Jason’s eyelids lifted again, more painfully this time. He felt the familiar wood flakes underneath his naked back: the hamster cage again. His entire body felt bruised and sore, his ribs in particular having been compressed far more than was healthy by Amanda’s fingers. He lifted both arms, waving in the fuzzy environment around him as his eyes adjusted. It took a minute of staring confusedly at his arms and hands, which had picked up several of the tinier wood flakes, until he remembered how sticky his body must still have been from being caked in layer after layer of Amanda’s saliva as he was violently dragged up and down her curled tongue like a worm on a hook. It was the encrusted droobles of her spit around his entire body picking it up so easily. He sat up, gripping his sides, and found wood flakes sticking to nearly his entire backside, from his feet up to his gummy hair; Amanda had done a very thorough job on him, that much he could tell and feel. The horrible, slimy, warm sensation still lingered in his nerve endings, and as he sat up, the cool air hitting him, he flinched, reminded of the brief gusts of air entering Amanda’s muggy mouth before being quickly followed up by a fresh slathering in her muculent froth. He shivered, gasping with relief as the comforting sensation of nothing but cool air touching his skin continued.
Several feet over, as he regained complete consciousness, he found Martha, sprawled down on her stomach. He rushed to her, shivering with fear and sympathy to see the deep cut along most of her back that Amanda had created with her thumbnail. It seemingly had begun to scab over; not being a doctor and certainly not professing to have much medical knowledge beyond the common, Jason estimated that they must have been back in the cage for hours. Grimly, he noted that Amanda must have been trying to give them a break before whatever was coming next because, clearly, she wasn’t done with them yet, as indicated by their continued lack of clothing, their normally rodent-inhabited surroundings, and the matter of their roughly over two inch tall stature. At least she had laid Martha face down on the flakes to allow her painful wound to try and heal properly noted Jason, biting his lip.
All of this had happened so fast, Jason couldn’t even sum up the energy to be mad at Amanda for her horrifying, unspeakable crimes she had thus far committed. His emotions had been entirely expended on caring for his own wellbeing and that of his wife. He found this odd, realizing he didn’t feel a single shred of anger at Amanda. What was it, he thought? Wonder? Confusion?
Terror. Sheer, unadulterated, gut-wrenching, pan-searing, piss-shooting terror. That was it.
Jason realized, upon this discovery, that he couldn’t even picture Amanda as a person. Not only was she a total stranger, and he thusly had no visual image of her as a normal sized person to use, but she was so amazingly cruel and twisted, she seemed like a wanted killer Jason might have seen on TV. And yet her voice was so calm and soothing, he realized how relatively easily himself and his wife had surrendered their clothes and dignity in a moment of perplexed weakness.
There was also the fact that Amanda, at her relative height to Jason and Martha, dwarfed the Statue of Liberty: a towering, evil, omnipotent goddess of a woman with the means to kill either of them so easily in a seemingly endless number of ways. This, too, contributed to the difficulty in viewing her as what was truthfully a five foot six, black haired, brown eyed woman who lived in a small apartment, and also happened to be the single most insane person Jason had ever met.
Jason hovered over his wife, her chest heaving unevenly in pain, as his eye caught sight of something laying a few feet away, hidden partially by a wood flake. He crawled over cautiously, unsure of what could possibly compel him to be more afraid than he already was of the gigantic woman that had decided to own himself and his wife like a pair of gerbils, and lifted out a small, fingertip band-aid from the flakes. It looked like it would fit Martha’s back perfectly. Jason looked between the bandage and his wife, and gulped to realize Amanda had even accounted for Martha’s injury, no doubt wanting her healed faster for further abuse. Quivering, Jason unpeeled the band-aid from the plastic seal and tried to angle it over Martha’s back.
“Hold still, Martha,” he whispered. “This will probably sting.”
“What are you…” began Martha before breaking into a squeal of agony as Jason pressed the circular bandage as carefully as he could onto her back, covering the nail wound. “What are you DOING?”
“She… left it for you here in the…” began Jason, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to utter the word “cage” in this context.
Martha groaned with pain, petting at the velvety back of the band-aid as she began crying again. “Jason… we… we have to try to remember…”
“What?” asked Jason more curtly than he intended, being very on edge.
Martha looked at him weakly, annoyed, but continued. “Where the HELL did she come from?”
