Body art’s debacle

Part 1

“Yes ma... ye, I’m good. Ye, am alright, no worries. No, don’t be daft, ma! I don’t need it now...” he yawned “...and even if I did, it’s a quick dive... Ye, luv you ma... tata.”

{{user}} finally ended the call and huffed with relief – he really didn’t plan on having to listen to his mom’s grumbles for extra half an hour just because he left his computer at her place... No matter, he could survive the weekend on phone and TV alone.

He yawned and checked the time – 3:21 AM. Uncle Barry really wasn’t joking that it was a long story... Another yawn cooled him down enough to keep his eyes open just for a few more minutes... , he was tired...

{{user}} supported himself on the railing and glanced across the street. His apartment complex was there, right between dragon houses – just three hundred meters away... Tantalisingly close.

But he couldn’t go there just yet – the Plexiglas covered human sidewalk of course had to go all the way to the crossing, go under the road and then come back again... It was around half an hour, if not more. And home was so close...

“Bloody hell...” he scoffed, quickly confirmed that there wasn’t anything or anyone around... and jumped over the railing.

Feeling a bit like a criminal, he ran through the oversized pavement and encountered his first problem – the kerb. A good three-meter drop. Grumbling at the world, he lowered himself and dropped down just the last meter or so, nearly falling on his ass.

Now the most dangerous part – the road itself. Anxiously checking for any approaching cars and failing to notice any, he legged it across the street. Aside from nearly falling into a pothole, he avoided any misadventures and - huffing from exhaustion - leaned against the kerb... Before finally realising his folly – how was he supposed to climb it?

Great, now what? Was he supposed to wait for someone to help him up, or... before getting annoyed with himself, he noticed a cracked spot around fifty meters away. As it turned out, it was just enough damage find support for his limbs. {{user}} dusted himself off, congratulating himself on his totally planned out solution.

Now just to reach the other side...

“Yana no!” Came a thundering scream to the right.

He knew exactly who... or rather what was coming... It was a great stimulus to make him run for it again. Staying over here would have been, to put it mildly, extremely dangerous.

“Yana yes!” Another, also feminine voice responded.

“Stop that wench, before coppers see them!” The first voice screeched.

He ran, feeling rapidly approaching quakes. Someone massive were going straight at him... and judging by the very uneven pace, was either a cripple, or completely sloshed. Suddenly not feeling tired at all, he forced his legs to move even faster.

“I’m free! Free to...” A loud hiccup. “... to follow my dreams!” the second voice announced, apparently trying to wake half the neighbourhood.

“YES! Go babe! Let the world see them!” a third voice encouraged, before breaking down into hysterical laughter.

{{user}}’s face went completely pale once he finally made out a rapidly approaching dragoness’ silhouette. She wasn’t even looking down, her attention completely focused on... something she was holding above her head. Something that was... her bra. The enormous, blue breasts were unleashed and entirely focused on flapping around as she ran.

“BOBBIES!” The dragoness shrieked, grinning and laughing maniacally. “COME GET ME BOAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” Her screech transformed into a loud yelp when she tripped on the hole her foot encountered.

{{user}} also screamed and tried to jump out of the way, but unfortunately, didn’t manage to avoid the humongous tit crashing into him.

***

Yana woke herself up with her own snoring. It didn’t mean that she opened her eyes – it merely meant that she got painfully aware of how awful opening them would be. It very well could be a contender for the worst thing ever. She huffed out the toxic fumes of her last night – cheap whiskey and several tons of free bar peanuts.

Her stomach grumbled in agony, attempting to turn itself inside-out – in hindsight, she shouldn’t have cheaped-out on Chinese... or at least, water...

Trying to lift her eyelids resulted in a sharp, cold spike stabbing through her brain and travelling down her spine until it reached the tip of her tail.

“God... why...” she whimpered, trying to feel for a pillow she could shield her eyes with.

Predictably, it was on the floor, but it didn’t matter – pillow tent provided enough shelter for her to actually open her eyes without instantly croaking. Yana turned away from the window, welcoming the immense luxury of her studio flat. One silver lining of this hangover was that she had until Monday to work it out...

It was a lie of course – she knew damn well that it wouldn’t be the last hangover of this weekend... hell, it probably wasn’t even the last one today. Yana’s tortured guts demanded her attention again, threatening to make the next spasm a knock-out. Fine.

With great difficulty, Yana placed the pillow under her head and rolled to the side. Suddenly, she felt something... in her butt. Turning around revealed...

“Huh?” she mumbled, reaching for the rolled banknote stuck between her ass cheeks. “Ten quid...”

Yana speechlessly stared at the money, trying to remember how and why it got there. Her question was answered with another glance downwards – text written on her thigh said...

Lyss was here

Clara too

For the honk-bet <3

“Very fucking funny...” she scoffed, unable to get mad at them.

At the very least, they didn’t undress her completely and left her panties on. The slight dopamine injection temporarily staved-off the splitting headache, allowing her to sit up. A bit of huffing and moaning later she gathered enough strength to stand up, trying to stop her legs from sliding in opposite directions, while at the same time considering what exactly was her top priority, before a stomach grumble answered it.

She threw the money on the table, took three steps to the right, bent over and opened the fridge, just to be assaulted by a horrific stench of... she couldn’t even tell.

“Bloody hell...”

Recoiling from it and trying not to throw up she considered if maybe food wasn’t all that necessary – maybe she just needed a drink...

Grumble. A demand of solid foods.

Massaging her jaw she at least located the culprit – a half-eaten pot of tomato soup she made around... three weeks ago? Maybe four... Definitely less than five.

Carefully avoiding checking what new lifeforms have evolved under the lid, she searched for anything edible... Like those two pizza slices at the back.

The bad news was that she didn’t remember when she put them there. The good news was that... they weren’t mouldy. Smelled good too... at least good in comparison to the apocalypse she had just endured.

Deciding that it was either this, or dry bread, she shoved the plate inside the microwave on top of the fridge, set the timer to two minutes, then passed by the enormous pile of litter covering the bin and went into the bathroom. Supporting herself on the sink, she looked at her reflection and saw a somewhat recognisable husk of a woman with sunken, bloodshot eyes.

To be completely honest, were it not for the light-blue scales, she would be reluctant to believe it was her...

Yana fiddled with the cold water tap and splashed her face with the liquid, sighing with relief. A few more splashes cooled her head enough to reduce the headache at least a little bit... She greedily guzzled the tap water, gifting her belly a small mercy of non-alcoholic drink for a change...

Finally straightening out, she wiped her face from the night’s filth and looked at the mirror again and decided that now the reflection bore a little more resemblance to her. Good. She would probably fully recover just in time for another outing...

She yawned, rubbed her hands together and stretched, which caused her spine to produce questionable cracks... but she was used to it. Years of sleeping on the couch were...

“Huh?” She gasped, noticing something she wasn’t used to.

Something dark on the underside of her right breast...

She lifted it and... saw a picture of a tiny human.

“Oh, come ON!” She groaned with annoyance. “Another one?!”

Yana rubbed the picture with a faint hope that it was just a funny sticker and not a tattoo... but of course it was. A detailed, coloured – which was surprising - life-size tattoo of a human man in a weird pose... in about the dumbest place you could think of.

Why was it there? Was it some sort of bet? A dare? Or did some tiny attempt a pick-up line on her and drunk Yana found it admirable or hysterical enough to immortalise him? Straining her memory as usual proved futile. A mystery never to be solved, just like with the vast majority of her piercings and tattoos...

“Drunk tattoo... At least this one’s easy to hide...” she mumbled, gave the picture a flick and let her breast fall back down, hiding the tattoo in the creek of her underboob almost entirely. For the first in her life, having somewhat saggy breasts was a positive, however small.

