Gerome ducked behind a pair of green heels as two girls entered the sorority house and kicked their shoes off at the door, the distant sounds of their casual laughter and conversation almost mocking him.
He had been trapped here ever since Maria unintentionally dropped him off, apparently not taking into account Maria’s preference to leave her shoes by the door rather than in her room; along with at least 20 other girls whose foul smelling shoes, heels, and boots burned his nose with their collective odor.
He looked into the distance. Judging from the layout of the building Gerome concluded that he was in some kind of foyer. There were two large staircases on both sides, as well as several doors that led to various locations. From what he could tell the closest and largest door on the left led to the living room, and the equal sized door on the opposite side led to the kitchen.
In other words he had no idea where he was, and was currently trapped in a pile of shoes; unable to make a move due to there being hundreds of meters of open space between him and the nearest door.
“No No No… I love YOU.” said a silly sounding voice from inside the kitchen.
Gerome ducked behind a pair of Doc Martins as the kitchen door blasted open, and 3 staggering girls walked into the foyer; the unmistakable pungent crisp scent of marijuana following them.
“I’m sooooo bored, anybody wanna watch some T.V?” Sputtered a different, but equally impaired girl.
“Fuck yeahhh. That sounds like funnn.” Giggled another girl who then sat down in the center of the room.
The linoleum creaked as the massive buttocks of the stoned girl slapped hard against the floor. Her body sitting in a strange wide leg stance, and giving Gerome a pleasant, but unwanted view of her crotch.
Gerome’s spine shook as one of the girls, who appeared to be an African American women of large stature and muscle tone, stomped the floor hard with her black boots, “Ugh!” she grunted in frustration, “I can’t believe somebody took all the canned food.” She exclaimed turning towards her friends.
The two other girls burst into laughter, “giiiirrrlll, That’s wat you get for eating at 2 o’clock.” giggled the wide legged girl who then fell over onto her side and slammed her head into the floor, apparently overwhelmed by how hilarious everything around her was.
“Damn Chelsea. How fucked up are you?” asked the dark skinned girl who felt her friends head for head injury.
“I don even know how many shotsss of Yeager Gre-Greg made me take, but… but I know it was a Laht.” She attempted to explain.
“Wait? You were drinking? Was this before or after you smoked with us?” asked the girl sitting beside Chelsea looking quite concerned.
“After silly.” Squealed Chelsea who in a fit of giggling smacked her head against the floor multiple times
“Yep. That’s it, you’re done.” Said the black girl who then hoisted Chelsea to her feet, and motioning to the other girl to get her other side. “Come with us. You’re going to bed.”
“What about the fooood. I don’t wanna sleep til’ I’ve eaten dammit.” She wailed and lightly struggled as her two friends escorted her to the living room.
“I have some popcorn riiight here. You just get some rest and sober up.” said the tall black girl rolling her eyes at her intoxicated companion. One arm held open the door to the living room and with the other she dangled a steaming bag of popcorn in front of Chelsea like a bait on a hook.
Gerome’s mouth watered at the sight of that popcorn bag; true, it wasn’t the most nutritious of meals and the thought of eating these girl’s scraps disgusted the hell out of him. However, any humiliation at this point was better than starving to death in a pile of discarded footwear.
He rose to his legs which burned from exhaustion and began jogging towards the door on the left. It was risky, and the likelihood of getting caught was high, but his chances inside the poorly lit TV room were far better than his chances inside the kitchen, where Gerome was confident that he would be discovered by the first women that walked in there.
As he approached he noticed that entering the room would be simple enough, the space between the door and the floor was such that it allowed him to crawl under with ease.
Upon reaching the other side, he immediately ducked behind a large potted plant to his left and peeked out from the side like a soldier in a warzone. Directly ahead of him and around 50 meters away dwelled the couch which was at least 3 to 4 apartment complexes tall. Over the side hung a dainty looking foot and ankle; the underside of which appeared rough and covered in dirt. In other words, not something he cared to be the last thing he ever saw.
