The sterile hum of fluorescent lights resonated through the hospital corridor, a monotonous melody interrupted only by the clatter of gurneys and hurried whispers. Phillip, his hands clammy, watched two medical students engrossed in conversation. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes, born of a perverse desire and a fabricated tale.

"Excuse me," he interjected, his voice a strained tremor in the sterile air. "Have you heard of the Human Scale Challenge?"

The students, startled from their chat, exchanged confused glances. "Human Scale Challenge?" one echoed, her brow furrowed in skepticism.

Phillip, seizing his opportunity, spun a web of deceit. "It's all about raising awareness for Fibro-Osteo-Malarticular Syndrome," he lied, hoping the obscure medical jargon would lend his deception legitimacy. "The idea is… well, getting people to stand on you, symbolically representing the crushing burden the disease inflicts."

His tale, embroidered with fabricated statistics and heartfelt pleas, ignited a spark of empathy in the students. "Wow, that's amazing!" the other exclaimed, her eyes shining with misplaced altruism. "We'd love to help!"

And so, Phillip's twisted scheme bore fruit. He led the unsuspecting students to a deserted stretch of corridor, his heart pounding a counterpoint to the fluorescent hum. There, on the cold, linoleum floor, he lay supine, a lone island in a sea of sterile tiles.

One by one, the students mounted his makeshift platform. Sarah, the taller of the two, stepped on first, her weight settling upon him like a heavy blanket. He grunted, muscles protesting against the unaccustomed pressure. Emily, all fiery braids and youthful exuberance, joined Sarah, their combined weight pushing his lungs to their limit.

Phillip, his chest tight with a strange blend of pleasure and fear, reveled in the sensation. Every creak of his ribs, every labored breath, was a perverse symphony of his forbidden desire fulfilled. He had tasted their weight, and like a forbidden fruit, it left him wanting more.

Just as he was savoring this bizarre victory, a thunderous footstep echoed from the corridor's end. A behemoth of a woman, a mountain sculpted from granite and moonlight in crisp blue uniform, rounded the corner. Agatha, her name tag screaming in silent authority, cast a long shadow over their macabre tableau.

Her eyes, sharp as scalpels and unforgiving as the sterile linoleum, scanned the scene. A slow smile, more predator savoring its prey than nurse offering comfort, spread across her weathered face. Phillip's blood ran cold. The huntress had arrived.

"Hold fast, young man!" Agatha's voice boomed, shaking the fluorescent lights and rattling the hospital's very foundations. "What shenanigans are we having here?"

The students, dwarfed by Agatha's imposing presence, shuffled their feet nervously. Phillip, his lie woven from thin air, felt it unraveling thread by thread. Agatha, a force of nature defying the sterile confines of the hallway, had caught him red-handed, his desires laid bare under her unblinking gaze.

Phillip, his heart hammering a frenzied tattoo against his ribs, stammered, "Uh, it's… it's nothing, really. Just… just a little awareness challenge."

Agatha's brow furrowed, skepticism etched on her weather-beaten face. "Awareness challenge, you say? And what exactly does this… awareness entail?"

Phillip, his lie unraveling like a threadbare sweater, blurted out, "It's called the Human Scale Challenge! It's all about… uh… raising awareness for Fibro-Osteo-Malarticular Syndrome! The idea is… well, getting people to stand on you, you see. To symbolically represent the crushing burden the disease inflicts."

Agatha's eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. She chuckled, a deep rumble that shook the corridor. "So, you're telling me you lured these young ladies into squishing you like a pancake, all in the name of some obscure disease you just invented?"

Phillip, his cheeks burning with shame, mumbled a weak confirmation. Agatha, with a playful glint in her eye, tilted her head, her gaze raking over him. "Hmm, an interesting concept, boy. And how many 'aware' individuals have you managed to deceive so far?"

Phillip, his voice barely above a whisper, admitted, "Just… just those two."

Agatha's smile widened, revealing a hint of mischief. "Just two, you say? Well then, boy," she boomed, her voice echoing through the corridor, "it seems you haven't experienced the full weight of awareness yet. Step aside, girls. This mountain is about to demonstrate the true meaning of crushing."

