A Well-Worn Path
A Shrunken College Student
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
At first, the feet of the various women stomping on you and the hard wood floor had seemed to be battling on roughly equal grounds to claim you, with your battered body finding itself stuck and carried along underfoot around as often as it was smeared further into the floor. This had, however, begun to change around the fifteen minute mark, when a particular hard stomp from an unaware Chelsea had pushed part of you down into an unseen imperfection in the wood. The relentless series of stomps that had followed soon after courtesy of the still-circling waitresses and patrons had only led to your becoming more engrained and spread out, until you were effectively indistinguishable from the floor itself, particularly given the general state of homeliness with which it was being kept.
When the dancing finally ended with general applause and a few extra stomps for you as customers headed back for their tables, you had hoped to be given the chance to reform, only to find that your body was refusing to respond to your commands. After that initial snagging, multiple parts of your squished form had been caught in the wood, and now the pressure was preventing your body from pulling itself back together, even though you were theoretically free of any burden from above. As the reality of your situation began to set in you tried to do everything you could to draw attention, your miraculously intact eyes blinking wildly as the looming form of Sadie approached. While it had been the blonde that had first crushed you, twice over, you still hoped she would be your salvation.
Tragically it wasn’t to be, as rather than the eyes of the chipper waitress locking onto you, you were instead met by the now familiar sight of a broom, as she went about redistributing the straw and hay that had been misplaced by all of the dancing. In particular, a clear circular track had been cleared of nearly all floor covering, not to mention the largely cleared space in the centre. Fortunately for her, this was an expected and known occurrence, and it wasn’t much trouble at all to simply step around the circle and brush in the piled up straw and hay from either side, effectively filling in the gaps and making everything look as good as new. If there were any slight discolorations or scratch marks inflicted on the floor due to all of that dancing then she didn’t see them. And besides, it all just added to the rustic feel. As long as there wasn’t a significant risk of splinters, then it was all good.
From your perspective, your brief view of Sadie was almost entirely lost as a pile of hay was pushed onto you, your vision instantly reduced to the few small gaps in the otherwise consistent covering. You vaguely saw the broom sweep over your location a couple more times, evening out the load, but then it was gone, the distant booms of Sadie’s footsteps fading into the distance. Once more you struggled to reform, and once more you found yourself unable to. If anything, though not necessarily heavy, the load that was now upon you only made the situation worse, not to mention having cut off essentially any chance of you being spotted absent a particularly intensive inspection of the floor.
With your vision curtailed the next footfall to fall upon your trampled form came unexpectedly, the feeling of vibrations and sound of footsteps your only warning before an unseen boot crashed down on you. It was gone almost as soon as it came but you still mentally groaned at the impact, only for your thought process to be near-instantaneously interrupted as yet another boot drove you further into mush. As you would soon come to discover, this particular part of the restaurant was ‘open’ because it provided an effective thoroughfare between the kitchen and the seating area, as well as allowing easy access for patrons to travel back and forth to the restrooms. As such, it was perhaps the highest trafficked area of the entire restaurant, beyond even the front entrance, and you soon found yourself being stepped on over and over again as waitresses and customers alike moved back and forth. Certainly, it was less intense than the dancing you had endured, but at this rate your body was only going to become more and more crushed and smeared, further extending your torment.
If there was a silver-lining to your situation it was that Chelsea had, at last, taken note of your absence, and had raised the alarm with the staff that they had a missing tiny customer. This kind of thing did happen from time to time for obvious reasons, and there was some general scurrying around to check seats and the restroom, as well as inspecting any brooms or other items which may have inadvertently caught an unseen tiny. Unfortunately for you, the only immediate result you saw from this minor uproar was an increase in both the number and force of the footfalls landing upon you as those waitresses diverted to the search moved back and forth with purpose. When the initial inspection came up empty, the manager gave your neighbour an undertaking to keep their eyes peeled for you, and comped both her and your own meal to make up for the ‘inconvenience’.
Had you been present for the discussion you would have been annoyed, and Chelsea also had to bite her tongue to avoid saying something she’d regret. To be fair, it wasn’t that the staff at Sally’s didn’t care about you. It was just that previous incidents had shown that, if a missing patron wasn’t located in the obvious locations, searching for a lost tiny was like finding a needle in a haystack, in this case almost literally. Add onto that it being well-known that missing tinies often ended up having been kidnapped and taken away by persons unknown, and it just didn’t make sense to completely disrupt business for a search that probably wouldn’t even net results. If a tiny was found, they would check with Chelsea to see if it was ‘her’ tiny before turning them over to the local authorities, and they’d let her poke around a bit more if she wanted, but otherwise they were wiping their hands of you.
