A two the best possibility! But what is the cha...
One Foot Tall Fiancé
chapter 19
by
copier
· original author:
worstfailure
"Two!" you exclaimed. With the way your luck had been going, you were surprised you hadn't somehow managed to roll a 107. You looked at your aunt expecting her to look disappointed only to find her smugly looking back at you.
"Oh well," she shrugged. "You still have to roll again tomorrow. At least I'm guaranteed two more days to mess with you squirt."
"Only if I lose the challenge!"
"Right," Aunt Tara said slowly, as if humoring you. "If you lose."
She clearly didn't think much of your chances. And now that you thought about it, neither did you. It seemed your whole life was nothing but a series of women abusing you while completely oblivious to your presence. How were you supposed to beat one in a physical challenge when she was actually aware of you? And not just any woman, but Aunt Tara no less! The diabolical mastermind who managed to get one over on you every time you've met! Why did you ever have let Mrs. Smalls talk you into this?
"Because I'm a man of my word," you thought. "I might not be as tall as most men, but my character can be just as good as theirs. I broke a promise and now I need to face the consequences. I'll beat these challenges, prove myself a good man to Mrs. Smalls, and be back with Cassie before she even knows I'm gone."
"Alright, Aunt Tara," you said bravely. "I'm ready for the first challenge."
Without warning your aunt scooped you off the bedside table.
"Your timing's perfect squirt," Aunt Tara said as she carried you into the living room. "My favorite soap opera The Beautiful and the Pouty is having an all day marathon to promote tonight's premiere of the 22nd season. So for the next 14 hours, my ass is going to be planted firmly in that chair."
As she said this, she pointed towards a recliner positioned in front of a big-screen TV. One of the armrests had a cupholder with a beer already inside and a cooler full of them on the floor. The second armrest had a tray on a swivel, packed with all sorts of assorted snacks. You'd been envious of your aunt for the longest time for being one of those people who could eat whatever they wanted without getting fat, but now that you got a good look at her in her tank-top and tight sweatpants, you noticed she'd gained a slight paunch. Though still not fat, it finally looked like all the junk food and beer was finally beginning to contribute to something other than her curves. Any vindictive satisfaction you felt was short-lived when Tara carried you closer to the chair and you got a good look at the seat. Ground zero for Aunt Tara's ass, the poor cushion had been pummeled past the point of flatness to becoming concave. The brown leather on the seat had been worn away and turned pale by what looked like two abnormally large watermelons.
Tara noticed your discomfort and smiled. "As you can see, Darlene the 6th has seen better days. I finally persuaded your mom to buy me a replacement for my birthday but that's months away. Until then, I need a replacement cushion that can give my derriere the royal treatment she deserves." You gulped. Tara's smile widened. She tapped one of the armrests fondly. "Poor girl. Didn't even last two years. I guess my ass is just too much for anything to handle," she said, smacking a cheek for emphasis. "Well, anything except you, isn't that right squirt? You've been able to handle anything my ass has been able to dish out over the years and she's dished out plenty," she said suggestively, causing you to shudder from a million horrible memories and earning a belly-laugh from her.
"What's the challenge?" you asked nervously.
"Eager to start? Can't blame you. Alright, here it is. First, I'm gonna plop you down on this seat. Then, I'm gonna plop my ass down on you. If you can escape before the season premiere, you win."
"But it's a 14 hour marathon!"
"That just means I'm giving you plenty of time to succeed. Isn't that nice of me?" Tara noticed your horrified look and smiled wider. "Of course," she said slyly, as if the idea was only now coming to her. "If you don't want to play, we can always go back to our original arrangement?"
Involuntarily, you flashed back to the rash promise that had gotten you in this mess in the first place.
"Aww, you didn't like being in auntie's "giant, smelly butt"?" Aunt Tara asked, laughing. "In that case, you better promise to keep your mouth shut about last night. Otherwise," and now she turned around to present you with the monstrous thong-clad ass you'd only just escaped from, "I'll just have to keep you in this giant, smelly butt forever!"