Agatha's immense foot, a monolithic block of flesh and bone encased in sturdy blue leather, hovered inches above Phillip's chest. His breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as the air grew thick with the anticipation of her weight.

"Confess, boy," Agatha rumbled, her voice a low tremor that vibrated through the floor. "Do you crave the squish, the crushing burden? Do you yearn to feel the true weight of a woman?"

Phillip, his face flushed crimson, stammered, "It's… it's about awareness, Nurse! Raising awareness for…"

"Awareness be damned," Agatha boomed, her voice cutting through his feeble lie. "Look at me, boy. Look at this mountain of muscle and flesh. I weigh near forty stone, every pound a testament to years of toil and sweat. Can you honestly claim such a crushing power wouldn't entice you?"

Phillip's gaze darted between her face, etched with amusement, and the monstrous foot hovering above him. The pressure was already building, a dull ache blooming in his chest. He could taste the metallic tang of fear, the bitter aftertaste of his own deceit.

"Admit it," Agatha continued, her voice softening a fraction, "and I'll grant your wish. One minute, full weight, right here on this sterile floor. A minute of pure, crushing awareness."

Phillip's mind raced. One minute. Forty stone. The prospect was both terrifying and strangely alluring, a twisted cocktail of pain and pleasure swirling in his gut. He could already feel the air being squeezed from his lungs, the ribs threatening to crack under her colossal weight.

"It's… it's not about the weight," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "It's not about the…"

But the words died in his throat as Agatha placed her foot, a slight adjustment that sent a jolt of pain through his chest. He gasped, his eyes wide with terror, as the some of her weight pressed down, an agonizing prelude to the promised crush.

"Think, boy," Agatha rumbled, her voice a seductive whisper. "One minute, complete and utter submission. Or a lifetime of wondering what might have been."

Phillip's resolve crumbled under the weight of Agatha's foot, both literally and figuratively. His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled sob escaping his lips as he choked out the words, "You're right, Nurse. It's not about awareness. It's… it's the weight. I crave the pressure, the feeling of being crushed."

His confession hung in the sterile air, a deflated balloon of deceit. Agatha's smile, genuine this time, softened her granite features. "Ah, honesty at last," she chuckled, the sound rumbling through the corridor like distant thunder. "Well, boy, prepare yourself. This mountain of a woman is about to give you the full experience."

With a slow, deliberate grace, Agatha began to apply weight, Phillip's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the impending silence. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the crushing wave of her weight.

Then, it came. Not a sudden blow, but a slow, inexorable descent. Each inch of her foot settled upon him like a tectonic plate, pushing the air from his lungs, squeezing his body into the linoleum. His ribs protested, his muscles screamed.

Agatha, a master of her game, shifted her weight, applying a subtle pressure here, a teasing nudge there. Phillip, a human marionette caught in the grip of a giantess, squirmed and gasped, his moans swallowed by the sterile air. One minute stretched into an eternity, each tick of the fluorescent lights echoing the pounding of his trapped heart.

But just as he felt the edge of consciousness slipping away, the pressure began to lessen. Agatha, with a playful wink, lifted one foot, then the other. Phillip lay there, sprawled and gasping, the aftershocks of her weight rippling through his body. His face, flushed and streaked with sweat, betrayed a mixture of humiliation and… something else, a dark gleam of satisfaction nestled amidst the shame.

Agatha, towering above him, offered a gruff chuckle. "Well, boy," she boomed, her voice surprisingly gentle, "I think you got your awareness lesson for the day, wouldn't you say?"

Phillip, unable to form words, could only nod weakly. Agatha, with a final wink, turned and lumbered away down the corridor, her blue uniform rustling like leaves in a hurricane. Phillip, left alone in the sterile silence, stared up at the ceiling, the weight of her presence still lingering upon him.

He had tasted the crushing power, the forbidden fruit of his perverse desire. And while the shame and pain lingered, a strange sense of fulfillment, twisted and dark, pulsed within him. He had faced his truth, his weakness, and emerged, battered but unbroken, from the weight of his own desires.



Let me know if you'd like to hear more from Agatha.

 I certainly enjoyed the story - well written and the attention to detail was excellent.

Agatha is a perfect name for the Lady, yes please, love to here more about her and hopefully Phillip will recieve a lot more attention from her feet as they press that 40 odd stone onto him.

