Chris; 5:40 PM

You give a single large pull, the lube thick enough to keep you petrified inside like some tiny fossil. Groaning, you yank your head above the fluid. Your whole body feels callous at this point. Drowning, suffocating, nearly crushed, lifes flashed before your eyes more than you could possibly explain to anybody willing to listen.

Tired and in pain, you're helpless to stop Susan as she loudly runs a finger through her soaked folds. It's tremendously loud; even within the pocket you find yourself inside. It's terrifying to imagine all that power directed at you. Something tells you it's good you got the ass over somewhere else. Anywhere less confined, and you could be in the eye of the storm right now.

Susan makes a series of low moans that can be heard over her dripping arousal. She's not putting on a show by any means, but she's so massive that it's hard not to notice every nuance in her breathing. Her face burns brightly; the seductive nature of where you are, combined with the atmosphere, is driving you wild. Yet you aren't in a position where you can satisfy any cravings.

Instead, you look anxiously at the shadow looming just overhead. You’re stunned by its immensity. Like most objects, your size makes it challenging to discern. But it clicks as it comes in closer with no signs of stopping. An anal toy. It features a series of tiny black silicone beads, each more prominent than the last. Remarkably similar to one an old flame had.

Your teeth make contact with the soft surface of your lower lip, arousal soaking your lower half. It's unbelievable how turned on dredging up those memories made you. It's hard to recall a time you were this soaked through. In all honesty, Alexandra's little boy toy was barely on your mind. While the idea that he could be lost somewhere on your couch lingers in the back of your mind, what really has you going, is thinking about the late hubby.

You glance over the smutty fantasy novel on your nightstand—the pages upon pages of romance peppered with smutty bedroom dealings. Certainly won't need that cheap thing. Your imagination is more than enough. All you had to do was think back to that night.

Ugh, it always came back to the day that pushover of a man left your life forever. You remember how microscopic he looked compared to that dildo and how alive it made you feel. That unparalleled rush of having that dumb man at your next to a mold of his penis, a gag valentines day gift that had been made in more carefree times.

Even now, running a finger up your lips, you stare up at the ceiling, remembering how carefully you had to tuck him right underneath the pale-pink head of his artificial cock. So small he could be hidden beneath the ridge of his cock head. He'd disappeared from sight.

Oh, and how carried away you got! You couldn't feel him at all and, frankly, never did. But still, the idea of that lazy good for nothing inside your actual ass? The man practically worshiped the ground you trod on, but even for him, it couldn't have possibly been a pleasant experience. And that's precisely what always made thinking of that night so incredibly tempting. The amount of misery you could inflict with such little effort, and above all else? Knowing you have the power to do anything you dream.

The first and smallest of the beads comes at you, and like usual, you're powerless to do anything but watch. Bizarrely, Susan's asshole twitches reflexively before it even makes contact. Opening ever so slightly, ready to be pried open forcefully by the toy. The lubes coat evenly along the surface—the gel's unbelievably glossy, shining the wrinkled exterior into an oily and bright sheen.

You're quickly swept up in a whirlpool of lube as Susan spreads it out along the dark brown spot. The black-colored material makes contact on the opposite side but makes little difference. It's immensely disorienting, forcing you to close your eyes to make the world stop spinning. You feel like you've been through a blender and back when it stops.

POP

"Mmmm…" Susan moans, feeling the tug of the toy. The bead is suddenly sucked through the middle, leaving you still stuck but unharmed. The heavy suction could be sensed, and the noise? Deafening. But there isn't any time for you to reflect, as the next bead in the line is already knocking on Susan's back door. It's much the same, except more generous in size. You aren't sure if you'll be lucky enough to avoid its influence this time.

Fortunately, Susan's taking things slow. She flexes the muscles of her ass, a chill wracking her body as the sphincter clamps back down with a tremendous amount of force. The show of strength is so casual and effortless that it's chilling.

Horrifyingly, she decides to take another. The immense orb plows into the hot flesh, clashing against her sphincter. The entire anus flexes to take it, pushing you further out as it opens slowly. It inches forward, ready to assist you in being swallowed whole. You avoid being taken under by fractions of an inch, though a third is quickly knocking. The increase in bead size is noticeable this time around, and you're left in a panic. Silently, you brace yourself for what's to come. Before it even impacts her wrinkled star, you knew it had you.

