Caitlin’s feet burned, despite her thick skin. The powdery terrain
she tread upon had been heated thoroughly by solar power. A forearm
swept across her brow, wiping away a thick layer of sweat that was
already trickling down.
As she had done
this, a cooling breeze rushed through her underarm, ruffling the
unshaven hairs. This had also reminded her of a crucial detail. Once
the sun had begun its descent, her husband was relocated to her
armpit.
There had been
several attempts to adhere him to the musky pit, all to no avail
since the bushy area made such endeavors difficult. Wiry hairs drove
away the masking tape that had once been so effective securing Andrew
to her foot. Her husband ended up using the musky threads to hold
himsef in place. Hair had been tied around his waist, ankles and
wrists.
Of course, all
anxieties about falling free were settled once Caitlin had taken to
walking. He rarely saw the light of the afternoon sun, for few were
the moments his wife actually lifted her arm. Most of the time was
spent in the sweltering sauna, trapped against slick sweat, breathing
in the putrid aroma of raw feminine musk.
Indeed, his wife’s
underarm had granted him a newfound appreciation for the stench of
her foot. Andrew found himself desiring the sting of vinegar that
wafted between her toes. It turned out to possess a mitigating effect
on the sheer intensity of his wife’s odor.
His residence upon
her foot also had allowed him the benefit of enjoying the free, cool
breeze that wicked away any excess odors. Now, buried within her
swampy arm, there was neither escape, nor relief. At times, the
volume of sweat that assailed him provoked the sensation of drowning.
Thus, he was granted
reprieve once his wife lifted her mighty arm. Andrew allowed his gaze
to linger just a tad too long upon the monstrous triceps that loomed
above, mesmirized by its defined curves and bulges. Ocean breeze
swept away a decent proportion of musk. As he inhaled, his diaphragm
became stricken with greed, expanding with great vigor, if only to
capture as much untainted oxygen as possible.
A silver eye fell
upon him. Caitlin’s gaze was not one to be ignored. Andrew
reciprocated, staring straight into gray irises. Her concern was
clearly reflected within her gargantuan pools.
With her full
attention, he could only give a mischievous smile, and exclaim, “Oh
boy, this really is the pits!”
Caitlin’s eyes
rolled in their sockets, while a mote of relief passed over her, “Ha
ha. You aren’t going to puke, are you?”
“No,” Andrew
denied, while doing the best he could to raise his shoulders. “You
want me to?”
“Are you kidding?”
she snorted.
“Yeah.”
Not another word was
said, as Caitlin’s arm was lowered again. Shadow engulfed Andrew’s
form, as he witnessed contours of muscle and bone expand and contract
while a great wall of flesh closed in. Soon enough, the surface of
her arm pressed him into her pit. In the same manner as a squeezed
cloth, pungent liquid leaked out, compelled by force alone. The
newlywed man was christened in a rancid wash, refreshing the already
stale layer that had clung to his skin. Meanwhile, hairs wrapped
themselves around his body, slicking him with their oily touch.
The sensation proved
a most peculiar one to Caitlin, as she made her way around the beach.
Her husband was but a minuscule speck, one that she felt most
explicitly as her arms swung from her pace. If anything, Andrew’s
presence within her pit had caused it to perspire even more. Thus,
she had taken time, every so often, to raise her arm ever slightly to
allow some semblance of relief.
As she made her way
around the beach, her eyes were drawn to an active scene of three
others of her stature gathered around a makeshift volleyball net. The
net itself was not particularly taut, for there was a significant dip
near the center. Arbitrary lines were drawn into the sand, which
proved easily paved over by a misstep from one of the girls.
An appropriately
sized volleyball was passed around. Each giantess proved an armature
at this act, allowing the ball to strike the sand, or sending it
flailing in an uncontrollable direction. One of the girls, a
curvaceous young woman with dark, curly hair falling down her
shoulders, had accidentally caused the ball to careen straight
towards Caitlin.
The newlywed managed
to catch the ball midair, before palming it in one hand. As a result,
she received a friendly wave from the culprit herself.
“Hey, you!” she
shouted, her voice tinged with a clear latin accent, “We’re
looking for a fourth, think you can fill in?”
Caitlin eyed the
other two, both whom appeared a tad hesitant. She reflected such a
sentiment as she replied, “Uh, sure? But I’m …”
One of the other
women, sporting a pixie cut of blonde hair, and a comparable physique
to Caitlin, gave a friendly smile, as she assured, “Hey, we’re
not pros here. We’re just here to have fun.”
The final member of
their triumvirate, a pale woman of black hair, and dark, slanted
eyes, held up her hand. “Wait girls. Let’s pause for a second
here? No offense, but the team that girl’s going on is going to
win.”
Caitlin shrugged her
relatively massive shoulders, feeling her husband marinate in even
more oily perspiration, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I
don’t know jack about volleyball.”
Her critic
continued, “I’m just saying, you look like you box with Godzilla
every day.”
At this, a red tinge
flushed Caitlin’s own cheeks, causing her to turn away.
A giggle erupted
from the trio’s most voluptuous member, “Oh Kyoko, of course
you’d talk about Gojira!”
Kyoko’s pale face
turned red in an instant, as she shouted back, “NANI THE FUCK
MARIA?”
In all but words,
Caitlin was still brought along for a couple of matches. “Matches”,
however, was a generous term for the absolute chaos of the scrimmages
she partook in. As was advertised, none of the girls were experts in
this particular craft. Points were often decided with a single serve,
either with the receiving team missing a soft floater, or the server
driving the ball directly into the net or out of bounds.
Maria was the girl
she had been paired with. It soon became apparent why, for her
partner often struggled making her way around the poorly defined
court. Caitlin, meanwhile, often was in two places at once, chasing
wild balls, and the occasional spikes by the athletic blonde, whom
she learned through the course of exchanging trash talk, was named
Sera.
As she competed, her
athletic endeavors had left her drenched. Streaks of sweat ran down
her forehead, and dripped down her chin. Andrew, still adhered to his
wife’s armpit, felt the floodgates open. He set aside precious
moments when not weathering an odorous assault of streaming
perspiration, to contemplate if old Noah, in his day, ever
experienced something similar in his ark.
The torrential
downpour ran down the forest of Caitlin’s pit much like a
waterfall. Droplets of estrogen infused liquid splashed against his
pathetic form, drenching his hair, coating his body, and soaking what
little articles of clothing he hand. The hairs that secured him had
become slick, and Andrew feared that their slippery grip would
falter. He often would grow relieved when Caitlin would return her
arm to her side, pressing him against the musty flesh, burying him
into layers and layers of musky, liquid exertion. Despite her scent,
as gag-inducing as it could be, a tinged nose was far better than
falling off.
