The Queen's Throne.

Chapter One.

Edit: Despite Thalia and her boyfriend having been on the page for a long time, I decided to change the narrative to second person in order to make it more immersive.

The Saturday afternoon arrives lazily, warmed by a stubborn sun streaming through the windows of Thalia's living room. She walks barefoot, her light feet echoing on the wooden floor as she holds you in the palm of her hand. You’re tiny, only a few centimeters tall, at the peak of what they call the "shrinking period." Your body is small but resilient, almost indestructible, something Thalia loves to explore with her provocative creativity.

"What’s the deal today, Leo?" she asks, her eyes glinting behind her thin-framed glasses. The tone is playful, and you know it.

"It’s Saturday..." you reply, trying to sound chill, but even your tiny voice shakes.

Thalia raises an eyebrow and smirks, a look you know all too well. That smirk means trouble — or, depending on how you look at it, fun.

"Yeah, no kidding, dummy." She chuckles softly and adds, "And you know what Saturday means, right? Time for the queen to have some fun."

You gulp. You know exactly what that means. On these days, you're "invited" to be the queen’s personal comfort item, which means getting squashed under her generous backside while she plays video games for hours. It’s almost a sacred ritual for Thalia.

You look at her, dressed in a tight tank top and tiny shorts that barely cover her thighs. Her hair is fluffy and curly, wild and untamed, bouncing with every move she makes. It frames her face perfectly, and the golden earrings she wears sway with her every motion.

"Come on, don’t be like that, babe. You know I need my 'lucky charm' for game day." She winks at you, letting you know your fate has already been decided.

You’re torn. Part of you loves this dynamic, but another part, the more practical part, remembers just how intense it is to be squashed for hours. A cold sweat runs down your back as Thalia gently places you on the soft pouf, adjusting you like you're just a pillow. She already has the Xbox controller in her other hand, ready to roll.

Thalia turns her back to you, looking over her shoulder with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Leo Gomez, you’ve been sentenced to die by your queen. You’re gonna get crushed by my butt. Got any last words?"

You're stunned, your eyes wide as they lock onto Thalia’s big, powerful hips. You try to say something, but the words just vanish in the face of the scene. Stammering, you finally manage to say:

"I-I want an appeal..."

Thalia bursts out laughing, the sound echoing like music through the room.

"Appeal denied!" she declares triumphantly before slowly lowering herself toward the pouf.

As she begins to sit, time seems to slow down for you. You can see it all happening in what feels like an eternity: her large, round backside, so perfectly shaped and heavy, descending toward you. The curves of her hips, the soft, powerful swell of her buttocks, are like two massive moons coming into view, slowly getting closer and closer. The air around you thickens, every second stretching out as the shadow of her body looms above you. You can almost feel the heat radiating from her skin through the fabric of her shorts, and you can’t help but watch in awe as she descends with deliberate slowness. The moment feels surreal, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

When she finally sits, it’s like your entire world just disappears. The pressure is intense, but not painful, thanks to your natural resilience. Even so, the heat of her skin through the shorts and the crushing weight are impossible to ignore. You’re totally under her control, as usual, but there’s something undeniably thrilling about being in that position.

"Comfy down there, my love?" she asks, teasing you as she settles into the pouf.

You, buried and breathless, manage a muffled sound that’s pretty much a "uh-huh." Thalia chuckles, pleased with herself, and kicks off her game marathon.

Your world, buried under Thalia’s immense presence, is muffled and disorienting. You can hear the sound of the game from the TV, her occasional laughter, and of course, the occasional muffled noise from your own predicament. The pressure of her backside is inescapable, completely covering you and pinning you to the pouf like a tiny trophy of your queen.

You shift, trying to adjust your position. Maybe find a way to breathe better, or, who knows, relieve some of the weight. But every attempt seems to only catch Thalia’s attention.

“Hmmm? What’re you doing down there, Leo?” her voice comes out playful but full of authority. Without waiting for an answer, she wiggles her hips, rubbing her ass over you intentionally. “There, back in your spot.”

You let out a muffled groan. The pressure seems to grow with every movement she makes. You try again to shift, but as if signaling that she won’t tolerate any more attempts, Thalia repeats the rub, this time longer, which leaves you practically stuck to the pouf.

“No trying to get out of there!” she declares, teasing but firm. Her laughter echoes through the room, and she turns her attention back to the headset and the game she’s playing.

“C’mon, Zangief, show ‘em what you got!” she says, fluent and casual in her English. “That’s it! Spinning Piledriver!” she yells, leaning forward a little in excitement, giving you a brief break before she settles back down, crushing you again.

Down below, you hear everything muffled, like you're inside a warm, soft cocoon, heavy beyond belief. Every sound of her voice is a reminder of the vast difference between you in that moment. You try moving an arm again but quickly give up, feeling the familiar pressure and the rising heat.

“Oh, you wanna play Hadouken? Go for it!” Thalia laughs loudly, and you feel her body shake slightly with her giggles.

For you, time seems to stop. You’re completely subdued, but somehow, it makes you feel connected to Thalia in a way no one else could understand. Even though you’re squished and suffocating, you know that behind all the teasing, there’s affection and an intimacy only you share.

Thalia, on her end, is fully immersed in the game but hasn’t forgotten about her little “lucky charm.” From time to time, she gives a little wiggle, just to make sure you’re still there.

“Comfy down there, Leo?” she asks, clearly knowing the answer would be nothing more than muffled and undecipherable.

She smiles, satisfied, adjusting her headset.

“Time to finish this... Critical Art, baby!” she announces before bursting into celebration. “Yeah! Queen’s victory!” she exclaims, raising one fist in the air. Her other hand still grips the controller firmly.

You, down below, just sigh mentally. "Queen’s victory" pretty much sums up your situation. You don’t have the energy to protest anymore. All that’s left is to accept your role as the tiny subject and wait for the reign of this afternoon to end.

Thalia, still hyped from the win, laughs loudly and gives a light tap on her thigh, near where you’re buried.

“That’s why you’re my lucky charm, huh? Pure luck!” she says, already gearing up for another round.