You can feel the silicone press into you, covering you completely. Sandwiched between the cold toy and the overwhelmingly hot wrinkled floor. But you aren't stuck for long, as it's soon eagerly opening to accept you. There's so much pressure on your face it's painful. There's a small snap as the pressure momentarily increases, just enough to twist your nose to the side.

The strokes of her fingertips are loud, striking like thunder from the unseeable above. Divine drum beats, electrically charged. Rhythmic and imposing. The sounds seemingly coming from everywhere at once soon fade out as her ass greedily accepts you like all the other beads, yours demonstrating little difference from the others.

Even then, your inevitable journey inside isn't quite complete. Susan’s exit plays with the bead, her asshole clenching experimentally around it. However, being stuck to a thick patch of lube on the side leaves you relatively safe from the guillotine of muscle playing around just overhead.

You tease the third bead extra hard, its size substantial enough to make you feel filled. Took long enough. Those first two just weren't cutting it. Your mind floats to the subject of your ex again; the long-lost insect quickly becomes the target of your fantasy. Imagining that gross little pill bug trapped amid the chaos below your waist sets you absolutely alight!

You push the third one through after enough playing around. Working on your clit, you're soon ready to tackle the fourth. It's such a simple toy, making it so beautifully functional. Of all the toys you've had over the years, you often ended up back at this exact design.

With the fourth bead knocking on your flexing exit, you focus more on your more feminine areas. You let a hand run down toward your wet lips, tracing familiar patterns into your clit. From there, you messily rub it across your pussy. Everything is drenched, arousal spilling readily down your thighs.

It's not often you need a second shower, but this real-life fantasy you've gotten caught up reliving has done the job better than you ever hoped. You feel so feminine, but more so, you're invigorated and hot! Is this confidence now burning inside you related to the death count for your ass? It must be. 

Two. The number of lives claimed beneath you.

You can do whatever the fuck you want. And nobody could possibly say otherwise. Unless, perhaps they'd enjoy being fly for the remainder of their short, sad lives! At this point, you've come to realize the world's your plaything.

The idea of turning someone so base and undersized into a stain without even realizing it? It sets you off and influences you to gradually work another bead against your makeshift entrance. There's a light pop as it's tucked inside. You coo lightly, tugging at it and loving the feel of the tension against your muscles.

There's a booming squelch as another bead is pulled inside by Susan's powerful muscles. Though, you can't see much of anything. It's dark, and you're going in and out of consciousness. The stress, aches, and exhaustion have caught up with you. It's almost like a fever dream, stuck in a musky tunnel of ass, the smell inescapable. Each lube-filled breath you fight for is foul, the air having little value in this place. But it's enough to keep you alive. And if breathing ass is what you had to do to make it home, that's what was going to happen! 

There's more commotion as Susan rocks her hips outside, having fun and working herself to a slow and satisfying release. It's, of course, all unknowingly at your expense.

You wonder how far this will go or how long you'll last. The situation seems rather grim, and you can't help but feel next time you drift off, it may very well be your last. A tragedy with mild undertones of irony. Lost inside the asshole of your best friend's Mom. Not the way you thought it would end, but it's somewhat fitting.

Common sense says you’ll spend the foreseeable future here if you slip off, so you're giving your all to avoid it. You can feel the goop binding you to the toy start to loosen, spelling out your almost certain doom. You imagine either being crushed by the toy or left inside. You don't want to think any further about what it entails.

The entire area undulates, and you know exactly what's happening. However, it's soon evident that the turmoil wasn't about to end as Susan rode out her orgasm. Luckily, your prison continues to hold firm. 

For once, you're glad to be so thoroughly stuck.

You let release take you, the feeling in your butt fueling the waves of pleasure deep within you. An incredible climax from reliving an unforgettable night. You let out the last of your pent-up stress in one heavy breath, a faint smile on your lips as your head sinks back into the pillow. 

The only way this could be better is if that boy hadn't wandered off. Or maybe you had rolled over by mistake? You weren't much of a turner in your sleep, but it's a real possibility. One little unconscious shake could send him to several dangerous places for someone of his stature.

You lie there for a while, eyes closed. You aren't tired, just relaxed. Everything weighing you down is good and gone! That was precisely what you needed to move on from this icky business. 

Sufficiently satisfied, you tighten a hand around the end. Your teeth come down around your lips habitually as you pull them out one at a time.

PopPopPop

However, on the third to last bead, you put everything on ice. Perhaps somewhat childishly imagining the late hubby plastered to the dot, waiting to leave your ass. A little piece of artificial material holding a shell of a man. A personality fitting his size. What was that really like for him, you wonder? Sure, you've fantasized thoroughly, but what was it in actuality? The harsh reality?