The microwave beeped, awakening her hunger anew. Praying to all gods real and fake that the food was edible, she took it out and put it on the table in front of her couch. After a second of consideration, she went back to the fridge and took out a bottle of ketchup, then flooded the slices with it, convincing herself that it was ‘almost’ like tomatoes, which were good for hangover... Eggs were also good for hangover and... there were eggs used to make the pizza dough, so it was also checked... and she just checked water as well.

Yes, it would totally work, if she just believed hard enough.

Finally parking her ass on the couch again, she absolutely destroyed the first slice in a few seconds. Miraculously, it was perfectly edible, if stale. When greedy fingers grabbed the second one, her eyes landed on the banknote. The pieces instantly connected.

“Honk-bet.” she scoffed, not even attempting to imagine how sloshed she must have been to agree to get a stupid tattoo for ten pounds. “Lyss, I will destroy you...”

Trying to distract herself from anger, she turned on her TV and...

“And now for the grand finale - Princess Joanne, presenting new creation of the renowned Giuseppe...” the TV host roared so loudly that Yana instantly covered her ears and hissed.

“Buggers!” she growled, turning it off again.

She had apparently overestimated how well head was.

Yana decided to finish her breakfast in peace and picked up her phone afterwards, before – with a bit of effort, thanks to the cracked screen – locating Lyss in her contacts. Reading her own message aloud, she started typing.

“Count your days stupid , this bloody tattoo...”

***

Heat. Musk. Dankness. Constant hum. But most of all, thundering, scarily regular rumble. Those were the only constants in {{user}}’s existence.

Actually, scratch that – there was also fear. Overwhelming, an all-encompassing dread filled his mind. He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t move. And he didn’t know how to breathe.

His brain was screeching at him to breathe, to inhale, but he just... couldn’t. His lungs weren’t responding and they felt... he couldn’t even describe it. It was as if they got compressed and stuck to themselves so much that his muscles couldn’t stretch them... It was horrifying – some deep, primal part of his psyche was causing him to have a panic attack every two minutes or so... and yet he lived.

He lived, but an increasing part of him wished that it wasn’t the case. Attempts to scream, to yell for help never produced any sound. The only things he could do was blink and slightly move his mouth... and even that was difficult.

What was happening?! Who did this to him?! Why was he trapped in this blue hell?! Why?!

Just as he was beginning to pass out from exhaustion after hours of torment, his prison suddenly... shifted. And not just one part of it, not even one wall – the ENTIRE thing moved.

An incredibly loud rumble reverberated through both the prison and him.

Again, WHAT WAS HAPPENING?!!!

His limbo moved again and this time, didn’t stop. On top of the usual hum and rumbles – now with increased frequency – he also heard thumps. Each thump jiggled his entire world, pressing and slapping him helplessly against the blue wall on the opposite side.

Before he could even begin to process what was happening, a downwards vertigo caused him another panic attack... but the fall stopped before reaching the ground. As it turned out, WAY before the ground. The new position opened up his prison a little, letting him see something other than his dank crevice...

But what he saw made him even more confused. He saw legs. Clearly feminine, scaly, blue legs and hips... Everything upside down, at least from his perspective.

What? Was he abducted? He could clearly see that it was a dragoness, but couldn’t recall ever seeing someone like her, so it was the only logical conclusion...

Before this train of thought was finished, a horrible stench assaulted his senses. Great, that was exactly what he needed right now – more suffering. What it did though was sober him up enough to realise where he was... Yes, the view of her belly and abdomen, but nothing above it was a pretty clear indicator that he was somewhere on the underside of her breast... Which was so stupid that he nearly instantly discarded the abduction thesis – noone would be dumb enough to store prisoners... here.

In a moment of clarity, he finally remembered the last thing that happened before he lost consciousness... A titanic tit crashing into him.

So it was an accident – a drunk gal fell on top of him, and he somehow got stuck to her thanks to the... sweat and sebum. Disgusting... but also a bit funny. It also meant that getting her attention was the only condition to getting freed.

His prison closed once again with a sudden vertigo. What followed was even more thumps and jiggling... God, the jiggling was killing him.

Another window into the world revealed a dragon-sized, yet still very cramped bathroom – the only thing he could really see between her legs was a washing machine and a toilet to its right... which – accounting for his orientation – would be left.

The view ended with – what a surprise – a vertigo, putting him in his dark, musky confine once more. This time though, he felt droplets of water along his body, taking away some of the obnoxious heat as they went. Not nearly enough to feel good, but any relief was welcome at this point.

More jiggling, more rumbling and then... His prison was lifted upwards, letting him stare into the mirror. He couldn’t make out her face thanks to all the jiggling, but she very clearly saw him. He tried to sigh with relief, but breathing was still impossible for some reason.

“Oh, come ON!” Her thundering voice reverberated through his entire being. “Another one?!”

Her hand approached and he tried to ready himself for getting picked up... but instead, she just... scratched him. Genuinely rubbed him as if she was scratching herself. What? What just happened? It felt incredibly weird, though not painful at all.

Before he could panic from lack of understanding, he panicked from her hand approaching in a very peculiar position... Oh no... No no no no no... She was going to flick him... which would send his head flying if...

“Drunk tattoo... At least this one’s easy to hide...”

The flick hit him squarely in the chest, but instead of exploding him into bits or at least breaking all his ribs, he just... jiggled. Jiggled, along with the rest of his prison, until the thing suddenly collapsed, trapping him in the musky confines of the woman once more.

What did she mean... tattoo...

“Help...” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

***

Yana was spending her Saturday about as unproductively as she expected – scouring social media for slivers of enjoyment among endless piles of worthless slop. It was a perfect analogy for her life – slogging through most of it just to get a quick laugh every once in a while.

Silver lining was that at least she managed not to drunk-text her ex, which was not a given. Deciding that she felt good enough to think at least somewhat straight, she filled the kettle and turned it on, then went to prepare the mug. Warmed it a little, put some leaves in the strainer and flooded everything with boiling water. While it was brewing, she checked her chats again – Lyss haven’t read it yet and Clara’s icon was so far back that the chat wouldn’t even display it. Truth be told, there was a non-zero chance that Lyss simply lost her phone again.

Yana removed the strainer, put in some milk and sugar, grabbed some biscuits from the cabinet and finally sat back down, holding the greatest amount of luxury she could afford.

Taking a bite, she put her feet on the table and turned on the TV again, hoping that maybe two slops at the same time would substitute actual entertainment while she waited for her tea to cool-off.

“...id you expect him to react that way or was it a surprise?” asked one of the hosts.

Yana rolled her eyes, but didn’t switch the channel – ‘Good Morning Dominion’ was preferable to watching football, or ‘Got Talent’ reruns...

“Help...” A barely audible, shivered voice pleaded.

She glanced up from her phone but didn’t notice anything interesting on the screen and so returned to looking for finding solutions for cracked screen after rice didn’t work.

“God please...” The same voice whimpered.

This time she was nearly certain that it wasn’t a mishear. The TV got muted to hear better.

“Someone please... Anyone...”

Yes, it was definitely real and close... but muffled at the same time. Yana stood up and opened the window above her couch. The usual sounds of the city assaulted her ears... but there was no pleading. Until she closed it again.

“Stop... shaking me... so much...”

“What?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Was someone in her house? The mere thought made her square up on instinct as she glanced around nervously. Her arms pressed tightly against her torso, ready to strike at any perverted intruder.

“Where are you?! Come out now!” she ordered anxiously.

There was no response. Her right breast just itched a little. Slowly and carefully, she moved to check all possible hiding spots. Wardrobe, oven, the bathroom... She checked if the exit doors were closed and they sure were... The space under her couch was also empty...

