Today had started just as any other normal day would have for a mailman like you. You woke up, got dressed, made breakfast, and went to work. You took the same route to work, parked your car in the parking lot, and walked into the front door of the post office. However, it became immediately apparent that something was off today. As you entered the front doors, you found your boss standing by the front desk. It was apparent that he had been waiting for your arrival, as he immediately made his way over as soon as he saw you enter.

"We have a special delivery today," said your boss. He sounded tired, and you suddenly knew he was going to ask you to do something you didn’t want to. You had a relatively good relationship with your boss, and the mailman job in general wasn’t so objectionable. There was only one thing he would have come in person to tell you.

"You mean I have a delivery," you retorted, not at all pleased. For a while now, the television series "Drawn Together" had been hosted in the last house on your route. In the beginning, it had been your job to deliver to the house. All the props used in their contests and production were of course taken care of by the Hollywood crews and movers, but the normal mail still had to be delivered.

The deliveries themselves hadn’t been much to gawk at either. The odd box and letter, some junk mail, and other normal packages arrived there every few days. It wasn’t anything you wouldn’t have expected from a house with so many people. However, that was before things had taken a turn for the uncomfortable.

One day Clara, a member of the drawn together household, was outside when you made your delivery. You didn’t watch the drawn together show, so of course you had no idea what kind of person she was. Needless to say, you wouldn’t have guessed that introducing yourself to any one of the drawn together cast could have been such a dire mistake. So, being the ignorant idiot that you were, you introduced yourself to the young princess in passing; stopping to chat with her for five minutes before heading home. It was the last stop after all. You had time to waste.

Over the course of the next month, you noticed a steadily increasing stream of packages for Clara. Coincidentally, she always seemed to be outside as you pulled up to make your deliveries. Needless to say, ignoring her would be rude, so after a while you found yourself engaged in more and more chats with the perky princess. Single as you were, you didn’t mind the female interaction.

It was when you one day realized you had stopped to speak with her for an hour before going home that you realized how much she seemed to go out of her way to talk with you. Could she, a television celebrity, be interested in you? You were aware that your boss was a fan of the show, and so you went to him for advice on the matter. It had come as a surprise when your boss had simply lent you his Drawn Together DVD collection. You spent the next two days watching the series from the beginning to the current episode, witnessing more than just the sweet, innocent façade she showed you every time you spoke. It hadn’t taken long for you to decide it would be best if someone else took over the deliveries to that particular house.

"I know that house makes you nervous, but Mark is sick. Andi’s taking over his shift, but the Drawn Together house was always a little out of the way for Mark, and Andi is likely to get lost on the unfamiliar route. Nobody else’s drive even takes them remotely near that part of town, so you'll have to make the delivery yourself. Besides, it’s not like she actually did anything to you." Your boss was using his soothing voice, trying his best to make you swallow the bitter news.

"Not yet, but you were the one who showed me the show in the first place. We both know what she’s like. If she really was interested in me, I dodged a bullet by coming to you before I did anything stupid. It’s better not to get involved with crazies like her."

"Well, you've got no choice. Drop off the package and get out as soon as you can if it bothers you so much. Now get going." The bosses voice brooked no room for argument, and just like that the conversation ended.

Sluggishly, you entered your van, not looking forward to your last stop of the day. You took a sip of your hot coffee in an attempt to wake yourself from your resigned slump, but you hardly tasted it. Today was the day you had never hoped would come, the day you had to face Clara, the sadistic bigot. You hoped that she had forgotten you, or that it had merely been your imagination making you think she had been interested in you, but you doubted it. Sullenly, you shifted your van into gear and left the parking lot to deliver your packages.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your boss watched as you left, lifting his phone out of his pocket.

"Yes, I’ve sent the package and the delivery man just as you asked… Yes, it’s the one Clara has a fancy for…No, no one will miss him I assure you. Just be sure my payment makes it to me…Yes, I’ll be sure to tune in for the grand finale.” And with that your boss hung up, a satisfied grin on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~

As you approached the last stop of the day, discomfort gnawed at your gut. Your route that day had been nothing special, but what came next had weighed heavily on your mind regardless. Before you loomed the Drawn Together house, it’s yellow walls seeming oppressive in the late mid afternoon heat.

 As you pulled your way around the circular driveway, you noted the large, central windows on the house. At this time of day the sun reflected brightly off of the large panes, the glare of the sun blind you whenever you glanced upward at the window and preventing you from seeing inside. You pulled around until you were directly in front of the front door before hastily walking around to the side of the van and reaching into it to grab the package.

The box wasn’t too heavy, nor was it too large. It was plain brown, nondescript, and utterly unassuming; much like the other packages you had dropped off. Still, the fact did nothing to soothe your apprehension.

Glancing up, the window continued to offer you no clues as to whether what lay beyond its reflective surface, yet you felt as if you were being watched. Shakily you took a deep breath, and then realizing that the wait was probably worse than anything which might actually happen to you, you started towards the door.

Upon reaching the door you knock sharply, your apprehension causing your knocks to be louder than you had intended. However, no immediate answer came. After a while, when you were considering leaving the package by the doorway and skipping her signature altogether, the door suddenly opened. None too surprisingly the one person you had dreaded meeting all day stepped in front of the door.

Clara was dressed as usual; her light purple, sleeveless gown shimmered in the sunlight as it loosely draped over her slight, curved form. Her darker purple high heels arched her back, making her tight butt stick out for the entire world to notice. A small matching purple choker with a jewel embedded at the nape of her throat drew the eye to the gentle curve of her neck and her well exposed collarbone. Lightly, her chestnut brown hair danced in the breeze, framing her face and accentuating the deep, bright blue eyes of hers. Her tiara shone radiantly, playing with the sunlight and casting an unearthly light to her appearance. How could you have ever mistaken her as innocent?

Just then, you noticed her left arm. Her delicate wrist was wrapped, and she held it crooked against her chest. It was clear that she had sprained her wrist and was incapable of bringing the package inside on her own. It was equally clear that you would be carrying the package inside today.

“Where would you like me to place the package mam?” Your voice was smooth and practiced, despite the tension racing through you. A relaxed smile managed to make its way onto your face though you doubt it reached your eyes. Staring into Clara’s brilliant blue eyes sent ice down your spine.

“Oh please, we know each other far too well for that. Call me Clara.”

“Sorry mam, not while I’m on the job.”

“Very well, follow me into the kitchen.” She ducked back inside and you followed shortly after.

The inside of the drawn together house was just as you remembered it. You turned right immediately inside, passing the stairs as you entered the living room. The upholstery on the furniture and the low square coffee table were the same as ever, though the TV seemed to be new. Nobody else seemed to be in the house judging by how quiet it was. You walked into the tiled kitchen and laid the package on the counter top. You pulled your clipboard out from under your arm, pulling a pen out of your pocket.

“Sign here please.”

“Certainly.” Clara signed the papers with a flourish and a smile before continuing. “Could I ask you for a favor?” She had a smile on her face, yet a predatory light entered her eyes as she slid out a knife from the drawers.

“Mam?” you asked worriedly, eyeing the knife and starting to back away.

“Could you help me open the package?” She asked, setting the knife on the counter and motioning towards her wrapped wrist.

“Why certainly,” you said, quickly regaining you composure. You set your clip board on the counter and with a quick movement you cut the masking tape sealing the box.

As the cardboard lid parted to reveal foam packing peanuts within, you realized that your delivery was finished. She had no further means by which to keep you. You had delivered the package without incident.

Collecting your clipboard, you turned around to head towards the door. You could hear rustling as Clara sifted through the package behind you, apparently disinterested in you. Maybe she hadn’t been interested in you. Your mind began to wander as you made your way back towards the front door. A sudden click from behind broke you from your thoughts.

You whipped around just in time to be greeted with what felt like lightning striking your chest. As you fell to the carpet, you saw Clara setting down what looked to be a gun on the counter. Her brilliant, blue eyes met yours, a great hunger clearly shining from them as she deliberately slid the wrap off of her wrist and smiled. The smile was the last thing you saw before you passed out from the pain.

You were having the worst nightmare of your life. In it a smiling Clara looked down at you, impossibly tall and radiating malice. You realized that you were taped to the floor, your arms and legs bound to your sides. Clara casually lifted her slipper above you, the shadow it cast engulfing your terrified form. The last thing you remembered was her foot descending downward to crush you before you suddenly jerked awake. Thank God it was only a dream! You found yourself laying face down on your hardwood floor… Hey wait! You didn’t have a hard wood floor!

With a sudden sense of panic, you jumped to your feet; immediately regretting it as the world spun around you. A blazing pain shot through your head, sending you reeling and fighting nausea. Everything was so damned bright that you could hardly open your eyes, yet somehow you managed to take a peek at your surroundings. What you saw made you miss unconsciousness.