“I don’t KNOW. Don’t you think I’d tell you if I knew something? I can’t remember a goddamn thing.”
“Jason, you’re the one who leaves the house the most… it MUST have been through you.”
“No,” grumbled Jason, rubbing at his aching temple.
“THINK.”
“Don’t TELL me what to DO!” shouted Jason, unleashing his anger at once, balling his hands into fists as he took several steps away from his whimpering wife to clear his head.
“Hmm… now, don’t take this the wrong way, you two…” came the soft, familiar whisper coming in through the dense bars of the cage like an intercom system. “…but so far, I’m not seeing any progress.”
Jason did a double take, his throat going dry again, as Amanda’s enormous fingers picked at the latch on the cage, unhooking it and allowing him a fuller view of her. As soon as the door was down, Jason felt a small cough developing in his throat. He wasn’t sure what it was for a moment, until he took a closer look at Amanda’s billboard face, thick beads of sweat dotting her slick forehead, her bangs matted down against her sticky skin. Inhaling more regularly, Jason realized his throat was disagreeing with the oxygen because it reeked of fresh, cold, putrefied sweat mist practically flowing off of Amanda’s body; Jason’s small nose absolutely no match for the stench on such a scale.
With his brain having processed the odor, Jason began coughing more heavily, although the rest of his body remained stiff with terror. This allowed Amanda’s soft fingers to easily wrap themselves back around his frozen body without a single, heedless physical bit of resistance. Lifting him slowly out of the cage, Jason could smell the damp skin of her palm, actually getting his own skin wet. Her other hand began reaching for Martha. Jason was about to object, but aside from the fact that this would have proved useless, he was taken aback as Amanda’s fingers slipped gently underneath Martha’s naked body as if picking up a dead bird, cradling Martha gently in her palm, careful not to jar her wound. She nodded as she pulled her out into view.
“You saw my little present; that’s good. Wouldn’t want you two feeling too sick for our fun little activities…” she cooed, pursing her lips in adoration. Turning and taking several steps back into the great cavern of her modest apartment, she rolled her head around, letting her sweat-tangled hair bat around her shoulders. “You’ll have to excuse me… I just got back from gym…” she said, taking a slow seat at her kitchen table. “Rode the treadmill for an hour and a half, did some yoga…” she groaned wearily, lowering both hands toward the table and releasing them gently, uncurling Jason from his finger prison and allowing Martha to slide out of her cupped palm. Jason ran to his wife, seeking redemption for his terrible tone earlier, but Martha just pulled away.
“Martha…” wheezed Jason, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“And BELIEVE ME…” cut in Amanda, leaning far in over her two captives, making any privacy impossible. “I worked my ass off…” she whispered, her voice suddenly dropping for emphasis; she sounded very pleased with herself. “In fact… I hope you two don’t mind this…” she breathed heavily, scooting the chair out with an eardrum-shattering squeal on the tile floor. “But I’m not sure I can handle the humidity in this place much more…”
Jason watched timidly as Amanda stood back to full height, allowing him to see her entire body finally. He then realized why the scent of her salty excretions had been so pungent; her clothes were so dark and sticky, it seemed only the very base of her blue shirt hadn’t sustained the complete wave of sweat that seemed to have bathed Amanda over the course of her workout. She pinched at the shirt over her abs, peeling it off her warm skin and tugging at it a few times to air herself out. She panted, twirling a finger in her matted hair. Then, flattening her hands against her damp sides, she slid them slowly downward, tracing the curve of her hips, digging her fingers against her skin through the saturated clothes as they made their way down to the elastic waistband of her black running shorts. Her thumbs slipped in and, pushing outward against the fabric, she slipped them downward, dropping her pants to the ground.
Jason winced, becoming more and more nervous about what was going on, then watched with wide wonder and mixed petrification as Amanda slipped her thumbs into the strap of her white panties, tugging at them a bit, stretching them across her toned hips, her recently worked, tanned quads pulsing as she took a step forward. Her thumbs slid downward and pulled, allowing the panties to slip to the ground too as Amanda turned her back to Jason and Martha.