The voice completely disappeared once she began looking for it. Was she going insane? Or maybe... did someone spike her drink? Nevertheless, she relaxed a bit after confirming the lack of pervs in her house and picked up the cup of tea from the table.

“Oh thank God!” The voice returned with surprising clarity when she bent over, making her spill some of the beverage.

“What? Where are you?! Who are you?! Show yourself!” she hissed, tensing up again.

“I... can’t move...”

“Can’t... then tell me where you are!”

There was a long pause.

“Your... boob...” the voice answered.

Yana blinked several times. The silence got awkward.

“What?”

“Your... right... breast... I’m... stuck... there...”

An idea appeared in her mind. Did... did someone tie a tiny human to her? In a spot where she couldn’t see? That would be... honestly, a pretty hysterical prank. One that Lyss would absolutely do.

She felt everywhere on and around her breasts but found nothing – everything was just her usual scale texture.

“I don’t feel you,” she announced.

“...H-how? You’ve... traced me... five times already...”

Yana hesitated and with a very bad feeling, went to the bathroom and lifted her breasts in front of the mirror. There was nothing – just a lot of unkempt, blue scales and that stupid tattoo...

The tattoo blinked and moved its mouth.

“Here...” the voice announced a bit more clearly than before.

Yana screamed in horror and crashed into the washing machine behind her, incapable of comprehending what she had just witnessed.

Her downstairs neighbour hit his celling with a broomstick a few times.

***

Yana sat on the couch and sobbing from pure existential dread. She... she had a tiny person... somehow stuck to her body... She couldn’t comprehend how it was even possible...

At the very least, the 999 got enough out of her panicked rambling to send an ambulance...

A knock on the front door made her regain a sliver of lucidity.

“Yana Cole?” a masculine voice asked. “Emergency services. We’ve got a report from the...”

Yana darted across the room and slammed the door open, revealing two paramedics. She inhaled.

“Ohthtankgodyouhavehelpithini...”

“Calm down!” The male paramedic, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Easy, lass. Deep breath.”

He pushed her back inside with practiced ease and made her sit back down. The female paramedic squatted in front of her and with a very calm, methodical voice said.

“Ma’am, we need you to remain calm while we...”

“PLEASE HELP HIM!!!” Yana yelled, earning another round of broomstick thuds from below.

“We’ve got a report that you’ve hurt a tiny... is that right?” the male paramedic asked calmly.

Yana shakily nodded through tears. She moved the towel away from her right breast and lifted it, revealing the human. Both paramedics clenched their jaws.

“Shit... another one of those...” the woman sighed, rubbing her temples. “Ma’am... Please calm down a little... and we will explain some things.”

Yana stared at them, still in a state of panic, her mind trying and failing to process the ‘another one of those’ line. Seeing this, the female paramedic set a rhythm for her breathing with her hand and it actually... helped.

“First of all...” The dragoness began. “This happens a lot more often than you’d think.”

Yana choked on air, which made the paramedic stop and wait for her breath to return.

“Second of all... we can not help with this.”

Yana felt as if her brain entered a free-fall.

“W... W-w-what...” She took a shaky breath. “You... you have t-to... help...”

“Believe me lass, we would have if it was possible,” the male paramedic said sorrowly. “But fact of the matter is... If we try to peel him off, we’ll rip him to shreds. He is simply too thin now and fused with your skin on top of that. This is the unfortunate truth that medical science has tested... more than enough times...”

Yana began hyperventilating as reality hit her... but what’s worse... the tiny human screamed. She could barely hear him under the mounds of flesh and her own ragged breath, but she could hear his dread... his horror...

“On the bright side... They can live like this,” the dragon continued. “They still see, hear, talk... even if not very loudly... They just can’t move and... well... they can’t do most things, but still...”

Yana pressed her hands against her head, trying to stop her shaking. But she knew... she new that she wasn’t the one going through ACTUAL hell here...

“I’m... I’m so sorry...” She wept to the tiny man, trying to caress his flattened form and stopping herself at the last second, not wanting to make him suffer even more.

The dragon sat on the couch’s arm and pulled her head towards him, trying to ease her a little bit.

“Could’ve been worse, lass...” he mumbled.

Worse... WORSE?!

The sheer absurdity, no – AUDACITY – of that statement made her tense up in a near mindless rage. She freed herself from the man’s grasp in one quick motion.

“What do ye MEAN ‘Could have been worse’?!” she spat out viciously. “He’s flattened, jammed forever and I could off him with one wrong twitch!”

The dragon slowly inhaled, preparing himself mentally for something.

“Lass... Where do you think the vast, and I do mean VAST majority of tinies get stuck to?”

Yana drilled him with her hateful gaze for several seconds... before his words started registering. She blinked. Where do tinies get stu...

“No...” she whispered, slowly shaking her head. “No no no no no nonono...”

“Feet.” the female paramedic responded flatly. “Soles, to be more pedantic. They have to endure getting walked on every single day, but... Just imagine having to spend your existence as someone’s sole-tattoo. Sweat. Smell. Dirt of the road. Constant, crushing pressure and obscene vertigo with every step...” She shook her head. “Luckier ones get sat on and... stuck to ass cheeks.”

Yana felt her stomach violently turn. She gagged at the mere thought of that image, never mind actually trying to visualise it...

“Ye...” The dragon nodded. “Our kind sometimes just... steps into the poor sods... and often not even realise it. We get a lot of calls days or even weeks after the crush.”

Yana whimpered from dread and doubled over completely, utterly mortified that this... that this had apparently happened to countless tinies... It suddenly dawned on her how comparatively lucky her own tiny was...

“I’m never drinking again...” she whispered with immense resolve and then... paused. “No... Tis all a prank, innit?” She suddenly straightened up, eyeing the paramedic and cocking her head. “Some bugger glued a wee speaker to me tit... and you lot are fucking with me...” She paused for a second. “Lyss...”

Paramedics exchanged glances. The dragoness rolled her eyes and nodded. The man pulled over the stool, sat on it and presented the sole of his left foot...

Yana’s eyes went wide. There was a... a... a...

“Hi...” a weak voice of the tiny, flattened woman reached her ears.

“Her name is Jen,” the dragon said.

Yana stared at the horrific image for half a minute, her brain short-circuiting at least twice every second from pure horror. Even the... sticker woman realised it...

“It’s... not ideal...” Jen commented dryly.

“Puttin it mildly,” the dragon sighed.

“And... she’s... alive?” Yana finally sputtered.

“For about three years now.” The dragon nodded. “Think I’ve stepped on her trying to catch a bus... But honestly, neither of us know for sure. Found her two days later when janitor told me I had something on my foot...” He wriggled his paw a little, revealing how seamlessly the woman melded with groves of his sole.

Yana snored and laughed. Laughed from the sheer absurdity, existential dread, mental exhaustion and probably many, many other things she couldn’t even properly name right now.

“What kind of world do we live in?!” Yana screeched between laughing fits.

The female paramedic huffed and scratched her head, which was worth more than a thousand words.

“Hey, tis not all bad.” The dragon shrugged without much conviction. “We’re engaged after all...”

***

:(

Yana ran into a problem and needs to restart. We’re just collecting some error info and then we will restart for you.

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Recovered file: “We’re engaged after all.”

***

“YER WHAT?!” Yana yelled as loudly as she could, which earned her yet another broomstick salvo coupled with a few muffled curses from below.

“After the fifth hospital said that she can’t be removed... We had to accept reality... however barmy.” The dragon spread out his arm apologetically.

“When you’re stuck... to someone’s body... to a fucking foot... twenty-four seven... for years... You either get along, or you lose your mind,” Jen added with a somewhat muffled voice.

