Tiny Jaune / Unaware Team RWBY: Special Feature Part 1 of Unaware Morning Routine.
Jaune-
The halls of Beacon were quiet in the early morning, a peaceful stillness hanging in the air as the academy slowly began to wake. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting golden light across the floors, giving everything a soft, almost dreamlike glow. I strode down the hallway, my footsteps echoing lightly against the polished tile as I made my way toward Team RWBY's dorm room. In my hand, I held a small glass vial filled with golden dust—an unusual substance my team had stumbled upon during our last mission.
None of us really knew what it did, but I knew that Team RWBY, particularly Ruby, had an almost obsessive fascination with it. If anyone could figure out what this was and what it was used for, it would be them. Besides, it wasn't like I had much use for it, so I figured I'd drop it off and let them have their fun experimenting with it.
As I approached the door, I knocked a few times, the sound dull against the thick wooden frame. I pulled my hand back, waiting for a response when suddenly— BAM! A figure dashed past me, their shoulder barely clipping mine, but it was just enough to send me stumbling. My grip on the vial slipped, and in a heart-stopping moment, I watched as it tumbled from my fingers and hit the ground.
The glass shattered instantly, the shimmering golden dust spilling out in a swirling, almost sentient motion. My first instinct was to take a step back, but before I could react, the dust reacted first. It surged upward, wrapping around my legs and quickly climbing up my body, moving like a living storm of gold. A strange sensation overtook me—not painful, but unnatural, as if the very air around me was shifting. My vision blurred, my limbs felt light, and suddenly, I had the overwhelming sensation of falling.
Then, just as quickly as it began, it was over.
I found myself sitting on the cold floor, one hand propped behind me for support as the other wiped at my face, trying to clear the dizziness from my mind. Something felt... different. The air felt heavier, the floor beneath me seemed different , and as my vision adjusted, I slowly became aware of my surroundings.
My breath hitched in my throat.
The door I had just been knocking on now stretched impossibly high above me, towering like a monolithic structure leading straight into the heavens. The wood grain, once smooth and unremarkable, was now an intricate landscape of deep grooves and ridges, a testament to just how much smaller I had become. I had no way to measure my new size, but the sheer scale of everything around me told me one thing: I had shrunk. And not just a little.
Before I could even attempt to process what had just happened, a new sound filled the air—a click , deep and thunderous, reverberating through my tiny body like a distant explosion. My head snapped upward just in time to see the dorm door creak open, the sheer movement of it sending a gust of air rushing past me, strong enough to make me stumble.
Then, she stepped out.
Two massive pillars stretched high into the sky, powerful legs leading upward to a pair of familiar yellow shorts. I didn't need to look any higher to know who it was—Yang Xiao Long. But before my brain could even register her towering presence, a new shadow fell over me, and my blood turned to ice.
Her foot.
An absolute planet of flesh hovered above me, its immense size blocking out everything else from my view. The ridges and natural wrinkles of her sole loomed like deep canyons, while tiny specks of dirt and dust clung to her skin, each one now the size of boulders to me. I could see every pore, every minor imperfection, the sheer detail of it overwhelming at my scale.
I barely had a moment to react before it began to descend.
The air thickened around me, the oppressive weight of her foot pressing down before even making contact with the ground. The wind alone knocked me onto my back as I helplessly watched, frozen in pure, animalistic fear. Then, with a deafening BOOM , her foot crashed down just in front of me, the force of the impact shaking the very ground beneath me. The shockwave alone sent me tumbling backward, my body rolling like a discarded piece of lint.
My ears rang. My chest heaved. I was alive —barely.
Dazed, I forced myself onto my back, my vision spinning as I looked up, up, up . High above me, Yang loomed like an unstoppable force of nature. My eyes were immediately drawn to the twin celestial masses that swayed gently with her movement—her breasts .
Each one was an unfathomable structure at my scale, straining against her black tank top, rising and falling with her breath like some kind of unstoppable force. Even from this distance, I could see the way they shifted slightly with her casual movements, their sheer weight causing subtle tremors in her top. The way they hung above me, dominating my view, made them feel like an inescapable presence—mountains of flesh that could have easily overshadowed entire buildings at my size.
Then, her voice.
"Hello?" The single word thundered through the air like a rolling storm, each syllable so loud that I could barely register it as speech. My bones vibrated with the sheer force of her voice, the deep resonance rattling through my chest as I clutched at my ears in a feeble attempt to block out the overwhelming sound.
I had to move.
Shaking off the numbness in my limbs, I forced myself up, my gaze locking onto the only part of her body within reach—her foot. Specifically, her big toe, which towered over me like a colossal structure of warm, living flesh. I had no other choice. If I stayed here, I'd be left behind, and I couldn't risk being stranded in this world of titans.
