Little Mikey
patreon
Ch 4: fourth preview
🕑 Added 2024-05-03 11:14:21 +0000 UTC(Sorry y'all, gettin behind on this chapter and gonna be out of town for the next few days, but I'll see if I can wrap up the chapter quickly after that. Here's another preview that rewrites a bit of the last one and then gets into some House Rules)
“Come with me,” she barked, but didn’t even wait for him to hop down. Hands under his armpits again, she lowered him brusquely to the floor then spun him around like a little turntable. Then marched him aggressively in front of her, toward the back wall.
Theo had scarcely time to panic, much less protest. Being pushed by Jen felt like being caught in front of a freight train. He tried to plant both feet but it didn’t even slow her down. He tried to veer left or right, but even his strongest attempt yielded no deviation. He stumbled the last several steps in cowed, frightened acquiescence, then yelped from the jolt of her sudden stop.
He felt Jen’s right hand detach from his shoulder as she reached for a marker nearby. Flicking the cap off, she leaned over him to write on the calendar just above his head. Her weight bore down on him through her left hand, intentionally. Crushing. Oppressive.
She circled last Saturday’s date. “How many people watched our Qualifier round?” Her voice was as gruff now as her hand. “Any idea?”
“I … u-um …”
“Guess.” A command, not a suggestion.
He had no flipping idea. “F-Five hundred,” he rattled off, like an idiot. “Thousand! Five hundred thousand!”
It seemed a huge, inconceivable number. He tried to visualize that many people – a large city’s worth – all watching him prance on TV as a spandexed Mouse …
But he was far short. Next to that date, Jen wrote: ‘1.6 million’.
He stood shellshocked, his mind failing to process. “That’s … That’s …”
“A shit-ton, yes.” Her meaty hand dropped to next Saturday, circling that too. “And the estimated viewers for the Champions’ Round?”
“I … I …”
The number she wrote nearly buckled his knees: ‘3+ million.’ “That’s just live viewers,” she curtly clarified. “Not later streamers.”
Nearly the population of Los Angeles. “Ho … oly … fuuuck,” he breathed.
Jen felt him wither under her grip, but she was annoyed she couldn’t see his face. To rectify this, she reached around his head and turned it upward to face her. Yep: her message was getting through alright.
“When I say the stakes are high,“ she lectured, “you see what I mean, yeah?” She waited. “Yeah?”
“Y-Yeah!” his voice croaked, properly meek again.
“Uh huh. Not to mention the winning prize: soooo much Apo. Which I intend to win, by the way. Or at least we need to make a friggin’ respectable showing.” She shook his head again, just enough to get his attention. “You with me so far?”
Even faster this time: “Y-Yes, Jen! I …” She felt him gulp, deciding against whatever else he was going to say. “Yes,” he finished docilely.
A small burst of endorphins hit her again. He was definitely back on the right track. And you know what she was realizing: body contact was the key. Think about it: his best-ever behavior had come when he’d been riding on here back that entire last phase of Round Two. Being in such direct proximity to her size, her strength; having a front-row seat to what she could do – that must’ve been like a constant reminder to him of who was in charge. And just now, when she’d stepped back and given him space for just fifteen seconds: that’s exactly when that other side of him had returned.
Fascinating. She chewed her lip for a sec, nodding. Yeah, she could work with that.
Theo felt a knot of despair as his daughter wrenched his head back toward the calendar then gripped both his shoulders and even pressed her body into him from behind. Oh no … her steel-hard thigh muscles, wide hips, rigid abs … the fabric pressing down atop his head which could only be her breasts … it all did such confusing things to his mind. Attraction and fear, in equal measure.
“And how many days we got left to prepare?” she demanded, tapping the calendar like a strict disciplinarian schoolteacher.
“Uhh …” It was actually hard to count under these conditions. “Three, four …” he counted under his breath, trying to focus. “F-Five,” he reported, his cheeks flushing.
“Yep.” Her hand reached past him again, circling Thursday. “We got somethin’ here too, but I’ll tell you about that later. Point is, this is the biggest, most important thing we’ll ever be a part of in our entire lives, and there’s soooo little time left to prepare.” She spun him 180 degrees to face her again, forcing him to gape up at her at terrifying close range, her eyes boring down at him from above her heaving breasts. “We took two days off to unwind – great; we needed it. But now we gotta make up for it. I’m talkin’ laser freaking focus – you feel me? Literally nothing else matters this week except getting maximally ready for the show.”