Odor was not the
only opponent he had to do battle with. His wife’s Olympian body
moved with a velocity he had never experienced before. He was swept
along as she ran around, subject to speeds that only a jet could
match. There were no benefits of a pressurized cabin and cushioned
seating. Indeed, every movement he felt to its fullest; the flesh
surrounding him and the pulsing of every muscle fiber in Caitlin’s
athletic physique. Even worse, every shift in direction was
immediate, with little to no warning to anticipate. Andrew felt
himself becoming dazed due to this, though not to his wife’s scent
for once.
Upon their latest
scrimmage, Maria returned a rather soft serve courtesy of Kyoko. Her
satisfied smile faded immediately, as she witnessed Sera rise up to
slap the ball back down. Caitlin rushed over to contest, sending
powdery particles of sand flying as she made her way.
Air resistance
blasted Andrew. His eyes beheld gallons of liquid fly off of his wife
to rain down and stain the poor ground below.
Into the air she
leapt. Her mighty arms rose, while silver eyes remained glued to the
ball, held still by time itself. Sera herself has already risen
higher, her icey blue orbs full of unmitigated focus as she brought
her palm against the polyester surface.
With a slap that
possessed the audacity of a thunderclap, Sera spiked the ball. Its
path was straight and clear, sailing past Caitlin’s outstretched
arms, causing a small explosion of sand as it impacted the ground
inbound.
Caitlin could only
grasp her hair in frustration, which caused her arms to rise, and
expose her hairy pits. While she did this, Sera’s keen eyes
widened, as she observed something swarming in the bushy depths of
the other woman’s underarms.
“Uh,” she
stuttered nervously, “you got a .. a”
Caitlin’s eyes
veered about in confusion, “A what? A –“
As her gaze settled
upon her own self, realization came upon her, “Oh right!”
Maria too, huffing
with exhaustion, stumbled up the makeshift court. Despite this, she
too, kept a keen eye on the newcomer’s underarm, having been
attracted by the appearance of a wayward anomaly. As she focused upon
the soaked, minuscule form of Andrew, tangled in a forest of thick
black hair, she too chimed in, “Who is that? And what did he do to
deserve that?”
A mischievous smile
then formed on her lips.
Caitlin blushed,
still keeping her arms up. She was put on the defensive as she
desperately countered, “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”
“Wait!” shouted
Kyoko, running to the opposite zone of the court. She was notably not
breathing as hard as Maria. Also of note, her eyes shined with an
almost fanatical excitement while she regarded the larger giantess.
“I’ve heard
about guys who love being stuck in a girl’s armpit! He’s probably
one of them!”
With an exited
squeal, she raised one of her own arms, revealing the muggy skin
within, “Mine are a bit cleaner, but he probably wanted the hair.”
From his vantage,
Andrew eyed the clean-shaven underarm. The skin on the smaller
giantess was indeed smoother, more delicate. Of her smell, he could
not perceive, for Caitlin’s overwhelming odor had denied all other
aromas entry.
For some reason, his
wife’s wiry hairs, which wrapped around and touched every corner of
his body, began to feel a bit more comfortable.
As he heard her
words, Andrew opened his mouth to object. It was then he realized
that not a word could escape, for he had been drinking of the
perspiration Caitlin had exerted as she played. Spitting out the foul
liquid, the lanky, puny man cleared his throat, hoping his voice
could travel through muggy atmosphere and choking threads.
“There’s none of
that going on, I’m just … adjusting.”
Realization passed
over the three girls. Andrew could detect a mote of disappointment in
Kyoko, while her arm somberly lowered back to its side. Meanwhile,
Maria’s face drew ever closer to his wife’s armpit. The minuscule
man found himself tempted to bury himself even further in his wife’s
musty flesh. Her eyes, dark brown in color, had expanded to the size
of a home theater screen. Even if her intentions were purely
benevolent, mere observation of such a massive thing approaching
drove Andrew to give in to base instincts of flight.
“Adjusting to
what?” she inquired, before scrunching her nose, “Oh man, guess I
answered my own question!”
A silver-tinged
glare was shot at her, “In what way, Seniorita?”
Maria immediately
backed off, her eyes wide and quivering. Her throat bulged as she
gulped down a waddle of spit. Upon observing the more colossal, and
frankly, athletic giantess, grow antagonistic, she quickly answered,
“I dunno.”
Shrugging her
shoulders, Caitlin lightened her expression, even though it had
appeared Maria was attempting to avoid any form of eye contact. Her
friends, however, had attained a sense of joviality, and of course,
took to teasing the voluptuous giantess.
The newlywed titan
then decided she had lingered long enough. The sun still bore down on
all, giantess and tiny alike. New streams of sweat coursed down her
form. Saying her farewells, she departed, heading towards the beach
chairs.
As she surveyed the
scene around, Caitlin lifted her arm once more. Her muscles burned of
fresh activity, but her soreness proved a pleasant sensation. Drops
of foul estrogen-spiked water dripped off of her underarm hairs like
that of a wet bush in a rainstorm. The air surrounding the area gave
off a distorted visage, a mirage formed by immense heat and moisture.
In the middle of it
all lay Andrew. His own jet black hair hung over his face in soaked,
matted strands, obscuring his eyes. The young man’s head hung low,
even as his bushy restraints kept his body propped up in the pit. He
proved conscious, and thus, lifted his neck, so that he could meet
his wife’s gaze, across the entrancing horizon of moist, shiny
flesh.
He sensed something
in his immediate vicinity. Caitlin’s hand, hovering like a heavy
cargo craft, loomed over him. Already, her pointer and thumb were
extended, brushing away invasive hairs with disturbing ease. The
threads that were supple enough to secure Andrew within his wife’s
pit parted like fragile feathers in the wake of her mighty digit.
Once the tip of her
prime finger and thumb had practically engulfed his torso, he found
himself being torn away. The hairs wrapped around his own limbs were
dislodged from their musty roots, as Andrew was extracted. He coughed
upon taking in air that was not clogged with pungent estrogen, so
muggy he could have drank it. Goosebumps formed upon his skin upon
being exposed to the comparatively cool beach air. Several deep
breaths were enjoyed, even as he was jostled by immense momentum.
Caitlin had brought
her husband’s form, securely pinched within her fingers, before her
face. She easily could pick up the remnants of her odor upon Andrew’s
soaked form. Upon making eye contact, a rather dumb, yet joyous smile
formed upon his face. With a sigh of relief, she opened her mouth to
address him.
“You alright?”
Andrew shook his
head rapidly, displacing a significant amount of sweat. “Dang Cait,
your armpit’s a stormcloud.”
A soft red blush
formed within her cheeks as a result. She snickered, bringing her
opposite hand over her mouth.
“I’m gonna
assume you’re alright then,” Caitlin confirmed.
Her husband nodded,
“Right as rain, thanks to you.”
“Well, now,” she
stated, feeling her speech hasten ever so slightly, “I guess we can
just hang out until …”
“There’s one
more place that I’ll need to go before I can call myself ready.”