With a burst of energy, I sprinted forward and leaped onto her big toe, my tiny hands gripping onto the slightly roughened surface of her skin. The heat from her body was immediate, an overwhelming warmth that made it clear just how massive and alive she was compared to me. The faint scent of sweat, barely noticeable at my normal size, was now thick in the air, a natural musk that reminded me just how insignificant I had become.
Then, the world shifted .
Yang turned on her heel, stepping back into the dorm room, and suddenly, I was flying . My grip tightened as my stomach lurched, the rapid ascent sending my mind into a spiral. The sheer speed at which she moved was unreal —covering distances in mere seconds that would have taken me hours.
Then came the fall.
Gravity took hold as her foot descended, and my entire world plummeted . The sheer drop made my heart leap into my throat, the air rushing past me like a hurricane. Then, with a thunderous BOOM , her foot crashed back onto the floor. The impact shook every fiber of my tiny form, my bones rattling as the force nearly tore me from my perch.
Above, Yang casually reached for the door, her massive form shifting slightly, causing her breasts to sway once again before she clicked the door shut behind her with a soft thud .
Each step Yang took sent a powerful gust of wind rushing past me, the sheer force of her movements nearly prying me off her skin. My stomach lurched as my tiny body was dragged along with the momentum of her stride, clinging desperately to the rough terrain of her toe. Every step felt like an earthquake, a deep tremor that rattled my bones and sent vibrations through my entire being. I scrambled upward, managing to climb to the arch of her big toe, my fingers digging into the warm, slightly rough texture of her skin.
But before I could settle, another deep rumble filled the air. This one wasn't from Yang—it came from elsewhere.
My head snapped to the side, and what I saw made my already racing heart nearly stop.
Three more titanic figures stood before me, their immense forms towering like goddesses that had descended into this impossibly oversized world. Ruby, Blake, and Weiss stood in the dorm room, clad in their nightgowns, their sheer size making it impossible for my mind to fully process the scale of them. Their legs stretched endlessly into the sky, and even from my position on Yang's foot, I could see the faint swaying of their massive breasts underneath the fabric. Each of them was an unstoppable force of nature at this scale, the movement of their bare feet against the floor sending small tremors through Yang's foot beneath me.
"Who was at the door?" one of them asked, their voice a deafening boom that rattled my tiny body.
The instinct to cover my ears nearly overtook me, but I couldn't let go. The sheer force of their speech was so powerful at my scale that it felt like being caught in a shockwave. My entire body trembled as the vibrations shook through me, and just as I fought to keep my grip, Yang shifted her foot.
The movement was sudden—she tapped her toe absentmindedly against the ground, a simple, thoughtless action to her, but to me, it was a catastrophe. The sky above blurred as her toe lifted before slamming back down with an earth-shattering impact. I had to act fast. My arms burned as I scrambled upward, narrowly avoiding being crushed between her skin and the floor as she settled her toe back into place.
My lungs burned from the exertion, my arms trembling as I finally reached the relative safety of her toenail. The smooth surface stretched before me like a glossy, slightly curved platform, giving me a brief moment to breathe. My chest heaved as I lay on my back, gazing up at the sheer length of Yang's leg. Her tanned skin extended like an endless wall, her thigh muscles subtly flexing beneath the skin as she casually shifted her weight.
Higher still, her breasts loomed impossibly large, jutting forward like mountains that seemed to block out the sky itself. I couldn't even see her face beyond them. The very size of her body was beyond reason, beyond anything my mind could comprehend. And worse still, the quakes from the shifting titans around me continued, their conversation rolling like thunder above.
I couldn't stay here. The constant, subtle movements of Yang's foot made the surface of her toenail an unpredictable landscape, and the last thing I needed was to lose my grip and fall to my doom. I carefully flipped myself over and crawled toward the edge, gripping it tightly just as the world lurched again.
Yang was moving.
A gut-wrenching drop followed as she lifted her foot into the air once more. My fingers barely clung to the edge of her nail, my arms straining as gravity threatened to peel me away from my precarious hold. My tiny frame swung helplessly as she took another few steps, each one sending a fresh wave of vertigo through me. I barely had the strength to register where we were going before a new movement jolted me yet again.
She had stopped at her dresser.
From my dizzy, dangling position, I could barely make out what she was doing, but I could see her reaching forward. The sound of fabric shifting, drawers opening and closing, and the rustling of clothing surrounded me. A bra. Panties. Her shorts. A new tank top. She was grabbing her clothes for the day, completely unaware that her actions were shaking my entire world.
I couldn't hold on forever.
Then, she started walking again.