Maybe, you could describe Agatha's feet (& size) and her footwear in a little more detail ?

Thanks for posting it.

The sterile fluorescent lights of the hospital pharmacy seemed colder than usual as Phillip shuffled in, his eyes scanning nervously for a familiar blue uniform. His mother's cough had worsened, prompting a late-night trip for antibiotics, and Phillip found himself back in the domain of the mountain goddess, Agatha.

But as he reached the counter, his heart froze. There she was, not towering over him in the sterile corridor, but perched regally behind the counter, dispensing medication with a practiced hand. Her uniform, once a symbol of unyielding strength, now seemed almost mundane, yet the glint in her eyes reminded him of the crushing power she wielded.

"Can I help you, young man?" Agatha boomed, her voice softened by the sterile routine. But Phillip could have sworn he heard a playful edge, a reminder of their shared secret hanging heavy in the air.

Phillip's throat constricted. He stumbled through his mother's name and the prescription details, his palms slick with a nervous sweat. Agatha, with a knowing smile, retrieved the medication, her movements deliberate, each clink of bottles punctuated by the deafening silence between them.

"So," she rumbled, her voice a low tremor that vibrated through the countertop, "how's that awareness treating you?"

Phillip flinched, the memory of her foot crushing him like a grape flashing vividly in his mind. "It's… it's fine," he stammered, clutching the flimsy paper bag like a lifeline.

Agatha leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. "Full awareness," she emphasized, her voice a teasing whisper. "Or are there still… gaps?"

The question hung like a loaded weapon, the unspoken threat of another crushing session sending shivers down Phillip's spine. He felt trapped, a pawn in her game, yet a strange thrill ignited within him.

"Actually I was so mesmerised by our last encounter that I wrote about it on heavytrampling.co.uk's story forum." Phillip told Agatha hoping to convey how special the experience was for him.

The sterile air vibrated with a delicious tension as Phillip's words hung heavy in the pharmacy. Agatha's smile, like a predator relishing the scent of its prey, stretched wider. "Internet forum, you say?" she rumbled, her voice a purr with amusement. "And what, pray tell, did these fine gentlemen want to know about this 'mountain goddess'?"

Phillip swallowed, his gaze flickering towards the fluorescent lights as if seeking escape. "Details," he mumbled, "the size of your feet, how it felt… your shoes."

Agatha's smile grew, morphing into something mischievous. "Shoes, eh? The instruments of my... persuasion?" she drawled, each word dripping with suggestiveness. "And what did your dear forum friends ask about them, little boy?"

He felt a blush creep up his neck, but a reckless ember danced in his eyes. "The size, the type… how they felt against me," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Agatha leaned closer, her gaze pinning him like a butterfly under glass. "Interesting," she murmured, her voice a low growl. "And what would you give, young man, for a closer look at these tools of your fascination?"

Phillip's heart hammered against his ribs, a wild mix of trepidation and anticipation buzzing through him. The line between submission and control blurred, and for a moment, he tasted the forbidden fruit of her offer. "Anything," he whispered, the word catching in his throat.

Agatha's grin widened, a cruel crescent against her granite features. "Anything, you say? Then meet me back here at lunchtime, little boy. Perhaps," she purred, leaning closer until their noses were inches apart, "I'll give you another forty stone experience to share with your... eager audience."

Her breath, faintly metallic and musky, sent shivers down his spine. Phillip knew the path she laid before him was dark and dangerous, yet the pull of his twisted desire was too strong to resist. He nodded, a silent pact forged in the sterile air of the pharmacy.

As midday sunlight filtered through the windows, Phillip returned, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. Agatha, a mountain cloaked in shadow at the back of the counter, met him with a glint in her eyes. "Ah, the boy returns," she boomed, her voice laced with amusement.

With a flick of her wrist, she swung her legs onto the counter, revealing a pair of monstrous shoes, each the size of a dinner plate. Leather, scarred and worn, gleamed under the harsh lights, a testament to their crushing prowess.

Agatha's gaze, sharp and knowing, held him captive. "So, little boy," she rumbled, her voice a low tremor, "are you ready for another tale for your forum friends?"