Right now you were one of three tinies lost within the walls of Sally’s Southern Delights. The first was engrained deeply into the seat of one of the bar stools, the result of a dare gone wrong with some friends and a vengeful woman. His initial tormentor had long since forgotten the incident by now, and the countless women who had sat on him since had never so much as noted his presence. The closest he’d ever gotten to being noticed was a staff member noting the discoloration during a visual inspection, before simply shrugging and returning him to the bar for further torment. The second, the first and last tiny to ever be hired at the restaurant, was currently in use as a general cleaning rag in the kitchen. Officially considered to have never shown for his first day at work, he had been quickly fired, and all further tiny hiring had been frozen. All the while he had been unwillingly putting in the work, as he was used to keep the kitchen more hygienic than the usual barn aesthetic.
You knew none of this of course, and could only wallow in your own misfortune. The last you would see of Chelsea that day was the sole of her shoe as she unknowingly stomped down on you one last time before heading for the exit, venting her frustration on the very tiny she was trying to find. Of course you didn’t know that partially footfall had come from her and just lamented its force as you had all of the others, and it quickly faded from memory as a trio of waitresses trampled over you soon after in a rush to collect orders from the crowds now arriving for brunch. You spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon being endlessly bombarded by footfalls, until the breakfast joint eventually closed for the day. Not that your crushing experience was quite over yet, as you still had to endure the stomping boots of the staff as they went about tidying up and getting things ready for the next day before shutting up. Even the previously unseen kitchen staff were kind enough to give you a thorough trampling on their way to the front door, together with the departing waitresses.
For the rest of that afternoon and evening you were left in silence and darkness, the ambient light from the windows slowly fading as the sun began to set. One of only three living inhabitants of the closed restaurant, though each of you believing you were alone. Knowing what fate could await you if you remained in this state, you focused all of your energy on reforming. On trying to move any part of your body a single millimetre, in the hopes that enough of you may become unsnagged that you could regain some semblance of your former state. Even just a single arm might be enough to clear the straw and hay that was obscuring you and signal for help the next morning. Chances were you might just be crushed down again without acknowledgement, but it was the only hope you had.
This wasn’t the first time you’d been squished this badly, or the first time you’d struggled to reform, but in all previous incidents your body, while thoroughly flattened and often quite smeared, had at least been vaguely recognisable, at the very least as a flesh-coloured smear. Here though you knew full well that your natural skin tone, combined with the loss of your clothes, meant that you were blending in quite well. Something that wasn’t helped at all by the deliberate spreading of detritus across the hard wood, covering both yourself and it in a consistent level of straw, hay and grime. No, you definitely couldn’t rely on being spotted as you were. You needed to make your own escape, even if it took you all night and you didn’t get a wink of sleep, you knew you had to power through.
+++++
Early the next morning, the front door of Sally’s Southern Delights clicked open as the staff arrived for initial set-up, their heavy boots stomping across the floor, meanwhile you…
When the dancing finally ended with general applause and a few extra stomps for you as customers headed back for their tables, you had hoped to be given the chance to reform, only to find that your body was refusing to respond to your commands. After that initial snagging, multiple parts of your squished form had been caught in the wood, and now the pressure was preventing your body from pulling itself back together, even though you were theoretically free of any burden from above. As the reality of your situation began to set in you tried to do everything you could to draw attention, your miraculously intact eyes blinking wildly as the looming form of Sadie approached. While it had been the blonde that had first crushed you, twice over, you still hoped she would be your salvation.
Tragically it wasn’t to be, as rather than the eyes of the chipper waitress locking onto you, you were instead met by the now familiar sight of a broom, as she went about redistributing the straw and hay that had been misplaced by all of the dancing. In particular, a clear circular track had been cleared of nearly all floor covering, not to mention the largely cleared space in the centre. Fortunately for her, this was an expected and known occurrence, and it wasn’t much trouble at all to simply step around the circle and brush in the piled up straw and hay from either side, effectively filling in the gaps and making everything look as good as new. If there were any slight discolorations or scratch marks inflicted on the floor due to all of that dancing then she didn’t see them. And besides, it all just added to the rustic feel. As long as there wasn’t a significant risk of splinters, then it was all good.
From your perspective, your brief view of Sadie was almost entirely lost as a pile of hay was pushed onto you, your vision instantly reduced to the few small gaps in the otherwise consistent covering. You vaguely saw the broom sweep over your location a couple more times, evening out the load, but then it was gone, the distant booms of Sadie’s footsteps fading into the distance. Once more you struggled to reform, and once more you found yourself unable to. If anything, though not necessarily heavy, the load that was now upon you only made the situation worse, not to mention having cut off essentially any chance of you being spotted absent a particularly intensive inspection of the floor.