Each step was a fresh nightmare, a violent shift that sent me swinging wildly with no control. I was too small to do anything but hold on . The deafening quakes rumbled through my body like a never-ending storm, the sheer weight of each impact sending ripples up her leg and through the air. She had a destination in mind, and as I forced myself to look forward, I realized exactly where she was going.
The bathroom.
As soon as the massive door creaked open, my stomach clenched. I knew this wasn't going to end well for me.
She stepped inside, the cool air of the bathroom replacing the slightly warmer air of the dorm room. The sound of her fingers brushing against the door echoed like a mountain shifting, and then, with a final thud , the door shut behind her. At that exact moment, my grip failed.
I was sent flying .
The sheer momentum of her movement flung me into the air, my limbs weightless as the world spun out of control. My tiny form tumbled helplessly before I finally crashed onto the smooth, cold expanse of the tiled bathroom floor. I skidded painfully across the surface, my body rolling until I finally slid to a stop beneath the towering structure of the towel rack.
For the first time since shrinking, I was able to truly breathe .
Panting, I pressed my palms against the cool tile, my body shaking from exhaustion. The quakes hadn't stopped—Yang was still moving, and every little action she took rattled the ground beneath me. But at least for now, I was off her foot, safe in the shadow of a hanging towel.
That relief didn't last long.
A new sound filled the air—the rush of water. I looked up just in time to see Yang reaching forward, turning on the shower. The pipes groaned, and within seconds, steaming hot water began to cascade down, fogging up the room slightly.
Then, she began to undress.
My breath hitched as she reached down, her fingers gripping the hem of her black tank top. With a simple motion, she pulled it upward, revealing her bare, sweat-glistened skin underneath. Then, with a final tug, she pulled it over her head entirely, her enormous breasts bouncing slightly as they were freed.
I swallowed hard.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
The massive, perfectly round orbs jutted outward, their sheer weight shifting slightly with every subtle movement she made. At my size, each one was a world unto itself, the soft, tanned skin glistening faintly in the steamy air. They moved naturally, effortlessly, bouncing slightly before settling as she tossed her tank top carelessly to the floor.
Then, she reached for her shorts.
My entire world became a slow-motion disaster as she unbuttoned them, hooking her thumbs into both her shorts and panties before pulling them down in one smooth motion. The fabric peeled away, revealing the final, impossible part of her anatomy.
I had barely even registered the faint moisture building on her skin from the heat of the room before she kicked her discarded clothing in my direction.
I jumped out of the way just in time.
The sheer size of the shorts and panties as they skidded across the tile was overwhelming, the impact alone creating enough wind to push me back slightly. And despite myself, my gaze trailed upward.
My breath caught in my throat.
Towering above me, Yang's fully nude form stood in all its overwhelming, unstoppable power. The sheer size of her body, the scale of her breasts, the faint moisture glistening across her skin—it was too much to process. And then, my gaze finally trailed downward.
For a brief moment, just before she lifted her leg to step into the shower, I saw it .
Far above me, high in the sky, was Yang's vagina It loomed overhead like a vast, distant land, an unfathomable expanse of soft folds and glistening, delicate skin. The moisture from the heat of the room had begun to form a faint sheen along her lips, making them glisten under the dim bathroom lighting. From my perspective, it was an insurmountable structure, its sheer size and presence making it seem almost unreal.
It was a distant, unreachable part of her, far beyond anything I could ever interact with, yet its presence dominated the skyline from my perspective. It was simply there , an unavoidable reality of her towering, godlike form.
Then, before I could even fully process the sight before me, she moved.
Yang's foot lifted from the ground, the massive sole peeling away from the tile before she stepped forward. The motion was effortless to her, but to me, it was a catastrophic shift in the very landscape I stood upon. The sheer power behind her step sent a wave of air rolling past me, ruffling my hair as I stumbled back slightly.
Then, she stepped into the shower.
The moment her foot touched down, the entire room seemed to shake from the impact. A deafening roar filled the air as the water cascaded down onto her body, crashing against her skin in thick streams. The humidity instantly increased, the warm mist curling around me, making the entire environment feel even more alien and inhospitable to someone my size.
The warm, thick steam was already curling around me, turning the bathroom into a dense, misty landscape that seemed both surreal and intoxicating. The scent of lavender and vanilla drifted through the air, no doubt from the body wash Yang had used. Even from my vantage point near the discarded heap of her clothes, the room felt massive—like some humid jungle where towering cliffs and insurmountable walls of fabric loomed around me.