Gerome inspected the rest of the room and saw no sign of either of her friends. His stomach growled again, and so without thinking he ran, or rather waded across the grimy carpet to the underside of the couch where he was confident that upon reaching the other side, he would be rewarded with food.
Hunger and the desire to survive in this familiar but alien world drove him forward as he crawled on his knees through the dark underside of the couch, until finally he reached the other side. His eyes were blurry from fatigue and dehydration, and his body was begging him to give in and collapse, but he was so close that he could practically taste his goal.
Looking out he saw an assortment of chips, popcorn, and bread scraps; all of which were conveniently spread out along the legs of a large glass and wood coffee table. The second his breath returned Gerome took off running towards the scraps with complete disregard for himself; at this point he didn’t care if he got caught, he just had to eat.
With both arms he shoveled scraps into his mouth, most of it was soggy or well past it’s prime, but delicious all the same. For him it was a banquet of food; pieces of popcorn the size of rocks, chip shards the size of car doors, and even what looked like a slice of ham large enough to wrap around himself like a meat blanket. Then came his thirst, and if hindsight was a person it would have slapped him in the face.
Water… I need water, he thought frantically while looking around the table for a bottle or cup of some kind. Finally he tried to look up at the couch and when he did, his eyes met hers.
His whole body froze with fear, and his heart pounded so hard it hurt his chest. There, upon the couch was Chelsea, who now looked at him with wide curious bloodshot eyes.
****
It had been about a minute since Chelsea’s so called “friends” left her on the couch to go party until dawn. She didn’t care though, to her they were just a couple of sycophants who used her for her drug connections; still, at the very least they made her nights interesting.
From her pocket she pulled out a small zip lock bag of multi-colored tablets indented with smiley faces and a medical bottle labeled Lysergic acid diethylamide. These would be her tools of escape.
She took a tablet from the bag and the pill from the bottle, and without hesitation downed them both in one gulp along with the last of her water.
“I’m almost home.” She whispered to herself with a coy smile and closed her eyes, waiting for it to take effect.
It starts with the little things, it always does. First went her perception of time, not like she cared though, she didn’t have class tomorrow anyways. Second went her body temperature, which shot through the roof as powerful rippling warmth raced up and down her skin. Lastly went her sense of reality; she opened her eyes into a world of pure color and sensation, a world where she could feel the sounds of the television shake her body as if they were waves on a beach, a world where the room around her spun and danced as if made of liquid before spiraling into a dynamic twisting maze of fractals, and a world where even the simplest of things were beautiful beyond her imagination.
This was her home; this was where she felt alive, where she felt free. Reality and sobriety for her were synonyms for slavery. She hated the cruel monotonous world she lived in; a world where everybody lived to work and worked to live, and where everything, even the universe itself was governed by strict unbending rules. Plain and simple, for her there was no adversity in this twisted reality worth overcoming, nor any joy or passion worth pursuing. What others considered ‘life’ she considered glorified survival. The only thing that kept her going anymore was the knowledge that with a few simple chemicals she could escape it all and enter a boundless world of dreams where the idiotic troubles of reality could literally melt away.
She looked over at the glass coffee table. It reminded her of sugar, the way it seemed to glisten like candy; she swore she could even taste it. The grain of the wood flowed up across the exterior of the wooden table legs, and the light grey carpet seemed to go down and up as if the floor was a slumbering beast.
Then her eyes caught something small scamper across the carpet; its humanoid figure skipping across the wavy carpet and to the small flecks of food on the ground. It was like nothing she had ever seen, and it looked far too real to be a part of her trip.
Her mind raced as she watched the creature indulge itself on the crumbs below. What was it, an illusion? A demon? Or perhaps it was simple a resident of this world, her world.
She reached out for it, grabbing the small man by its torso before it could escape; its miniscule body struggling against the might of her clenched fist to no avail. Chelsea smiled; this creature was part of her world, he was made for her to do as she pleased.
She lifted her new property high into the air, far above her head where what her eyes knew was real blurred in with the drug induced illusions. His face was indiscernible, to distorted to give her any clear indication of its emotions. However, regardless of its feelings, if it even had them, it now served her interests.
