Cam-PAIN in Amy's Ass - Part 2
A Shrunken College Student
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
worstfailure
After the meeting with Dean Chamberlain, you'd been in shock. It couldn't have gone more horribly than if you'd tried to destroy your own life. Lifeline after lifeline had been yanked away from you just when you thought it was in your grasp. You'd hoped the Dean would've saved you but the woman turned out to be evil. Clearly she planned to profit off of Amy's insane movement somehow. Jessica must've gotten her deviousness from her and she'd played her part to perfection. First she'd laid the groundwork with her mother after speaking with Amy, then scheduled Amy's speech on the same day and time as the girls volleyball team's match against Topcity Academy. Chelsea had been your best hope of getting free. You knew as soon as she saw you at Amy's assembly, she would've recognized the stupidity of your friend's plan and done everything in her power to save you. Her status as your savior had made her a threat, which was why Jessica made sure the assembly was scheduled for a time when Chelsea wouldn't even be on campus.
That just left you with one last hope for freedom and unfortunately, it was your riskiest. Your mother. You knew the rest of your family would be too busy to attend the speech, but your mother wouldn't. She never missed an opportunity to visit her only son. Amy already told you she'd RSVP'd. Unfortunately she hadn't been told what the speech would be about beforehand, no doubt a way for the Chamberlains to make sure she wouldn't try to rescue you beforehand.
You loved your mom, you really did, but the woman had gone from an overprotective, smothering mother to a carefree woman whose clueless nature rendered you a smear more times than you could count. You blamed this radical change on the Son Squishers. The group, which had at first started as a support group for women comforting each other over how to handle their shrunken loved ones, had gradually changed into a group of women--predominantly mothers--who decided to find the humor in their shrunken family members--usually sons--situations by posting pictures and videos of the tinies in their family getting squashed for the world to see. It was bad enough that strangers laughed at posts of your mother accidentally squashing you, but what really annoyed you was how hilarious your mother found it too. While you were sure she wouldn't stand for her only son being turned into a living thong, you knew she'd laugh her ass off during the speech and post about it online before coming to your rescue. Not to mention that she was such a ditzy, forgetful klutz that she could give Amy herself a run for her money. Needless to say, she wasn't your first voice of rescuer. But now she was your best option.
-
News of the assembly had spread like wildfire across the campus over the past few days. The Dean sent out an email to your teachers saying you were sick and Amy passed the message along to Chelsea so she wouldn't pry into your disappearance. Amy spent day and night preparing. Her speech needed to be bold, it needed to be passionate, it needed to convince the world of the necessity of allowing willing tinies to be used as living objects, and it needed to inspire everyone who heard it the same way you had inspired her when you professed your wish to remain her thong forever!
Amy had apparently forgotten those words never came from your lips, because your lips had been wiped away with the rest of your mouth by her, leaving Jessica to relay "your" wish second-hand. But there wasn't a doubt in Amy's mind this was the life you truly wanted. God herself wouldn't be able to convince the stubborn airhead otherwise. She said as much throughout the week, talking to you while she wrote draft after draft. She called you her muse, which would've been flattering if her ass wasn't so flattening. Whenever you'd hung out with Amy in the past, she had a tendency to completely forget about your presence and either squash you underfoot or, more commonly, under ass without realizing it for hours. Now, however, Amy couldn't seem to get you out of her mind! You never thought you'd miss the days when you were a forgotten stain plastered somewhere on her oblivious body than a local celebrity of her ass. She spent hours talking to you, asking for your input as if you could respond, taking either your inability to move or your rare, faint struggles as confirmation of what she wanted to hear in the first place.
You'd been in agony as she worked long into the night, your body squeezed beneath the crushing pressure between her cheeks and her chair. Her room would frequently get hot but Amy was so engrossed in her work, she wouldn't get up to turn on a fan or crack open a window. In fact, she was proud of working up a sweat with her writing, seeing it as proof that was just as hardworking and as dedicated to the cause as you were. You didn't share her passion since this meant the temperature between Amy's all encompassing cheeks would rise, baking you like an oven before dousing you with waterfalls of sweat, your body involuntarily absorbing the foul earthy water like a sponge.
Just as bad, but luckily less frequent than her swamp ass, was when Amy passed gas on you. The first time it'd happened had been the day after her meeting with the Dean. At her desk, writing her speech, you'd heard gurgling noises reverberating through her guts. When Amy herself had felt the bubbling in her tummy, she'd blushed and held it in so she could finish one part of the speech she was on a roll with, but as the pressure built up, it became more difficult to hold it in even though she didn't want to let one loose in your face. She was still a lady, after all. Then a realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
"Oh my gosh, Tom, I am so sorry! I can't believe I've been treating you like this. I'm so stupid." For one foolish second you'd felt hope, but then, as she'd become so expert at, Amy dashed it with her idiotic logic. "For the past few minutes I've been holding in some gas because I didn't want to embarrass myself or humiliate you. After all, I don't fart in front of people because it's rude. But you don't want to live as a person. You want to live as my underwear! And there's nothing rude about farting in my underwear. You must've known this was bound to happen when you picked this life! Why else would you decide to have your face be the back inside of my thong?"