Yang's black panties, tangled in the heap of her clothes, caught my eye almost immediately. Their dark fabric contrasted sharply against the pale tiled floor, and something about their presence, the intimacy of them, drew me in. Without thinking, I stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out to touch the waistband. The fabric was warm, still carrying the faint heat of her body, and as I took a deep breath, an overwhelming scent invaded my senses—rich, feminine, powerful. It was intoxicating, an invisible grip that held me in place longer than I intended. A shiver ran down my spine, and for a brief, irrational moment, I imagined what it would be like to be buried beneath those very panties, lost in their warmth and scent.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to turn away, but the sheer scale of my predicament returned to the forefront of my mind. The door, a monolithic structure, stood impossibly far, its golden handle gleaming dully in the dim light. It might as well have been on another continent. There was no way I was making it there on foot, not before Yang finished her shower.
My eyes flicked between her discarded clothes and the towel hanging overhead. The clothes were a mess, unpredictable, and difficult to navigate. The towel, on the other hand, was suspended like a giant banner of salvation. If I could climb up there, I might be able to get her attention when she reached for it. Decision made, I approached the hanging fabric, its heavy folds swaying slightly from the warmth and humidity of the room.
Grabbing onto the rough, thick fibers, I jumped, managing to snag a loose strand. My tiny fingers dug in, and I began my arduous ascent. The climb was slow, each pull requiring careful footing as the towel swayed beneath my weight. The heat in the room continued to rise, the fog of steam growing thicker with every second, making my already exhausting climb even more difficult. My breaths came faster, labored from the effort, but I couldn't stop now. I needed to reach the top before she finished.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I pulled myself onto the top of the towel rack, my chest heaving as I lay face down, gripping the metal bar beneath me. The cool metal against my sweaty skin was a relief, and I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath.
Then the water stopped.
A hush fell over the room, broken only by the soft patter of water droplets sliding off Yang's body and onto the shower floor. The pause felt heavy, expectant, before the world shifted again.
The shower curtain was flung aside, a sudden gust of displaced air rushing through the bathroom like a storm. The mist swirled violently, parting to reveal a vision that almost made my heart stop.
Yang stepped through the cloud of steam like some radiant deity emerging from the heavens. Her golden hair clung to her skin in long, wet strands, sticking to her broad shoulders and curling against the upper swells of her breasts. Water glistened across her sun-kissed skin, forming lazy rivulets that trailed down her toned stomach, over the soft dips and curves of her body.
She took a step forward, and the entire towel rack trembled beneath me. The impact of her bare foot against the tiled floor sent a tremor through my bones, a gentle quake that underscored just how small and insignificant I was compared to her towering form. Another step, then another, and the quakes intensified, becoming a slow, rhythmic force that made my perch feel even more precarious.
Then she was there—standing directly in front of me, her immense form dominating my entire vision. Her presence was overwhelming, her skin still glistening, droplets of water clinging to her curves like diamonds in the dim bathroom light. My gaze traveled upward, taking in the vast landscape of her body, from the tight muscles of her stomach to the sheer enormity of her chest. Her breasts loomed over me like twin planets, their weighty forms moving slightly with each of her breaths. A single droplet of water slid down from the peak of one, gliding over the smooth expanse before falling—straight toward me.
The drop struck my shoulder with surprising force, soaking my tiny form in warm water. Coughing, I shook myself off, blinking up at her colossal face as she lowered her gaze. Her golden eyes locked onto the towel, and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat.
This was it. My chance.
Lifting one arm, I began waving frantically, shouting at the top of my lungs.
"Yang! Down here! Hey!"
The moment Yang's golden eyes flickered downward, a smile curling her lips, hope surged through me. Maybe—just maybe—she had noticed me, saw the impossibly small figure clinging to the folds of her towel. Maybe I was finally saved.
Then, in one swift, effortless motion, her arm reached out, and her fingers gripped the center of the towel. Before I could react, before I could even scream, the fabric was yanked away.
The world exploded into chaos.
I was thrown into a violent, tumbling spin as the towel twisted and unfurled, my tiny body getting caught in its thick fibers. The air rushed past me in dizzying currents, my stomach lurching as gravity lost all meaning. It felt like being trapped inside a raging storm, my arms flailing uselessly against the coarse fabric. My muscles screamed as I fought to keep hold of the tangled threads, each movement sending a fresh wave of nausea tearing through my gut.
I couldn't tell which way was up, which way was down—only that I was trapped, tangled, and utterly at the mercy of Yang's casual movements. My head pounded as the sheer force of her handling twisted and turned me, my body jostled by the rolling motion of the towel. It was unbearable, suffocating. Every few seconds, I felt my limbs being pressed into the fibers, the material gripping me like a living thing, squeezing me into its embrace. I barely had time to breathe before the world lurched again.
Then, suddenly, I slammed to a halt.
My body ached, my limbs weak as I struggled to process what had just happened. I was still caught in the towel, still bound within its unforgiving fibers, but now my back was pressed firmly against the fabric, my front exposed to the open air.
And then I realized what was happening.
Yang had begun drying herself off.
