Sweet Sixteen 11 min read

The author remembers his older sister’s 16th birthday

written by CMS
original source of the story was Unknown source

My sister Heather had always been what my mother called a “Clothes Horse”. She was always very concerned with the way that she looked, even around the house. Her make-up had to be perfect, her clothes had to be top notch and very expensive, her long curly blonde hair was always ready to be photographed. She is six years older than me and I grew up watching her and her friends labor over looking like a model.

I had been interested in trampling since before I was in kindergarten, mostly because of the things she had done to me. When I was barely old enough to walk, and she was 7 or 8 she would pin me under her feet while she sat on the couch and rub my face and chest with them while she looked down at me and giggled.

As I got older and tougher she found it fun to be the older sister and would do mean things to me, the same way all older sisters do. Eventually, she began stepping on me as she walked through a room, or got up to do something. She thought it would make me mad, but I began enjoying it more and more.

By the time she was 13 or 14, she had a huge closet full of shoes. Nearly any type of pump, sandal, sneaker, and clog imaginable with every type of heel from small chunky cowgirl boots to a pair of cream colored slingbacks with 4-inch heels that were thinner than pencils. I used to set myself up to be stepped on by her and it wasn’t very difficult because it seemed that often all I needed to do was to be in the room and she’d find a way to do it.

I’d lie on the floor watching TV, which I always did, and she’d come into the room and tell me to slide next to the bookcase for a minute. Of course, I would and she would step up onto my little body putting full weight on whatever shoes she was wearing at the time and pretend to look for something up on the top shelf. I’d hear her whisper “where the heck is it?”, and she’d take a few steps up or down as if searching. Eventually, she simply had to figure out that I actually enjoyed it.

As I’d long hoped, her friends would get into the action too. For example, Heather and her best friend Kristin were in the kitchen one afternoon looking in the cupboard for something to make for lunch when I happened to stroll through the room. Heather saw me and told me that they couldn’t see what was in the back and so I should come over and lie down in front of the counter.

I knew instantly what was going to happen and almost dove to the floor in front of them. Heather was wearing those wooden Dr. Scholl’s sandals that were so popular then, and Kristin had on a pair of flat summer sandals. I stretched out, face up, and they both immediately stepped onto me, Heather’s little Scholl’s heels pressing into my chest and Kristin’s sandals sinking into my young stomach and hips. It was so casual for them to walk and jump on me because my sister and nearly all of her friends had done it a thousand times.

They knew I liked it and they thought it was funny.

The greatest experience ever was during my sisters ‘Sweet Sixteen” birthday party. All of her closest friends were at our house for the celebration, and since most of them were obsessed with looking better than everyone else, it was quite a show of big 80’s style hair, party dresses, and of course high heels.

I stayed away from them for the beginning of the party while Heather opened presents and they all shouted and laughed and ate tiny pieces of cake. They seemed to be having a blast, so I figured the odds of being trampled weren’t very good at that point…so I waited. After an hour or two, the noise died down.

My parents had gone into the basement to give them privacy to gossip, and they all were sitting around the dining room table talking. I thought I’d show up and see what happened. I cautiously entered the room and looked around. There was a quiet moment while they all looked to see who comes in, and I said “What? No games?” They giggled and a few of them said almost in unison, “No. No games.” They seemed to be getting bored.

I walked up to the table and got one of the many cake slivers that were left over and left the room again. I waited around the corner to see what they were talking about. One of the girls asked Heather if I still let her walk on me. This was a very casual point of conversation because nearly every one of the girls in the room had at least stepped on me a few times. The few that hadn’t, those girls were not so close to Heather and hadn’t been around much.

“Like he has a choice,” Heather answered. The newer girls asked what they were talking about and the veteran tramplers filled them in on their history with me. There was a great deal of disbelief when Heather offered that she thought she’d accidentally hurt me with her heel a few days before.

“Heels?!” The new girls didn’t believe this story, but the regulars backed up every detail. “He likes it.” I was so excited; because this was the first time I’d heard them admit that they knew I liked it. I immediately went back into the dining room feeling this was the perfect opportunity.

As soon as I entered, Amy, the cruelest trampler of the bunch spoke to me. “Hey, we thought of a game. We’re gonna play follow the leader. You wanna play?”

“Sure,” I said. I knew what was going to happen and I felt like I was going to vomit from the excitement that just swept through my stomach.

“Good,” Heather added, “lay down over here.” She pointed to the floor next to her. I quickly walked over to her and sat down. I looked around and saw that every single girl was smiling.

Heather came and stood next to me and I lay on my back. She held on to the back of one of the dining room chairs, grinned and hopped up onto me with both feet. She had on small heels but they were very sharp and I grunted under her weight.

I looked at the newer girls while Heather started walking around on my chest. They looked amazed. I heard a mix of gasps and giggles and faintly heard someone say, “God, you’re going to kill him.”

“Nah,” she said, “we told you he likes it. Right?” She looked down at me and twisted back and forth slightly. All I could do was to grunt and laugh a little.

