New Gym

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Yes, the pink rings are a shout out to my friend Supernova. Please look into her wonderful work!

Your new gym couldn’t be better. Super cheap, super high-quality equipment. All the windows have blackout covers. A bit off-putting. But everyone is friendly, employees and customers alike. The staff seems to always exchange these weird, meaningful looks with one another. But they’re very nice. Couldn’t be more encouraging.

A pat on the back and a, “you got this,” every time you’re there. They seem to do a lot working out, then actual work. The whole place has a weird vibe. Somethings hidden behind the kind smiles of the employees. You know it. But, maybe you’re not used to this much positivity.

You look over at the elevator. One that can only by entered using a pink ring, like a fob. First Rebecca goes in.  She has long, flowing red hair. It falls over her pale, freckled face. Her figure is half-way to chunky. A bit of jiggle reverberates from every step. Her emerald eyes look directly at you. You blush and look away.

The elevator doors close and you sneak one last peak, at the D-cups held firm, by the black sports bra under her tank top. You stretch and wipe the sweat from your brow. Sophie catches your eye, has she makes her own way to the elevator. Brown skin with skinny arms. But her medium-sized breasts, Latina curves and black hair bounce, with what is clearly excitement. The Brunette streaks in her hair, her sweaty skin and pink, metal ring glisten. There’s nothing but joy in her piercing blue eyes.

She ties her hair in a bun, before the doors close and she leaves your concern. Unless it’s her footsteps you hear, running across the roof? And Rebecca’s before that. They sound like they’re going to the fire escape. “Why would she have to do that?” you can’t help but wonder. It’s now Trish who catches your attention. She has an incredibly MASSIVE set of tits. Her thick, wavy hair, brushes over them. As well as her tan skin is as golden as her hair.

            Her eyes survey the room. They’re a warm, chocolate color. But there’s a cruel,

callous, ego radiates from behind them. You pretend to stretch, as you watch her test the doors. It looks like they’re all locked. For some reason, this seems like the result she was hoping for.

When she swipes for the elevator, you notice the ring looks painfully tight around her finger. In fact, the other two women seemed to do the same thing. Like they'd rather feel a constant twinge of uncomfortableness, then risk them falling off.

Her footsteps are the third and final set, heard dashing across the roof. Perhaps something to be concerned with. But you're busy getting sweaty. Fighting anxiety with exercise, like that YouTube video suggested. You focus on this. Even with the flash of hot pink light, you see through the cracks in the window covers. And the mini-shaking feeling, jittering throughout the building. Something's very off.

The shaking, like a micro-earthquake, doesn’t stop for at least ten minutes. No less than three or four songs on your workout playlist. And for most of that time, there’s a strong smell. Like a car air freshener. You think about asking one of the other customers, if they know what’s up. But you’d rather keep going hard on the optical machine.

The mystery of the micro-quakes is one thing.  What’s worse is when it stops. The stillness in the building is terrifying. You can't put your finger on why, but it's very unsettling. Figuratively at first. Then literally, when the ceiling opens up.

In the far-off distance your eyes, which take forever to adjust to the light, notice a MASSIVE structure. It's the shape of a couch. To call a mountain would be underselling its size, since the women on it, each looked like mountains themselves. Rebecca, Sophie and Trish. Your eyes can’t help but take a moment, to take in the three absurdly large sets of boobs, far above you. Rebecca’s have a slight quiver of anticipation. Sophie’s are bouncy from excitement. And Trish’s are firm, but move with her breathing.

Each woman is still wearing their sweaty tank tops from earlier. Their tops match the dark crimson (Rebecca), rich black and brunette (Sophie) and Trish’s golden hair. You notice for the first time, that their hands, which are now monstrosities, have pink and white swirl patterns painted on their long nails. And hot pink Fitbit, matching their rings. Not to mention, the rings themselves now look massive. The kindness and positivity are gone.

All sizes made equal, there would still be a possessive, domineering energy to these women. One might even call it…predatory. Trish’s cold, but sensual voice booms out, silencing the screaming of the many people trapped with you.

"To answer the questions, your pathetic little voices are probably shouting..." Trish starts, "yes, this is really happening."

"Yes, we have size-magic" Sophie's raised in the us, but with Latin influence voice booms out, from her plump lips.

"Yes, we can do whatever we want with it," Rebecca adds, and the building shrinks even more, with the tinies staying the same size.

The compact building, crams everyone together, squishing all of them up against you. Their workout sweat and body heat, much more apparent shmushed up against you. Feeling their naked body, allows you to realize your clothes shrunk more than you. Even elastic, workout clothes are torn off.

"We don't want to be squares, girls," Sophie booms, in a mocking tone, a tone that would sound jokey, if it wasn't coming from a mountain.

The undulations of this mountain’s tongue, grabs your focus, despite being hundreds, if not thousands of feet above you. A squishy, red tool for the declarations of power this giantess makes. And the consumption of anything she pleases.

The goddesses toss off their clothes, with glee. The clothes fly over and past the open gym ceiling. A flash rain storm pours down, from their work out sweat. As well as the fluids they couldn't keep contained mingling around the gym with their toys. This adds to sweat, from all the other writhing, doomed souls, crammed into each other and you.