An intense, radiant heat seeped through the fabric, enveloping me in an almost suffocating embrace. The steam-laden air around me shifted, thick and humid, as the towel moved again.
And then I felt it.
The firm, smooth surface of Yang's skin pressing into me.
She had begun drying herself.
I barely had time to react before the towel pressed me firmly against her left foot. The moment of contact was overwhelming—the sheer scale of it, the raw power behind her casual movement. Her foot, damp and slightly slick from the shower, was a landscape of shifting muscles beneath smooth skin. The towel dragged along the curve of her heel, pressing me against its solid surface.
Her skin was so much warmer than the towel, the contrast between the damp, rough fabric and the soft, natural heat of her body making the sensation all the more intense. The subtle ridges and lines of her foot were impossibly vast at my size, like deep, uneven grooves that I was forced to scrape along.
I gasped as the towel moved again, rolling me against the arch of her foot. The sudden dip sent my stomach lurching, my tiny form sinking into the warm curve of flesh before being lifted and dragged further upward. The motion was methodical, deliberate, yet completely indifferent to my presence. I was nothing more than a speck of lint caught in the routine of her drying, at the mercy of every motion she made.
As she lifted the towel higher, the pressure shifted, pressing me against the ball of her foot. The firmness of it was staggering, her weight naturally causing the skin to press into the towel with more force. The rough motion sent me tumbling slightly before the fabric caught me again, locking me into its relentless grip.
Then she lifted the towel away.
For a single, merciful moment, I was weightless, the humid air rushing around me as I clung to the damp fabric.
Then—impact.
I was slammed into her right foot, the process beginning again.
The same overwhelming warmth, the same powerful movements. Every pass of the towel dragged me along her skin, the moisture being absorbed while my tiny body was left slick and clinging to the fibers.
I had no control. No escape. Only the suffocating repetition of being rubbed along her massive, damp body, like a bug caught in the path of something far greater than itself.
And then, the worst happened.
I felt the shift before I saw it—the change in angle, the repositioning of the towel. The thick fabric lifted, carrying me higher, the warmth of her thighs now replacing the firmer surface of her foot.
I barely had time to process my new surroundings before the entire world seemed to change.
The heat intensified.
The scent in the air became thicker, heavier—an intoxicating mix of residual body wash and something deeper, more natural.
And then I saw it.
The looming, unfathomably vast shape of Yang's vagina directly in front of me.
It was monstrous at my scale—a sheer, fleshy wall stretching out endlessly in every direction, glistening slightly with the moisture still clinging to her skin. The folds of her labia were slightly parted, twitching subtly with the casual motion of her body, as though they had a life of their own. The very heat radiating from it seemed suffocating, oppressive, making the air around it thick and humid.
And I was being dragged straight toward it.
I had no time to react before the towel pressed forward, shoving me into the soft, damp folds.
The sheer warmth of her skin was all-consuming, the moist surface sticking to me instantly. I gasped, my tiny form sinking slightly into the overwhelming softness before the towel peeled me away—only to slam me back again.
The movement repeated.
Again.
And again.
Each press shoved me further into her folds, the slickness making it harder to pull away. The heat was unbearable, radiating from her skin in pulsing waves. Every push of the towel sent fresh waves of moisture clinging to my body, making it harder and harder to distinguish where I ended and where she began.
Then, on the final press, I stuck.
The moisture had finally won.
For a horrifying second, I felt myself being drawn inward, the soft, pulsing lips of her vagina nearly claiming me completely. I flailed, struggling with every ounce of strength I had left. The damp skin clung to me possessively, pulling me in further, the sheer, overwhelming warmth making my limbs feel weak, useless.
I was seconds away from being lost—trapped forever against her skin.
Then, with a desperate final grasp, I managed to wrap my fingers around the thick fibers of the towel.
With a wet, almost reluctant sound, my tiny body was peeled away.
I gasped for air, my lungs burning as I clung to the towel, my limbs trembling from exhaustion.
And then, as quickly as it had happened, it was over.
The world shifted violently as the towel peeled away from Yang's vagina, carrying me with it. I gasped for air, my body trembling from exhaustion, every muscle sore from the relentless smothering against her most intimate folds. The moisture clinging to my skin was thick and warm, a mixture of lingering shower water and the natural dampness of her body. For a moment, I could do nothing but dangle helplessly in the fabric, my limbs heavy, my breaths ragged.
But my ordeal was far from over.
The air around me shifted, thick with steam and the lingering scent of body wash. The motion of the towel was smooth, effortless, the sheer scale of Yang's movements making my entire existence feel like little more than an afterthought. She lifted the fabric upward, bringing it across the curve of her hips, the firm muscle beneath her skin shifting slightly as she dried herself. The sheer heat radiating from her body pulsed through me, a constant reminder of just how insignificant I was in comparison.