Amanda’s naked ass barreled toward Jason like the nose of a crashing blimp, filling his field of vision with her tight, pale gluts. The firm cheeks crashed heavily onto the kitchen table, flexing and clenching a few times as Amanda settled into a more comfortable position, murmuring with the comfort of allowing her lower body to air out on the cool surface of the table, freed from the restrictive, wet clothes. As the edges of her rotund butt lifted and fell a few micrometers with each shift, Jason couldn’t help but notice the wet, glistening sheen left on the stained wood tabletop: sweat prints. Jason shuddered, taking several steps back, and couldn’t help but gasp uneasily with fear.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Jason,” smiled Amanda, looking over her shoulder and down at Jason, who now stood behind her, very near to her fully exposed bottom. “Remember what I want? A comfortable, open environment. Very…” she whispered unchastely, scooching back on the table a few centimeters toward Jason with a soft squeak from her fleshy cheeks. Jason leapt back.
“…very…” she continued, going back a bit further, to which Jason responded by nearly tripping over Martha’s prone form. “…VERY comfortable. Besides, I can see more of you than you can see of me.”
Jason looked down at his painfully visible body, marveling at the sheer humiliation he had been forced to endure by bearing all so generously to a total stranger, for the sake of keeping his health relatively intact. While not being a sexist, Jason couldn’t help but note that this situation tended only to come around when the genders were reversed. As he stared into the rounded, bulbous walls of Amanda’s butt cheeks, ending at what look liked an entire office story height upward with her sweat-darkened shirt still clinging to her body so tightly that the strap of her sports bra was visible through the shirt in an outline.
As Jason’s eyes fell back from Amanda’s shoulder blades up in the relative stratosphere and back to her bare ass spread plainly on the tabletop right in front of him, he recoiled in disgust to see a bead of sweat slipping down Amanda’s right butt cheek, dripped from the inside of her shirt. It slid to the tabletop and plunked. Then another. And another, all gently trickling down Amanda’s naked bottom and onto the tabletop. Trembling, Jason returned to his wife’s side, but was again rejected.
“I apologize for this...” sighed Amanda, slamming both hands flat on the table for support as she leaned back slightly.
“W-Why?”
“Because I have a feeling neither of you will enjoy this very much at all.”
Did we ever enjoy it, thought Jason grimly to himself.
“But trust me…” reassured Amanda, sounding like a supportive friend. “It’s all for the best.”
Martha pulled herself to her feet, pushing aside Jason’s offered assistance, but nearly staggered back to the tabletop at the sight of the rounded, glistening, sweat-drenched ass that was laid before them. Whimpering slightly still, she clung to Jason, more for security than out of forgiveness, but at this point the tiny man didn’t really care.
“What is?” yelled Jason up to Amanda’s face far above, gaining some confidence in the embrace of his wife.
“Our next bond-strengthening exercise. I’ll need both of you to walk up to me, and pick a side,” instructed Amanda, lifting her palms off the table slightly and bending at her fingertips as she waited. She didn’t need to explain it; Jason already knew perfectly well what she meant. She meant for each of them to stand in front of a cheek. “And trust me…” began Amanda, bypassing the almost assured nervous resistance from her captives. “This is much easier to do in a standing up position, instead of from underneath.”
Chills were sent down Jason’s spine and legs as he nodded to his wife, who instantly dug her heels into the table and shook her head no, but somehow she was convinced by Jason’s intense expression. Neither of them wanted to find out what made this way so much easier than the alternative, and Jason had a feeling Amanda wouldn’t hesitate to demonstrate if need be.
Jason helped Martha hobble to a position within touching distance of Amanda’s right cheek, while he himself worked his way to the left one. The slick, supple flesh seemed to be like a pale, fallen hot air balloon before him, yet it had almost no slack, with the tautness of the muscle behind the sweat-smeared skin.
“Marriage is all about putting your partner first…” Amanda chimed confidently, not even looking down at them anymore, but instead towards ceiling. “So right now, I’m going to let you two choose who’s the lucky one, and who’s… well…” she chuckled. “Who ISN’T as lucky…”
Martha went down on her haunches, as the pain in her back was starting up again, whimpering.
“Hang in there, Martha,” said Amanda. “I want this to be a thorough job. Are you both ready?”
Neither spoke up.
“Good,” nodded Amanda, somehow satisfied. “I need you each to dry me off down there. Well. And whichever one of you gets your side the cleanest gets the easy job in our next exercise. Make sense?”
