Grabbing the top of his head using only her left hand Rachelle lifts Lenny up off the wall hook with ease and dangles him before her as if he were a small fruit plucked from a tree. The look of fear on Lenny’s face is no more to her than befuddled amusement. For Rachelle this was an already foregone conclusion to the night’s events, now down to a matter of the final steps being performed.
-
Lenny feels the incredible pressure of Rachelle’s hand squeezing his skull as she raised him high in the air by his head. His neck feels stretched and painful; yet her amazing display of strength over him forces his hard on to build up even more overwhelming mounting pressure. ‘Beautiful, so beautiful, so amazing, what breasts, their so big and round and glistening with sweat, what an ass, her ass cheeks so round, temples of female muscle…’ Lenny’s mind repeats to himself in complete awe and submission to Rachelle’s omnipotent feminine power.
Rachelle brings Lenny face first towards her right underarm. This will be the last time Lenny ever experiences the outside world.
The cool air of the locker room is quickly replaced by the acidic, stomach-churning stench of Rachelle’s right armpit. Lenny feels his face mush against her underarm as she cradles his body like a helpless infant in her left arm. The sensations that follow confuse his thoughts as he feels her firmly stuff him in her armpit. He feels a rhythmic expanding and contracting of his body. The strength she scrunches him up with is unbearably brutish and he would scream out in agony if his face were not so firmly stuffed beneath her right arm. A weird inflating-deflating sensation comes over him as he feels Rachelle lift him with her left arm and wrench down on him with her right arm.
The sickening odor is growing greater in its revulsion and images of Rachelle swirl in his head as she scrunches him down and down and down. Lenny tries to cry but his mind becomes more focused on visions of Rachelle stuffing him away in her armpit. The view seems to be as if Lenny somehow surrounds Rachelle, from every direction at once. The view is all Lenny can think about other than the foulness of the odor and taste filling his nose and mouth. The view, the image, the vision of Rachelle, the sensation of frustration from his throbbing hard on; yet the vision of Rachelle consumes him.
---
Rachelle rubs one last time and Lenny disappears from sight. It’s simply her other sweat pad now firmly stuck in its place. She gathers the last of Lenny’s clothing and puts in it the same garbage bag as Melvin’s. Except for the bag, no evidence to be seen; but little squirms from within her armpits remind her of her two new living hygiene products.
Rachelle takes off her sports bra-top and form fitting gym shorts, tosses both into another of the plastic bags she keeps in her gym bag then heads to the showers.
The shower area is an open tiled room with no partitions. Turning on two corner showers she adjusts their spray to overlap. Soon hot water is pouring forth as clouds of steam begin to obscure the area. Rachelle steps forward into the hot spray and lets out a long moan of relief.
She feels the heat cascade in streams down her body from the shower heads. Her tense muscles relax and she can feel them loosen up. The sweat and grime from the past three weeks are being washed away. Steam billows up around her in great clouds, intermediately obscuring her body, only to pass onward to reveal her sleek, toned muscles and proudly protruding breasts. Such is the vision that Melvin and Lenny might be reminded of the Phoenix of legend rising up from the ashes, than again Melvin and Lenny might see the assent of a demon from the depths of hell.
Rachelle shampoos her hair. Finger like trails of small white bubbles flow down her back, over and between her butt cheeks, then spiral down the muscles of her tone, lithe legs. More suds travel down her neck, to her breasts where their course changes from downward to outward. Suds cling on to her protruding nipples as if they were tiny mountaineers dangling from a cliff edge, only to be forced off by those suds that follow behi
Some suds find their way into Rachelle’s cleavage, down her taunt stomach, into her tiny belly button and further on to her Mons Pubis. Suds gather between her legs and drop like champagne bubbles from her Labia. Rachelle has noticed over the many years that soap bubbles in a shower follow the same path as the kisses of her best lovers. ‘If only the suds were a thousand tiny lovers. Perhaps such a little army of tinies will eventually make its way on my to do list. Perhaps very soon.’ Rachelle smiles.
-
Melvin’s concentration is on Rachelle’s armpit and the vision of her showering now consumes his mind. His mouth suckles the skin of her armpit like a nursing baby, and he envisions the woman who holds him captive. His mind struggles to accept he is tucked away in this beautiful woman’s left armpit yet he knows he is and the throbbing of his unrelieved erection somehow grows even greater, never abating, always frustrating. Starring at Rachelle Melvin can’t help but be humbled and aroused.