You hadn't picked that! It was just the way Amy had put you on! Had she forgotten that?!
"You must've been so annoyed with me for holding it in," Amy carried on. "You probably were just waiting for me to get on with it. Oh, Tom, I am so sorry that I let my own biases cloud my judgement again. I still have so much to learn. I swear from now on, I'll never hesitate to treat you like the thong you are!" You did everything in your power to scream in protest but as always, Amy interpreted the faint wiggle you managed as permission to do what she'd already decided. "Thank you for being so understanding."
She unclenched her guts and let the powerful, concentrated blast of methane explode point-blank in your face, completely blowing away the last vestiges of your dignity. Your body shook from the force of it and just like your squishy properties absorbed her sweat, so too did your body absorb the sound and smell of her flatulence. What sounded and smelled like a sulfur bomb going off to you, Amy barely heard and couldn't even smell.
"You cancel out the noise and block the smell?! That's incredible! Just when I already think you're the perfect thong, you prove you're even perfecter! You're the most comfy, most supportive, most absorbent, most sound and smell cancelling pair of underwear I've ever owned in my life! It's like you knew you were meant for--Oh. My. God." Amy said as another idea took hold. She remembered the day you met. During orientation you were the only tiny who'd slid in the hole in her shorts and gone straight up her crack. Had you done it on purpose? Did you know even then her ass was where you were meant to be?!
"Tom, I get it now! The reason why you're a perfect pair of panties for me is because you knew you were made for me! You were made for my ass!" Amy began bouncing up and down in her seat in ecstasy, crushing you over and over again. "You knew it all along! It's why you chose me over every other girl in the world! You and my ass really are soulmates bound together by fate! I just hope all the other tinies we inspire to live lives as objects find the girls they're destined for!"
You mentally sobbed in anguish. Amy was growing more and more deluded with every second you spent wedged up her ass. You just prayed someone, anyone, would be able to get you out of this nightmare!
The week passed...
By Saturday a podium had been set up in the stadium, the same one the Dean had given her welcome address at during orientation. The stands were packed, the stadium filled to capacity, chairs were assembled before the podium filled with reporters and cameras were getting ready to roll. Amy saw your mother sitting in the front row alongside a blonde woman she didn't recognize who was her plus one. Not a family member, some member of an online group Melissa Swift was friends with who lived nearby because her own son attended the university. The blazing spotlights weren't even on her yet, but Amy was already sweating nervously. At least she didn't have swamp ass, thanks to your unwilling help. Amy's stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, but she knew she needed to fight through the anxiety. This wasn't about her. It was about making sure you got to live the life you deserved. You and all the tinies like you. The Dean gave her the signal she was on.
Amy nodded, then pulled back underwear and addressed you over her shoulder.
"Don't worry, Tom. I won't let anyone tear us apart."
You screamed in protest but Amy already snapped you back into place and walked confidently out on stage.
What happens during the speech?
That just left you with one last hope for freedom and unfortunately, it was your riskiest. Your mother. You knew the rest of your family would be too busy to attend the speech, but your mother wouldn't. She never missed an opportunity to visit her only son. Amy already told you she'd RSVP'd. Unfortunately she hadn't been told what the speech would be about beforehand, no doubt a way for the Chamberlains to make sure she wouldn't try to rescue you beforehand.
You loved your mom, you really did, but the woman had gone from an overprotective, smothering mother to a carefree woman whose clueless nature rendered you a smear more times than you could count. You blamed this radical change on the Son Squishers. The group, which had at first started as a support group for women comforting each other over how to handle their shrunken loved ones, had gradually changed into a group of women--predominantly mothers--who decided to find the humor in their shrunken family members--usually sons--situations by posting pictures and videos of the tinies in their family getting squashed for the world to see. It was bad enough that strangers laughed at posts of your mother accidentally squashing you, but what really annoyed you was how hilarious your mother found it too. While you were sure she wouldn't stand for her only son being turned into a living thong, you knew she'd laugh her ass off during the speech and post about it online before coming to your rescue. Not to mention that she was such a ditzy, forgetful klutz that she could give Amy herself a run for her money. Needless to say, she wasn't your first voice of rescuer. But now she was your best option.
-
News of the assembly had spread like wildfire across the campus over the past few days. The Dean sent out an email to your teachers saying you were sick and Amy passed the message along to Chelsea so she wouldn't pry into your disappearance. Amy spent day and night preparing. Her speech needed to be bold, it needed to be passionate, it needed to convince the world of the necessity of allowing willing tinies to be used as living objects, and it needed to inspire everyone who heard it the same way you had inspired her when you professed your wish to remain her thong forever!