Yana made a noise halfway between hysterical laughter and an outright sob before looking down at her own flattened tiny—still stuck beneath her scales, still screaming —with fresh devastation in her eyes.

The dragon gently caressed Jen’s torso area and continued somberly.

“I know what you feel, lass... I couldn’t live with myself either.” He sighed. “But a bit of time passed and... we really grew on each other... Bonded a lot...” he said, his face turning sheepish a split second later.

“Greg... You make one more shitty pun and I swear to God I WILL find a way to bite yer ankle!” Jen growled with surprising viciousness.

“Ehmm right, sorry babe...” Greg cleared his throat. “Anyhow... We do stuff together... Watch movies, read books, puttin some tunes... We try to write a book together... We even bathe together, relationship goals!”

“Greg...” Jen hissed venomously, which shut him up instantly.

The female paramedic’s phone rang, making her quickly go out on he corridor to pick it up, leaving the hollow husk that was once Yana with the walking existential crisis duo. Oh and of course the constantly screaming man stuck to her breast.

She didn’t know what to do. There were no words with which she could express her remorse, no words to ever apologise... and no way to make it up...

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, this time actually rubbing him ever so slightly, which muffled his scream a few times.

As she sobbed, something appeared in her field of vision. Greg put a small, colourful piece of paper under her nose...

A pamphlet.

Yana grabbed it with shaking hands and wiped off most of the tears with a forearm, which made her vision clear enough to actually read it.

So, you’ve flattened someone: A guide and care tips

She stared at the abomination in her hands... and laughed. A completely unhinged, deranged laughter that quickly devolved into choky cackling.

“Why does this exist!” Yana asked with a breathless wheeze. “Why does this exist!” she repeated as tears fell onto the pamphlet, muddying letters.

“You should read it. It’s important... and helpful.” Greg nudged her slightly.

With barely any control over her trembling hands, Yana pushed her thumb’s claw between the pages and flipped it open on a random page.

“Q and A,” she whispered. “Question four... What if the tiny is stuck to my TAILHOLE!” A wheeze of renewed dread left her mouth. “And the answer! And the answer is!” She cackled uncontrollably. “AVOID EATING SPICY FOODS AHAHAHAHA!!!”

Greg quickly closed the pamphlet, then opened it on the first page instead. Genuinely curious what other horrors this unholy print contained, she wiped her tears and continued where he ordered her to.

“Part one... Do not panic – you are not the one affected the most and your new friend needs you more than ever now...” She read almost calmly and glanced at the now sobbing man under her breast, then slowly nodded. “Once you calm down, remember the most important rule about your tiny - henceforth referred to as ‘sticker’. NEVER try to peel off your sticker.”

Greg nodded and encouraged her to read further.

“... If there are unflattened parts of your sticker, you need to evaluate the time elapsed between the initial flattening and now – if the time is below thirty minutes, you have to flatten the rest of your sticker... If that time is exceeded, the parts should be...” She closed her eyes. “Amputated...”

“Necrosis,” Greg explained.

Feeling her soul getting dragged further to hell with each sentence, Yana desperately tried to remove the image from her mind and continued.

“Once you have followed these instructions, your sticker is safe... Part two... Determine which way your sticker is oriented...” She stopped for a second, then looked up at Greg. “Oriented as upside down, sideways and all?”

Greg opened his mouth, but no sound escaped it. There was just a tired sigh from his foot...

The female paramedic finally returned to the room.

“We have another call – medical transport from hospital to house,” she announced.

Greg gave her a nervous look, not daring to move for some reason...

“A-answer me!” Yana yelped, smelling even more horror on the horizon.

“Some of us are stuck face up...” Jen broke the silence and made Greg flinch. “Like me. Some can get stuck sideways and have only one eye to see through. Others...” She coughed weakly. “Others get stuck face down. Facing the skin... Eyes too...”

Yana stared into the void with soulless, expressionless eyes. She felt nothing – no fear, no dread, no existential horror. She was gone, her soul slurped out, vacuumed by the eldritch pamphlet and now travelling through the dimension of numbness, indifference and thoughtlessness – it was the only way to stay sane despite the revelations.

Greg cleared his throat.

“... Next page should have diagrams if you...”

Yana screamed. She let out the longest, loudest scream in her entire life, rattling not only her room, but the entire building as well. When she ran out of breath, she simply took another one and continued right where she left off, all the while clawing at her own face and actually drawing blood.

Paramedics restrained her by pushing her against the couch.

“Ye fucking , first you and yer galdem make a bloody ruckus each night and now ye...” Her neighbour from downstairs barged into the room and stopped dead in his tracks once he saw two paramedics tending to her wriggling form.

“Medical emergency,” the female paramedic said flatly.

Hubert stood there for a few seconds before loudly scoffing.

“Drugs, eh? Knew she would end this way...”

“Please leave, sir.” The paramedic hissed and surprisingly, Hubert obliged.

It took a few minutes of wrestling, but Yana finally lost her strength and collapsed limply, quietly sobbing again. Paramedics exchanged glances and the dragoness checked her watch.

“You stay with her... I will cover for you...” She sighed, patted Greg on the shoulder and left with their equipment.

And so, they were left alone... Just the two of them... No, not two – four.

Yana reached under the couch and pulled out her emergency whiskey bottle, just to attempt to guzzle the entire thing in the fewest number of gulps possible. Before she reached her third, Greg snatched the bottle out of her hand, spilling some of the contents on the floor.

“Oi, give it back... I need it...” Yana whimpered.

“No, you don’t,” scoffed Greg. “What you need now, is to process everything with a clear mind.”

“I... I can’t... I don’t want to...” she sobbed.

“And have you thought about what your human wants? Even once?” asked Jen.

Yana’s eyes widened with realisation that she... that she focused on her own turmoil so much that she completely forgot about the actual victim...

“Oh God...” she whispered, pulling her breast a bit. “Are you alright, little guy?”

There was no response – no words, no screams, no whimper. Just an eerie silence.

“Say something, please...”

“He seems alright...” Greg sighed. “As alright as he could at least...”

Yana hesitated.

“Is... Is there anything you’d want? Anything, just tell me.”

Still, there was only silence... at least for the first few seconds. And then...

“I want to wake up...” She heard a barely audible whimper that shattered her heart into millions of pieces.

Hot tears streamed from her eyes once more, creating two rivers flowing through her face, neck and chest.

“Ye... First week’s always the worst...” whispered Jen. “After that...” She hesitated. “After that, the numbness kinda sets in.”

“Yer not helping, babe,” Greg muttered, then turned to Yana. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Yana nodded weakly... and witnessed how Greg mercilessly smashed his prisoner-fiancé into the ground as he stood up. After a bit of searching, he made two mugs of tea that Yana found to be very mediocre at best...

Greg sat on the stool again and went through the contents of his bag, then pulled out a form and a pen and put it in front of her.

“What’s all this...” Yana asked, glancing at the paper from afar. “Some more torture?”

“An obligation,” Greg corrected. “You must agree to not share knowledge that this... flattening thing is possible. Anyone who doesn’t already know, CAN’T know.”

She picked up the paper, then read it in silence. It was simple and said exactly what he told her – she couldn’t spread knowledge of this phenomenon or face imprisonment. Her gaze wandered to Greg again.

“Why?” she pushed out.

“Well...” Greg huffed. “Crown’s spent a lot of time and money to cover it up... And for a good reason. Picture that word gets out and folks start doing it on purpose... for kink, or some shit.”

Yana felt weak again and leaned back as much as her horns allowed.

“ ...” she whimpered. “They would, wouldn’t they? Some fucking cunts...”