“Okay, follow the leader, remember?” Amy said as she stood and walked over to me and stood between my legs. “Everyone, do what I do.”

Nine of the girls stood and formed a line behind Amy. Heather stepped off my chest with a loud ‘clack’ on the hard floor. The rest of the girls remained seated with a look of amazement.

We had played this sort of game before, but only with 2 or 3 girls. But, not with so many wearing heels. This was going to be something to remember. I was a little afraid, but I couldn’t wait for them to start. I didn’t have to wait long.

“We’ll start out easy,” Amy said as she stepped up on my hip with her spiked heels made of wood and black leather. She took baby steps on my stomach and chest and hopped off. The rest of the line followed her lead stepping in the same spots in the same way. Each one of them wore some sort of heels. One was rather chunky and didn’t hurt at all, but the rest were very pointy, very sharp, very painful spikes.

For the first few rounds, Amy lead and I was afraid that I wasn’t going to be able to handle it. Before long I was convinced that I’d be okay and I could relax and enjoy it. As the game went on, and the girls relaxed too, the leaders changed and the ‘leader’ would come up with more and more challenging and painful things for them to do.

The level of noise in the room rose again as the girls began to have fun, and some of the newer girls decided to give it a try after they figured out that I really wasn’t going to die from the punishment. The worst pain came when Amy was the leader. She came up with things like ‘Bunny Hopping’ the whole length of my body, and walking ‘only on the heels and twist them when you take a step’. This was the point when I almost had to give in and quit.

The pain from what had risen to 14 girls grinding their heels into my chest, one after another, was almost too much to bear. Amy was also the first to come up with a ‘lead’ that involved stepping on my face. They pushed me to the very end of my ability to withstand pain and I’ve never had such a harsh or thorough trampling since.

Near the end of the game, my parents called for Heather to come to the phone. Our grandmother wanted to say Happy Birthday to her. As soon as she’d cleared the doorway, the leader said, “We haven’t stepped on everything you know.” Her name was Denise and she was very tall and filled out for a 16-year-old. She was wearing a pair of pumps with sharp white heels and had a little metal diamond under the toe.

I knew the shoe well because I had seen it come down on my face over and over. Heather had told them that they couldn’t put their heels on my face because it would cut me and my parents would know. She had no problem with them stepping on my face with just the sole though. She didn’t know that Denise’s shoes had this metal diamond that was leaving imprints all over my face that would show up much clearer later. But for now, Denise was the leader and on her first step, she put her heel directly into my groin.

This was something I hadn’t experienced before. She stood for just a moment before walking the rest of the length of my body and again planting that diamond on my chin and putting most of her weight on the heel on my upper chest. The few times they had all stepped on my chin and chest like that and that had been very painful before, but I barely noticed this time after what I’d just experienced.

The next in line followed and carefully sank her heel into my private parts as well. Before this girl reached my face Amy was already standing with both wooden spikes in my groin and bouncing from heel to heel gently. She was laughing and the feeling was so incredible that I never knew that the second girl had stepped on my face with her heel.

With Heather gone they were doing whatever they wanted. Amy walked up and stepped fully on my face with her heel too as the next girl was kneading her heels between my legs. Over and over they did this. They only got around the line maybe 3 times when I finally exploded in my pants. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.

There was a girl standing on my penis, which they had found great enjoyment in feeling it grow under their heels. When I finally came, the girl who was standing on me giggled and just said “Ewwww” as she stepped off. All of the girls laughed very loudly as I got up and quickly left the room. I could hear them laughing all the way upstairs. I heard someone say, “Wow, I guess he REALLY likes it!”

It was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me, but it was brought on by the greatest thing. When I look back on it, I usually pretend that they didn’t notice that part, and for the most part I’d do it again tomorrow. The diamonds did show up on my face, along with some serious heel marks that were hard to miss.

Luckily it was summer and I didn’t have to go to school. I kept out of sight for a while, and Heather worked with me to fabricate a story about being beaten up at the playground. She was a good sister after all. And I didn’t even get her anything for her birthday. It was her birthday, but I got the best present. Thanks to Heather, Amy, Denise, Jen A., Jen T., Kristin, Mel, Sheri, Holly, Maria, Megan, Kelly, Wendy, and Michelle, wherever you are.

4 thoughts on “Sweet Sixteen 11 min read

  1. Wow. I absolutely love this story. I’ve always loved stories of older people trampling on someone younger than them, and this one is totally based around that. I was wondering, is this a true story? If so, you should share more stories with your older sister and her “veteran trampler” friends.

    1. I am glad you like it. I am just a publisher, not a writer, so I cannot answer your question. I can only say that the story has been published as a true experience when it was published by its author (if it really was true or not is as always left to the reader’s imagination). For all who like the younger trample victim stories, we have a tag that groups all of such stories at one place, here.

  2. WOW! Does this still happen to you or do you get trampled by others? If you do, how do you find peaple to trample you!?

    1. It is the story written by someone other than me, probably a decade or more ago. I cannot answer your question, but I am glad that you liked the story.

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