Martha gulped, quivering, knowing they were going to have to do it one way or another. Gathering the strength, she looked up toward the billowing, tangled locks of Amanda’s black hair far above. “H-How?”
Amanda turned back to them, looking down over her shoulder, and smiled warmly. “With your little faces, of course, Martha, and nothing else, or you’ll start over again. And you two are going to look so adorable doing it together, believe me… if I could take a picture of it, I would, but as you can see, I’m sort of integral…” she giggled.
“Martha…” choked Jason, disgusted beyond belief, the air muggy with the smell of sweat and grime emanating off of Amanda’s bare ass. “Listen to…”
“NO TALKING!” boomed Amanda with sudden sternness, slamming her palm back on the table, sending a shockwave through to the hapless couple. “In a real marriage, each person can tell what the other wants, and what they need. Do that now.”
Jason readied himself as best he could, as if about to stand in front of the firing squad. He shut his eyes, pinched his nose (as if that would help), closed his mind tightly, and inched closer to the ceaseless wall of thick, peachy skin. A bottom that looked large enough to crush a building underneath it if Amanda happened to take a seat on one. Shaking so hard he could barely concentrate, Jason stuck out his tongue and pressed it against the foul, sour skin, commencing to lick off the damp results of Amanda’s workout. Martha didn’t budge.
“This doesn’t excuse you from participating, Martha,” came the soft instruction of the feminine titan. “Join your husband now, or neither of you gets the prize.”
Martha, jolted out of her stupor, staggered forward, and threw herself right into it, opening her mouth and taking a taste. Immediately she began to wretch, having a much weaker stomach than Jason, but after a few more soft taps of her tongue tip, she managed to, with some difficulty, take long, sweeping licks, barely covering any of the immense real estate of butt flesh that stretched upward, seemingly into the heavens of Amanda’s apartment. Her eyes watered as the ghastly, filthy flavors raped her mouth. The dark, almost gaping crack separated the naked, convulsing couple as they continued licking with eyes clenched shut, throats gagging continuously in protest as the slime settling into Amanda’s skin made its way into their digestive tracts.
“Keep it up, you two,” sighed Amanda, closing her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of the two pin-sized tongues tickling her weary, cramped ass. As the sensation was so tingly and light, Amanda couldn’t help but jiggle her cheeks in reaction, getting goose bumps all the while. This slammed each cheek hard against both Jason and Martha’s sticky faces, knocking them each down. “Sorry about that, your tiny tongues are just…” moaned Amanda, relishing the very thought of it, but she quickly snapped back. “Get back on. Now.”
Jason opened his mouth back up, his tongue soggier than ever with filth, but as he placed his tongue back on Amanda’s skin, a shining orb of a sweat drop came slipping down her wet flesh, dropping right toward Jason’s head. As he was staring straight at the warm wall of ass, even brushing his nose against it uncomfortably a few times as he licked the perspiration away, he didn’t realize it was coming until the droplet was splashing against his hair and trickling into his eyes. Horrified, Jason stepped back, blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyelids, but he only managed to pull some of it out. It stung profusely, as if it had leaked all the way around his eyes and into his skull; this was the image Jason had, at least, as he returned to his work, his eyes watering, his hands shaking more violently than before.
Martha, her tongue going dry from the effort, finally had to lean off to the side, wretch a few times, and throw up. She stayed there a few seconds, hacking up the last of it, when a thumb thicker than her body came flying at her, flicking. Martha was flung backward a few inches, body slamming into the thick, story-tall butt cheek. She could feel it ripple slightly across every inch of her bare body as the firm skin repelled her immediately back onto the tabletop, where she fell on her bandaged wound and screeched with pain. Helpfully, Amanda’s fingertips quickly pinched back around Martha’s head like a ragdoll, dragging her back to her feet. Then, bracing Martha’s weeping face, she jammed it roughly into the soft, sweaty surface, pressing so hard an indent was beginning to appear in the malleable ass skin.
Jason, meanwhile, continued his work, coughing heavily in the fog of sticky, pestilential transudation that seemed to be flooding every orifice of his body. He could practically feel his stomach gurgling with agitation as cups upon cups of Amanda’s salty bottom sweat droplets slid down his esophagus and into his body fully.
“Let me feel it, lovebirds,” cooed Amanda, her fingertips tingling with glee as she released the learned Martha from her grip. “You’re doing an amazing job...”