Eclipsing your vision was Clara’s face; her forehead towering above you and casting you in shadow. Her pointed chin rested on the floor and her plump lips caught your attention as they pressed outward in a pout a mere stone’s throw from where you stood. Blue eyes still blazed with that wild hunger from before, but a childlike glee accompanied it; not so different from what one might expect to see in a child’s eyes as they admired a new toy. Looking beyond her, you noticed an equally large couch matching the one from the living room and a kitchen in the background… That’s when it hit you, Clara wasn’t a giant.

Having reconciled your perspective, everything soon became apparent. You were currently standing atop the coffee table seated in the living room. The kitchen in the background was the very room in which you had delivered the package. You could still see the box where it lay on the counter top. Clara’s warm breath suddenly washed over you, and you were startled to find yourself stark naked.

“What have you done to me?” Caught in these strange circumstances without and stripped bare, your voice couldn’t help but squeak. In the open as you were and positioned atop the wooden coffee table, you couldn’t help but feel like a trophy on display. Your captor’s response escaped her lips in a low, slow, sensual rasp.

“Why nothing, yet.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” You were nearly hysterical. A thousand questions bubbled to the forefront of your mind, but they all began with “why.”

“You know, I found you cute when I first saw you. I still do. You were handsome, dutiful, polite, and those khaki shorts didn’t hurt either. So, using my feminine charms and the assets granted to all us pure princesses, I attempted to catch your attention.

At first, it was merely a game. I am a princess after all. I wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with a peasant like you. However, I get bored easily. When I saw you delivering your package, I knew I’d found my fun.

It was rather easy to get your attention too. I merely ordered a few packages with daddy’s money to get you to come by more often. You had told me yourself that I was the last stop on your route, so I knew you were free to stay as long as you wished. So, I played my little game, meeting you by the driveway and having a little chat. That little chat turned into a longer one. Soon enough, you were staying for longer and longer. I had you eating out of the palm of my hand up until the day your replacement showed up. I ordered a few more packages just to be sure, but when you didn’t show up I took a bit of a snoop into your personal life.

It’s amazing what money can find out about a person. A devout Christian man, young and single, you even carry dog cookies in your mail bag for that old lady’s poodle every time you drop off packages at her house. What was her name again… Oh it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you had intrigued me.

 You see, I had come to actually enjoy our conversations. Sure, you were a peasant, but compared to the lack wits I live with you were Albert Einstein. However, it wasn’t just that. You had a certain sincerity to you that spoke to me, a diligence to your work that made you attractive, and you weren’t hard on the eyes. Why, I had even considered giving you a job as a butler or personal servant just so I could keep you around, heard what your boss had to tell me.

You see, I could have accepted you having a wife or a girlfriend. Hell, I would have tolerated you having a boyfriend though it would have killed the whole butler thing. But oh no, you wouldn’t deliver packages to me anymore because you thought I was too interested in you. You feared I might take things too far. The way I always waited in the front lawn was creepy. Me, a princess, CALLED CREEPY BY SOME COMMONER.” Her voice rose to a shout at that last part, her head rising off of the table. She suddenly seemed like an angry titan, drawing herself up to strike you down. You were bowled over by the sheer volume of her voice, your ears ringing.

Quickly, Clara regained her composure; setting her head once more upon the table before she resuming in a cold whisper. “As you’ve probably guessed, I don’t take well to insults. So, I talked to the producer. He, in turn, talked to your boss; and now you’re here.” A wicked smile split her face, flashing her pearly whites and filling you with dread.

“You threw away your chance at mercy the second you dared spit on all I offered. You’re my bitch now, and I’m going to show you exactly what happens to those who cross me.” Her nose was basically stabbing your chest as she leaned closer to deliver those last, horrible, words.

“Hey, don’t forget about us,” croaked a raspy, rough voice from behind. It was barely identifiable as female.

Turning, the mound of flesh which greeted your eyes could hardly be classified as human. Roll upon roll of thigh protruded from tightly fitting stockings; grizzled, black hair covering the flesh which spilled out. A sweat stained black dress with a small grey bow strained against a gut far beyond grotesque. Looking up, the white collar and straps of the dress framed large, sagging breasts; the bra stretched beyond its intended payload. Bits of coarse armpit hair protruded from her folded arms, her triceps flabby and sagging freely. Jet Black hair framed chubby cheeks, surprisingly child like yet somehow seeming more appalling for the contrast. Your recognized this person. It was Toot Braunstein, another member of the Drawn Together house. She sat upright on the pale couch, staring daggers at Clara. However, her eyes quickly flicked back to you; primal lust, long un-sated, shone brightly in her otherwise dull eyes, matching the intensity of Clara’s predatory gaze.

The woman sitting to Toot’s right, though far less grotesque, offered another cause for concern. Orange high heel boots snaked their way along slender calves, stopping just shy of the knee. Smooth, mocha skin stretched unhindered from knee to thigh, glistening with fresh oil. The shortest pair of shorts you had ever seen tightly clung to her pelvis, a black thong straps racing out of the orange to arch over both hips. A camel toe stood out clearly, a slightly damp bulge that her delicate fingers absentmindedly played with.  Draped around a surprisingly tight core was a fox tail, the base of which obscured from view. Large, firm breasts pressed against a paper thin rag, it could hardly be called a top, which clung to one shoulder and did little to obscure her hardened nipples. Her braids were bound in a golden loop, leaving her pink lips and gentle featured face exposed. Her signature fox eared hat marked her as Foxy love.

Foxy waved her hand dismissively, not even glancing in your direction. “Relax, we don’t even know what the challenge is. There ain’t no reason to get yo panties in a bunch.” Her voice buzzed in your ear, sassy and smooth.

“Oh, but there might.” Cried the producer’s from the speakers dotting the household, his voice booming. You were forced to cover your ears as he continued.

“Tonight, in the Drawn Together House. As the boys compete in their gender exclusive challenge, the women have a challenge of their own. Before them stands a shrunken, willing participant who has been given the sole power to decide the winner of this challenge.” You tried to protest, to shout that you were being held against you will, but the Jew Producer ignored you.

“Here are the rules. Through any means necessary, you must convince this young man to declare you the winner. You have one week. At the end of said week, the challenge will end and you’re all losers. However, should a winner be declared, she will be given a fantastic secret prize while the male participant will be forced to participate in a special punishment.” He said the last bit with a dramatic flair.

 “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. As a side effect of the shrinking process, our little guest can’t be injured or die. So girls, no need to be gentle.” And with that the lights clicked off and the room went pitch black.

Everyone was caught unawares at the sudden darkness. The only warning had come moments before when shutters had suddenly appeared from nowhere to obscure the windows, now lending to the unnatural darkness. You were given no time to react, as mere moments after the lights had gone out a hand snatched you from the table top.

Fear filled you as you hurtled through the darkness .All sense of direction left you as you were pulled through the air at speeds which seemed much faster at your size. The wind in your ears deafened you, nearly blocking out the sound of a hand smacking a hard surface and smashing wood behind you. Just as quickly as it had started, you journey ground to a shocking halt. Dizziness swept through you at the sudden halt.

“He’s mine you fat bitch,” shouted Clara, apparently having noticed your disappearance in the dark.

“Hands off sugar tits,” retorted Toot, her voice heated and throaty. With a loud slap and an undignified squawk a fight broke out in the dark.

Having recovered somewhat, you began to take in minuet details. The fingers which firmly gripped you were slender and stank of an earthy musk. Not only that, but their grip seemed eager, slight trimmers of excitement rippling through the hand as it held you. Despite the scuffle which had now become very audible, you could just manage to hear the pop of a button and the quick zip of a zipper.

Roughly, you were crammed downward into some sort of compartment. The silky smooth fingers deftly stuffed you into a slip of space between what felt like a silk cord, rough denim, and some sort of spongy, wet surface. The fingers withdrew quickly, and at the sound of a zipper zipping just behind you the denim crushed you against the flesh with surprising force.  Moments later there was the soft click of a button snapping into place. The world around you shifted as your prison rotated nearly ninety degrees, turning you from an upright position to lying on your back. A steady weight settled on top of you, adding to the tightness of your prison.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the lights went out, Foxxy realized her chance and snapped to action. Quickly and quietly, she leaned forward and scooped the shrunken man off of the table, barely managing to withdraw her hand in time to avoid someone else’s clumsy attempts at the same maneuver. A loud cracking noise resounded as a hand met the bare wood of the coffee table, shortly followed by the sound of the table being crushed.

Foxy held the small man before her, looking in his direction despite the darkness. Where was she going to hide him? She could hide him somewhere around her, but he might escape or be found by one of the others. She would have to hide him somewhere on her person. Unfortunately, the pockets on her shorts were only for decoration; far too tight for actual use. For the first time ever, the mystery solving musician cursed her skin tight clothing. However, there were other places.