His daughter’s hand bore down, squeezing into his shoulder flesh like it was soft dough. He could feel deep bruises forming in the instant. He yipped, gulping, completely unable to flee. When she asked, “You’re on board with this, right?”, he waited only a few nanoseconds before nodding his head.
Jen watched this up close and personal treatment work wonders on her dad. His asshole side was nowhere to be found anymore; now only his Mousey side remained. She needed a way to lock this in, though; make sure it stuck. Something more official.
Aha. Ferrying him with her, she glided to the fridge to get something to write on. The back of a flyer: that’ll do. And before he seemed to know what was happening, she had him in front of her, facing the island counter, a pen pressed into his hand and her body pressed into him.
“Sooo, you’re not gonna like this,” she informed him unyieldingly, “but we gotta lay down some house rules. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll stay on the right track mentally unless you’ve got something written down in stone to follow.”
Theo’s heart froze to ice. Did … Did she just say--!?
The sharp tapping of her fingernail on the page drew his focus. “I’ll dictate; you write. And remember: once these are down, I’m gonna hold you to ‘em.”
This couldn’t be happening. This … This must be a bad dream that he would wake up from—
“‘Team Wonder Jen,’” her voice recited above him. “’House Rules’.” Tap Tap “Write it.”
Her massiveness, her power, was all around him. Muscles behind and beside and above. Maybe the rules won’t be so bad. Maybe—
CLAP! Her palms collided above his head like a firecracker. He might’ve jumped off the ground if her body hadn’t had him pinned. “It’s gonna take all day if you keep delaying like this. Come on. Get writing.”
What choice did he have? He shakily scrawled out the first line, the heat of her body radiating into him in waves.
Jen’s mouth almost quirked in a smile. His writing was worse than a third grader’s! Surely his nerves were part of it. But also the counter was easily chest-high on him, making him hurnk his elbow up awkwardly to write. It lent him an almost Amir-like vibe again, which softened her up just a little.
But she had to keep focused and go strong. “’Rule Number One’,” she dictated, her sternum pressing into his head as she tapped on the next line. The words flowed naturally from her, crystal clear and self-evident: “’The show is everything. Nothing else matters.’”
She weighed his pause, then watched him write. His pace slowed partway through – but nothing an extra squeeze on his shoulder couldn’t fix. He yipped again, but surely that couldn’t have actually hurt? It was such a mild squeeze.
Theo’s teeth grated as Jen pinched hard enough to leave a mark. Holy Christ – her every action seemed a ferocious threat, impossible to ignore! ‘Nothing else matters’: surely she didn’t mean that literally? What about rest and relaxation? His various personal goals and wants? His—
“’Rule Number Two: we go by Wonder Jen and Mouse now, all the time, until further notice.’”
WHAT!?! The pen fell from his grasp as he wrenched his head upward, trying to look her in the eye and tell whether she was possibly serious.
All he could see was bosom, and just a fringe of red hair.
Jen was quite proud of this second rule. Much like ‘Big Sis’ and ‘Little Bro’ that morning, these names would serve as a clear, built-in reminder every time they spoke. And it directly countered his wisecrack about still being her father. It wouldn’t do either of them any favors to think that way. It was better, and cleaner, to just bypass all that for now.
Gaining steam, she said, “Also put: ’Mighty and Teammate are also OK, but the words dad, father, and daughter are now forbidden in this house.’ Yeah, I think that’ll be best.”
She saw him trying to look up at her. Heard some strange noises too; felt a little shiver. “Just focus,” she instructed, re-grabbing his jaw and aiming him back at his task. “Only a few more to get through after this.”
The little guy seemed to struggle with this a lot; but props to him at least for putting pen to paper again and getting the words down in chicken scratch as she repeated them.
“Nice job!” Her mouth crooked. “Mouse.” Yeah, that was better – for both of them. She chewed her lip; nodded. “Now for the tough one.”
Theo almost choked. “T… Tough one?” he eked out.
“Yeah. Just listen close. You got this.” Her fingers curled; her arms weighed down; her body pressed. His heartrate was through the roof even before she declared, “’Rule Number Three: Failure to follow the rules on this list will result in punishment.’”
The final word was said so matter-of-factly, but there was no way he’d misheard. “P … P … Punishment?!”
“Yeah.” Her hands clamped – more shooting pain. “It’ll depend on what you did, of course,” she went on, as his vision swam. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll spank you if it’s something little.” He felt his own muscles giving out as her voice sounding more and more distant. “Oh, but to be clear, spanking is definitely on the table if it’s a big enough infrac—”
Her gasp was the last thing he heard before he fainted.
