the bizarre sight of two tiny legs dangling limply out of

her friend's sticky pussy. 'This is too much,' Chelle thought to herself.

Gingerly she touched the tiny man's legs... one of them twitched in response.

"I'm taking him now, Tracy," Chelle told her, kneeling before her hips. "He's

barely alive, and I'm going to get some help for him."

Tracy had other ideas. "Fuck you, you goddamned bitch," she hissed, slamming her

thighs together. Her knees banged Chelle hard in the shoulders, and now her

powerful thighs scissored around her friend. Chelle groaned in real pain, her

fingers just about to wrap around the tiny man's legs as Tracy did this; she

completed the grab and tenderly, slowly slid the tiny man out of her friend.

Chelle stared rapt, in twisted fascination, as Tracy's labia almost seemed to

suck at the tiny man, trying to pull him back inside, trying to keep him,

swallow him... Despite her injury, Tracy was stimulated by the sensation of the

little man sliding through her pussy, but held Chelle fast. "You're not fucking

going anywhere, you lousy gash."

Chelle growled, trying in vain to free herself of her friend's strong vise-like

thighs. The little man was safe in her hand, so she reached up with her other

hand and flicked her fingers hard into her friend's clitoris.

Tracy sat bolt upright in pain. "OWWWWWW!!" she cried out, her crotch stinging

very painfully; she spread her thighs to alleviate the pressure. Chelle

immediately stood up, slapped Tracy hard across the face, and left her sobbing

in the bathroom as she ran out the door and through the food court.

"Well, now you're free, I guess," Chelle whispered to the little man, as she

rode down the escalator. "Guess I'm not going back to work today. Look, um...

little guy... I'm sorry for what she did to you... I wish I could help you,

somehow."

The little man said nothing, just lay in her palm (which she held close to her

chest, to hide him from anyone else) and moaned quietly, choking on Tracy's

juices.

"But... I guess Tracy was right, there's really nothing anyone can do for you,"

she said, turning her face towards the man and smiling gently upon him, trying

to comfort him.

"What are you talking about..." the tiny man gasped.

"Well, no one could restore you to your original height... where are your

clothes, anyway?"

"Your friend, Tracy, she stuck them in her bra..."

"Oh, damn. Guess you're just gonna have to stay naked," Chelle said, giggling.

"We're not going to the doctor? Can't you get some help for me?"

Chelle shrugged and shook her head. "Nope. All I can do for you now is... show

you a little kindness." The tiny man groaned loudly as she quickly stuffed him

down the front of her jeans, inside her panties...

 

VENGEANCE IN CORDUROY by Aborigen    Around 11

MORE ABOUT VENGEANCE IN CORDUROY by Aborigen    Around 11