Foxxy was snapped out of her pondering at the sound fighting.

“He’s mine you fat bitch” shouted Clara, apparently thinking Toot had the small man.

“Hands off sugar tits” retorted Toot, apparently thinking the same of Clara. Foxxy wasn’t sure how much time she had, but it was better spent acting than thinking of how to act.

Cocking her hips forward, Foxxy used her free hand to unbutton and unzip her shorts. Deftly she pushed the mailman snuggly against her womanhood, the satisfaction of stealing Clara’s prize literally out from under her nose mingling with the alien feeling to tickle her carnal strings.

“She’d have fun later,” Foxxy thought to herself as she sealed the tiny to the sound of a button pop. She readjusted her pelvis, pressing her tiny prisoner beneath her most sensitive areas, and sat calmly on the couch as if nothing had happened.

With a blinding glare the lights flashed back on. After a moment of adjustment, Foxxy could make out the sight of Clara and Toot wrestling. Their hands were tangled in one another’s hair, yet it seemed that Clara had got the worst of it judging by the swollen hand print upon her cheek. The broken remains of the coffee table littered the floor.

“What did you do with him, cow?” cried Clara, outrage painting her face.

“It’s a challenge, remember tramp? And I don’t even have him, you do!” Toot’s response was filled with accusation.

“Liar!”

“Whore!”

“Enough!” cried Foxxy, standing up and feigning annoyance. “Foxxy’s tired of you two always going at each other’s throats over these challenges.”

“Well, look who’s all nice and calm after all the ruckus broke out. How do we know you don’t have him?” Toot shook off Clara as she spoke, her voice filled with accusation and sounding not all that different from a donkey’s. Clara turned her eyes away from Toot to stare meaningfully at Foxxy.

“They didn’t even tell us what the prize is. For all we know there isn’t one. It’s probably some stupid ploy to get us to dance for the cameras. Foxxy don’t dance for free.” Foxxy’s voice rose a bit near the end, almost becoming a moan. Mr. Mailman had probably figured out where he was and wasn’t too happy about it. However, his struggles were stimulating more than just her lower lips; something deep inside of her. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

Foxxy had control, something she had rarely had before. She had control over that bigot Clara, over whether or not she got to take her revenge. She also controlled the fate of the mailman, whatever his name was. She decided whether to give him up or keep him for herself, whether he would suffer at the hands of Clara or become her personal sex toy, whether he lived or died. She’d never felt so alive.

Clara seemed too agitated to have picked up on Foxxy’s near outburst, for she bulldozed ahead. “I don’t need a God damned prize. This is my revenge.” Anger radiated from Clara.

“I haven’t been laid in years. Fuck the prize, I want a man,” added Toot. She was glaring at Clara once more, her sausage like finger pointed accusingly. She looked about ready to start another fight.

The man was going wild; his desperate struggles rubbing against Foxxy’s folds in ways the ebony sex saint had never felt before. Every time he kicked, his feet would strike the roof of her inner passage. On the way out, they would graze the lower edge. His head rubbed against her clit sending Foxxy’s sex drive into overdrive. It was all she could do to keep her composure.

“Well Foxxy doesn’t have em’, Clara doesn’t have em’, and we all know Toot couldn’t keep a secret for all the pizza in the world. So, where does that leave us?” Foxxy’s voice remained cool and soothing, despite the fire burning in her loins.

Clara paused for a moment before casting her head from side to side, eyeing the couch and the overturned furniture. Suddenly, the wheels began to turn and the and the princess smoothed her gown, straightening her hair and regaining her composure.

“Our black friend is right. Let’s look around and find him. Once we find him, we’ll negotiate something desirable to all parties.” Clara’s voice was once again that of her innocent façade, all warm and sweet.

“But that sounds like work,” complained Toot.

“First one to find him gets to use him first.” Clara added in a sing song. Toot was off in an instant, tossing furniture aside is a frenzied search and heedless of any damage.

Foxxy was in ecstasy. The dull throbbing in her pants was reaching a climax, a mounting fire growing in intensity. She was going to blow any moment. It was at that moment that she noticed Clara wasn’t searching for her lost prize. She was instead looking directly at Foxxy.

Almost casually Clara drew close to Foxxy, stopping directly in front of the near climaxing sex fiend. Gently she leaned in, her voice a cold whisper as she looked Foxxy in the eyes.

“We both know that walking garbage disposal isn’t a threat, so I want things to be clear between us.”

Breathing seemed labored. A knot of pleasure was winding its way deep inside of Foxxy.

“If you play ball with me, I’ll make sure we’re both happy. I’ll give you chicken, watermelon, whatever you people want.”

The intensity inside of Foxxy was so great, it felt like she was melting. Clara’s remarks seemed inconsequential in the face of such a feeling.

“However, don’t fuck me.”

Foxxy couldn’t hold it in much longer.

“I’m not a person you want to cross.”

Foxxy felt the heat inside her reach new heights.

“If you cross me, there’ll be nothing left of you that doesn’t set off a metal detector. Do you understand? Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.”

At those last four words, Foxxy unloaded. Hot liquid ecstasy poured from her in a great torrent, soaking her panties and their thrashing contents. The tremors raging through her were the greatest she had ever felt. Muscles pulled deep inside her and her hips cried out to buck. She wanted nothing more than to grope herself, to draw out her mindless passion, to scream her lust to the skies.

Foxxy didn’t let any of it show. She merely paused until she was finished, passing it off as a moment of thought before giving her reply.

“Relax,” Foxxy purred, Her eyes never leaving Clara’s. “Foxxy don’t got no reason to take yo man. If I find him he’s yours, but I ain’t gonna go traipsing around the house looking for your toy.” She delivered that last part with sass, bobbing her neck and shaking her finger.

“Fine then, so long as we have an understanding.” With that Clara walked off, beginning to search through the wreckage left by Toot’s passage. She barely spared another glance for Foxxy.

Foxxy walked casually back to her room, a sway and a bounce to her step not found there previously. She even hummed a few bars as she passed Toot, collapsed on a chair by the base of the steps. The choked wheeze of Toot’s breathing followed her upstairs as she turned the corner to head to the girl’s shared room.

As Foxxy reached her room, she felt overcome by contentment. She had tricked Toot, played Clara, and had the best orgasm of her life in the course of ten minutes. Pushing the door open, she nearly stumbled into her room. Foxxy felt so tired. Her mind was in a haze and her body was so relaxed.

Contentedly, she climbed into her bed and gingerly rested her head upon the pillow. I’ll just lie here and bask in the afterglow for a while, she thought to herself. And just like that, foxy fell asleep; her unfortunate prisoner struggling not to drown in her still quivering folds.

Shortly after Foxxy had crammed you into her shorts and buried you beneath her womanhood, you still found yourself unsure of your location. The pressure was suffocating, immense weight pushed you downward, and an organic heat penetrated your bare body. Your head had finally stopped spinning so you began to look closer at your surroundings.

The surface at your back was most definitely a heavy cloth, denim judging by the texture; however you now realized the cord as a twisted length of cloth, meant to unfold but obviously neglected. Some sort of metal teeth sat behind the cord, luckily shielded by the gnarled, damp cloth. Although you weren’t sure what the musky, damp object you were pressed against was it still seemed familiar. Its damp surface began to coat you in a warm, clinging slime, leaving your body somehow itchy and uncomfortable.

“What did you do with him, cow?” Clara’s voice was muffled, but her outrage was still palpable.

“It’s a challenge, remember tramp? And I don’t even have him, you do!” Low as Toot’s voice was, the denim reduced it to a nearly unintelligible burble.

“Liar!”

“Whore!”

The stink of earthy musk had gradually grown more prevelant, warm and thickly permeating the air. The humidity was unbearable, filling your mouth with a taste both repulsive and alluring. The spongy surface had shifted to enfold your body, two distinct flaps on either side of you. They sloped until they met at in a small knot which protruded so as one side of your face was firmly pressed against it by the ever present denim wall. A dull, monotonous pounding beat against your ear. A thought tickled in the back of your mind, but it didn’t quite solidify.

Dismissing the thought, you decided to take a chance and shift around, trying to access your range of movement. You could shuffle most of your body slightly, but you doubted you could slip free with all the pressure against you. However, you were delighted to discover that the pressure lessened around your feet. The delight soon turned to shock, however, as your prison suddenly jolted and Foxxy’s voice thrummed through you body.

“Enough!” She said. “Foxxy’s tired of you two always getting at each other’s throats over these challenges.”

It wasn’t her voice itself which shocked you, but the way it penetrated you. While it sounded from above, far closer than either of the other voices, it was the way in which it resonated through the spongy surface that caused you fear. The spongy folds were a part of her!

Your mind raced. The musk, the moisture, the hugging lips, and the steady pulsation which continued to thrum throughout the swelling structure slammed together with that itch at the back of your mind to paint a picture of your prison. With a growing sense of dread, you became sure of two things; One, Foxxy was your captor. And two, the sticky substance coating your body wasn’t water.