The body heat of the other tinies is awful. And the woman, who's pussy is at face level with you, keeps blasting you with your own breath reflected back at you. Mixed with the vapor from her fluids. “Is she enjoying this?” you wonder.

The giantess’s fluids, glisten from between their thighs. Just the thought of what they’re about to do, has them wet with excitement.

Three emotions hit you in succession:

1st

The feeling of relief when the giant, pale, oily pads of Rebecca's fingertips select someone else to pluck out of the pile. And that someone's weight and heat are no longer pounding down on you.

2nd

The guilt of feeling that relief, because it came at the expense of someone else's life. Rebecca hasn't done anything with them yet, but you know their doomed.

3rd

Is surprise, as you feel a booming and shaking. A round, greasy mass of a goddess, jiggles over to the couch and THUMPS down. There's a TARDIS tattoo on her left forearm and the "Fellowship of the Ring" Leaf signet on the other. Her round, Asian face grins from ear to ear. Her body is certainly the plumpest of the group. She pushes her greasy, black hair out of her face.

"Howdy hey Shay!" Trish booms.

"Hey girls, what'd I miss?" Shay thunders back.

"We were just about to start the appetizers..." Sophie says as, she drops the tiny on Shay's sweaty hand.

"MhhmMmm, don't mind if I do."

You can tell from the way the tiny's entire body recoils and the Doritos cheese coating Shay's tongue, that her breath is atrocious. You see the bulge in Shay's throat and look away, focusing your attention on Trish booming in and out of the room. Her curvaceous body jiggles and produces earthquakes that become less and less intense, until she's left the room. But moments later, the quakes and booms start back up again and her sweaty, glistening, jiggling form returns.

She’s brought with her a tray of plates. Each plate is covered half in salad and half in loaded mashed potatoes, with butter, chives, sour cream and bacon bits. Sophie, Trish, Shay and Rebecca each dip their index and middle finger into the pile of writhing tinies. The odor and fluids coming off of them is the result of what looked like a lumber truck, going in and out of a mountain tunnel. But was actually them, filling themselves. Indulging in the pleasure of a screaming pile of shrunken people.

The vast majority of tinies are scooped up and sprinkled over each of the giantesses’  respective plates. You do everything you can, as you shake in fear, to try and ignore the exaggerated sound of their eating. Occasionally peaking and seeing bulges in their throat, from everything (and everyone) they consider food being compressed and squeezed down their throat. Down into their powerful stomachs. Followed up with a unique flavor of Gatorade for each goddess.

Blue for Rebecca

Red for Trish

White for Shay

and Green for Sophie

You squeeze your eyes shut as the fingers return. There’s only one tiny left for each of them. The cum-laced, fishy fingers holding you, belong to…you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to watch what’s being done to you. Your heart is pounding. No amount of exercise or drugs could ever make this okay. Even if with your eyes closed, you know you’ve reached her (whoever’s) mouth.  

You can feel and smell, rancid, humid, hot air pounding you. The disgusting, sugary, starchy and ranch dressing-y smell, makes you recoil. And you feel like you're going to vomit.

You peak and see massive lips. They surround the putrid reservoir, with chords of saliva going from bumpy tongue to palate. This mouth, littered with clumps of potato, fixings and salad

is all you can see. It's not enough to identify who is devouring you.

Deposited inside it, you're covered in slime, saliva and chewed food. The giantesses powerful, squishy tongue balls you up. You peak once more and see a blue tint to the slimy coating of her bumpy taste buds.

Rebecca!

GLUCK!!

It's Rebecca's disgusting mouth and tongue that just deposited you in her constrictive, slimy throat. Squeezing you, the lump behind the freckled skin, with dark red hair brushing up against it. Until…

SPLASH!

Your deposited in an ocean of mush. You might not be the only one screaming in agony. Or the rest could already have been digested. Drowned her mush or the ever-flowing blue Gatorade. Or they could be alive and struggling like you. But the GGGrrrnNGGhhGRGnn, wet slapping, and SHLUCK sounds, would overpower their screams. You can't even hear your own screams.

The nausea from the violent tossing and sloshing motion, is bad. But the nausea from the odor of starches, artificial flavoring and vegetables, all mashed stewing in sour, humid air

and horrible acid, is terrible. You are violated by her mush. Covering your body. Getting in every orifice. All over your pubes, body and head hair. In your lashes and eye brows. Clumps of all this hair continually fall out.

SPLASH

More food. The next deposit, a wad of chocolaty mass. A chewed and mashed brownie sloshing with you and the other food. If you survive, which you know you won't, chocolate is ruined. Remembering back to a diagram of the human body in the gym, you realize this humid, sloshy sack of horror, is behind those amazing boobs. For fractions of a second, as her prisoner outside her gut, you had allowed yourself a chance to enjoy the sight of the pale, freckled, firm and squishy massive wonders. Behind which you are now fading.

You are tortured by every sense. Horrific, vomity smells, deafening and disgusting, slapping and rumbling sounds. The sensation of floating on and being assaulted with her mush,

is all you can feel and touch. Alongside the folds of her gut, which you occasionally get trapped in. Squeezed by slimy flesh, before being thrown back into the foam and mush. All in a dark, horrific prison.

The only thing lessening the intensity is the gradual fading of consciousness until it's all brought to an end in this sloshy, rumbling, disgusting gut…