Chelsea felt it struggle in her hand, its little arms brushing against her skin; fighting with everything it had to resist her. It was an incredible feeling for her, to control someone’s life so thoroughly that with just the flick of a wrist she could end it. That’s when she realized; just as she was enslaved by her own miserable life, he was enslaved by her.
In a way, I’m his entire world right now. His god, thought Chelsea bringing her new toy up to her face and contemplating the amusing and unfortunate irony she found herself in.
Just the thought of her being that important to anyone sent a shiver of pleasure up through her veins and across her entire body. The idea of having total control over someone working in tandem with the effects of the drugs to wear down her inhibitions, until finally; there was nothing left but lust.
****
Gerome gasped with pain as her fingers carelessly manipulated and violated him high above the ground. No area of his body was off limits for her, and she seemed to be endlessly fascinated with bending his spine to damn near the breaking point.
The pain was intense, but the humiliation even more so. Before he was incarcerated, Gerome was a master criminal, an expert in thievery, assassination, and sabotage. And yet here he was dangling by his legs at the mercy of drugged out college girl. It was a depressing realization; to suddenly go from being feared by all to being feared less than the insects that he now shared a fate with.
Chelsea meanwhile began to look increasingly agitated; her body shifting back and forth and her face flushed red from what he knew from years of experience to be arousal.
Her eyes widened, her body stiffened slightly, and finally she began to lower him down towards her face.
Is it over? What the hell is she doing, thought Gerome as he approached Chelsea’s ever expanding face.
Her massive succulent lips opened up and from them came a thick moist breeze of salty stale air; the scent of alcohol surrounding him; burning his eyes. Strings of saliva hung between her vicious looking teeth, which stood at the ready to rip the flesh from his bones at any moment.
Is she going to eat me? No…No there’s no way she’d do that, thought Gerome in an attempt to comfort himself; his body slowly entering the inside of her cavernous mouth.
I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding, he thought closing his eyes as his body was slowly submerged into hers.
Finally her fingers released him, and almost in slow motion Gerome felt himself fall towards her awaiting tongue; his head smacking hard against its gooey surface. The enormous pulsing muscle reacted immediately to his presence, and in and instant he was thrown forward and into her teeth and now closed lips; his nose breaking on impact before falling into a turbulent pool of bubbling spit.
Gerome looked up from the slimy flesh floor and saw light, and for a second he thought this torture was over; but the only thing that escaped the dark depths of her mouth was a deep passionate moan with a volume so great it shook the very bones of his body.
Her breathing became more intense; just by the sound of it Gerome could tell Chelsea was masturbating.
She threw him forward towards the front of her mouth and bit down lightly on his torso. Gerome screamed in fear as Chelsea’s jaws clamped down and slightly into his exposed skin; painfully pinning him in-between her guillotine-like teeth that could at any moment split him in half as easily as a cracker.
Her saliva flowed forward and accumulated around the front of lips which were we puckered together in a kissy face. Then in one single motion Gerome was expelled from her mouth, his legs hitting her chin on the way down causing him to spiral chaotically towards her supple chest.
A whole two seconds passed before his body smacked against her chest; one of his right ribs snapping like a twig immediately upon impacting her collarbone. At this point his body was in shock, he could no longer take any more pain. In fact, he couldn’t even stand. Looking down at his leg, he realized that the fall from her lip had sprained his ankle. He had no choice but to wait for whatever fate Chelsea prescribed for him.
At the very least he could see. He could see the face of the young women who decided for whatever reason to hurt him, to break him; her red flushed face towering over him in the horizon. Large glazed over hazel eyes the size of windows staring right at him with complete vacancy as she continued to libidinously grind her hand into her cunt; completely apathetic to the ungodly pain and terror she had forced, and continues to force him, to endure.
Any normal man would have felt nothing but hate given the situation; Gerome however just couldn’t bring himself to despise her. In his eyes Chelsea wasn’t a monster, not like Cynthia. She was simply ignorant, too stoned and drunk to even properly understand what was going on around her. For Gerome that made this all the more humiliating; to be broken both mentally and physically by someone who may not even know he even exists as something other than a sex toy.