“Look who’s all nice and calm after all the ruckus broke out, how do we know you don’t have him,” Toot’s words were lost on you as you panic continued to rise.

Before you could calm yourself, Foxxy’s womanhood pulsed. The sudden movement causing your body to slide downward, trapping your head within her folds and cutting off your air supply. A primal fear of drowning sent you into a maddening panic as you fought with all of your might to tear your head free.

All sound save the growing pulse of blood and the unintelligible buzz of Foxxy’s voice were stolen from you as your head remained ensnared. Fear blinded you as you flailed and writhed to free your head. The lips around you pulsed on occasion, even in your panic reminding you of your location. Your desperate struggles failed to have an impact, save the gradual increase of the rate of the dull thrum and amount of in feminine fluids.

Violently, you continued to struggle. Your panic lessening as a dull tiredness filled your vision. Had there been any light, it would surely have been eclipsed out by the dark spots that would have filled your vision. Then the unexpected happened; a crushing spasm shook the quivering flesh, allowing one desperate gasp before your were once again smothered.

The breath was enough to renew your struggles. You kicked out, feeling resistance on your foot and a throb through the flesh. You punched, striking flesh which yielded like dense fabric. Your squirmed, and struggled, until once again the walls around you thrashed, granting you another gasp of air.

You continued like this for what felt like an eternity. The desperate fight not to suffocate filled your mind. Panic granted you strength you had never known you had, until you noticed the spasms coming more frequently and air becoming more and more prevalent.

You had hope of survival until disaster struck. As exhaustion started to take you another spasm struck. However, when you opened your mouth for air, vaginal juice filled it instead. You were filled with an exhausted panic. Would all of your struggles be for naught, only to drown after so much effort?

With a steely determination, you put up one last struggle. You strained with all of your being, fighting to survive, fighting not to drown in this dark, tight pit; and as you fought, the throbbing walls seemed to go insane as a series monstrous pounding ripped through your reality.

Your tiny body way shaken by its intensity, and you were crushed with such intensity. The hot flesh gripped you, clawed at you, refusing to release its prize. You were nearly unconscious as it finally began to subside. The thrumming folds weakly loosened and you weakly removed your head from their grasp, gasping for air. You had never felt so tired as you lie there, soothed by the dull thrum of Foxxy’s heart beat. “Fine then, so long as we have an understanding.” Clara’s words were the last words you heard before your world began to sway. Foxxy's steps rocked you as she drunkenly swayed towards her room.

As Foxxy unknowingly soothed you with the swaying of her walk, you began to relax. You were exhausted from your struggles against the monstrous womanhood and your near death trial. To think, you had almost been smothered by some black chick, and solely through the forces of her climax. What would it be like when she turned her full attention upon you, free of distraction?

The thought was too much. The exhaustion, the swaying, and the warmth of Foxxy’s wet flesh pressed against you was too much. You passed out.

You woke with a startled yelp as the world shifted once more. The sensation of falling filled you with terror as gravity shifted. Where you had been on your back before, dangling within a denim hammock, you now were held upright once more. Suddenly, Foxxy impacted whatever she had been falling towards, bouncing upward momentarily before returning to earth again. The creak of springs and the shuffle cloth greeted your ears.

However, rather than thinking about where Foxxy had taken you, you had a new problem. You legs! During the free fall, you had panicked. You had thrashed and clung to anything available in the instinctive hopes to halt your decent, and ended up placing your feet within the sweltering tunnel of flesh known as Foxxy’s vaginal passage. This would have been fine had you not been free falling, they weren’t so deeply inserted as to prove difficult to remove, but when foxy hit the bed the rest of your legs slipped inwards.

As things stood, you were waist deep in Foxxy. Not only that, but the way in which Foxxy was laying caused the fabric of her shorts to bunch up, squeezing you uncomfortably against her. There was no way to shift your pelvis so as to drag your legs outward. You were stuck.

Thankfully, your face was no longer pressed against her clit. It had been forcing your head to the side the entire time, giving you a crick in your neck. You took the opportunity to tiredly work out that pain, the strained muscle hard and bunched.

The first thing you noticed was the difference a few inches could make. Whereas Foxxy’s lips had been a lot tighter nearer her clit, they hung loosely down below. There was even a gap between them where your head could rest with little pressure upon it. It was a lot damper down here, even the pants and thong string at your back had been saturated with her juices, but at least there was little chance of her folds smothering you again. These thoughts and more flashed through your mind as you tiredly took stock of your situation.

The rumble of a snore shook you from your revelry as you sat there, waist deep in womanhood. Foxxy was asleep! You had expected her to play with you more, but instead you were now gifted with the opportunity to escape. It looked like God hadn’t abandoned you after all.

How were you going to get out? You couldn’t scoot yourself out because of the tight denim at your back. However, your top half wasn’t so compressed as to fully restrict movement. You could rotate so as your torso hung downward and try to slide downward out of her channel, but the thought of creeping closer to the ebony maw you knew to rest a mere inches below you seemed unappealing.

There was always the option to climb upwards. You were exhausted and there didn’t seem to be much to grip on to, but you saw little alternative. You definitely didn’t want to remain where you were. If you managed to escape now, it would be a simple matter to hide for a week at your current size. The prospect was alluring when compared to your previous rough treatment, so with that in mind you reached your arms above you and began to haul yourself up the string of Foxxy’s thong.

You were half way to the top of Foxxy’s vagina when disaster struck. Your climb had been as arduous as you had predicted, leaving you exhausted as you hoisted yourself upwards. One hand after another, you clutched at the thong string, hoisting yourself up at a snail’s pace. The fabric was silky and moist, making your grip tenuous at best. Perhaps you would have risked passing Foxxy’s asshole had you known what would happen next. As you reached upwards to grab that tainted, silk rope once more, your hand slipped.

Despite the tight denim, you easily slid your way downwards once more. You hadn’t quite reached a height at which you could remove your feet from your dark tormenter’s passage, so when you fell you were once more guided within her. Moist flesh offered little resistance as you penetrated her, the hot wall contracting hard upon your legs. By the time your momentum stopped, you found yourself exactly where you had started. All that effort, all that exertion, and it hadn’t even gained you an inch.

Angrily, you unleashed a throaty growl, only to have it turn into a yelp as Foxxy’s flesh gripped you once more. Horror flooded through you as the muscles suckled at your thighs and calves, tugging you noticeably deeper within throbbing passage. The contractions stopped and you froze, fearing any stimulation might set her off once more. You were now up to your naval in the self proclaimed mystery solver, the throbbing having drawn you in deeper. It that precious silence Foxxy’s snoring could still be heard droning on soothingly.

After a minute without any further spasms, you let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps remaining where you were wasn’t so bad, considering all the potential alternatives. Being abused by Foxxy hile she was awake couldn’t possibly be as bad as being unconsciously drawn within her. An awake Foxxy knew where you were, a sleeping one didn’t. Who knows how long you could be lost within her if you were drawn deeper without her knowing where to rescue you from. With those thoughts firmly planted in the forfront of your mind, you decided to settle down and wait for Foxxy to awaken.

You leaned backwards, using the denim as a back rest in order to get some shut eye. You would need your rest for the ordeal ahead. However, you would be getting no rest today. Just as it seemed unconsciousness was about to claim you, an iron grip clamped down on your lower half. You eyes shot open in horror as the unconscious woman’s vagina hungrily swallowed at you, gradually drawing you deeper.

Panic shot through your mind as you lay there, wrapped to lower abdomen by the gaping maw before you. You wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry, to fight, to bite, anything to avoid the horrible fate which lay before you. Granted, at normal size, under different circumstances, or even with a different person this fate wouldn’t be so bad, but at present you couldn’t think of a more horrible fate.

Though Foxxy was attractive, she was also a sex fiend. Her vagina was a hungry maw, waiting to devour anything unfortunate enough to pass between its lips. Who knew if she’d even realize you were in there, what with all the craziness which usually went on below the waist. You may very well spend the rest of the challenge stuffed deep in this ebony sex fiend’s cunt.

The idea sent a shiver down your spine. If you had any hope of surviving long enough to get out of this god forsaken house, it wouldn’t be by holing away inside Foxxy. However, struggling was definitely not the way to get out of this mess. The rippling muscle which now entombed your legs was most likely far stronger than your miniscule form, tired as you were. The best course of action was to wait and pray that the absence of stimulation would still the beast.

A minute went by, then two, and then five without any more contractions. You were saved. The way you lay now, you would be able to hold this position until Foxxy awoke. It looked like you wouldn’t be eaten today.

A rippling spasm tugged you into Foxxy up to your navel, turning you hopes to ash. Regardless, you held still and prayed that it was merely a fluke, or that Foxxy would awaken before you were pulled in deeper. Another spasm squeezed your legs, dragging you in up to the base of your chest cavity.