The texture of her skin changed as the towel moved from her hips to her toned stomach. The ridges of her abs, faint but firm, created a shifting landscape beneath me as the towel dragged across them. Every time I thought I had found a stable position within the fabric, the motion would change, and I would be thrown into another disorienting cycle of pressure and release. The rough fibers pressed me into her warm skin, rubbing along every curve and crevice as she dried herself off, oblivious to my struggle.
I gritted my teeth, fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but the sheer force of her motions made resistance impossible. Each stroke of the towel sent fresh waves of exhaustion crashing through my tiny body, my arms aching from the constant tension of holding on.
Then came the inevitable shift—the towel rising higher, dragging me along with it as it moved toward her chest.
I had barely registered the transition before I was suddenly enveloped in warmth. The softness around me was immediate and overwhelming. The firm smoothness of her stomach gave way to the plush, yielding surface of her breasts, and the towel wasted no time pressing me directly into the vast, pillowy expanse.
My body sank into the plush flesh, the sheer softness swallowing me completely before the towel peeled me away, only to press me back again in another slow, methodical motion.
Yang was taking her time.
I could feel the difference in her movements—the casual, almost lazy strokes of the towel as she dragged it across the fullness of her chest. She wasn't in a hurry. She was enjoying this.
And I was trapped in the middle of it.
The pressure intensified as she shifted the towel, moving it in slow, circular motions across the surface of her breasts. Each movement pressed me deeper into her, my tiny body completely engulfed by the overwhelming warmth and softness. My limbs were pinned, my face pressed into the smooth, supple flesh, the natural scent of her body washing over me in waves.
Then, without warning, I was dragged downward—sliding beneath the immense weight of her breasts as she dried underneath them. The motion was dizzying, the heavy warmth pressing down on me as she casually lifted her chest with one hand to ensure she got every inch dry. My entire world was nothing but the heavy, encompassing embrace of her body, the towel dragging me back and forth in a relentless cycle of pressure and release.
I struggled, but there was no escape.
Every stroke of the towel pushed me somewhere new—rolling me along the underside of her breasts, pressing me into the soft sides, smothering me against the plush curves. My entire existence had been reduced to nothing more than an afterthought, a tiny speck caught in the methodical rhythm of her drying.
Then came the moment that sent a fresh shock through my system—the towel pressed me directly into her nipple.
The sudden shift in texture was unmistakable. The soft, yielding flesh gave way to a firm, sensitive peak, and I was caught in the middle of it. The warmth of her skin pulsed around me, and I could feel the way her nipple stiffened slightly under the motion, reacting to the friction of the towel.
Then she moaned.
A soft, barely audible sound—but at my size, it was deafening. The slight tremor in her chest, the way her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second—I felt it all.
And worse, I felt something stirring within myself.
The overwhelming sensation of her skin, the constant smothering warmth, the rhythmic motions—it was too much. My body betrayed me, responding in a way I had no control over.
Yang giggled softly, the sound vibrating through her body as she squeezed her breasts lightly in the towel, pressing me even deeper into her skin.
I gasped, struggling to breathe as I was lost in the softness, my tiny form caught in the folds of the fabric as she continued her slow, indulgent motions. Every squeeze, every shift, every playful stroke of the towel sent fresh waves of heat through me, leaving me completely at her mercy.
Then, finally, the pressure released.
The towel lifted slightly, carrying me upward once more as she adjusted her grip. I barely had time to process the shift before the fabric was pulled up, spreading out as she draped it around herself.
And just like that, I was left dangling.
One of my arms had slipped free from the towel's grip, and I now found myself hanging precariously above the deep, shadowy valley of her cleavage.
The dark expanse below stretched endlessly, the plush curves of her breasts forming a deep, narrow canyon that seemed to swallow all light. I dangled there, barely holding on, my tiny fingers clinging desperately to the damp fibers of the towel as Yang took a deep breath, the motion causing her chest to rise and fall beneath me.
Then she moved.
The sudden motion sent a fresh shock through my system as she turned toward the door, each step making her chest bounce and sway with effortless grace. The gentle, rhythmic movement sent vibrations through my tiny form, my grip weakening with each passing second.
I tried to hold on. I tried to fight against the inevitable.
But it was no use.
With one final step, the motion became too much—and I fell.
The fabric slipped from my grasp, and I plummeted downward, the world around me blurring as I tumbled helplessly into the dark abyss of her cleavage.
Darkness swallowed me as I plunged into the warm, shifting depths of Yang's cleavage. The moment I slipped between the plush, bouncing swells, I felt the overwhelming heat press in on all sides. The supple flesh absorbed my tiny form like a soft, living canyon, and I sank deeper into the warm abyss before the natural elasticity of her skin pushed me upward.