“Ye... already happened to my cousin...” responded Jen.

“Oh, sick... What happened?” she pushed further, knowing full well that she will regret it.

“Eh, you know... year ago went to date some dragon gal he met online... stopped responding a month later. Thought he got napped or something but then we found he was uhh...” Jen paused for a second. “On her thigh. Inner thigh.”

“Abso-bloody-lutely...” Yana laughed humourlessly.

“Yeah... Only found out cuz she has Only fans and he’s visible on premium pics,” Jen finished bluntly.

Yana wailed quietly and covered her eyes again, feeling sick for belonging to the same species.

“You better sign this lass,” Greg repeated with slight urgency. “If you don’t, you get sent to slammer straight away.”

“Buzzing!” she replied, but then actually placed the form back on the table and began filling it.

It asked for her full name, her NIN, the circumstances of the accident... and then, the victim’s data as well. It suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t even know the man’s name...

“What... what’s yer name, little guy?” she asked, raising her breast slightly.

“I... I’m {{user}}...”

“Ollie...” she whispered. “That’s a nice name... I’m Yana...And your last name?”

“... Sharp...”

“{{user}} Sharp...” she filled in. “I guess you do have quite the edge now...”

She almost instantly regretted her joke and felt awful for even attempting humour.

“I want to go home...” he whimpered at the edge of another breakdown.

“I know...” she hissed painfully. “I know... but... I will take care of you... I promise...” Her attempt at nuzzling him ended in spectacular failure, but she hoped to hell that he at least appreciated the effort.

“It’s refreshing to see someone who cares.” Greg mumbled, taking the form from Yana’s hands and stuffing it into his bag again. “That’s enough info for coppers to fill the rest. From now on, {{user}} is dead. Died in accident. You decide if you tell your family the truth or not, but they gotta sign the paper too then.”

Yana picked up her tea and downed it in one swig, then looked at him, at her victim, at his bag and at the eldritch pamphlet...

“That’s it? We’re just stuck together and good luck? No help, no nothin?”

“Well, you got a pamphlet, right?” Greg mumbled, packing up his stuff.

“Bloody...” She huffed. “And money? The git’s basically disabled, right? Something to care for him and all...”

“Nah.” Greg shook his head. “And good reason too. Imagine someone learns he can get quid for stepping on them tinies.”

Yana covered her mouth and let out a muffled scream. Of course everything was fucked beyond belief... what did she expect at this point?

“There is one thing though...” Greg began again. “We’ve a... support group. Like those alcoholics and all... Meeting’s today at 4:00 AM. Could take you there if you wanna...”

“Support group...” she whispered weakly.

That was really as much as she would ever get, wasn’t it? Just a bunch of folks to talk with... But... they could have some insight on how to care for the poor guy...

“Would you want to, Ollie?” she asked.

“...I don’t care...” he mumbled barely audibly.

Yana took a deep breath.

“Ye... Sure...” She finally nodded.

Greg rubbed his hands together, visibly satisfied with her answer, then checked the time.

“Get dressed then. We make a stop at Toby’s first...” He looked at Jen “Yeah... sorry babe, a bit of walkin...”

“Greg...” Jen said as if through gritted teeth. “I’ve been getting smashed into the dirt for years at this point... I swear to whatever God might be still listening to me that if you apologise for stepping on me ONE MORE TIME, I...”

Her rant as interrupted by Greg simply standing up, bearing a frightened look of a man who knew damn well what typhoon awaited him at home.

In equal parts bewildered and fascinated by their dynamic, Yana put on one of her push-up bras, not realising the implications of her choice at the moment.

***

If {{user}} hadn’t given up before, he would have done so right now. Before, he could at least see something, hear something, have a little bit of fresh air... It was all gone now. All he could feel was an overwhelming pressure of the titanic boob from one side and the iron-tight cup pushing it upwards from the other. He found himself in the main support area and was taking the brunt of it all the time, shifting slightly with each step-induced jiggle.

Aside from that, there was a near absolute darkness of the fabric... The musky, sweaty scent of a woman permeating both him and everything around him... And the constant sounds of her bodily functions... forever.

He would always hear her breath. Her heartbeat. The swoosh of her blood circulating just beneath him... The only small mercy he was granted was that he didn’t really hear her digestion.

He sometimes could make the sounds of giants outside... people who still had the life he was denied. A life to enjoy, to use as they saw fit, not suffer through as a helpless observer.

The message that this is how the rest of his life will look like hit his head again and would make him reel... if he was still capable of reeling. Instead, he cried. Cried into the steel-like fabric that muffled his despair into something completely soundless.

***

“H-hi...” Yana swallowed nervously “Am Yana and I... I mean my tiny is... is on me underboob.” She awkwardly gestured to her right cup. “So I don’t know if I should...”

“Don’t worry, dear... you can, and you should.” The moderator nodded, her dark-red scales glistening in the faint light.

A bit reluctantly, Yana presented her sizeable treasures along with their prisoner to the group.

“This is {{user}}... he’s been here since... yesterday.”

A few somber voices were heard. They... they understood.

Yana looked at the dozen gathered people sitting around on the mattresses. Every single one of them had a tiny human visible somewhere on their body... but she was also acutely aware that she was one of the only three people who didn’t have their tinies stuck to soles. The other two were Patricia – a late middle-aged dragoness in a dress that was probably very fashionable before Yana was born - who had her human on her right shoulder blade, which forced her to sit at a rather awkward angle... And a young dragon named Dennis, who apparently had one on his butt cheek, but refused to show him for some reason.

“Just a quick heads-up - we do not use such derogatory terms as ‘tiny’ or ‘sticker’ or ‘tattoo’ here.” The moderator informed. “We use the term ‘companion’ as a more respectful substitute.”

“Right, of course...sorry...” Yana mumbled nervously, staring at the floor.

She saw a dozen of tiny eyes blink almost at the same time in a show of appreciation. They were tired. Weary. But clinging on to life all the same.

“That’s quite the spot, darling,” Patricia chimed-in. “Forgive me for asking, but was this a accident?”

Yana’s face flushed red, which caused a few weak laughs from both dragons and their ‘companions’.

“N-no...” Yana shook her head. “I... I fell on top of him when I was sloshed... didn’t even know him before...”

“Ah... a pity. It tends to go better when you do... Right darling?” Patricia responded and gave the human on her back a gentle lick.

“Oh, piss off.” Jen quietly scoffed. “ always has to make a show...”

Yana inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. The insanity of her new life was only just beginning and she really should at least try to push through and get acquainted.

“...o, do NOT settle, you hear me? I hold them by the balls, you will win AND get compensation on top of it.” A quick, feminine voice boomed from behind, rapidly approaching.

Before Yana could even attempt to turn around, a short, green-scaled and more than a bit plump dragoness in woman’s suit swiftly marched through the centre of the group to an unoccupied spot, still entirely focused on the call.

“To hell with him! He’s in deep shit and he knows it, so he tries to scare you instead!”

“Do you mind, Beatrice?” the moderator asked, her voice betraying a complete lack of patience covered up by a forced politeness.

Beatrice glanced at her, rolled her eyes and turned away for a split second.

“Do not settle or I’ll kick yer ass! Hold out until Monday and I will take care of everything. Bye!” She ended the call, shot the moderator a semi-annoyed glare, then sat down.

“This is Yana. Her companion is {{user}}. They are bonded since yesterday,” the moderator informed the new arrival.

“Long time no see.” The short dragoness waved at the group, then turned to Yana. “I’m Beatrice. This is Kevin...” She straightened out her right leg, revealing a visibly withered man stuck upside down to her sole. “And this is Marcus.” She repeated the motion with her left leg as well.

Only that the second human... didn’t have... visible eyes...