An internal bout of
frustration soured her mood. Caitlin’s mouth tightened, yet did not
slip into a frown, tempting as it may be. Despite Andrew making light
of the situation, there was no ambiguity that he was a mess. Even
through the pads of her fingers, she could feel the exhaustion that
inexorably clung to her husband’s muscles.
Levity, however,
remained in Andrew’s general demeanor, “This’ll be the nastiest
place I’ve been yet.”
Caitlin’s hand
fell from her mouth, only to be placed upon her hip. “Well, what
could that be?” she inquired.
Brushing the back of
his head, and taking time to avert his eyes, her husband stuttered,
“Well, uh, it’s a bit crude, but-“
“But?” she
repeated, her eyes flickering upwards.
Caitlin then took
time to look back over her shoulder. Her eyes peered down, eyeing
where she knew what would be addressed next. As she observed the
subject of her observation, she repeated, “Butt.”
A sinister cackle
exited Andrew’s gullet. He spread his arms, attempting to add some
sort of menace to his minuscule frame. Pinched as he was, restrained
by the mere tips of his wife’s fingers, he bellowed with bellicose
inflection, “And that was my evil plan all along! I was trying to
get into your butt the entire time!”
Laughter busted
Caitlin’s gut, rattling Andrew as his beloved’s titanic physique
quivered with humor. She had gone red in the face, while eyes lay
shut, leaking out a few good-natured tears. Sporadic exhales blew
back Andrew’s hair, while his olfactory was treated to the aroma of
digested chili that exited her mouth. Once wiped away, the giantess
gave her husband a wide grin that appeared to stretch into eternity.
“That’s why good
wins all the time,” she declared, making sure Andrew felt every
syllable, “because evil is dumb. You could have just asked.”
Andrew shrugged his
shoulders best he could, “I’m just saying, if I can survive that
dump truck, I can survive anything.”
Caitlin allowed a
sigh to exit, before looking behind once more, eyeing her rather
auspicious rump. Her tight gray shorts had stretched across the
bulbous buttocks, leaving its silhouette plain to see for the casual
observer.
“I’m holding off
on doing anything active in the meantime,” she stated.
“Appreciate it
Cait,” Andrew replied, letting out a sigh of relief.
This time, the
giantess rotated her entire torso. Her free hand took hold of the
band of her shorts. Andrew was brought over the opening. His breath
was stolen away as he regarded the vista below him. Caitlin’s
shorts and panties had taken a darker shade due to physical exertion.
Neither, however, could compare to the dominating view of twin hills
that resided directly underneath, plump and taut. A relatively thin
sliver of darkness formed a vast border between. A wad of spittle was
swallowed, as he considered how that valley, a vertical smile a mile
long, could easily swallow him up.
“Well, good luck
back there.”
And thus, began his
descent. New fumes became apparent, fumes far more revolting that
anything he had smelled upon his wife that day. He gagged as always,
yet felt his heartbeat steady. A tingle was felt within, but Andrew
knew not what this meant.
Hovering just above
the colossal rump, Caitlin’s fingers released him, and he fell. He
bounced off one of the cheeks, before tumbling upon a cloth surface.
The fabric he found himself on was soaked thoroughly; every movement
of his released sweat locked within.
Andrew gazed upward,
towards the only source of light. He saw his wife’s thumb, forcing
the band of shorts and panties to form a triangular orifice that
allowed light and some semblance of fresh air through.
Without much
bravado, Caitlin freed her thumb, allowing her underwear to snap
back, hugging her waist once more. Andrew had been banished into
darkness. The cloth terrain he laid upon carried him forth, until he
was pressed against his wife’s imposing buttocks.
In the darkness, he
could only feel. The flesh he touched was not smooth, nor tight. As
he ran his hands over it, he detected sparse, yet wiry hairs. The
skin of the area was rather tender, hot to the touch, much like the
side of a heated kettle. It was not only soaked in perspiration, but
coated in a significant layer of oil, sticky, yet slick.
Andrew had found
himself in the slit, the center of his wife’s rear. The scent he
perceived as he hovered above, now dominated all else. Caitlin’s
usual mix of pungent, sweaty feminine musk now mixed with a foul,
rotten, fermented bouquet of waste her body produced.
It was indeed, the
worst thing he had ever smelled in his life. And yet, he detected not
a trace of the nausea experienced the night before.
Most certainly, his
face scrunched after inhaling such a scent, and indeed, tears of pure
disgust wet his eyes. However, despite his precarious situation, a
situation entirely of his own making, Andrew’s muscles were
relaxed, as if he was at his home.
Caitlin tugged at
her waist, and she felt the minuscule grain of Andrew’s body
further wedge itself inward. Her flesh stuck to him, allowing her
glutes to pull him in for a grotesque hug. As she began making her
way to one of the chairs, the sensation of her husband’s form
tickled the epicenter of her rear. Slowly, he was sliding towards the
point of no return.
One of her hands
lazily fell towards the area, and gave it a casual scratch. This did
not go unnoticed by Andrew, feeling his position jostled. Meanwhile,
sweat and oil caused his body to slip even deeper within the valley
of buttocks. He let out a grunt of disgust, this time not inspired by
the foul fumes that appeared to occupy every fiber of existence
within this humid hovel.
“Caitlin,” he
expressed, his voice unable to escape the canopy of underwear, “You
shouldn’t be scratching your butt like that, it’s unladylike.”
A hand reached
forward, and grasped something. It was by far, coated in a greater
layer of sweat and oil than anything that resided under her arm.
Various wrinkles provided an interesting contrast to its surface, for
every bump and divot was made of smooth, yet tender flesh. The object
of flesh he beheld most certainly was the source of all things horrid
and filthy.
The thing expanded
and contracted as his hands caressed, and scraped. Of note, the
glutenous skin that held him in place had begun to loosen ever so
slightly.
In the outside
world, Caitlin let out a relieved sigh, as the itch bothering her
rump appeared to have vanished on its own. As she stood over a chair
she had chosen for herself, she commented, “Dang, I guess this
didn’t turn out so bad after all.”
Glancing to her
behind, she gave the great gluteus maximus a jiggle, sending Andrew
tumbling about, finding his face smacking against slimy skin.
“Andy,” she
announced, with an almost vain hope that her husband, buried within
vast quantities muscle and blubber would hear her voice, “I’m
sitting down, brace yourself.”
She bent down,
feeling her sweaty glutes peel apart ever so slightly. Within the
vile valley, Andrew had begun to tumble. Where, he did not know.
Desperate, a hand stretched out, and he managed to snag a loose hair
so that he did not move from his position. A disgusting squelching
echoed, and in the dim light, the young man saw the wrinkled flesh of
his wife’s puckered sphincter begin to tighten and ever so slightly
widen. It was a mouth belonging to an alien creature, whose grotesque
appetite could only be speculated on, for to know would only upset
the contents of her stomach.