For a fleeting second, I was airborne within the confined space, bouncing lightly as Yang's steady gait caused her breasts to rise and fall with each step. The rhythmic motion made it impossible to orient myself, and I tumbled helplessly downward once more. This time, I slid along the inner curve of one breast, my body rolling until I came to a halt at the very center of her cleavage.
The pressure was immense.
Yang's breasts pressed in from either side, their warmth suffocating and absolute. I tried to push myself up, my tiny limbs struggling against the unyielding softness, but every attempt to climb only caused me to sink further. The gentle, hypnotic swaying of her chest as she walked made any form of escape impossible. The more I fought, the deeper I was pulled into the living prison of her flesh. The sweat from the residual heat of her shower mixed with her natural scent, making the air thick and intoxicating.
Then, as if to remind me just how insignificant I was, Yang's voice erupted like a deafening explosion from above.
"Shower's free, girls!"
The sound sent vibrations through her body, making her chest quake slightly. The sheer volume rattled me to my core, reverberating through her skin and into my bones. I winced, my ears ringing from the sheer force of it. But as much as her voice shook my entire world, it was the movement that truly sealed my fate.
Yang began walking again.
Each step sent fresh ripples through her chest, the impact of her stride causing her breasts to bounce and shift in unpredictable waves. The plush walls of my prison compressed and expanded around me, rolling my body helplessly between them. The softness was inescapable, smothering yet oddly hypnotic. I was trapped in a paradox of comfort and suffocation, pinned so tightly that even breathing felt like a struggle.
I fought, twisting and squirming in a desperate attempt to escape, but it was useless. The more I moved, the deeper I was swallowed. It was a slow, relentless process—like quicksand made of warm, heavenly flesh. Within moments, I was completely submerged, hidden from the world, entombed within Yang's bosom.
The sensation was overwhelming. My body was compressed in ways I had never experienced before, the sheer weight of her chest enough to keep me locked in place. The pulsing heat, the lingering humidity from the shower, the rhythmic bouncing—it all combined into something I could barely process.
Then came the worst part.
I felt a twinge of something unexpected—a mix of sensations that sent a fresh wave of panic through me. The tight, all-encompassing warmth, the soft friction against my skin, the overwhelming, feminine scent surrounding me—it was stirring something within me I didn't want to acknowledge. The gentle, hypnotic pressure was arousing in the most humiliating way, my body betraying me despite my desperate attempts to focus on survival.
I gritted my teeth, trying to suppress it, but then—everything changed.
With a sudden shift, the towel was released.
For a brief, weightless moment, everything was still.
Then, Yang's now-unrestrained breasts bounced freely—and I was launched skyward.
The sheer force sent me tumbling through the air, my tiny form spinning helplessly as the massive, jiggling landscape of Yang's chest blurred beneath me. My arms flailed wildly, searching for something—anything—to grab onto.
And then, by pure instinct, my fingers found something.
I grasped at the first thing within reach, my hands wrapping around a thick, firm surface as I slammed into it mid-fall. My body jerked violently from the impact, but I held on, clutching desperately as the world continued to tremble around me.
It wasn't until the shaking settled that I dared to look up.
And my heart nearly stopped.
I was clinging to Yang's nipple.
The massive, erect peak filled my vision, the textured surface firm and unyielding beneath my trembling hands. My tiny body barely covered a fraction of it, the sheer size difference making it feel as though I were dangling from some great monument.
The realization sent a fresh wave of panic through me—but before I could react, another voice filled the room.
"You like what you see, kitty cat?"
Yang's teasing, sultry tone rumbled through my entire body, and my heart slammed against my chest.
Daring to turn my head, I saw her.
Blake.
Sitting at the edge of her bed, her golden eyes were locked onto Yang, her gaze flickering downward for just a moment before a deep blush crept up her cheeks. Her low-cut shirt revealed a generous portion of her own impressive chest, her pajama shorts hugging her curves in a way that made my already racing heart pound even harder.
Her expression was conflicted—flustered, caught between intrigue and embarrassment.
Yang, on the other hand, was completely enjoying herself.
With a pout, she took a step closer, deliberately giving her chest a small shake.
I barely had time to react before the motion sent me swinging violently, my grip on her nipple weakening. My body jerked wildly as I struggled to hold on, my tiny fingers aching from the strain.
Then Yang leaned forward.
The sudden, exaggerated movement was the final straw. My grip slipped, and before I could even process what was happening, I was falling again.
The world spun violently as I plummeted from Yang's nipple, my tiny limbs flailing uselessly as gravity claimed me once again. The motion had been too much—the sudden shake of her chest, the bounce of her breasts, and the sheer size of the nipple I had desperately clung to had all worked against me. My grip had failed, and now, I was falling.