With your vision curtailed the next footfall to fall upon your trampled form came unexpectedly, the feeling of vibrations and sound of footsteps your only warning before an unseen boot crashed down on you. It was gone almost as soon as it came but you still mentally groaned at the impact, only for your thought process to be near-instantaneously interrupted as yet another boot drove you further into mush. As you would soon come to discover, this particular part of the restaurant was ‘open’ because it provided an effective thoroughfare between the kitchen and the seating area, as well as allowing easy access for patrons to travel back and forth to the restrooms. As such, it was perhaps the highest trafficked area of the entire restaurant, beyond even the front entrance, and you soon found yourself being stepped on over and over again as waitresses and customers alike moved back and forth. Certainly, it was less intense than the dancing you had endured, but at this rate your body was only going to become more and more crushed and smeared, further extending your torment.
If there was a silver-lining to your situation it was that Chelsea had, at last, taken note of your absence, and had raised the alarm with the staff that they had a missing tiny customer. This kind of thing did happen from time to time for obvious reasons, and there was some general scurrying around to check seats and the restroom, as well as inspecting any brooms or other items which may have inadvertently caught an unseen tiny. Unfortunately for you, the only immediate result you saw from this minor uproar was an increase in both the number and force of the footfalls landing upon you as those waitresses diverted to the search moved back and forth with purpose. When the initial inspection came up empty, the manager gave your neighbour an undertaking to keep their eyes peeled for you, and comped both her and your own meal to make up for the ‘inconvenience’.
Had you been present for the discussion you would have been annoyed, and Chelsea also had to bite her tongue to avoid saying something she’d regret. To be fair, it wasn’t that the staff at Sally’s didn’t care about you. It was just that previous incidents had shown that, if a missing patron wasn’t located in the obvious locations, searching for a lost tiny was like finding a needle in a haystack, in this case almost literally. Add onto that it being well-known that missing tinies often ended up having been kidnapped and taken away by persons unknown, and it just didn’t make sense to completely disrupt business for a search that probably wouldn’t even net results. If a tiny was found, they would check with Chelsea to see if it was ‘her’ tiny before turning them over to the local authorities, and they’d let her poke around a bit more if she wanted, but otherwise they were wiping their hands of you.
Right now you were one of three tinies lost within the walls of Sally’s Southern Delights. The first was engrained deeply into the seat of one of the bar stools, the result of a dare gone wrong with some friends and a vengeful woman. His initial tormentor had long since forgotten the incident by now, and the countless women who had sat on him since had never so much as noted his presence. The closest he’d ever gotten to being noticed was a staff member noting the discoloration during a visual inspection, before simply shrugging and returning him to the bar for further torment. The second, the first and last tiny to ever be hired at the restaurant, was currently in use as a general cleaning rag in the kitchen. Officially considered to have never shown for his first day at work, he had been quickly fired, and all further tiny hiring had been frozen. All the while he had been unwillingly putting in the work, as he was used to keep the kitchen more hygienic than the usual barn aesthetic.
You knew none of this of course, and could only wallow in your own misfortune. The last you would see of Chelsea that day was the sole of her shoe as she unknowingly stomped down on you one last time before heading for the exit, venting her frustration on the very tiny she was trying to find. Of course you didn’t know that partially footfall had come from her and just lamented its force as you had all of the others, and it quickly faded from memory as a trio of waitresses trampled over you soon after in a rush to collect orders from the crowds now arriving for brunch. You spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon being endlessly bombarded by footfalls, until the breakfast joint eventually closed for the day. Not that your crushing experience was quite over yet, as you still had to endure the stomping boots of the staff as they went about tidying up and getting things ready for the next day before shutting up. Even the previously unseen kitchen staff were kind enough to give you a thorough trampling on their way to the front door, together with the departing waitresses.
For the rest of that afternoon and evening you were left in silence and darkness, the ambient light from the windows slowly fading as the sun began to set. One of only three living inhabitants of the closed restaurant, though each of you believing you were alone. Knowing what fate could await you if you remained in this state, you focused all of your energy on reforming. On trying to move any part of your body a single millimetre, in the hopes that enough of you may become unsnagged that you could regain some semblance of your former state. Even just a single arm might be enough to clear the straw and hay that was obscuring you and signal for help the next morning. Chances were you might just be crushed down again without acknowledgement, but it was the only hope you had.
This wasn’t the first time you’d been squished this badly, or the first time you’d struggled to reform, but in all previous incidents your body, while thoroughly flattened and often quite smeared, had at least been vaguely recognisable, at the very least as a flesh-coloured smear. Here though you knew full well that your natural skin tone, combined with the loss of your clothes, meant that you were blending in quite well. Something that wasn’t helped at all by the deliberate spreading of detritus across the hard wood, covering both yourself and it in a consistent level of straw, hay and grime. No, you definitely couldn’t rely on being spotted as you were. You needed to make your own escape, even if it took you all night and you didn’t get a wink of sleep, you knew you had to power through.
+++++
Early the next morning, the front door of Sally’s Southern Delights clicked open as the staff arrived for initial set-up, their heavy boots stomping across the floor, meanwhile you…
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March 28, 2025
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