Amy had apparently forgotten those words never came from your lips, because your lips had been wiped away with the rest of your mouth by her, leaving Jessica to relay "your" wish second-hand. But there wasn't a doubt in Amy's mind this was the life you truly wanted. God herself wouldn't be able to convince the stubborn airhead otherwise. She said as much throughout the week, talking to you while she wrote draft after draft. She called you her muse, which would've been flattering if her ass wasn't so flattening. Whenever you'd hung out with Amy in the past, she had a tendency to completely forget about your presence and either squash you underfoot or, more commonly, under ass without realizing it for hours. Now, however, Amy couldn't seem to get you out of her mind! You never thought you'd miss the days when you were a forgotten stain plastered somewhere on her oblivious body than a local celebrity of her ass. She spent hours talking to you, asking for your input as if you could respond, taking either your inability to move or your rare, faint struggles as confirmation of what she wanted to hear in the first place.
You'd been in agony as she worked long into the night, your body squeezed beneath the crushing pressure between her cheeks and her chair. Her room would frequently get hot but Amy was so engrossed in her work, she wouldn't get up to turn on a fan or crack open a window. In fact, she was proud of working up a sweat with her writing, seeing it as proof that was just as hardworking and as dedicated to the cause as you were. You didn't share her passion since this meant the temperature between Amy's all encompassing cheeks would rise, baking you like an oven before dousing you with waterfalls of sweat, your body involuntarily absorbing the foul earthy water like a sponge.
Just as bad, but luckily less frequent than her swamp ass, was when Amy passed gas on you. The first time it'd happened had been the day after her meeting with the Dean. At her desk, writing her speech, you'd heard gurgling noises reverberating through her guts. When Amy herself had felt the bubbling in her tummy, she'd blushed and held it in so she could finish one part of the speech she was on a roll with, but as the pressure built up, it became more difficult to hold it in even though she didn't want to let one loose in your face. She was still a lady, after all. Then a realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
"Oh my gosh, Tom, I am so sorry! I can't believe I've been treating you like this. I'm so stupid." For one foolish second you'd felt hope, but then, as she'd become so expert at, Amy dashed it with her idiotic logic. "For the past few minutes I've been holding in some gas because I didn't want to embarrass myself or humiliate you. After all, I don't fart in front of people because it's rude. But you don't want to live as a person. You want to live as my underwear! And there's nothing rude about farting in my underwear. You must've known this was bound to happen when you picked this life! Why else would you decide to have your face be the back inside of my thong?"
You hadn't picked that! It was just the way Amy had put you on! Had she forgotten that?!
"You must've been so annoyed with me for holding it in," Amy carried on. "You probably were just waiting for me to get on with it. Oh, Tom, I am so sorry that I let my own biases cloud my judgement again. I still have so much to learn. I swear from now on, I'll never hesitate to treat you like the thong you are!" You did everything in your power to scream in protest but as always, Amy interpreted the faint wiggle you managed as permission to do what she'd already decided. "Thank you for being so understanding."
She unclenched her guts and let the powerful, concentrated blast of methane explode point-blank in your face, completely blowing away the last vestiges of your dignity. Your body shook from the force of it and just like your squishy properties absorbed her sweat, so too did your body absorb the sound and smell of her flatulence. What sounded and smelled like a sulfur bomb going off to you, Amy barely heard and couldn't even smell.
"You cancel out the noise and block the smell?! That's incredible! Just when I already think you're the perfect thong, you prove you're even perfecter! You're the most comfy, most supportive, most absorbent, most sound and smell cancelling pair of underwear I've ever owned in my life! It's like you knew you were meant for--Oh. My. God." Amy said as another idea took hold. She remembered the day you met. During orientation you were the only tiny who'd slid in the hole in her shorts and gone straight up her crack. Had you done it on purpose? Did you know even then her ass was where you were meant to be?!
"Tom, I get it now! The reason why you're a perfect pair of panties for me is because you knew you were made for me! You were made for my ass!" Amy began bouncing up and down in her seat in ecstasy, crushing you over and over again. "You knew it all along! It's why you chose me over every other girl in the world! You and my ass really are soulmates bound together by fate! I just hope all the other tinies we inspire to live lives as objects find the girls they're destined for!"
You mentally sobbed in anguish. Amy was growing more and more deluded with every second you spent wedged up her ass. You just prayed someone, anyone, would be able to get you out of this nightmare!
The week passed...
By Saturday a podium had been set up in the stadium, the same one the Dean had given her welcome address at during orientation. The stands were packed, the stadium filled to capacity, chairs were assembled before the podium filled with reporters and cameras were getting ready to roll. Amy saw your mother sitting in the front row alongside a blonde woman she didn't recognize who was her plus one. Not a family member, some member of an online group Melissa Swift was friends with who lived nearby because her own son attended the university. The blazing spotlights weren't even on her yet, but Amy was already sweating nervously. At least she didn't have swamp ass, thanks to your unwilling help. Amy's stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, but she knew she needed to fight through the anxiety. This wasn't about her. It was about making sure you got to live the life you deserved. You and all the tinies like you. The Dean gave her the signal she was on.
Amy nodded, then pulled back underwear and addressed you over her shoulder.
"Don't worry, Tom. I won't let anyone tear us apart."
You screamed in protest but Amy already snapped you back into place and walked confidently out on stage.
What happens during the speech?
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March 28, 2025
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