Foxxy’s snores were interrupted momentarily by a low moan as she pulled you in up to your nipples. Her moan turned into a name, a name you dreaded to hear. “Denzel.” Foxxy was having a wet dream, and it looked like you were going to be mere food for thought.

You immediately changed tactic, struggling with as much strength and ferocity as you could manage. You couldn’t and wouldn’t let Foxxy’s pussy gobble you. It was unthinkable. You had to wake her before it was too late. In panic, you clutched at the thong string above you and bit the side of her lip, filling your mouth with the taste of her feminine juices. A shudder ran through her and your legs were nearly crushed by the intensity of the spasm.

“Oh Denzel, you so bad.”

After a few seconds, the pressure thankfully let up. What would it take to wake this crazy bitch? You kicked against her walls, trying to push yourself out, but the contractions only became stronger. The caramel skin above you dripped droplets of sweat which often splashed against you. The heat and stink of her was so overwhelming that it threatened to cause you to heave. All that stood between you and a sweaty, lusty tomb was a single band of cloth no thicker than your wrist. Another moan broke Foxxy’s heated pants and another contraction threatened to drag you deeper.

Over the course of a minute or so, the panting grew more heated. Foxxy’s legs began to shift as she unknowingly tormented you, and she began to gyrate her hips in a circular, grinding motion. Fluids now coated your body, flowing past your body and dribbling down to the ebony pucker beneath. The rippling of the fleshy tunnel was nearly continuous now as you felt your arms weaken from the continuous strain. How long would you last? Would she ever finish? You got your answer sooner than you expected.

With an explosive torrent of fluid, Foxxy climaxed. Her back arched and she twisted and turned, clinging tightly to the sheets blankets beneath her. Her legs strained, pressing firmly against the footboard of the bed. She bit her lip and unconsciously rolled her eyes, and even in her heated, wet dreams she voiced the name of her imagined lover. “Denzeeeel!”

The spasms nearly crushed you, so intense were they. Your legs  groaned and ached as the iron grip of her pussy sought to devour you whole. The angle of her pelvis set gravity against you as well, only adding to your distress. White hot fluids shot across your face, filling your mouth and causing you to sputter.

For a full minute you managed to cling on to the slick fabric of the thong, praying for your torment to end. Your muscles ached from the constant strain, your lungs burned from inhaled juices, your legs cried out in agony, and yet you held. However, where you had been exhausted before, you were now dead tired. Helpless, you watched as your fingers failed you. They slowly slid apart, burning with fatigue and ignoring any commands to resist. You were so close, she couldn’t climax forever. It didn’t matter.

With a sickening squelch Foxxy’s pussy swallowed you, pulling you deep inside of her with each powerful pulse.

While the frantic muscles violently drug you deeper and deeper within Foxxy’s snatch, you struggled not to drown, your eyes clenched tightly shut lest the secretions around you get in your eyes. Fully relaxed, the wet tunnel might have been half again as wide as your shoulders, but the sweltering flesh surrounding you was anything but relaxed. Instead, it was a monstrous gullet, swallowing greedily at your body. The smells of earthy musk, sweat, and sex mingled into a hot, itchy scent which threatened to choke you. The frantic thump of a heat beat could be heard despite the cacophonous squelches all around you.

With each contraction, Foxxy’s vagina clenched down violently upon your exhausted form, forcing the vaginal fluids at the bottom of her canal upwards and past you. The fluids often splashed over your face, and when they weren’t, the ribbed flesh was often threatening to suffocate you as the pressed painfully down upon your face. Excited as Foxxy was, her vagina only mildly relaxed between spasms, releasing the crushing grip upon your ribs just enough to allow you to grab a breath.

“Oh God!”

Her unconscious moans rippled through the walls around you, and you felt the world tilt as Foxxy lifted her hips to buck. How long could she orgasm for? It was already approaching two minutes and the slut’s muscles still struggled to crush you. You could feel yourself sliding down the fleshy tunnel, its sloped angle sharper for her raised hips and aiding in your descent. As you struggled to catch a breath in the small window between clenches, the vaginal muscles around you spasmed unexpectedly, forcing the air from your lungs and replacing it with the salty, sour taste of feminine ecstasy.

Perhaps, were you not drowning, shrunken, and crammed inside of one of television’s most infamous whores, you might of enjoyed yourself; the rippling sensation along your body pleasurable as you were bathed in the juices of an orgasming woman. However, it was terror which presently clawed at your mind. You choked and coughed weakly within Foxxy’s womanhood, slowly being drawn deeper with every passing second.

In your panic, you instinctively struggled to force the walls apart, trying to forge some air pocket in which to seek a quick breath. However, you found yourself too weak. The previous struggles to remain outside of this dark pit had robbed you of strength, leaving you relatively helpless. Consciousness began to slip as air deprivation set in.

This was it, you thought. You were about to be extinguished by some black chic’s throbbing, wet womanhood and she wasn’t even awake to enjoy it. Of all the ways to go, as a sex toy had been pretty low on the list. A sudden jolt went through you as your bare feet struck a wall of flesh.

Horror filled you as you realized you had reached the end of Foxxy’s vagina. You had heard rumors about the depth of her “love tunnel” as she liked to call it, but how far were you really? Spots danced across your vision as you continued to fail to catch a breath, and despair filled you as you realized that even in between spasms the vaginal fluids no longer receded beneath your head. Foxxy’s slit was so full of secretions that they completely submerged you, even when her muscles momentarily relaxed.

Suddenly, the great, throbbing tunnel around you went into over drive. All the muscle around you suddenly bit down, crushing in its grip. Your fluid filled lungs were emptied as your ribs were forced inwards against your lungs. Your shoulders creaked and your body cried out in pain at the pressure which should have by all rights crushed you into a red stain.

“DENNNZZZEEEEELLLLLLL!!!”

The cry deafened you, reverberating through the flesh around you, yet at the same time it seemed very far away. Your vision was tunneling, even with your eyes closed in the pitch black of Foxxy’s snatch. Your lungs, which had burned not too long ago, currently felt numb along with the rest of your body. Your last thoughts were to wonder if your corpse would ever see the light of day again before unconsciousness claimed you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Foxxy was having the best dream. It was an old one, the one in which she was tied to a bondage horse and left in a room full of Denzel Washingtons, but it still got her juices flowing. In her sleep, Foxxy tossed and turned, having forgotten the tiny prisoner housed within her panties, but even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered in the face of her dreamy ecstasy. That is, of course, until she began to orgasm.

Even as your exhausted form was being claimed by her wet pit and Foxxy’s orgasm began to subside, Foxxy’s eyes shot open. Quickly, her slender hand snaked its way downward towards her crotch, unbuttoning her pants in a heartbeat on her way towards her snatch.  Her other hand slid neatly beneath her black thong, beginning to spin a slow circle around the tight knot that was her clit.

A wave of pleasure swept through Foxxy as she gently massaged the small nub above her opening, rekindling the fire in her loins. After a few moments of stimuli and a few excited gasps, the fire inside her began to grow once more, reaching new heights even as she felt another orgasm building. Foxxy hated letting an orgasm go to waste, preferring instead to keep them going until another joined the first; their combined pleasure bringing her to new heights.

Snaking her other hand downward to join the first, Foxxy could feel her panties, soaked with cum and only getting wetter. They clung tightly to her pelvis as she lifted her pelvis to guide her hand around to her back. Sliding her hand between her cheeks, a quick probe of her middle finger confirmed that anus was slick with runoff.

Foxxy had played with all sorts of toys and lotions before, but using her own vaginal juices as lube always felt the best. There was something about the hot juices pouring from her womanhood that set her flesh afire wherever it touched. Even before probing her pucker, it had already felt hot and inflamed. Now, as the ebony sex fiend ran her finger around her own anus, a jolt went up her spine.

Growing impatient, Foxxy moved her hand away from her clit and plunged her middle finger into her pussy up to the knuckle. She was careful to position her thumb so as it gently rested against her clit before she began finger herself, the in and out motion causing her thumb to gently brush her nub. She could feel the little ridges along the edge of her channel, along with the stretched flesh clenching around the intrusion. There was nothing she loved more.

As Foxxy continued to play with herself, building her second orgasm through her careful ministrations, she noticed something different about her climax. She couldn’t quite explain it herself; it was as if something deep inside her was pulling her carnal strings. Deep inside herself, deeper than all but the longest of toys could reach, she felt a stretching sensation. It was driving her wild.

Not remembering the tiny man she had abducted, nor caring to think on anything but the wild wave of pleasure currently coursing through her body, Foxxy popped her pointer finger into her snatch with a wet squelch. Simultaneously, her rearward finger forced itself within her ass, probing at the greasy ringed wall of her rectum as she raised her hips to buck.