As her rump began to
sink into the bands of the beach chair, Caitlin’s cheeks began to
squeeze together. Andrew found the once vast area he had to maneuver,
almost instantaneously vanish. Bulbs of flesh advanced into where
there was once empty space. He was squeezed inward, his wife’s
cheeks forcing him up against grimy, oily flesh. His face slapped
against anal skin, and each inhale drew in its concentrated musk of
salt, rot and ferment. Every attempt to remove himself from such a
disgusting situation proved hopeless, for the pressure exerted by the
surrounding glutes proved insurmountable. He could temporarily push
away the tender flesh, but neither cheek would truly yield.
Caitlin settled
down, lifting her legs to rest upon the chair. The small nub of her
husband had most certainly moved into a most precarious, and
sensitive spot. As she focused upon this sensation, a troublesome
gurgle erupted from her stomach. To her dismay, she could not settle
such a disturbance with a simple belch, what had been trapped was
headed the opposite way.
Due to his wife’s
motions, Andrew experienced the squelching wrinkles of her sphincter
begin to wrap around his head. It was not much of an effort for the
horrid hole to do so, Andrew himself was about as large as the area
it occupied. A bout of surprise took him, and he let out a frightened
shout.
“Oh crap!
Caitlin!”
Yet, his screams
were muffled, consumed by the tightly sealed cavern that had suddenly
decided to take him. Frantic, he attempted to apply his arms, so as
to pry the puckered flesh open, but it proved a Herculean task, one
that, after a day of sweat and smells, Andrew simply did not possess
the strength to overcome.
As Caitlin began to
focus upon the strange sensation stirring within her rear, a small,
but distinct voice broke her concentration.
“Oh, hello there
goddess.”
“Cheese and
crackers!” she bellowed, no doubt shattering eardrums of the
regular-sized the world around. In shock, her buttocks had clenched,
which advanced the anal flesh, as it engulfed the entirety of her
husband’s head. His thin legs and lanky arms flailed about in
panic, their insignificant strength doing nothing to delay the
inevitable.
As Andrew struggled
against his rear-sighted fate, Caitlin had begun searching for the
source of the voice. There was a certain quality in its timbre that
sent shivers up her spine. Her steel colored eyes veered down, then
widened as she caught sight of a diminutive shape positioned in
between her stocky thighs.
Caitlin peered down,
squinting her eyes as she did so. The man that stood in the middle of
her massive pillars, uncomfortably close to her crotch, possessed a
familiar expression, that of empty obsession, as if absolutely
consumed by the sight before him.
“It is a shame
that your heavenly ass missed me,” he continued to drone, his lanky
arms swinging side to side, as if they were lifeless strings of flesh
attached to his torso, “To be but a stain upon your derriere would
have been a glorious end.”
There was no
mistaking the deep delusion of the one known as “Brando”. At
least, it was the name she had recalled being shouted at him, the
last time he had committed himself to worship. Caitlin’s eyes had
begun veering wildly, praying that the sculpted form of another
certain cultist lay nearby.
If her prayers were
answered, they did not conform to her desires.
“Uh thanks?” she
managed to force out, attempting to placate the man. He was hunched
over, with eyes that could have easily bypassed the paltry layer of
cloth that loomed to his front.
“You are most
gracious,” he droned, not even blinking, “Say, where is your
husband? May I witness you making love to him?”
An eyelid upon the
giantess had begun to twitch. Another rumble within her belly had
rendered an uncomfortable scenario even more so. Her breathing
hastened, as words she struggled to form evaporated listlessly into
the air.
“That’s …
something I’d rather not …”
“-You don’t have
to worry about me,” he reassured, assuming a comforting, or at
least, what perhaps he thought of comforting, smile upon his face.
“In fact, I’d rather you ignore me while you grow intimate with
him. To witness such an act of tenderness while being utterly
discarded is the greatest humiliation.”
The titaness
shifted, in an attempt to alleviate her discomfort. Brando, for his
part, remained nonplussed a the massive leviathan of flesh that
flexed and rumbled around him.
Caitlin’s
readjustment, however, banished her entrapped husband even further
into her depths. Into her rectum he slid, his face harshly forced
into an adhesive layer of scum that filled his nostrils and mouth
with their gut-wrenching aromas. He felt his shoulders squeeze, as
they too reached the threshold of his wife’s sphincter. It consumed
his body slowly, yet greedily, appearing almost autonomous with its
desire to eat up every inch of Andrew’s lithe body.
As Caitlin’s
beloved drew closer to being condemned to such a degrading fate, she
objected to the fanatic below, “I’m not aiming to humiliate
anyone.”
Brando shook his
head, his tone taking upon a quality of reverence, “But you oh
goddess, humiliate us mere mortals with your presence alone. How can
we even compare to you? You can crush us like insects with but a
step. Your assets put even the most buxom of us mortals to shame. In
your eyes, we are insignificant, meaningless. I want to experience
that.”
The object of his
zeal averted her eyes. A brief splash of sorrow almost wet the
impossibly enormous orbs, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Tears also stung
Andrew’s eyes, pouring out from their ducts. Yet, he felt not a
gram of sorrow himself. The insignificant crumb of a man could only
breathe of the fumes wafting within his wife’s interior. Of such
concentration was the atmosphere, he had to will his diaphragm to
expand to even take in the muddy air.
There was no light
to relieve him, as inch by inch, her oily, wrinkled skin took in even
more of his body. His legs flailed about hopelessly, the only part of
his free to move. The skinny limbs were the only thing visible
outside the anal prison. He was up to his waist in rectal flesh, and
could experience every fold, wrinkle and gram of slime, oil and sweat
that molested his delicate physique. It was becoming clear to his
panicked mind, that, as his reserves were sapped, his constitution
tested, and his muscles strained, that each successive struggle of
his became increasingly meaningless. There was doubt that there was
even hope in the first place.
In order that she
not be embarrassed, Caitlin had pinched Brando’s form in between
her fingers, setting him upon the armrest of her chair. He shuddered
most lecherously in her grip, and his state of undress made his
desires stiffly plain. Brando certainly appeared downtrodden that he
now was not residing near the most intimate parts of his goddess.
Still, his almost delirious speech continued on.
“Don’t be. I
have taken pleasure in my meaningless existence. It is a shame men
were not empowered as you were. To be but a mite, witnessing a mighty
penis fucking a gigantic vagina, while being ignored would have been
the highest honor I could have…”
Caitlin shuddered
most mightily, fighting back an urge to hurl. “Buddy, uh,” she
stammered, “I don’t know how to say this, but just because I’m
some 500 foot menace, and you’re six foot whatever, doesn’t make
you a mite, alright? I’m just as fragile as you guys.”
Andrew was now up to
his waist, literally up Caitlin’s rump. His legs had significantly
less room to struggle. He saw shapes and figures form in the barely
visible, wet, reddened tunnel. The man considered it was perhaps,
best that he could not see, for stains of wasted and disposed fecal
matter would have only contributed to the almost impossible task of
merely maintaining consciousness, a state that was becoming
increasingly fragile.