And so you promised, but for years you'd had nightmares where you accidentally broke your word, only for Aunt Tara to appear out of nowhere and lock you away in her butt. In fact, whenever she visited, you were terrified that was exactly what she planned to do. It was a long time before you realized she'd only been teasing you. She'd never meant it. Even if you did spill the beans, you were sure she'd only haze you for a while and then let you go like always. She was your aunt, no matter how much she bullied you, you were sure deep down she loved you. Obviously she would never literally keep you in her ass forever. That'd be crazy... But then, why was her smile making your blood run cold?
"I'll do the challenge!"
Tara said nothing. The evil smile never left her face as she dropped you onto her chair. She didn't even give you a chance to react before she whirled around, did a little hop backwards, and sent her sweat-pants clad ass crashing down on top of you. Your body flattened on impact and Tara's ass filled up the entirety of the space between the armrests. And to make matters worse she immediately ground her ass into the seat, flattening you even more. "Oh yes," Tara said. "This is what I've been missing. Not as good as the feeling of you right between my cheeks but still heavenly." Tara pulled her recliner's lever, leaned back, cracked open a can of beer and turned on the TV. "This is the life squirt."
It may have been heavenly for her but it was hellish for you. All the schadenfreude you'd got from Tara's growing gut was gone as now it was contributing to the crushing weight turning you into a smear. No matter how many times it happened, being squashed still hurt. You tried to move but with all her weight directly on top of you, it was impossible. After 30 minutes, you finally stopped struggling. It was pointless. If you tired yourself out then instead of spending your college break in the arms of the love of your life, you'd be spending it under the backside of your archnemesis.
"Alright... I need to think... Ok, from the sound of the TV, my torso is pointing towards the edge of the seat. And my right arm is in front of me. With her legs propped up, if Tara shifts back in her seat just enough, I should have space to pry my arm free and pull myself forward. Yeah. That could work. I've been in this position before. I can take it. All I have to do is... wait."
Hours passed.
You could tell the passage of time by the theme songs that signaled the beginning and end of each episode. You couldn't make out what the actors were saying but Aunt Tara felt no need to watch in silence. She jeered the characters she hated and warned characters whenever they did something stupid. She also spoke to you, complimenting you on being such a good cushion, thanking you for dropping by to "spend quality time with her," and repeating the same short jokes she'd said all your life. As time passed, sweat leaked through the fabric of her pants, forcing your body to absorb it. Tara chugged beer after beer, crushing each can when it was empty and dropping it to the floor, and loudly munched on all the snacks she'd prepared. The beer and the junk food were a bad combo, and eventually ominous gurgles sounded overhead. You knew what was coming and braced yourself as your aunt let rip a bassy fart upon your battered body. Unfortunately whatever quirk of nature allowed you to breathe while flat also made it so you were forced to smell the stench. Tara burst out laughing and "sincerely apologized," only to do it again a few minutes later.
Through all of this torture, you forced yourself to stay awake. You had no choice. If you fell unconscious you'd lose for sure. So you stayed awake, even as darkness was all around you, even as your body screamed from the metric tons of pressure flattening you, even though the dampness of sweat soaked your body and you were forced to breathe frequent blasts of methane, all of it threatening to take your consciousness away at any second.
"Must... stay... awake... Do it... for Cassie... Cassie..."
But sleep was calling and it was just... so... inviting...
Unbeknownst to you, your aunt was dozing herself. As much as she loved her show, a twelve and a half pack could really make you tired. Secure in the knowledge that her favorite butt toy wasn't going anywhere and that her alarm was set for the premiere in two hours, she saw no harm in resting her eyes for a minute or two. Almost immediately she was snoring. When she dreamed, she was the star of The Beautiful and the Pouty in the role of the evil Countessa Dominique as she worked to steal away the playboy billionaire Joshua Galant--who for some reason in her dream was one-foot-tall--from her kind-hearted twin sister--who, for some other reason resembled Jake's annoying fiancé.
"Come closer, Mr. Galant," your aunt whispered in her sleep, smiling. And as she dreamed, she wriggled backwards in her sleep, inadvertently exposing your right arm to the tiniest sliver of space between her legs and the seat!
This was your moment! With Aunt Tara sleeping you could win the challenge and free yourself!
Just so long as you were still awake. But were you?