Wind rushed past me, though at my minuscule size, it was more like a heavy current of displaced air than an actual gust. My surroundings blurred as I tumbled, my stomach twisting in knots as I tried to make sense of my trajectory. My breath caught in my throat, and for the briefest moment, all I could see were the massive, shifting forms of Yang's body in motion—her golden locks swaying, her amused grin above, and below me, the dark and warm expanse of Blake's thighs rushing up to meet me.
Then—impact.
I landed with a small, barely noticeable thud, sinking slightly into the plush, smooth surface of Blake's thigh. The sheer warmth of her skin pulsed against me through the thin layer of her pajama shorts, her body heat overwhelming at my tiny scale. My limbs ached from the fall, though thankfully, it hadn't been enough to injure me—just enough to leave me thoroughly dazed and winded as I rolled off and onto the bed.
For a moment, I lay still, my chest heaving as I tried to process where I had ended up. The world no longer spun, but the heat surrounding me was suffocating, thick and intoxicating in a way that made my head feel light.
Then, slowly, I lifted my gaze.
Above me, the vast expanse of Blake's thighs formed a deep, enclosing valley, the toned muscles shifting slightly as she adjusted her position. The dim lighting of the dorm cast soft shadows across her skin, accentuating the curves and dips of her powerful legs. The fabric of her shorts stretched lightly against her frame, conforming snugly to her figure—and at my unfortunate angle, the outline of her vagina was unmistakably visible through the soft, thin material.
I swallowed hard.
The sight alone was enough to make my body lock up with tension, my breath catching in my throat as my mind fought between sheer panic and something far more embarrassing. The sheer scale of her—of everything—made the situation surreal, as if I had stumbled into some forbidden, godlike realm.
Then, movement.
The floor beneath me—Blake's thigh—shifted slightly as she adjusted her posture, her muscles flexing beneath my minuscule frame. The casual motion sent a small tremor through my body, reminding me just how insignificant I was in the grand scale of her existence.
But then, the true weight of my predicament returned.
Yang.
I had almost forgotten the looming presence above me.
Forcing my body to move, I turned my head upward—and what I saw sent a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Yang stood directly over me, her massive, bare form dominating the sky above. Her breasts—each one a mountainous mass of soft, jiggling flesh—hung freely, their sheer weight shifting ever so slightly as she moved. The slight bounce of her body sent tremors through them, and despite the steam still lingering from her shower, her golden skin practically glowed under the dorm's dim lighting.
Her golden eyes shimmered with playful mischief as she looked down at Blake, completely unaware of the insignificant figure trapped between her friend's thighs. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips, and then, her voice thundered across the room.
"So…you like what you see?"
The teasing lilt in her tone sent shivers through me, but Blake's reaction was even more intense.
The faunus girl, who had been staring a little too long, immediately blushed, her ears twitching as she averted her gaze. The brief moment of hunger in her golden eyes flickered away, replaced by embarrassment as she cleared her throat.
"Tch—put some clothes on already," Blake muttered, shifting slightly in place.
The movement sent another tremor through her thighs, making my body jostle slightly between them. I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my position stable, though it was proving difficult when every slight movement of hers was like an earthquake at my size.
Yang let out a dramatic sigh, placing one hand on her hip as she pouted.
"Aww, You're no fun, Blake."
Then, before she could say anything else, a sharper, more commanding voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Yang, get your mind out of the gutter and start getting ready."
Weiss.
The authoritative tone of the heiress carried weight, immediately breaking the moment between the two girls. Yang groaned, rolling her eyes.
"Alright, alright. No need to be so bossy, Ice Queen."
Despite her words, she flashed Blake one last teasing smirk before stepping away, heading toward her dresser.
The air seemed to settle in the absence of her overwhelming presence, and I exhaled deeply, realizing just how tense my body had become. My heart was still hammering in my chest, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.
But then, reality set in.
I was still stuck.
Still minuscule.
Still completely unnoticed.
As if to drive the point home, I turned my head slightly, my gaze falling on the enclosing warmth of Blake's thighs, the outline of her vagina just barely visible through the thin fabric of her shorts.
I groaned internally.
This was going to be a long morning.
-End of Part 1 (Yang)
Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you're all doing well!
Welcome to Part 1 of Unaware Morning Routine.
This scenario was requested a while ago, and I apologize for the delay in getting to it. I will be covering all team members, but due to the length of this chapter, I decided to split it into parts.
I know I previously hyped up the upcoming transformation stories, and I apologize for not publishing them yet. The truth is, I've been struggling with the balance between the immersion of first-person narration and the easier readability of third-person. I find myself writing a chapter, editing it, then deleting it because something feels off—if that makes sense. So, I'm still experimenting with those.
Thank you all for your continued support. It truly means a lot!