Yana felt her strength wavering again.

“Say hello Markie!” Beatrice tapped her left sole.

Despite the nearly deafening silence, no response of any kind could be heard.

“He’s surprisingly calm today. No screaming or cursing,” commented Patricia.

“Eh.” Beatrice shrugged. “He stopped making sounds like, two months ago. Maybe died or went insane. Didn’t really check.”

Yana felt a wave of anger rising up within her. A wave that also brought a strange sense of camaraderie with the moderator. She tried to focus on anger, instead of what might be going on in Marcus’s mind.

***

There was darkness.

There was the hum of blood.

But mostly, there was foot.

Smell of foot. Taste of foot. Weight of foot. Thumps of foot.

Foot. Nothing else existed. Nothing else ever existed. Nothing else will ever exist. Foot. Foot was everything. Foot was. He wasn’t.

Foot was fear. Foot was hate. Foot was love. Foot was life.

Memories of his previous life were slowly eroded. Stomped out of him until nothing but foot remained. Crushed, pulverised, and absorbed by foot. Just like he was. He didn’t remember anything other than foot. He couldn’t. How could he? He was a part of foot. He will always be a part of foot. He was always a part of foot.

Marcus became a part of foot and stuck forever to it. And though he wished for death, he was unable to die. So eventually, he stopped thinking.

Foot didn’t need to think.

***

Yana slowly exhaled, trying not to look at Beatrice and instinctively shielded {{user}} from the sight. If his existence was hell, then she had no words left to describe what Marcus’s was.

“Am starting to think if I shouldn’t just remove him at this point.” Beatrice shrugged. “I can spare a monkey.”

“You... You WHAT?!” Yana couldn’t hold her outrage any longer and stood up. “You want to murder him?!”

The moderator walked up and stopped her from approaching.

“It’s probably mercy at this point.” Beatrice spread out her arms. “And I’ve got a clean slate, so it won’t hurt me either.”

“WHAT DO YE MEAN?! YOU GOT CLEAN ENOUGH FOR MURDER?!”

Beatrice’s eyes suddenly lit up and she smiled like she was about to talk of her hobby.

“Oh lass, this is actually very interesting story, because you see...”

“STOP!” the moderator hissed. “We don’t need to hear it for the third time.”

“She should know!” scoffed Beatrice.

“... Fine... But short version. Five sentences maximum. SHORT sentences.”

Beatrice glanced at her like it was an insult and then put her hands together, clearly thinking about the right words.

“Rich bitch slaps sticker to hip. Grows bored and removes it. Gets charged with murder. Lawyer argues that sticker was legally dead anyways and judge rules it was property damage instead. Everyone references this ruling,” she responded after a few seconds of consideration.

A terrified whimper escaped {{user}}’s mouth, which was... about the reaction she wanted to have right now. But instead, she just stared... Not in disbelief... more like... In acceptance that of course it worked that way.

“Don’t worry dear, you’re not getting removed any time soon...” Patricia whispered to her ‘companion’ with a sly smile and licked her lips ostentatiously.

Yana finally gathered the strength to shift her gaze and met the moderator’s eyes. She saw the same emotions boiling under the surface, but... Older. Dimmer. The same anger and remorse mixed with hopelessness covered up as stoicism.

She helped Yana sit down again and returned to her usual role.

***

The rest of the meeting went better – they mostly talked about what they did together, how they cared for their ‘companions’... Yana got a lot of tips about how to take care of {{user}}. How to hide him humanely in public spaces. And how to... make his existence bearable.

She learned a lot about how such a thing was even possible. Flattened tinies apparently leeched both nutrients and water from their host like some bizarre parasite, which she didn’t like the sound of but at the same time, realised how... convenient that was. Other tinies informed her that they could smell like normal and taste things that were pressed against their faces... Which in {{user}}’s scenario, was actually an upside.

The only bit of dread she encountered was when someone explained that unmoisturised skin can crack and... dismember or even decapitate the tiny...

She silently took out her phone and added lotion to her shopping list. As she saved it, a notification arrived. Group chat... From Lyss...

What boob tattoo? You got a new one made? Babe, we’re coming to PARTY, prepare glass for margaritas!

No... Nonononono... She forgot about that stupid text... Forgot to delete it... , how does she handle this now?!

“And that would conclude our meting for today,” announced the moderator. “A bit derailed by the new pair, but definitely worthwhile.”

Everyone in the room began gathering themselves and standing up, which was accompanied by a series of nearly silent sighs and yelps. But Yana didn’t move – she just stared at the cracked screen.

Need a ride m8? A text from Clara suddenly appeared.

Hell yeah! Lyss responded.

Oh, brilliant... She had even less time than she thought.

A hand appeared on her shoulder. Beatrice’s hand.

“Lass...” she began, waiting for her gaze to rise to her. “I will tell ya a secret... Don’t care too much.”

Yana blinked, too exhausted to get angry again.

“Treat yer sticker like a pet – touch it a bit, throw it a bone sometimes, but don’t let him drag you down. It’s still yer life, they’re just... along for the ride.” She patted her shoulder just as her smart watch beeped. “Eh, gotta go. Me hubby’s made dinner...”

And just like that, she left her staring into the void with a face drained of emotion. It didn’t last for long though, as she remembered that she had to get home... FAST.

“Take this.” The moderator handed her a tiny business card. “My number and some emergency ones as well from the pamphlet. Easier to carry.”

Yana nodded in silent appreciation, putting on her bra again. Before barging out she stopped and turned around to look at Greg talking something over with Jen.

“Thank you... for everything. Yer a top lad.”

Greg waved at her and smiled. Yana didn’t bother to wait for the elevator and sprinted down the stairs all four floors, then ran across the street and oriented herself by the sun. Yes, she could go for the shortcut... It was dodgy, but not at this hour, or at least she hoped so.

Running through the narrow alleys, she dodged a suspicious figure before anyone realised she was there, jumped over a fence and ended up on the familiar street she drove through to work every day for years.

And without hesitation nor a moment of respite, she ran again and just barely caught an overcrowded, plastered with the smug Princess’s face double-decker going to her ends. As she was huffing from exhaustion, her phone rang. Lyss.

“Babe, where you at? We’re standin ere in hand,” Lyss instantly blurted out.

“Bussing. Went for a quick dive, no worries,” Yana responded, taking control of her breathing for at least a moment.

“Eh? On yer tod?”

“Oi, shoulda told me earlier mate. Better cotch for a bit.” Yana mumbled a bit too angrily for her liking.

“Bloody hell...” Lyss scoffed and ended the call.

Well now. At least that was settled for a while... She could now focus on figuring out what the hell should she tell them...

***

Drive home took her about half an hour and the walk from bus stop another fifteen. Would have been not that bad, if it wasn’t raining... again.

Once on her street, she saw them instantly – Clara parked her rustbucket camper on the sidewalk right in front of Yana’s block, the lights from the inside akin to a lighthouse for her to follow.

As she got closer, sounds joined the light – a familiar electric guitar and singing... or at least, what passed for singing in Lyss’s case.

She knocked on the door, stopping the unholy wailing inside and caused the rusted metal door to screech instead. An all-too familiar, young, navy blue-scaled dragoness with a broken-off horn tip greeted her.

“Mate,” said Yana.

“ ,” responded Lyss with a grin, then leaned back a little. “Oi! Get over here.”

The sounds of guitar stopped and the second dragoness appeared in the doors - as usual in black clothes, with her usual black and purple make-up, many piercings and straight, red – also painted – horns trying to give-off dark, a little sublime look... that was completely ruined by her bright yellow scales.

It never stopped her from trying to go for that look though and dissuading her was impossible.