“Oh God!”

Instantly, Foxxy’s orgasm intensified, driving her over the edge. She could feel her pleasure starting to mount once more as another orgasm rolled on atop her previous one, increasing her pleasure. It was incredible. It was intense. Those were the last rational thoughts Foxxy had before the intensity of the sensation drove her mind blank.

Stuck in this limbo of sexual intensity, Foxxy thrashed upon her bed. She was on cloud nine as she closed her eyes, continuing the fantasy from before. She rubbed and thrashed, and imagined the dream about Denzel Washington, and before she knew it, she found herself with four fingers inside her twat, another three wedged through her slimy pucker. Another orgasm was mounting.

Suddenly, it hit her. The pleasure of the previous two orgasms, held in place by her vigorous stimulations, was suddenly intensified by a third orgasm. Like a dam cracking, a flood of mind numbing sexual pleasure crashed into Foxxy’s senses, blinding her to the world around her. Mocha toes curled against the bed sheets, a long, sleek back arched harder than ever before, powerful muscles clenched deep inside Foxxy’s abdomen, and a name tore free from pink lips.

“DENNNZZZEEEEELLLLLLL!!!”

When Foxxy awoke from her sexual haze, cum staining her panties was already beginning to cool. She must have languished in her afterglow for some minutes after such a powerful orgasm, though she couldn’t remember a bit of it. In fact, her whole mind was a fog at the moment, everything except for her previous pleasure forgotten.

Foxxy slipped her fingers out of her pussy, a wet popping noise sounding as she did so. Her fingers were soaked with her own ejaculate, and she trailed a little line of the stuff across her belly as she brought her hand upwards, towards her face. Pink lips parted in anticipation as Foxxy gently licked her fingers clean, savoring the salty, sour flavor of her own sex before plunging her hand knuckle deep into her mouth and sucking it clean.

After doing the same for her other hand, Foxxy began to rise. She could feel the juices accumulated in her twat rush out at the shift in gravity, splattering down her thighs and soaking into the sheets beneath. She gazed around her, taking stock of her bed and the large stain upon her sheets. She would need to wash them, but not now. Now, she needed a shower.

The black woman quickly buttoned her pants, woozily got to her feet, and stumbled drunkenly through the girl’s bedroom door and out into the hallway; rivulets of cum running down her legs to stain the carpet as she went.

The walk down the hall to the bathroom was a haze to Foxxy; the afterglow of her orgasm clouding her mind as she placed one foot in front of the other. She hadn’t had an orgasm so strong in ages! She could still feel the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her body, but she didn’t know what could have caused such a strong reaction. Could it have been something she’d ate?

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, cool linoleum clattered beneath Foxxy’s heels. Nothing felt quite as good as a hot shower after an orgasm. Foxxy eagerly pulled off her heels, tearing off the single strap top she wore before stripping off her shorts and thong. The tail accessory she usually wore clattered to the floor.

Foxxy could still feel the fluids of her passion slowly dribbling down her legs, as she hurried over to the shower and began to finish with the knobs. The chill of cold tile kissed the soles of her feet, and moments later, hot water drizzled over her body.

~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly, a violent coughing fit ripped through you and consciousness returned. Salty, sour fluids shot from your mouth as you struggled to haunch over, only to discover that flesh clutched your body firmly from all sides. The slow, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat filled your head, pulsing past your body and reminding you of where you were.

The tight, soft flesh of Foxxy’s pussy clutched at your body, no longer the yawning tunnel of arousal or the clenched tube of an orgasm. Instead, it was the tight, relaxed flesh of an unstimulated vagina. You were still trapped within the ebony sex saint.

However, judging by the blood rushing to your head, Foxxy was likely standing. That meant she was awake. However, that raised the question of why you were still within her smoldering depths. Wouldn’t she have taken you out by now if she had known where you were? That is unless she didn’t know where you were. Quickly, your mind went through the possibilities.

If Foxxy really wasn’t aware of your location, or had otherwise forgotten your existence, there were both good and bad possibilities. On the plus side, you had a chance to escape. You could slip away unnoticed and find a hiding location and wait out the remaining time on the challenge. However, that required that you escape your fleshy prison.

This was where things got dicey. You see, when the Foxxy’s vagina was aroused and not orgasming it extended and relaxed enough to allow someone of your size easy passage. However, unaroused even the easiest whore’s depths were tight. Not only that, but she was definitely drier now that her cum had been allowed to drain. Coupled with the rumors of lost toys deep within Foxxy’s depths, filled you with a growing dread.

Of course, you could still feel the bottom of her passage pressing against the bottom of your bare feet. Unless her toys had found their way past her cervix unlikely as that was, the rumors of lost toys were apparently false. Perhaps she wasn’t as deep as you had thought?

However, as you opened your eyes to look around only darkness greeted you. As deep as you were or weren’t, light was still incapable of reaching you. Experimentally, you tugged at the flesh that clung to you, trying to make a little progress towards the exit you knew to be somewhere beneath you, but the flesh clung tightly to you.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Foxxy was standing in the shower, enjoying the heat as it penetrated her body, a sudden jolt went through her. The dull ache which always followed an especially powerful orgasm was making itself apparent all of a sudden; a constant reminder of the fun she had just experienced. The memory alone was enough to arouse her once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps moving hadn’t been the best of ideas. Mere moments had passed since you had tested your fleshy prison, but already you could feel it loosening. Now familiar fluids were starting to be secreted as Foxxy became aroused once more. You could feel the grip on your body loosening, and slowly you were starting to slide downward towards the opening of her vagina.

Granted, you weren’t moving very fast. Foxxy’s passage was still mostly relaxed; the swelling which would have widened your passage woefully absent. However, the darkness, the sounds, and the smells were starting to get to you. This was the place where you had nearly drowned. Panic was starting to itch at the inside of your skull. You wanted out.

Your growing claustrophobia must have weighed heavily on your mind, because it wasn’t long before you decided that arousing her was probably the best way to escape. In a calmer state of mind you might have reconsidered, but fear pushed you towards irrational thoughts. She hadn’t noticed your presence earlier, despite your struggles for life. Why should she notice now? Not only that, but Foxxy was a sex fiend. If you remained within her, she was bound to masturbate sooner or later and you’d end up drowning again anyways.

Tiredly, you wriggled your body, tossing and turning as you might in sleep. The flesh around you clutched at you loosely like a hammock. It was an odd sensation, the damp flesh sticking to your skin as you pushed and pulled against it, but the fruits of your efforts soon became apparent. With a grim satisfaction, you noted an increase in moisture as well as a swelling of the walls around you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Foxxy couldn’t explain the feelings growing inside her as she stood in the shower, enjoying her growing arousal. She wasn’t even touching herself, but even now her vagina ached; a slow wave of pleasure tickling inside her. The black sex god’s eyes rolled back in her head, her hands absentmindedly finding their way to her breasts. She wanted to masturbate again, even after having just blown the largest load in years not even ten minutes ago.