Brando objected,
“But that’s not-“
But he was
interrupted, his obsession’s booming voice overpowering his own,
“You wanna feel small and puny? Been there, done that, there’s no
point in flaunting the face that I can be part of a city skyline.”
As she grew more
brazen, more confident and determined, her posture straightened,
inadvertently tensing her glutes, allowing the bulbous leviathans to
squeeze at Andrew’s dangling legs, grabbing more of the diminutive
man, leaving only his ankles free. In the tight hole, hugged on all
sides by rectal flesh and coated with slime, her husband was rendered
immobile.
“Guys like you can
still make a good living,” she reassured, prompting for the first
time, an almost human change in Brando’s demeanor, that of curious
confusion, “You don’t have to put up with our bullshit, you
know.”
There was a
thunderous rumble in the distance. Andrew’s ears could pick up
sickening squelches as the tight containment surrounding him began to
expand. Immense pressure, still assailed him, the atmosphere itself
pressing into his body. Inhaling became an experience so ghastly, he
would have fainted then and there if not for sheer determination. It
was now his single-minded goal, a fierce competition of maintaining
some sort of dignity, dignity ruthlessly ripped away from him by the
mere involuntary motions of his beloved’s domineering buttocks.
Caitlin certainly
felt some sort of expansion in her abdomen. A hand rested upon her
stomach, to provide some relieve for the pressure building within.
There was a strange feeling, the feeling of an expanding balloon, its
opening plugged with some sort of object, preventing any air for
being released. Silly me and my chili dogs. I’m probably going
to have to cut down on those in the future.
As she held back a
ticking time bomb, she still addressed Brando who hung upon her every
word with focused intent. Her cadence was notably becoming strained.
“Just because us gals can stomp around and shit, doesn’t mean
your life amounts to jack. Heck, I’d be a skin and bones corpse if
guys like you didn’t build infrastructure, grow a lot of food, and
other stuff! Who’s really the powerful one there?”
“But I like
feeling small,” her self-proclaimed worshipper moped.
A sigh broke the
silence, a silence filled with desperate groans from her stomach,
“Well, if you want that, could it at least be with another lady?
I’m kinda tied down. And if you do find your dream woman, don’t
take shit from her, okay?”
The giantess was
tempted to double over from the gaseous pains wracking her gut.
Within her anal domain, Andrew had been completely swallowed up. Not
a trace of him was left within the interior of her panties. He was
languishing, every inhalation equivalent to downing several pounds of
pure fecal matter. If I come out of this on the other side, I’m
scared of what will be left.
“I see … I see,”
Brando contemplated, “It is I that must be … respected.”
A small chuckle
shook his body. For the first time, the smile that crossed his face
appeared warm, genuine. Caitlin could not help but reciprocate to the
tiny, lost soul standing upon the armchair, a mere mite on a piece of
furniture.
“When I walked in
on my ex-girlfriend, making love with another man on my own bed,”
he reminisced, prompting a pang of sympathy from Caitlin, among other
things, “only for her to discard my feelings, I thought that was
all I deserved. You’ve revealed much godd- I ah…”
Brando thumbed his
chin, before staring back, up at the statuesque titan herself.
“What is your
name?”
“Just call me
Caitlin,” she amicably answered, before pointing a finger
comparable to a tree trunk towards him, “Yours?”
She knew of it, but
as the man screamed out “Brando!” Caitlin, could not be helped,
but be lifted with a sense of affirming bravado.
“I, Brando, shall
venture forth!” he declared, stabbing a finger towards the heavens.
Caitlin pumped a
fist in the air, though regretted it as that further disturbed her
stomach, as well as the mysterious nub that had been caught within.
Despite this, she shouted out, “That’s the spirit, go get ‘em!”
The rejuvenated man
closed his eyes, yet continued to speak, his voice and inflection
notably less droning than before, “I know of this priest in Egypt,
who proposed an interesting opportunity. I believe my passport isn’t
expired. Who knows, I might be worthy enough to attain Heaven.”
He did not address
Caitlin, as he then ran towards the edge of the arm rest, his feet
tapping against the plastic terrain in a rhythmic cadence. With no
hesitation, he leapt off, causing Caitlin to freeze in fright and
despair as the minuscule form of the man hit terminal velocity on his
way to the sand below.
His landing,
however, was as soft as a feline. He then took off, running with the
confidence of a man with The World in his hands.
“How did he not
hurt himself,” she wondered aloud.
She would wonder no
longer. Caitlin’s gut acted up, sending a pang of pain at an
intensity not seen that day. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over,
the pressure within her backside at the tipping point. As another
agonizing growl erupted from the depths, she could only moan, “Good
grief, this is gonna be a big one!”
Fumes built up,
squeezing Andrew’s body, forcing his mouth open to swallow its
repulsive taint. The tight cavern he resided was now a decent atrium.
He was pushed the opposite way, sliding against the slimy cave.
Dreaded anticipation filled where foul fumes could not, awaiting the
final detonation.
At last, after
agonizing buildup, Caitlin’s ravenous rectum erupted.
In the manner of a
round fired out of a cannon, Andrew was shot through his wife’s
rectum. A loud pop deafened his ears, but only for a moment, as the
rumbling echo of the greatest stream of flatulence he ever had the
displeasure of listening to thundered through the scrunched
sphincter. By pure air pressure, he was sent flying, from between the
valley of his wife’s cheeks, before colliding against the back of
her panties. The soft, moist fabric did little to quell the shock of
the impact. In all, he would not find relief nor purchase.
Andrew was
completely immobilized, held in place by hurricane-force winds
blasted out of the wrinkly hole. He could not even raise his head, to
witness the horrifying sight of his wife’s putrid portal expand and
flap as it unleahed armageddon. Accompanying the breaking winds were
flecks of liquid that coated every corner of his body in a fecal
embrace. Moisture further stained the fabric of panties surrounding
his insignificant form.
Relief immediately
swept over Caitlin, and she felt herself sink into her chair as she
released the consequences of a chili dog lunchtime. Her nose
scrunched upon taking in some of the emissions released by her rump,
and a small giggle was had, as she mused upon the utter foulness of
her own fumes. Straining, she pushed out the last pockets of air that
still resided in her generous glutes.
There was a
reprieve, but Andrew did not possess the luxury of relief. He had
grown dizzy, and he felt his battered body collapse against the
canopy of underwear. As his wife shifted position, buttocks of an
apocalyptic scale expanded and squeezed, bringing the gateway to
oblivion itself ever closer to Andrew’s spent form. He had not the
energy to even feebly plead for mercy. All he could do was glance
upward in despair as Caitlin’s sphincter puffed and expanded once
more.
Concentrated, fecal
stained wind, shot through the anal passageway once again. Andrew’s
body was flattened once more. Pure air pressure assailed him with the
force of a speeding bullet train. Yet a train was confined by tracks.
