Cracked It The Tiny Prison, a new type of prison chapter 11 by TinyLesbo

To say Jess had a long journey ahead of her was an understatement.

The crack in the wall was narrow, jagged, and cold to the touch. Especially perilous for a tiny, naked teenager, and who knew just how far down it went?

That Niamh girl said it went down to the sewers, but how could she be sure? Half this filthy prison smelled like a sewer anyway, so she couldn’t judge from smell alone. But as the limited light from Niamh’s cell dwindled, and she had to increasingly rely on touch. With every chipped bit of stone, every scratch against her bare skin, every ambient noise from some distant part of the building… surely she had to be making progress.

Because if she wasn’t, she was just getting lost in the walls. And dying here alone was almost a worse punishment than having to suck on Emily’s pussy.

The crack in the wall eventually widened, falling out into what looked like an old pipe. What felt like half a mile of shuffling down it led to a grate, with gaps just about wide enough for a shrunken teen to squeeze through.

Cold metal caught at her thighs, and then again at her hips, but for once in her life, Jess was glad of her petite build. Getting called Dish Rack made middle school an unpleasant experience, and putting that bitch in a headlock was what landed her here in the first place, but right now, her flat chest stopped her getting caught in the grate, so she could slip down into the sewer.

There was a win in there somewhere.

Holding her nose and following the current, Jess crawled through a seemingly endless stream of the worst of humanity’s leavings. But if anything could spur her on, it was that light at the end of the tunnel. Somewhere along this pipe there had to be daylight. Something beyond the prison gates. Somewhere without the stench of confinement.

If it took her hours, or even days to find it, then that was what she was going to do.

Morning was cresting over the horizon, a sombre purple mist, as Jess finally dragged herself loose. Ankle twisting with a final, desperate tug, she collapsed into the undergrowth, filthy but free. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

Too weak to run or even protest, all the tiny teen could do was whimper ‘no…!’ as an enormous hand reached for her. 

What was Jess’ fate? Who does the hand belong to?