It was likely dark; that much you figure is a given. You flex your sphincter around the orb. Refusing any exit from the lowest part of you as you think. Clean has always been your middle name, but it's hard to picture just how miserable it would be in a place like that. It's nearly comical how alien the world beyond that muscle is to you. But then again, nobody stops to get a good look at the inside of an asshole. Except maybe, a medical profession, you figure. 

You continue to wonder, the afterglow only now starting to fade. Was it difficult to breathe? It must be! The content of the atmosphere is toxic, and it's the only defining trait? Everything inside is worthless. Destined for disposal.

It fits the late father of your children, who practically worshiped the thing. After thinking about what you'd done to him so long ago, a gear starts turning in your head. Seems like he had a point. The very hole he was so enamored with did have the ability to take lives after all. A decider of life and death. You like that thought, pulling the last two beads out with two delayed pops.

The dark tunnel growls at you, roaring with the might of your worst nightmares. There isn't much movement, and you're terrified that the witch might have fallen asleep. Your perception of time is non-existent here, so when action resumes, it's oddly somewhat of a relief. What she's doing, however, is much more worrying. 

Susan's removing the beads. It’s a slow and jerky process, as each one requires a careful extraction and a steady hand. It needs to happen, and it's the best-case scenario in your situation. But it makes you decidedly nervous. One jerk in the wrong direction, and you'll be stuck in this hell.

The air down here's making you lose it. Though, surprisingly you haven't passed out yet. And strangely, those urges you've been feeling haven't reared their ugly head for some time now. Maybe it wore off? Or another possibility… Being surrounded by Susan is keeping it in check. But that doesn't make much sense, does it?

Eventually, it's your orb's turn. But unfortunately, Susan isn't entirely done playing yet. The bead is mashed by the muscles of her ass, the sphincter closing harshly around the top. Suddenly, you're feeling pretty lucky to be stuck where you are on this death instrument.

It mashes your vehicle, the matriarch's muscles toying with it casually. Repeatedly, the bead is assaulted from above and below, sporadically shaking and throwing you back and forth. You cry out, scared as the rapidly thinning coating around you has your body slipping.

Falling is game over, and you know it. Even if you had the energy to move, you'd be pulled under the very object that has kept you so safe this entire time. Whether suffocation or the pressure does you in, you struggle to think of any other outcome should you be thrown off. The muscles are too violent and mindless to leave any chance for survival.

Mercifully, Susan relents. The colossal mother pulls the two out with a single pop and a belated squelch. There's a gasp from Susan at the last noise; deafening, as is everything she does. It doesn't matter, though. You're far too exhausted to do anything but hang your head in the sticky syrup.

Susan casually tosses the anal toy onto the bright white towel below. You lean to the ground, down on all fours, panting and taking in much-needed air. Quickly breaking the loose strands of lube that keep you bound. Flung to the bristled ground, you cough and hack, the fresh air making you forcefully expend all the filthy air in your lungs. A final long wheeze leaves you panting and your lungs burning for oxygen.

The toy lands nearby, narrowly crushing you into a weird stain on Susan's towel. You shriek on the impact, reeling back on hands and knees uselessly as it creates a dip in the terrain you can't help but be pulled into. Your entire observable universe turns into a whirlwind, Susan shifting over you, making your whole head turn in an attempt to track some of the gargantuan lady’s movements. It's mostly for naught, though, as you only manage to catch blurry glimpses of skin, your eyes having trouble focusing on the sheer size of her. Distracted, you fail to stop yourself from tumbling back into a particularly flakey patch of lube and fluid. 

It's downright tragic. Just as salvation is at arm's length, you're ripped back. You're graced with a smell that will never leave your memory. The scent of Susan. Raw and unfiltered, it lingers on her toy and, to a lesser extent, on you. Instantly you realize how bad the situation is now. Susan went off to do god knows what, but you can’t help but feel the lady is far too cleanly to leave a toy sitting around for long without giving it a proper wash. If you didn’t get moving, that would spell a brutal end. Scrubbed away mercilessly, or maybe even washed down the drain with a mixture of lube and cum. Both scenarios were vivid and close enough to reality that you’re adequately motivated to fight like hell.

Yet, all the motivation in the world can’t will your battered body to move. Your eyes are heavy, and you give in. Not a moment of weakness but one of exhaustion. Perhaps somewhat hilariously, the drying lube is enough to stop your little journey cold.