His wife’s foul flatulence was omnipresent. It would stain his very
soul with its awful aura.
The giantess face
scrunched in concentration, passing the second whirlwind that
thundered through her rump. Once all foul atmosphere had been
expelled, Caitlin collapsed in her seat, in utter relief.
Andrew’s thoughts
were a haze. Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth, his lungs and his
brain. As his wife relaxed, the mounds of her rear advanced. He fell
unconscious before being swallowed up.
A nagging thought
pierced the back of Caitlin’s mind. As she now focused on the
strange sensation trapped between her cheeks, dreadful realization
soon washed over her.
Caitlin’s tanned
skin grew ghostly pale. A hand flew to her mouth as she uttered, “Oh
shit!”
…
Andrew had been
extracted from the depths of Caitlin’s panties once she had
returned to the shack. She could only look in terror as his pathetic
stature lay at the center of a grotesque brown stain. He was peeled
off from his position, then dabbed with wet tissues, removing most of
the fecal gunk that had coated his skin.
Caitlin dared not
run him underwater, for fear of the shock it would introduce to him.
Instead, he was laid upon a layer of fresh tissue, set upon the soft
pillow of her bed. The giantess could not help but pout, gazing at
her husband’s lithe form, motionless aside from an almost
imperceptible motion of his chest rising and falling.
Her silvery eyes
grew watery as she regarded him. Andrew’s eyes were shut. Had she
been ignorant of the circumstances that had made it so, she would
have enjoyed such a peaceful-looking sight. The titan grew almost
lost as she focused upon his young, angled face, appreciating his
still thick, flowing black hair splayed against the tissue. Her gaze
then veered to his sleek physique, smooth and delicate as porcelain.
He was indeed, a priceless man, whose value transcended any
quantification.
And, like a bull in
a China shop, she had shattered him.
There was a stir.
Caitlin caught his eyes fluttering open. Relief washed over her
face, in the manner of how the lake washed over the sands of the
beach.
Steeling her
resolve, assuming she had his attention, Caitlin laid down her
declaration, “That’s it, I’m stopping this! We’ll figure out
something later, but I’m not having you hurt yourself, just to make
me feel bet-“
Her mouth froze, for
a smile had been captured upon his face. There was no mischief, nor
scheming behind the expression. If anything, his lips stretched far
too wide to accommodate it. Andrew’s eyes, while wide opened, and
staring straight at Caitlin, now appeared to be gazing at a far away
place.
“You’re so
beautiful Cait. Holy cow.”
His voice had
acquired an airy, ethereal quality. Of note, his inflections were
slurred; a stark contrast to his rather precise, dexterous
annunciation.
This didn’t
matter. Caitlin’s cheeks were now hotter than the sun, and were
colored in a shade that put red giants to shame.
“Andrew?” she
managed to squeal.
He continued to
drone on, in a manner similar to Brando. The man’s words flowed in
a trance, and certainly entranced whom he was addressing, “It’s
like … even your ugly parts are beautiful. You’re the prettiest
girl in the whole wide world.”
Caitlin shook her
head rapidly, stifling a squeal. Her hands desperately covered her
face, as if her life depended upon this strange incarnation of Andrew
not being able to catch a glimpse of her flustered expression.
“You’re
delirious Andy,” she stammered, “Just relax.”
“No!” he
shouted, determination steeling his stargazing haze, “I need to
tell you, you’re so pretty! And you’re kind, you’re thoughtful,
you’re so strong and…”
His head began to
hang over. Thick locks of jet-black hair obscured his face. Andrew’s
voice had taken upon a note of sour.
“… And I’m
some stupid jerk who can’t get over some smell. I married the
prettiest girl in the world and I can’t appreciate her because of
some smell. I’m such a jerk … such a jer…”
His words trailed
off, as did his gaze. Dark eyes rolled back, and he collapsed upon
his makeshift bed once again, fully unconscious.
It was fortunate he
was so, for tears had begun streaming out of Caitlin’s eyes.
The wait was not
long, before Andrew stirred once more. But now, instead of a starry
gaze, his eyes were in sharp focus. Despite a fog of grogginess
clouding his face, his movements proved sharper, clearer, if not
cautious. Surveying his tissue platform, he lost his breath, once his
vision beheld his wife, looming over him in all her Olympian glory.
Matted hair was strewn across her forehead. Stale sweat dried and
crusted upon her face. Neither detracted even an ounce of awe he
experienced at such a sight.
“Dang,” he
exhaled, before scrunching his nose. He managed to lift an arm that
felt as if it weighed 50 times more than it should to his face. With
an enthusiastic sniff, he grimaced before noting, “I stink. How
long was I out? Don’t tell me the honeymoon’s over.”
“Relax,” Caitlin
assured, her booming voice soothing his heart, “Just a couple of
hours.”
He looked to the
window, observing soft orange sunlight stream through, far unlike the
bright off-white glare of the afternoon. His head shook before
looking back to his wife. A bout of nausea then took him, while his
spindly hands began raking through his hair
“I had some weird
visions,” he noted, as the episode began to recede, “I wasn’t
saying anything embarrassing while I was unconscious right?”
“Nope!” Caitlin
affirmed, rather quickly. Her eyes were notably avoiding Andrew. His
brow thus furrowed as a result.
“So it seems,”
he commented. Unlike Caitlin, he made sure his glare never left her.
He began to massage
his temples, and gazed upward again. From his vantage, his wife’s
face was obscured from her rather bounteous protrusions of her chest.
Her arms, strewn with tensed muscle, strong enough to move the very
Earth from orbit, had been splayed to either side. As his gaze
descended, he noted, with a significant amount of disappointment,
that Caitlin’s now soaked tank-top had concealed the rigid terrain
of her stomach.
Dark eyes narrowed
upon taking in her waistline, which lay just above the horizon of
their mattress. The gray shorts, struggling to contain the monstrous
contents within, contained notable splotches of moisture. His teeth
clenched as he glared, not at the article of clothing itself, but
what it denied him.
Andrew stood up. His
legs quivered as they adjusted to support his weight, but this
weakness proved temporary. The mite of a man, at least, in comparison
to his immense, beloved colossus of a woman, presented a proud
posture. Dangerous daring lurked in his obsidian glare. “Might as
well go for a test run.”
Caitlin grew red in
the face as she objected, “Andrew, you just got knocked out from me
farting on you! I’m not putting you through the wringer again!”
Her husband burst in
laughter, almost losing his balance upon the platform of tissue,
“That really was a bomb I got caught in! That should mean that I
should be able to take whatever comes my way!”
His wife took her
massive arms off of the bed, in order that her hands could pull at
her hair in distress, “I don’t know if it works that way!”
Silence permeated
between the two. Caitlin’s breathing, which could generate a gale
on its own, was the only audible event in their shack. She took one
of her arms, and ran the back of it across her forehead, slicking it
over with cooled, concentrated sweat. A troubled shadow passed over
her dour expression.