-
Lenny greets the vision of Rachelle showering with a low groan. His body shakes on the verge of cuming, swollen testicles not withstanding it’s just another function his body does not do. Fear of blinking and losing the vision of her combines with a primal urge, a lust so basic his mind cannot focus on any other thought.
Both tinies are lost in the vision granted them of Rachelle showering. Both reminded of Rachelle’s female perfection. Both keenly aware of the woman who has them, the woman who will never let them go.
Melvin and Lenny can’t tear their minds from the vision of Rachelle, nor can they ignore the sauna effect of the steamy shower. It feels miserably hot and humid, yet neither sweat a single drop, the many changes she made to their biology vaguely sensed by both as events transpire.
-
After fifteen minutes Rachelle feels like a new woman. She turns off the showers and walks back to her gym bag in the locker room. She begins to layout her cloths for the rest of her trip home.
-
Melvin is hurriedly gulping down what feels like gallon after gallon of Rachelle’s armpit sweat caused by her hot shower. The taste is strong and nasty, the odor even worse. He senses his body absorbing her offensive perspiration like a sponge; truly his entire body has evolved into her sweat pad. It begins to dawn on Melvin he’s more and more sexually aroused than at any time in his life. In fact his sexual arousal and accompanying sexual frustration have both only grown in intensity and urgency yet he’s unable to ejaculate a single drop, nothing. Still he craves more of this exquisite torture, so long as he can smell Rachelle’s armpit odor and feast upon its gut-retching taste that’s all that matters. For now. Forever.
-
Unlike Melvin who has yet to realize this, Lenny has accidentally discovered he can actually breathe in Rachelle’s sweat. Through his mouth, up his nose, which smells countless times worse than simply sniffing her armpit odor, anyway he wants his body can absorb all that Rachelle’s right armpit has to feed him.
To his horror and delight, Lenny has also discovered the worse Rachelle’s taste, smell, or the harder she closes her arm down squeezing him tight the more his ecstasy grows. The viler Rachelle’s armpit foulness the more enraptured he is with it, which elates him to a heavenly state far more pleasurable than anything he’s ever imagined. Needing to retch and vomit from her armpit makes him want to suffer more of her unbearable stench and foulness. Lenny, painfully sensing his aching testicles are in desperate need of relief, is more obsessed with the foul smell and awful flavor of Rachelle’s armpit than his own sexual climax.
---
Rachelle puts on her clothing for the rest of her ride home, a modest pink t-shirt stretched out across her large breasts, a loose fitting pair of blue sweat pants, and of course her sandals. Over at the sinks she brushes her teeth, brushes out her hair, and applies the smallest amount of lipstick and eye liner.
She cautiously makes her way out of the women’s locker room, across the gym, down a hallway and to the side doors to she came in earlier. Glancing about its certain nobody is even remotely around here at this hour.
Opening the door partially, Rachelle sees that a fog has rolled in with the morning mist. Vision is limited to no more than a hundred yards or there about. This early the entire campus is still, quiet and vacant with the single exception of garbage truck emptying dumpsters a few buildings away. She cannot see it clearly, rather only hearing the engine revving and beeping sounds of the truck as its’ front lights both illuminate the foggy haze and cast long shifting shadows through the grey haze as it lifts a dumpster overhead.
Reaching inside her gym bag Rachelle removes the plastic bag containing their clothing and tosses it into one of the nearby full dumpsters she assesses the garbage truck will be making its’ way to in the next few minutes. ‘Rather convenient timing.’ she muses to herself.
With a quick stride she makes her way to her car, opens the trunk, drops her gym bag in, closes the trunk quietly, gets in and carefully drives away with the headlights off. Just as she pulls onto the empty main road she turns on her lights and cautiously speeds into the distance of the murky fog.
‘I needed that workout and even more I needed that wonderful shower. Mmmm I feel so nice and clean. Squeaky Clean! It’s nice to see the old alma mater. I have to visit more often.’ Rachelle smiles to herself as she settles in for the rest of her drive, the little squirms about her body giving her slight amusement and unending pleasure.
The End