1) Yes: When your aunt wakes up, she sees you've freed yourself
2) No: When your aunt wakes up, you're trapped and unconscious
"Oh well," she shrugged. "You still have to roll again tomorrow. At least I'm guaranteed two more days to mess with you squirt."
"Only if I lose the challenge!"
"Right," Aunt Tara said slowly, as if humoring you. "If you lose."
She clearly didn't think much of your chances. And now that you thought about it, neither did you. It seemed your whole life was nothing but a series of women abusing you while completely oblivious to your presence. How were you supposed to beat one in a physical challenge when she was actually aware of you? And not just any woman, but Aunt Tara no less! The diabolical mastermind who managed to get one over on you every time you've met! Why did you ever have let Mrs. Smalls talk you into this?
"Because I'm a man of my word," you thought. "I might not be as tall as most men, but my character can be just as good as theirs. I broke a promise and now I need to face the consequences. I'll beat these challenges, prove myself a good man to Mrs. Smalls, and be back with Cassie before she even knows I'm gone."
"Alright, Aunt Tara," you said bravely. "I'm ready for the first challenge."
Without warning your aunt scooped you off the bedside table.
"Your timing's perfect squirt," Aunt Tara said as she carried you into the living room. "My favorite soap opera The Beautiful and the Pouty is having an all day marathon to promote tonight's premiere of the 22nd season. So for the next 14 hours, my ass is going to be planted firmly in that chair."
As she said this, she pointed towards a recliner positioned in front of a big-screen TV. One of the armrests had a cupholder with a beer already inside and a cooler full of them on the floor. The second armrest had a tray on a swivel, packed with all sorts of assorted snacks. You'd been envious of your aunt for the longest time for being one of those people who could eat whatever they wanted without getting fat, but now that you got a good look at her in her tank-top and tight sweatpants, you noticed she'd gained a slight paunch. Though still not fat, it finally looked like all the junk food and beer was finally beginning to contribute to something other than her curves. Any vindictive satisfaction you felt was short-lived when Tara carried you closer to the chair and you got a good look at the seat. Ground zero for Aunt Tara's ass, the poor cushion had been pummeled past the point of flatness to becoming concave. The brown leather on the seat had been worn away and turned pale by what looked like two abnormally large watermelons.
Tara noticed your discomfort and smiled. "As you can see, Darlene the 6th has seen better days. I finally persuaded your mom to buy me a replacement for my birthday but that's months away. Until then, I need a replacement cushion that can give my derriere the royal treatment she deserves." You gulped. Tara's smile widened. She tapped one of the armrests fondly. "Poor girl. Didn't even last two years. I guess my ass is just too much for anything to handle," she said, smacking a cheek for emphasis. "Well, anything except you, isn't that right squirt? You've been able to handle anything my ass has been able to dish out over the years and she's dished out plenty," she said suggestively, causing you to shudder from a million horrible memories and earning a belly-laugh from her.
"What's the challenge?" you asked nervously.
"Eager to start? Can't blame you. Alright, here it is. First, I'm gonna plop you down on this seat. Then, I'm gonna plop my ass down on you. If you can escape before the season premiere, you win."
"But it's a 14 hour marathon!"
"That just means I'm giving you plenty of time to succeed. Isn't that nice of me?" Tara noticed your horrified look and smiled wider. "Of course," she said slyly, as if the idea was only now coming to her. "If you don't want to play, we can always go back to our original arrangement?"
Involuntarily, you flashed back to the rash promise that had gotten you in this mess in the first place.
"Aww, you didn't like being in auntie's "giant, smelly butt"?" Aunt Tara asked, laughing. "In that case, you better promise to keep your mouth shut about last night. Otherwise," and now she turned around to present you with the monstrous thong-clad ass you'd only just escaped from, "I'll just have to keep you in this giant, smelly butt forever!"
And so you promised, but for years you'd had nightmares where you accidentally broke your word, only for Aunt Tara to appear out of nowhere and lock you away in her butt. In fact, whenever she visited, you were terrified that was exactly what she planned to do. It was a long time before you realized she'd only been teasing you. She'd never meant it. Even if you did spill the beans, you were sure she'd only haze you for a while and then let you go like always. She was your aunt, no matter how much she bullied you, you were sure deep down she loved you. Obviously she would never literally keep you in her ass forever. That'd be crazy... But then, why was her smile making your blood run cold?