Something was up, something she couldn’t explain, but at the moment she didn’t care. Slowly, she pulled a hand away from a breast, lazily dragging her finger along her neck until it reached her lips. Ivory teeth nibbled at the tip. She wanted to shower, but she wanted to fuck as well. Why not do both?

~~~~~~~~~~

After a minute or so of wriggling, something changed. You had definitely made progress, both in loosening the fleshy tunnel around you and finding your exit, but never had the evidence been as apparent as this. Although you could sense feel the walls around clenching as they built towards a climax, that wasn’t what had drawn your attention. Before you, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, light blazed forth. It lanced painfully into your eyes, but you looked on. The light was more than just a painful sensation blazing into your retinas, it was freedom. You had found your way out.

However, as quickly as the light had come, it vanished once more. In its place, a loathsome digit crawled forth, worming its way towards your face and obscuring the light which had meant so much to you. It pushed its way through the cloistered tunnel, pushing against the minuet ridges lining the wall of the vagina. In seconds, it was upon you.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the hot water cascaded along Foxxy’s soft, brown skin, your horny captor rubbed mindlessly at her vagina; dipping her finger in and out in an almost languid manor. She could already feel that this orgasm would be quick and hard. Not as long lasting as the last one had been, but with the burn already built up in her love box it would be every bit as enjoyable.

Suddenly, as she plunged her finger into her vagina, she hit something. It seemed different from the spongy flesh and ridges which made up her vagina, seeming firmer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a pat of her. Perhaps it was one of her long lost toys? She’d lost so many inside herself only to rediscover them weeks later that she wasn’t entirely sure when one was stuck in her love pit or not. With casual disregard, she flicked the object out of herself and onto the floor. It was in the way, and she could always reclaim it later.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the groping finger set upon you, a fit of mad genius struck you. Instead of fighting or struggling against the savage appendage and drawing attention to yourself, you froze, remaining limp as the tip of her finger touched you. The damp finger paused as it reached you, curiously probing behind your back before impatiently flinging you outside of your damp prison. Foxxy was in the heat of passion at the moment. She had no time for lost toys.

 You had only a moment to enjoy your freedom before the floor came crashing upwards into you, a thick layer of water standing on its surface. You opened your mouth to scream, forgetting your resolve to remain unnoticed just as you crashed into the watery surface. Water filled your mouth and a moment later you crashed into the shin deep water, silencing your scream. In an instant, you smashed into the hard tile of the floor, the water having cushioned your fall only a bit. Shock lanced through you in a sudden, cold arc.

However, you somehow retained consciousness, quickly realizing that you were face down in scalding water. The wind had been knocked from you, and once more dots danced across your vision. You were drowning again, you dully realized. Desperately you struggled to reclaim control of your body, seeking to flip over in the shallow water to claim a taste of sweet air.

However, no matter how hard you willed yourself to move; to stand, crawl, to roll over, or even twitch a finger, nothing happened. It was as if your body was that of a stranger, so powerful was the shock of the fall. Had you broken your neck? Were you going to die now after having escaped the depths of Foxxy’s dirty cunt?

No! With a new found intensity, you willed yourself to move, to push yourself onto your back. It was only shin deep water after all. Sluggishly, your arms obeyed, racing against the now familiar onset of darkness that signaled oxygen deprived unconsciousness. With agonizing slowness you felt yourself lift upwards, and with a valiant flop you found yourself lying upon your back. A torrent of water rushed from your mouth in an all too familiar choking fit.

Cool air rushed in and out of your lungs as you gazed sightlessly upwards, the fog clouding your vision slowly retreating. Falling water fell around your still form, cascading down Foxxy’s sleek form to fall about you. However, through some quirk of positioning, the majority of the water missed you. It took only a minute for you to regain your breath and your vision to clear.

However, sight which first met your eyes was jarring. You quickly realized that you were in shadow, a drain noisily guzzling water and cum some distance to your side, but that wasn’t what left you speechless. Instead, it was the brown titan which stood above you, her fingers working the opening of her monstrous slit as she violently massaged a breast far larger than yourself. Her breaths could be heard coming in gasps, a low moan emitting with every exhale. Her eyes were closed. Even as you gazed on, droplets of cum fell from her probing finger.

You were in awe. Sure, it was one thing to be stuffed deep inside the black woman’s womanhood, or even to be pressed against the lusty monstrosity, but to actually watch as this husky nymphomaniac rubbed out her carnal desires on a titanic scale… It was almost too much to consider. The forces at work, the violent slap of flesh on flesh, the rhythmic whirl of her breast, it was hypnotic, exotic, and mind numbingly erotic.

Suddenly, you snapped out of your wonderment. This was no time to be gawking! You needed to escape as soon as possible before you were discovered. However, first you had to find out how damaged you were. With hesitant fear, you began to move your body, fearing to find broken bones and torn flesh.

However, to your great delight, you found no such destruction. Besides being a little sore, you were otherwise unharmed. The Jew producer’s words rang in your head.

“As a side effect of the shrinking process, our little guest can’t be injured or die.”

Those words, so casually delivered, had meant life or death to you. It was the reason you hadn’t drowned within Foxxy’s pussy or been crushed within her pants. It was also the reason you’d survived the fall onto the shower floor. You were immortal! You didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.

You stood up gingerly, the water coming about halfway up your shin. Your muscles burned with an agonizing intensity, a parallel to Foxxy’s though the thought made you feel ill. Awkwardly, you slogged your way over to the edge of the shower, the glass panes which arced across the doorway at breast and butt levels towering above you. Refusing to look back at the ebony giantess behind you, you headed towards the door. You body ached with every step and a deep exhaustion could still be felt pounding through you.

As you dismounted the raised tile which kept water from flowing out from the shower and began your trek across the tiled floor, you couldn’t help but think about your situation. The tired ache that raged through your body, the heaviness to your breathing that came from having nearly drown, the bruised and battered feeling which perforated your body, it all hung heavy upon your mind, but not so heavy as thoughts of the future.

No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t see a way out of your current situation. At your size, you were truly helpless, incapable of either fending off the women who might abuse you or taking care of yourself.  At your current size, it would take an hour to cross a distance which would normally take five minutes, so escape was impractical. All the sources of food and water you could think of involved exposing yourself to well traveled areas, so you would either starve or get caught eventually. Hell, you didn’t even have the dignity of being clothed, though the shrinking ray seems to have rendered you immune to the cold. Your chances of surviving the day seemed grim, let alone a whole week.

Of course, you could just declare a winner. However, the thought of a special punishment seemed oddly frightening. It seemed odd because you couldn’t picture anything worse than being shrunk and trapped with these three women, but who knows what sick things the Jew Producer could think up? He did, after all, arrange this sick competition.

Though it was a lot to think about, hobbling as you were, you didn’t exactly make good time. It took a full minute in order to finally reach the door,  the sounds of Foxxy’s lusty moans often distracting you from your thoughts. By the time you arrived at the base of the door you wanted nothing more than to lie down rest, but the bathroom was undoubtedly the most visited place in the Drawn Together house, so stopping here was a good way to get caught. Tiredly, you crouched down to the floor to check the gap between the door and the floor.

Disappointment filled you as you looked at the gap before you. Even at your miniscule size, it was apparent you wouldn’t fit. Though the gape was initially wide enough, the hallway on the other side of the door was carpeted, the tough fibers rising upwards to form an impenetrable barrier. Looking down towards the other end, it was plain to see that the barrier extended to the other side unchanged.

A tired resignation took you as you realized that you couldn’t escape, at least not this way. So long as the door remained closed, you weren’t going anywhere. You were going to have to wait for the door to be opened and be ready to rush through, it was the only way. A quick look around told you that the door would open on the other side. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to set off just yet, not after such a disappointment. You sat down, waiting a few minutes or so before, with a deep breath, you began your sluggish walk.

Once more, you thought as you walked, trying to think of some way to escape this mess. However, there was no obvious solution. You weren’t very familiar with the house layout, so you didn’t even know where the bathroom was in relation to every other room. Even if you had been familiar with the layout, it was unlikely that you could reach anywhere without being spotted. You were torn once more from your thoughts as Foxxy let out a violent groan. However, something struck you as odd about her voice. Tiredly, you cast your gaze over your shoulder, taking in the scene of the dark titan behind you.

Her black hair draping wetly all about her, Foxxy hunched over in the shower, knuckled deep within her own sex as she gripped her breast with her free hand. Violently she pumped, her hands moving in rapid jerks as she fought furiously to get off, her eyes closed in concentration. However, her face was awash with pure frustration. With a jolt, you realized your old tormentor was having trouble finishing herself off.

You couldn’t help but chuckle tiredly at the thought. It looked like she could get off without you up her twat, or at least that’s what you hoped, and apparently her thoughts were far too concentrated on getting off for her to remember your existence. Served the bitch right. You hoped she never got off again for the torment she’d put you through. Feeling slightly better from Foxxy’s apparent frustrations, you continued on towards the far side of the door.

Maybe all was not yet lost, you thought to yourself as you stumbled onwards. You were, after all, free at the moment. Just as you had escaped from Foxxy through sheer chance, there was no telling what could happen between now and a week from now. A smile even graced your tired lips before a sound broke you from your hopeful thoughts. Footsteps!

Before you could even react, the bathroom door suddenly flung open. You were close to the other end, perhaps too close as the door hurled you across the floor with a much wider swing. The world was reduced to streaks of color as you rag dolled across the floor with a force which would have easily torn you limb from limb had it not been for the effects of the shrink beam. As it were, your flight came to a sudden halt as you slammed violently into an unknown surface, the soft ping of your body striking hollow ceramic ringing in your ears as you faded from consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hunched over within the shower, Foxxy was in anguish. She had been so close to cumming, so very close. Her thighs had been burning, her toes had been curling, and it had taken every ounce of self control not to just end it then and there. She had wanted to build up her ecstasy once more, to try to emulate the orgasm from minutes before. What had gone wrong?

She couldn’t remember the exact moment it had happened, but everything had suddenly begun to come undone. The deep, throbbing sensation had suddenly dissipated, stunting her coming orgasm. However, Foxxy couldn’t be sated with just a normal finish, not after what she’d felt upon waking. Over the course of the next few minutes, the black nymphomaniac had tried every trick she had known to get her orgasm to grow once more. It had been a complete disaster.

Even now, the frantic woman pounded at her sex, trying to kindle a passion which had all but faded. Not only had her orgasm been stunted, but it had never come. Foxxy had never run into this problem before, not by her own hands. Her gritted teeth creaked as the frustration began to overwhelm her, her hand still knuckle deep in her slit as she nearly tore her own nipple off.

The door suddenly banged open, catching Foxxy off guard. However, tense as she was Foxxy didn’t jump. She couldn’t care less who saw her naked. Who hadn’t already? Her only response was to snap her eyes open, ready to take out her frustrations on whatever hapless soul had been unfortunate enough to feel the urge to relieve herself. Princess Clara entered, her face nearly a mirror of Foxxy’s frustrations.

 At the sight of Clara’s face, Foxxy felt a surge of anger. What was that spoiled bitches problem? The last thing Foxxy wanted right now was some racist loudmouth coming in and making her mood worse. However, Clara didn’t speak immediately, instead striding purposefully towards the toilet.

Clara didn’t even so much as look at Foxxy as she reached the toilet, lifting the cover and turning around. In one smooth, violent motion the pale princess gathered the dress, pulling it up and out of the way as her pale bottom struck the cold seat, her lack of panties leaving her vagina exposed. It was only after she had situated herself upon her porcelain throne that she suddenly stared full on at Foxxy, her eyes intent and hard.

“I hope you’re happy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Clara was in foul mood as she strode towards the bathroom. Ever since her prize had escaped during the blackout, she had felt nothing but frustration as she had fruitless searched the house. This was supposed to have been her chance for revenge. The mailman, she couldn’t bring herself to even think his name she was so angry, was supposed to have been her toy to torture. Now, everything was falling apart.

It was her damned roommates’ fault. Toot was a useless blob which couldn’t search for more than a minute before needing a snack break, and Foxxy, like all her kind, was an unmotivated, lazy, good for nothing. Why, Clara had even searched the bedroom in which all the girls slept only to find that slut taking a nap. If she hadn’t feared that great oaf would only hinder her search, she would have flipped her ass out of bed.

Not that it had helped of course. Clara had searched the entire house top to bottom, only to find nothing. For God’s sake, he was only the size of her middle finger. He couldn’t have gotten that far. It wasn’t until the churning in her bowels had gotten unbearable, actually forcing her to double over in pain in the hallway, that she had finally conceded to taking a bathroom break.

Clara slammed the bathroom door open with all her might, immediately taking in Foxxy as she sated her carnal urges like the heathen she was. However, the sensation within her bowels was infinitely more important that that dog at the moment. She would have to wait. As Clara situated herself upon the crude excuse for a toilet shared by the entire drawn together cast, she turned to face Foxxy, venom in her eyes.

“I hope you’re happy.” Clara put as much spite in her voice as she could manage, her anger overflowing.

“Gurl, you do NOT wanna be messing with me right now.” Foxxy’s voice held a tone of warning and frustration as she pulled her hand free from her womanhood, bracing her arm and head against the wall as she allowed the hot water to rush over her. It almost looked as if she were suffering from a migraine, the way her eyes seemed to sink in as she gazed hatefully at Clara.

A sudden pain raced through her abdomen forcing Clara to close her eyes in pain and clench her teeth. She flexed her bowels, trying to force the contents into the world. However, when the effort proved fruitless she returned her gaze once more to Foxxy.

“What did I ever do to you? Besides being wealthier, smarter, and better looking? This was my challenge, my chance at revenge, and now it’s gone!” Clara’s voice raised at that last part. A sudden pressure pressed against Clara’s back entrance as Foxxy’s face suddenly twisted in a snarl, her head rising away from the wall as she drew herself up in an aggressive stance. A ruckus fart reverberated within the bowl beneath her as Clara held Foxxy’s gaze, but Clara ignored it.

“Bitch, I am warnin you. I don’t know what you’re whining about, but you better start making sense for I come over there.” Foxxy clenched her fist at her side, clearly having reached the end of her patience. Usually, it took a lot more for Clara to set Foxxy to violence, but something was clearly off. However, Clara was far too emotional to take heed. A sudden pressure in Clara’s bowels suddenly took hold of Clara’s attention, arresting whatever rash word she was about to speak next.

Painfully, a slimy tip forced its way from between her fleshy ring. It slithered and oozed, sagging sluggishly towards the water below. A burst of air pushed past, sounding a wet trumpet as the log first kissed the water before the great mass which followed forced its way out.

 Clara grunted and clenched as she felt her bowels empty, feeling both relieved and immensely sad. After hearing about the upcoming opportunity, she had prepared, buying tools and toys to exact her revenge. In preparation for the first amongst her torments, she had forbid herself from relieving herself, saving her waste for a more fulfilling purpose. For five days she had suffered unbearable cramps as she went about her preparations. The pain had nearly been unbearable. Now, as the hot filth fell from between her ass, all her efforts were reduced to nothing. Suddenly, all the bluster faded from Clara and she couldn’t help herself. She placed her arms across her knees, resting her face upon them as she burst into tears.

“The mailman.” Clara sobbed, her voice almost unintelligible. She didn’t look up to see Foxxy’s face. She didn’t care anymore. She just sobbed for a few moments more before continuing.

“He was my friend. Perhaps the only real friend I’ve ever had. He wasn’t like the other people who called themselves my friend, but really wanted to use me for my royal status. He wasn’t like the princesses who acted as my friends only because they were forbidden to be friends with those of lower status. No. When we talked, he showed genuine interest in my well being. He didn’t want favors from me. I offered to get him a better job for being so kind to me, but he declined. And it’s not like he didn’t have other friends to hang out with, he wasn’t restricted as I had been my entire life. No. When we talked, he treated me like a person, he legitimately cared for my well being, and then he left me.” The last five words came out as a half choked wail despite the muffling cloth.

Clara sat there, seated over her own foul waste and sobbing uncontrollably into her dress. She didn’t care that her tears would stain the expensive cloth. It didn’t matter. After crying for a minute, the gentle warmth of a two hands settling upon her shoulders jolted Clara from her sorrow, and she quickly raised her tear clouded gaze to stare into the face of Foxxy, kneeling naked before her.