They both nodded at each other and Yana led them upstairs. As soon as she opened the door, Lyss barged in and literally slammed the myriad of bottles she held on the table and instantly went for glass.

Clara entered behind Yana in a far more timid, reserved way. Good thing she had at least one normal friend.

“Alright babe...” Lyss rubbed her hands the instant Yana locked the door. “Spill.”

Ah yes, the hard part of the party... Yana rubbed her forehead, trying to come up with a plan once again... But still reached the same conclusion. She could try to pretend that {{user}} was just a regular tattoo... But for how long? Lyss WILL get her drunk eventually, no matter how much she resists... and Yana would spill the truth then. Without any promises and restrains...

It would be better if they knew and tried to keep secret, than found out on their own.

“Aye, but... One condition.” Yana raised her finger.

“Eh?” Lyss cocked her head.

“Noone can know. Noone, you hear me?”

Lyss blinked... and burst out laughing.

“Oh man, it’s that bad, eh?” she asked. “Fucking hell, just spill.”

“Promise me!”

“Alright, no worries.” Clara shrugged.

They both looked at Lyss... and she crossed her heart.

“Scout’s honour,” Lyss responded with an expression suggesting that she was already drafting gossips.

With hesitation, Yana took off her shirt, untied her bra... and showed them the man.

“... That’s it?” Lyss asked, eyeing him with visible disappointment. “You tattooed yerself a wee git?”

Yana took a deep breath.

“Say hello, Ollie.”

“Hi...” he responded mechanically.

Lyss’s eyes widened as she jumped away, crashing into the hanger and causing coats and jackets to fall. Clara crossed her arms with discomfort and just stared at her... concerned.

“Let me explain...”

***

She explained everything from the unfortunate accident, her discovery, the medical intervention, the horrors of her new knowledge, the support group...

Lyss stared at the pamphlet with an expression of a scholar trying and failing to read Necronomicon. More specifically, she was staring at the diagrams Yana omitted her first time. More more specifically, she was silently fixating on the depiction of the ‘vertical sticker’ – because apparently, face down wasn’t cruel enough and some unfortunate souls were crushed along the axis of their spine, not perpendicular to it.

Yana decided to follow Clara’s example and focused on preparing drinks instead. It was better for her remaining sanity.

“So... they’re just... jammed... forever...” mumbled Lyss, without a shred of her usual cockiness.

“Ye...” Yana nodded.

“And we tell anyone...”

“I get sent to slammer for life, mate. And you too prolly. So unless ye want a buncha bobbies in yer house...”

Lyss huffed, closing the eldritch pamphlet before even reaching the halfway point.

“Fucking hell...” she scoffed, grabbed some unattended bottle and drank a third of it, before clearing her throat. “Shit sucks.”

“Ye... poor guy...” Yana sighed, adjusting her grip a little bit.

She wanted him to see all the time, but it was getting difficult to cup her breast like this. Lyss stood up and approached her, then leaned a little to be at eye level with {{user}}.

“How does it feel?”

“Lyss!” Yana hissed.

“What? Git hears. Talks. We should talk with him, ey?”

“Yes, but...”

“I mean... hard to describe...” A weak voice interrupted her.

Everyone suddenly went silent to listen to what he had to say.

“Try doin it anyways.” encouraged Lyss.

“It’s like... imagine yer a piece of paper in a hydraulic press. Nothing happens to you, but you feel the pressure. Just... constant pressure.”

Lyss cocked her head, thinking over his words and visibly intrigued.

“Does it... hurt?” she followed-up.

Hearing that, Yana began silently praying that it didn’t...

“Uhhh...” He hesitated “I don’t know? It’s overwhelming, but... that’s not pain. I don’t know, it’s not pain, but it’s exhausting.”

“I totally get you little guy,” Clara chimed in. “Just like the system and society are just constant pressure that wants to crush us, to fold us into paper-thin parodies of ourselves. Exhausting to fight, I feel you.”

Yana very slowly turned her head to look at Clara with utter disbelief. But as it turned out, she was absolutely serious... She actually believed that. Maybe Yana didn’t have any normal friends after all.

They all finally sat down on the couch. Lyss took a gulp of her margarita.

“Anything else?” she asked. “Do you get like, motion sickness when she moves?”

Of course Lyss was going to aske the dumbest questions in existence.

“It gets jiggly.” he responded flatly...God, what a terrible pun...

“Eh?”

“Jiggly,” he repeated. “Like, the one constant of my life now is just... boob jiggle.”

Yana choked on air.

“Am not bouncin that much!”

Clara snorted and Lyss contemplated it for a few seconds before...

“Oh my God! Yana, bounce!” she screeched with delight and sparkling eyes.

“Absolutely bloody not!” Yana scoffed.

“BOUNCE! BOUNCE! BOUNCE!” Lyss chanted.

“Shut yer trap! Hubert will report me for noise again!”

“Awww...” Lyss huffed with disappointment... and then gave Yana’s breast a quick flick, making it wave for a second.

In response, Yana slammed a pillow into Lyss’s face.

“I have more questions!” Lyss announced after collecting herself.

Yana scoffed and turned-on the TV, arguing that if she couldn’t escape them, she could at least zone-out a little bit. A football game... sure, whatever. She began sipping her own margarita... damn it was good. Clara killed it again.

“Ya feel anything other than jiggle?” Lyss asked.

No. She wasn’t listening to this bullshit. She was very busy watching some lads play the worst football game in history...

“Just kick the ball...” she muttered to herself.

“Well, I... hear her breathing. Heartbeat. And blood flow too,” he responded, probably spawning a few new nightmares in Yana’s mind down the line.

“Oh, so you have constant ASMR? Sick.”

Clara spat out a little of her drink and wiped her mouth.

“Kick the bloody ball...” Yana ordered the players.

“And when she’s not holdin her tit, what do you see? Belly and coochie?” Lyss pressed on.

“Not much... Only the crevice under the breast.”

That made Yana pause. She had assumed that he would have simply have a view downwards and not...

“Let me get this straight.” Yana took a deep breath. “Yer life is... boob jiggle physics, body ASMR and view at underboob crevice?”

The wait for a response stretched a bit too long for her liking.

“Well, there’s also smell. Lots of sweat and musk here... quite dank.”

That was something she hasn’t considered – she thought she was decently clean most of the time, but being stuck in that crevice... So he was not only borderline blind, but he was also drowning in boob sweat...

“Am a walkin biohazard...” Yana mumbled, before jolting towards the bathroom, determined to take a shower RIGHT NOW... And leaving Lyss almost comatose from laughter.

Yana slammed the door behind her and nearly tripped on her own clothes with how quickly she tried to jump out of them. Cold water splashed over her naked form, making her shiver and curl her arms. Not checking the temperature before rinsing herself was a bad idea in hindsight... but that could easily describe everything she has ever done – bad idea in hindsight.

“I’m a villain... Am an actual bloody villain...” she whispered to herself, applying body wash to her horns.

Yana didn’t know if the droplets falling from her eyes were tears or simply water – she suspected the latter, but only because she felt like she already cried out all the tears her body could store.

Yana scrubbed her entire body with an old sponge from the tiny - but for him, probably overwhelming - amounts of filth, shakily sobbing all the time. And then came the most... problematic part. And the most critical one as well - how to wash... him?

Sponge was out of the question, as she wouldn’t dare torment him further, even without the fear of simply scrubbing him off...

“Maybe... close your eyes now, Ollie,” she whispered and carefully washed the critical spot with her hand.

The fact that she couldn’t even discern where exactly he was with touch alone sent a wave of weakness... but that was becoming her new norm. There was only so much she could take before blocking it out. She rinsed herself and closed the water.