She looked down at
him, a speck in the vast white plain of pillow. For the rest of their
lives, she would always be looking down at him.
“Andrew, I don’t
make you feel insignificant, do I?”
The question flowed
out of her mouth like a river. It was not the product of measured,
anticipated contemplation, but that of instinct, of the troubled
unconsciousness floating towards the surface.
A quizzical look
appeared on her husband’s face, “Why do you ask that?”
“I met that guy
from the other day.” Caitlin answered, rubbing her face, “You
know, the one that was getting his rocks off of me smooching ya?”
Andrew scrunched his
face in recollection, “Can’t reca – Oh wait, that loon! What,
was he bothering you?”
“What he was
saying was kinda bothering me,” she admitted, “He was talking
about how I make him feel like an ant, or something. Is … is that
how you feel around me?”
Guilt, guilt was
what had consumed her. Caitlin’s thumbs twiddled at her waist. She
was still looking down, but her gaze would lay upon anywhere except
Andrew. Her lips, lips that had granted him much ecstasy already on
their honeymoon, pouted and quivered.
“Cait,” he
beckoned, observing his wife’s eyes find him once more, “I don’t
know if I’ve said this, but I’ve gone through life living like a
fly on a wall. Heck, college, high school, I was kinda ignored,
especially by the girls.”
“Oh … I’m
sorry” she murmured in sympathy. There was confusion to as where
her husband was directing the conversation. Nevertheless, her
attention had been captured.
Andrews arm waved
away, as if pardoning a sinless crime, “That’s all well and done
by now. Heck, I’m kinda glad that happened, because you know who
else ignored me? Bullies.”
As he spoke, an
uncomfortable knot had formed within her stomach. Still, she
persisted in hanging on his ever word, no matter what they recalled.
“…I had mom and
dad as well. But there were days where I really was the invisible
man. You changed that.”
“Pardon?”
Caitlin said, her stomach at once feeling relieved.
“Once I knew you
were … let’s just say, taking an interest,” he continued,
allowing himself a knowing smirk, “I felt like the King of the
world. It’s the opposite of what you were saying. I’ve never felt
more important when you’re around.”
Tumult took hold of his wife’s expression. Her cheeks puffed out
while her jaw clenched down. Andrew caught the sight of her hands
balling into fists. A ruby complexion formed upon her cheeks, as
brilliant as the setting sun.
“Gee,” she
snorted, “that’s the second most sappy thing you’ve said
today.”
An eyebrow rose,
“What was the first?”
Caitlin responded
with a smile. Her eyes lay half-lidded, stirring something within his
very soul. Andrew’s heart, which had comfortably beat at rest, now
accelerated. The colossus that towered above only appeared to grow
larger. She exerted a mysterious field, made of the same stuff as
gravity, drawing him to the source, wherever it lay. Even the stale
scent that remained as a result of the labors of the day smelled of
something sweet.
Andrew shook his
head, now feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. His
crusted over khakis had become tight.
“You’d think I’d
remember.” he mused, placing his hands over his waist.
His wife’s mouth
had parted ever so slightly. Her own arms had now fallen over her
stomach, running over defined hills of abdominal sinew. Thumbs caught
her waistband, and began slowly drawing the fabric down her legs.
Taut, bulging quadriceps proved to provide a decent obstacle to her
task, but eventually, she was able to pull her shorts and panties
past her rippling thighs.
“Well Andy,” she
began, in a voice that hovered between a whisper and a growl,
“Whether you meant to or not, you’ve got me revved up. I guess we
are gonna see if your little thesis worked.”
Andrew’s eyes
nearly shot out of its sockets as they lay upon what had been
revealed. His wife’s privates still rested within an impassable
forest of thick ,dark curly hair. Behind the wiry threads, lay a red,
glistening slit. The fleshy folds that guarded her most precious
entrance bulged out, and appeared to retract and separate. No wonder
those of vulgar mind would call them lips, for they resembled a
monstrous, toothless mouth, wet with hunger.
He traced his gaze
up Caitlin’s towering form, memorizing her strong arms, strewn with
bulky, toned biceps. He cursed that her sweaty tank top covered up a
formidable six pack, as wells as bulbous mammaries and swollen
glands.
Breath departed, as
he fixed upon his wife’s face. It lay impossibly far above, even
though the bed and pillow he stood upon provided significant
elevation. Even from just a few hundred feet into the sky, Andrew
would not have been surprised if a few clouds would wander in front
of the entrancing view. He proved mesmerized by swollen, reddened
cheeks. Half-lidded, glowing eyes the color of steel focused upon
him, and him alone.
The weight of her
gaze alone was enough for his legs to give out and sent him on his
rear.
Immediately, concern
passed over her face. “Everything smelling alright?”
Andrew had to be
snapped out of his trance, “You smell like an offshore fish monger.
But that’s not an issue.”
Caitlin leaned
forward, and immediately, Andrew felt both the temperature and
concentration of the surrounding air rise.
“What is the
issue?” she pressed.
“I’ve just,”
he began, staring straight into his wife’s passionate glare, “I’ve
never seen a look like that. I’m not used to .. to ...”
A spray of spittle
was ejected from Caitlin’s mouth, as she chuckled. “Tough luck,”
she declared, “Because you’re going to be seeing this for the
rest of your life.”
Quicker than
lightning, her hands grasped the edge of the pillow, yanking it
towards the center of the mattress. Andrew had no chance to regain
balance, and found his position moved as his body was tossed by
momentum. Even when motion ceased, he remained on his back. Shaking
hands then began to undo his shorts.
Caitlin in the
meantime, did not remain still. She braced her knees against the
bedside, lifting her body up on the bed. Her thighs straddled the
pillow, trapping Andrew in a vast canyon with a cotton surface, and
fleshy walls. Slowly, but surely, her torso moved along, blocking out
his view of the ceiling. His new ceiling was not of crude, lifeless
drywood, but pulsing, moist and very much alive.
Its tantalizing
scent hit him with the force of a truck. But, not once was he tempted
to hurl out the contents of his stomach. If anything, her odor had
lured him into a daze. Not once, could he take his eye of the genital
sky, a sky that was now falling.
The air had grown
syrupy. It’s intensity was certainly as much as it was when he was
trapped within her ravenous rear. But, its bouquet was far more
complex, sporting aspects both foul and sweet, repulsive and
seductive.
Black hairs began to
descent upon the pillow case. Their girth was wider than ropes, and
they bent as the maw of his wife’s groin drew ever closer. Already
he felt soaked, and the smell had completely overridden ever sense
and common sense he possessed. His mouth could not help but hang
open, dumbfounded at the lewd destiny that awaited him.
Then, the red folds
of flesh collapsed upon him. His lanky form was enveloped by slimy,
honeyed flesh, tender to the touch. His wife’s most intimate area
emitted an intense heat that warmed every cell of his body.
