This choice: Unaware Bonnie carries you to dance class • Go Back...Chapter #4Bonnie's Oblivious Instruction by: Unknown "Well..." You rubbed your chin, wondering exactly how you planned to hang out with Bonnie now that you were in her apartment and face-to-face with the girl. "I guess we could-"
You were cut off by the piercing shriek of a phone ringing. From how overwhelming the noise was, you had to assume it was coming from the gaping maw of the gym bag lying on the ground right beside you. You clutched your hands to your ears and winced from the pain.
Bonnie didn't seem to notice your discomfort as she sat upright and scooted across the couch towards your end, moving closer to her bag. Nor did she seem to notice how close she got to squishing you flat as she leaned over the edge of the couch and fished her phone out of her bag. Her ample chest swayed beneath her as she dangled over the couch, titanic tits hovering just a scant few inches above your head.
Thankfully, Bonnie soon retrieved her phone and reclined back against the couch, no longer unintentionally threatening you with her abyss of cleavage. You soothed your aching ears and gave Bonnie a quizzically look as she answered the phone and put it up to her ear.
"Yeah? What's up, Mel?" Bonnie inquired with a hint of caution to her voice. After a moment, she gasped. "Sick? What'cha mean, sick?" Bonnie furrowed her brow. "I told you to take a rest day, didn't I? This is on you!" Bonnie was growing more and more annoyed. "Me? You want me to cover your class? You're off your head! It starts in twenty minutes!" She was practically shouting now.
You gulped. "Bonnie, i-if this is a bad time, I can-"
"Bonus? It better be a damn good one then! I dinnae want to do this again, ya eejit!" Bonnie cried out, hanging up and throwing her phone back into her bag with gusto.
Unfortunately, the trajectory of the phone was the absolute worst it could have taken. With no time at all to react, you could only freeze up in terror as the phone smacked into your face and sent you flying off the couch. With a garbled cry, you tumbled through the air and down into Bonnie's gym bag.
You landed roughly on Bonnie's black leggings, and began standing up when fate threw you another twist. The phone landed directly on your back, crushing you with its weight, and flattening you out against the smooth fabric of the leggings. The phone's momentum had stopped as well, keeping you firmly trapped without chance of reforming.
While this tragedy was befalling you, Bonnie was rubbing her face with her hands to destress. She took several calming breaths, and then stood up.
"My accent really comes out when I'm angry, huh?" She mused with a laugh. "Anyway, sorry there Anthony, but I've got to run. My girl Mel is sick, and needs me to cover her dance class. You understand, right. Sorry!"
While Bonnie was rambling, she was also fixing herself a quick snack and grabbing a water bottle. She threw those into her gym bag as well, squashing you even more, then zipped up the bag, threw it over her shoulder, and strolled to her apartment's door.
"See ya around, Anthony!" Bonnie called out, without sparing a single glance to the vacant arm rest she mistakenly believed her cute tiny neighbor to still be on. Then, she was gone, strolling down the hall, out of the building, and to her car. All the while, you were tagging along, and extremely unwilling passenger to Bonnie's studio.
-------
The drive to the studio was short, which gave Bonnie exactly five minutes to rush into the locker room and change before the class began. Hustling as fast as she could, Bonnie tossed her gym bag down and yanked it open, digging out her clothes while keeping her full attention on the clock.
If she'd been paying attention, she probably would've seen your flattened body, stuck in a spread eagle position squarely on the back of her leggings. Sadly, in her haste, Bonnie didn't notice a thing as she slid out of her shorts and then lowered the leggings around her ankles, stepping into the holes.
You tried every single thing you could to reform, but it was no use. You weren't too stuck, but the phone had still crushed you enough so that no matter how much you wiggled and squirmed, you couldn't break free from the fabric fast enough. Soon, your stomach dropped out as Bonnie hoisted the leggings up her long, toned legs.
With a bit of effort, Bonnie worked the leggings up and around her thick, firm ass cheeks, letting the waistband snap into place. The leggings were clearly at least one size too small, a realization accentuated by how much you felt your body been pulled taut across the ginger's gigantic globes of flesh. As far as you could tell, you were currently a tiny sticker in the middle of her right butt cheek.