“Raspberry... nice,” he commented.

A quick glance at the bottle confirmed that it was indeed raspberry-scented.

“Thank you. It’s nice,” he continued with surprising calmness.

“No. Don’t thank me for nothin... please...” she winced, while considering if telling him that the raspberry body wash was just the cheapest was a good idea... and finally decided against it.

In this case, silence would make him feel at least a tiny bit appreciated.

“I know yer trying Yana... thank you,” he added a little somberly.

A shaky exhale and nod he couldn’t see was the only answer she mustered, before putting on her pyjama pants.

Yana walked out of the bathroom, pulling a bit of steam with her into the room where her friends were unyieldingly working towards getting sloshed... again. Taking a seat near Lyss again, she noticed that they were apparently watching a fashion show re-run now.

“Boob jail got renovated, eh?” Lyss jabbed with a shit-eating grin.

Yana clenched her fists and began reaching for a pillow to slam with again... but then, she heard laughter from below. Weak and not entirely happy, but still a laughter nonetheless.

“Boob jail?” he asked... no, more like wheezed.

Yana massaged her eyebrows with her free hand. The stupid pun brought him a little bit of joy, so...

“Boob jail...” she whispered. “Christ, that’s what we’re callin it now?”

Everyone in the room laughed.

“So yer a screw now, babe?” Lyss asked.

“Nah... No friend of mine will be a warden... she’s the prison, mate.” Clara mumbled drunkenly.

{{user}} laughed even more at that as Yana went red from embarrassment, anger and laughter all at once.

“Yeah... It feels like a cooler when she has a bra,” he responded.

Yana opened her eyes with fresh realisation. Realisation about what a push-up bra meant for him.

“God, am the worst screw...” she mumbled.

“Eh.” Lyss shrugged. “At least yer hot.”

“Yeah, ‘ the police’ has a new meaning now,” Clara snorted.

Yana hid her face in her palms.

“I need new friends...”

“What you need, is to get your hands on some of those underboob bras, mate,” Clara announced. “He won’t have to live in boob dungeon then.”

With {{user}} completely losing his shit, Yana stared emptily into the void... But then decided, that it was actually a pretty good idea.

“Fine... boob jail is getting reformed,” she mumbled and started browsing online stores.

“Braformed,” corrected Lyss, making Clara laugh again.

As she focused on looking over endless offers on increasingly ridiculous designs, someone knocked on the door. Without missing a beat, Lyss stood up and answered it, revealing a rather tired looking pizza guy on the other side. Yana suddenly got very conscious about her nudity and covered herself with a towel.

“Two big pepperonis for... Larson,” he read from the receipt.

“That’s me,” responded Lyss, shoving money into his free hand, snatching the boxes and brought them over to the table.

“No tip?” asked the delivery man with slight resignation when she returned to close the door.

Lyss hesitated for a split second.

“Free to follow my dreams,” she whispered, taking of her shirt, flashing the guy with her lack of underwear.

She stood there proudly – hands on hips – letting him stare at her chest for good three seconds.

“Hunky-dory,” he shrugged and disappeared when Lyss slammed the door shut.

Lyss returned to sit between them, apparently with about as much shame as she had brain.

“We’re going topless til she braforms,” she announced, opening the first pizza box. “Go on Clara.”

“In your dreams,” she scoffed.

“Ey, show a little solidarity !”

Clara hesitated and looked at Yana behind Lyss’s back.

“You got something?”

“... They don’t make em in D’s...” she whimpered, backing off from another offer.

“ me mate...” Clara sighed... and actually joined their circus.

And so, their topless pizza party commenced. They had everything they needed – garbage on TV, pizza, drinks, and just enough idiots to make it funny instead of sad.

Yana couldn’t tell if the fashion show was getting funnier because the outfits were getting worse, or just because they were more and more sloshed with each passing minute. It didn’t matter in the end though.

“You know, I have a... question...” Clara said, barely awake.

“Yes. Now kiss me,” responded Lyss, pressing her snout against Clara’s shoulder.

“Fucking...” Clara huffed, pushing her away. “When you step on shit... it breaks, yes? So...” She took another sip. “Why do they... them tinies... get flat instead? It doesn’t make sense.”

They all stopped for a minute to ponder this profound question.

“Ye... daft, innit?” Lyss mused after a while.

“Guess we’ll never know...”

***

One thousand five hundred and nine years ago.

Bors trembled in fear, praying to God almighty that the monsters wouldn’t notice him.

They were everywhere – serpentine monsters with some vaguely human characteristics... Just like the scriptures described. But what they haven’t described was... how enormous they truly were. Towering over the landscape, toppling forests as an afterthought and leaving deep imprints in the earth with each step...

Dragons.

And they were looking for something. Or at least, that’s what he gathered. Because if not, why were they all looking so... confused?

He helplessly watched as one of them approached a castle and plucked an unfortunate man from the main tower like it was nothing... and for this thing, it absolutely was nothing.

No. This had to end. And he had an idea... no, a desperate hope that he knew how to fix it.

Bors looked out of his hiding spot to look at his only hope... at humanity’s only hope. It was barely visible in the tall grass and were it not for the bloody stains that used to be Galahad and Lancelot, he wouldn’t have a chance at finding it quickly enough.

Looking around and feeling that this was his chance, he sprung up from between the rocks and desperately ran, his mail armour ringing and jingling as if trying to get the monsters’ attention. But he made it. He literally leapt at the cause and possible solution of this fiasco.

A big, beautiful golden chalice lined with precious gemstones and intricate inscriptions in a language completely unknown to him... and the somehow permanently attached to it hairy, almost humanlike hand. It was holding the chalice with its thumb, index and middle finger... though Bors could swear that it was only thumb and index finger before... Eh, no matter – the chalice was important here... The Holy Grail.

“I wish...” he began and instantly stopped himself.

No... if he wished for the dragons to disappear... the wish could simply make them invisible on top of everything ... It had to be carefully worded. His panicked mind suddenly froze in sheer terror when he realised that the thumps were getting closer.

Bors glanced up and... saw a rapidly approaching dragon paw. Directed straight at him.

“I WISH DRAGONS COULDN’T CRUSH US TO DEATH!” he yelled as the paw smashed him into the dirt.

The hand’s ring finger curled.

***

“This is horseshit.” commented {{user}}.

Yana and Clara agreed and laughed in their drunken fervour. The dresses on stage were getting more and more ridiculous.

“I’d wear it,” commented Lyss, trying to stuff a fifth pizza slice into her tortured belly.

“It’s LITERALLY made of chicken feathers!” Yana shrieked.

“What of it? I like it.” She shrugged.

“Eh, you resemble a as it is.” {{user}} teased, making Yana spit out her drink.

Clara laughed so loud that it sparked a broomstick assault from Hubert... But Lyss looked... genuinely offended. At least, as offended as she was capable of getting.

“Oi, you gettin a bit too cocky, boob tattoo,” she scoffed, eyeing him from up-close.

“Ye? What yer gonna do about it?” he challenged.

Lyss blinked and visibly strained the... whatever passed for a brain in her case, trying to think of a way to get back at him. And finally smiled.

“Will buy yer screw some sport bras, ey?”

“I’d have to wear them first!” Yana laughed.

“Ye, that’d be a blatant boobuse of power,” {{user}} added, which made Yana slam her claws over her face.

“Fine! Will make a tune then. And Clara will sing it, ey?”

“Wha?” Clara looked at her with borderline unconscious eyes.

“Ye’ll sing like... ‘I have a git on my tit! I have a...’”

Yana smashed her with a pillow, almost knocking her out in the process.

“Oh God... I need better friends...” Yana whispered, massaging her temples, yet completely unable to stop chuckling.