Once Andrew was
pressed to her exposed crotch, Caitlin shouted out, “Oh shit!”
Her hips sunk into
the pillow, pressing it into the mattress. The flesh of her privates
was soft, tender, while the expanse of cotton compensated for her
incomprehensible weight. Were he on a solid surface, Andrew certainly
would have been annihilated.
Sensitive skin
experienced ever facet of her husband’s body. Tears began to form
in Caitlin’s eyes, as she uttered ,”Fuck! Andy! Fuck!”
The giantess fell
forward, bracing her torso up with her elbows. Her waist, meanwhile
rose, its incredible mass ascending in the manner of a vast
extraterrestrial mothership. And, much like such an intrusive,
exploratory vessel, it had abducted a passenger.
Andrew was stuck
within her folds. He had not entered in the vast, flooded cavern that
lay at the base of the vertical maw, but he was certainly buried in
enough flesh to be concealed from the outside world. He managed to
tear his face away from the burning slime to peer down, only to
realize he was several stories up.
He, however, would
never get a chance to appreciate the gravity of being stuck to a
monolithic womanhood, several stories in the air. Something far
stronger than gravity forced him back down.
Caitlin slammed her
hips into the pillow, grunting as her husband was forced into her
lecherous folds again. Her insides were rendering into jelly, while
her mind had receded into pure instinct. Her hips rose once more, not
to the height they were, before smashing back down, sending another
thrill of passion through her body.
In rhythmic cadence,
she humped the pillow below. The shack was filled with naught but the
steady slap of wet flesh against fabric, and desperate howls and
moans that followed. As the night drew on, her tempo steadily
increased, her waist almost becoming a blur as it bucked up and down.
All the while,
Andrew was simply along for the ride. His body tumbled and flailed
about within steamy skin, wiry hairs, and syrupy nectar. He shouted
out, both in fear, and in desire. Frail arms clung to Caitlin’s
genitals, both for a sense of security, and intimacy.
Finally, the apex
had been reached, and Caitlin thrust her hips down one last time,
burying Andrew into her. The dark passage way, whose entrance he had
become overly familiar with, swallowed him up, and he was lost in a
torrential flood, that was just about to be unleashed.
Her head, slick with
the sweat of passion, rose up, and Caitlin let out a scream that
pierced the night sky.
Lecherous discharge
slammed into Andrew, carrying him out of her cavern, and back down
into the pillow. His body was still molested by reddened skin, as
gallon after gallon slapped and assaulted his body. No great downpour
could ever compare, the hot and heavy maw above could have drowned
him with its sticky precipitation.
As her hips
retreated, Andrew broke through the surface of muck, spitting out
what had invaded his mouth. While he attempted to gather his breath,
another great torrent fell upon him, burying the newlywed under a new
mass of viscous love.
Caitlin, still
reeling from her session, allowed herself a look under, admiring the
massive, spreading area of moisture that now stained the pillow. A
small speck, that of her husband, lay swimming in the middle of all.
Heavy panting slowed as a warm glow caressed her innards.
“Fuck.”
Another laugh
escaped her, with the audacity of a whisper. Drops of sweat hung off
her hair, before splashing upon the bedsheets below.
Realization then
crossed her eyes, “Shit, I probably shouldn’t be laying on this
soppy cushion tonight.”
The giantess rose.
Every muscle of hers felt twice as heavy. Placing her feet on the
ground, she picked up her discarded shorts. Her legs carried her
away, as she also retrieved other articles of discarded clothing from
the ground, including her now crusted morning workout clothes and
socks.
Finally, for good
measure, she stripped herself of her sweaty tanktop.
Bunching these
gathered articles into an incomprehensible ball, she placed it at the
head of the bed. Her fingers then descended upon the soaked pillow,
extracting her husband from her sloppy discharge. A tired smile was
upon his face. Though very much spent, the experience had gone
considerably better for him than the previous night.
“Holy … holy cow
…” he exclaimed. A cough shook his body, allowing him to empty
his mouth of more muck.
As Caitlin, with her
free hand, tossed the dirty pillow off the surface of the bed, Andrew
began eyeing the pile of clothing she had set as a replacement most
critically.
“Cait, I don’t
know if that’s much of an improve-”
What words he had
left were lost to the wind, as he was swung around, his destination
determined by the motion of his wife’s hand. He was dropped into
the mass of dirty articles, sinking into fabrics with stale flecks
that broke off with even the smallest of movements, and others that
leached out musky sweat if he so much stepped on them.
He did not get a
chance to raise an object, for he was consumed by another set of
lips. Caitiln’s kiss buried him even deeper into her filthy pile,
subjecting him to the brunt of her labored aroma. Her head then
settled down upon the makeshift pillow.
Resigned, Andrew let
in a deep breath, taking in foul and stained air. All of his wife’s
scents, from her estrogen tinged sweat, to the vinegar spiked essence
of her feet, to the putrid, foul emissions of her rear, and the
fishy, pungent, syrupy bouquet of her womanhood, combined and mixed.
Caitlin, pure, unadulterated Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth,
in his eyes, in his lungs and on his skin. Forever, he would be
marked by this behemoth of a woman.
But, his banishment
to a disgusting sleeping arrangement did not bother him in the
slightest. What disturbed Andrew, that fateful night, was that he was
beginning to like it.
….
Caitiln was aroused
from her slumber. Heavy eyes glanced at the bedside clock. A small
smile crossed her lips, for she had drearily calculated that she
possessed a few more minutes of precious time to sleep.
Hope Andy got
enough rest, he was coming in late last night.
There
was a rumble in her stomach. It was not long before she decided to
release whatever lay within. A wet trumpeting of rectum echoed
throughout the room. Her white panties, the only article of clothing
she wore, took on a small amount of moisture.
“Heh, that’s
gonna stain the sheets.”
As her gas passed,
she was made aware of a curious sensation beneath her offending rear.
Essentially trapped in between her glutes, was a minuscule nub. She
was about to pass it off as a figment of morning exhaustion, when
realization hit her.
Her hips, twisted,
lifting her magnificent rump off of the mattress. A vast crater
marked where it had rested. Stuck, in the valley of her tush, buried
in white cloth, lay her husband. He was face down, dressed in nothing
but dark boxers. The movement proved enough for him, for he was able
to peel his head away from the fabric of her panties. His dark,
sheepish gaze met a mischievous, sliver glare.
“And just what
were you doing down there eh? Whiffing my farts from afar ain’t
good enough for you?” Her voice had taken on a playful tone.
Caitin’s mouth drew into a smile, as provocative scenarios played
within her mind.
Andrew let out a
sigh. His body stiffened, as he prepared for what was to come. As he
opened his mouth, he sealed his fate.
“All the better to
smell you with, my dear.”
From above, the
dark, massive shape of Caitlin’s finger careened towards his
position with the ferocity of a falling meteor. Resigning himself to
his fate, Andrew braced himself for his destiny.