You tried to resume your twitching to break free, but fond it nearly impossible due to how stretched your body was along the perfectly rounded contour of Bonnie's ass. You couldn't move at all, and could merely sit there. Face pressed firmly into the fabric, the warmth from Bonnie's body radiated through the fabric and into your body, and as pleasant as it felt in the moment, you knew from experience it would be hell if you were still stuck when the dancing began.
Bonnie, meanwhile, switched her shirt for a sports bra, chowed through her snack in record time, then grabbed her water bottle and entered the private dance room just in time for the attendees to appear.
Bonnie waved to and greeted each of them, bobbing up and down on her heels as she did so. Each suitable movement in her titanic body caused her gelatinous butt cheeks to jiggle. The resultant shaking and shifting jostled your body around nauseatingly, but to your surprise, also seemed to be aiding in your reformation!
All-in-all, ten other girls were attending the class, and once they were all accounted for, Bonnie stood in front of them. Not a single other girl had spotted you on Bonnie's sculpted posterior, but it wasn't exactly as if anyone was looking for unwitting tiny stowaways.
"Alright girls! Brand new day, huh?" Bonnie smiled exuberantly. As pissed as she was at having to work on what she thought was a day off, she was truly in her element while teaching dance. "Ready to get started?"
The class nodded dutifully. Meanwhile, you had just about finished prying your head free from the leggings, and were mere seconds away from screaming out for help. As if to spite you, Bonnie spoke again.
"I'm not sure what Mel does, since I'm just subbing, but I like to start with stretches!" Bonnie grinned. "Girls, why don't we all sit down?"
Your blood ran cold, but truly, there was nothing you could do as Bonnie plopped onto the mat.
All the weight of her body slammed upon you, pulverizing you so immensely you were nearly knocked unconscious. Whereas your predicament had been almost comically humiliating up until this moment, now it was true hell. Your body flattened out even thinner than before, undoing all your progress, and as the seconds ticked by, you felt yourself adhere more and more to Bonnie's leggings.
Blissfully unaware of what she was doing to her poor neighbor, Bonnie proceeded to lead the girls through a series of leg stretches to warm them up for the upcoming intensive dance workout. She twisted this way and that, demonstrating remarkable flexibility some of the other girls struggled to match. Still, Bonnie was a compassionate and patient teacher, and she didn't let anyone fall behind.
Though you couldn't blame her, she certainly didn't show you any compassion or patience. Each twist of her bountiful derriere smeared you against her hefty ass cheek. Every time she shifted, more of her weight displaced itself onto your vulnerable body, and you let out pitiful silent cries. Bonnie just kept on shimming around, simultaneously leading her students in healthy stretching routines, and also smudging your body more and more into the fabric of her leggings.
As she stretched, Bonnie was beginning to work up a light sweat, and the trickling beads flowed down her pristine skin, inevitably ending up in the lowest point of her body: her bodacious backside. The sweat congealed around her butt cheeks, and by extension, you. You became caked in her sweat, which only served to further glue you in place.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bonnie stood up, but the damage was already done. Her smudging and smearing you against the mat and reduced you from a comical tiny on her ass into an unrecognizable tan splotch on her otherwise black leggings. You were so firmly glued to her buttocks that you couldn't even feel your own body. You were numb from it all, and wholly incapable of reforming without a substantial repireve.
Before proceeding, Bonnie took a few swigs of her water, and the other girls followed suit. As Bonnie drank, she turned away from her students and idly stretched her arms. A few wandering eyes happened to land on her posterior, no doubt because the students were admiring their teacher's sculpted physique. However, one student near the front frowned as she spotted the tan discoloration that was your body.
"Um...Miss Bonnie?" The girl talked softly. "I think that-"
"Just Bonnie!" Bonnie said soothingly. "And what's up?"
The girl looked nervous. "I think you...uh...sat on something. There's something stuck to your...uh...butt." The girl's face was bright red.
Bonnie frowned, and glanced backward at her sizable, firm rear end. Using a mirror against the classroom wall as an aide, she spotted your mangled body. Her frown deepened, and she ran her hands along your body.
Feeling her warm touch, your heart leapt for joy. Surely, your incredible helpful and caring neighbor would recognize and save you, right? Right?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