"I'll do the challenge!"
Tara said nothing. The evil smile never left her face as she dropped you onto her chair. She didn't even give you a chance to react before she whirled around, did a little hop backwards, and sent her sweat-pants clad ass crashing down on top of you. Your body flattened on impact and Tara's ass filled up the entirety of the space between the armrests. And to make matters worse she immediately ground her ass into the seat, flattening you even more. "Oh yes," Tara said. "This is what I've been missing. Not as good as the feeling of you right between my cheeks but still heavenly." Tara pulled her recliner's lever, leaned back, cracked open a can of beer and turned on the TV. "This is the life squirt."
It may have been heavenly for her but it was hellish for you. All the schadenfreude you'd got from Tara's growing gut was gone as now it was contributing to the crushing weight turning you into a smear. No matter how many times it happened, being squashed still hurt. You tried to move but with all her weight directly on top of you, it was impossible. After 30 minutes, you finally stopped struggling. It was pointless. If you tired yourself out then instead of spending your college break in the arms of the love of your life, you'd be spending it under the backside of your archnemesis.
"Alright... I need to think... Ok, from the sound of the TV, my torso is pointing towards the edge of the seat. And my right arm is in front of me. With her legs propped up, if Tara shifts back in her seat just enough, I should have space to pry my arm free and pull myself forward. Yeah. That could work. I've been in this position before. I can take it. All I have to do is... wait."
Hours passed.
You could tell the passage of time by the theme songs that signaled the beginning and end of each episode. You couldn't make out what the actors were saying but Aunt Tara felt no need to watch in silence. She jeered the characters she hated and warned characters whenever they did something stupid. She also spoke to you, complimenting you on being such a good cushion, thanking you for dropping by to "spend quality time with her," and repeating the same short jokes she'd said all your life. As time passed, sweat leaked through the fabric of her pants, forcing your body to absorb it. Tara chugged beer after beer, crushing each can when it was empty and dropping it to the floor, and loudly munched on all the snacks she'd prepared. The beer and the junk food were a bad combo, and eventually ominous gurgles sounded overhead. You knew what was coming and braced yourself as your aunt let rip a bassy fart upon your battered body. Unfortunately whatever quirk of nature allowed you to breathe while flat also made it so you were forced to smell the stench. Tara burst out laughing and "sincerely apologized," only to do it again a few minutes later.
Through all of this torture, you forced yourself to stay awake. You had no choice. If you fell unconscious you'd lose for sure. So you stayed awake, even as darkness was all around you, even as your body screamed from the metric tons of pressure flattening you, even though the dampness of sweat soaked your body and you were forced to breathe frequent blasts of methane, all of it threatening to take your consciousness away at any second.
"Must... stay... awake... Do it... for Cassie... Cassie..."
But sleep was calling and it was just... so... inviting...
Unbeknownst to you, your aunt was dozing herself. As much as she loved her show, a twelve and a half pack could really make you tired. Secure in the knowledge that her favorite butt toy wasn't going anywhere and that her alarm was set for the premiere in two hours, she saw no harm in resting her eyes for a minute or two. Almost immediately she was snoring. When she dreamed, she was the star of The Beautiful and the Pouty in the role of the evil Countessa Dominique as she worked to steal away the playboy billionaire Joshua Galant--who for some reason in her dream was one-foot-tall--from her kind-hearted twin sister--who, for some other reason resembled Jake's annoying fiancé.
"Come closer, Mr. Galant," your aunt whispered in her sleep, smiling. And as she dreamed, she wriggled backwards in her sleep, inadvertently exposing your right arm to the tiniest sliver of space between her legs and the seat!
This was your moment! With Aunt Tara sleeping you could win the challenge and free yourself!
Just so long as you were still awake. But were you?
1) Yes: When your aunt wakes up, she sees you've freed yourself
2) No: When your aunt wakes up, you're trapped and unconscious
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March 28, 2025
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