~~~~~~~~~~

After hearing Clara’s tear choked confession, Foxxy couldn’t help but feel bad. Upon the mention of the mailman, her memory of the shrunken figure had returned to her. It didn’t take long for Foxxy to connect the dots between her earlier orgasm, the toy she’d pulled from within herself, and her inability to get off. However, a quick glance about the floor yielded nothing. He was gone.

Guilt flooded Foxxy as she listened to Clara pour her heart out along with shame. Here she was, judging poor, naïve Clara just as she judged everyone else. Foxxy hadn’t really known what this mailman had meant to Clara, she’d just seen an opportunity for some freaky sex. By the time Clara finished her tale, Foxxy found herself kneeling before the sobbing princess, her hands upon her shoulders.

“If this mailman means so much to you, why’re you so bent on torturing him?” Foxxy’s voice was low and soothing, her compassion plain.

“Because he hurt me. Oh God, I didn’t know I could hurt this bad.” Clara’s voice was both confused and hurt. It filled Foxxy with pity. After allowing a moment for Clara to settle down a little, Foxxy continued.

“Honey, that’s love.” The look that crossed Clara’s face was one of alarm. She immediately moved to deny Foxxy’s claims.

“No. It can’t be. I’m a princess. Princesses can’t fall in love with commoners.” Clara’s voice nearly choked at the last word. Foxxy gave the poor white girl a moment to let everything sink in before she continued.

“But you did. That’s what’s gots you so riled up. It isn’t that he hurt you; it’s that HE hurt you. Anybody else in the world coulda done the same thing and you wouldn’t have been half so upset. You like him.” Clara shook her head vehemently, trying to deny Foxxy’s words, but her denial didn’t last long.

“Please, Foxxy. Tell me how to get rid of it. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” Clara’s eyes were pleading. Foxxy grasped both of her hands in her own and looked her in the eye.

“There ain’t nothing to get rid of. Love is a beautiful thing.” Oh, Foxxy had had her share of Love before. It was a bitter sweet feeling.

“Then what should I do?”

“Let’s start by finding your man. He couldn’t have gotten that far.” Foxxy stood as she spoke, Clara’s hands still grasped within her own. She would help Clara find her man, she owed it to her after the way she’d snatched him out from under her nose. However, Foxxy didn’t know if she had the heart to tell Clara what she’d done to the perky princess. Not only that, but she still felt the uncontrollable desire to use that shrunken toy for herself. Would she really be able to give up the pleasure she’d felt earlier to help this spoilt princess? The lover in Foxxy said no, but the woman in Foxxy wasn’t so sure. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

“You’re right!” Clara determinedly stood up, her dress falling back into place. Quickly, she leaned into Foxxy, smashing her perky chest against Foxxy’s own bare breasts in a crushing hug. Foxxy felt herself grow wet. A girl could get used to this.

“We’d better get started.” Clara’s voice was bright now, though still a little gargled from having cried so hard. Clara separated and took a step towards the door, obviously intent on immediately scouting the house in an attempt to find the lost mailman, when Foxxy stopped her.

“Um… Clara. I think you’re forgetting something.”