He felt like an insect on a sidewalk; his life, his very existence governed by the mundane actions of simple people going about their lives. Even if he survived Chelsea, it was more than likely that somewhere along the line his life would be snuffed out by someone. His remains flushed down the toilet, or left to rot in-between the filthy dirt clogged treads of some sorority girl’s shoes.
Gerome strained his head and looked up at his captors face; she had closed her eyes and was almost exclusively focused on her own pleasure. Her labored breathing swept across the lightly tanned landscape that was her body, the scent of cherry flavored lip balm and cheap booze surrounded him; and she truly did surround him in every sense of the word.
Gerome could hear her heartbeat beneath him, and feel even the most miniscule of muscle contractions; even the slightest shift or adjustment in her position felt as if the entire universe had been displaced. He now understood why when Cynthia decided to kill them, all the other prisoners just watched; she, along with every other person on the planet, was now a force of nature. There was no way to fight them, there was no way to escape them; the only way to remain safe was to flee as fast as your legs could carry you.
The area around Gerome was now burning hot, and he was struggling to breathe the steaming hot air; she was so absolutely gigantic that just her body heat alone was almost enough to give him a heat stroke. Suddenly a gust of cold air blew from behind as Chelsea carelessly removed her sweat soaked shirt and flung it across the room; a pair of bare breasts crowned by two erect nipples twice as thick as his head greeting him immediately upon being unbound from the tight confines of her clothes.
Her massive voluptuous breasts, each one the size of a house, shivered elegantly as she struggled to control herself. Every powerful muscle in her neck and chest pulsing and writhing in exhaustion as she continued to pound away at herself; to full of lust and love to care about fatigue. Her breasts, face, and neck glowing with sexual passion as they shook side to side with every pleasure driven thrust of the hips. Perspiration dripped down the skin of her torso, forming small rivers of shimmering sweat down her ample chest and across her well-toned stomach like water flowing down the slope of a flesh colored mountain. The dim lamp light reflecting off of her body and bathing every inch of the seemingly boundless shapely landscape that was her chest in a radiant display of color.
A soft moan escaped her, and before he could realize what was going on the hand in her crotch was already upon him; a layer of warm fresh ejaculate slathering and sticking to him as Chelsea’s fingers clumsily dragged him down and away from her chest.
He would have ran, but his ankle was sprained. He would have crawled, but his shoulder was dislocated. Gerome would have screamed, but he didn’t have enough air to even speak. All he could do was sob silently through his now cum smothered mouth as Chelsea painfully slid him by his upper body down past her stomach, beyond her belly button towards what he was certain would be his tomb.
****
Chelsea was in heaven, never before had she wanted to cum as badly as right now. The thought of this… thing serving her, possibly to its death filled her with a morbid, yet irresistible desire unlike any she had ever felt in her life. Chelsea honestly didn’t give a crap that she was on a couch in somebody else’s house; for her, this opportunity was well worth any humiliation she’d face tomorrow.
She savored every second as she rubbed the creature across her sculpted body; a body she had worked on for years to be as appealing as was humanly possible for her. A twisted smile creeping across her face at the thought of this hopeless nothing getting to go where men hundreds of times better and larger than him could never do. He’d better be thankful too; Chelsea rarely let men go down on her like this.
There was some resistance as she dragged him through her bush; its body somehow got tangled in her trimmed hair. Between the soiled tight clothing, her hand, and her sticky cum drenched crotch, there wasn’t much room for anything; even for something as small as he was. Forcing him through she felt one of its arms bend back in an unnatural fashion, not broken, just dislocated. If what she was holding in her hand was real and not just a hallucination, she had just caused some serious damage. It didn’t really matter to her though; maybe it was just the drugs, but at that moment Chelsea didn’t care if it was real or not. She was pretty damn horny; and unfortunately for him, he was just the right size for her.
She was already near climax before she brought him inside her, and upon feeling its body breach her labia; Chelsea couldn’t help but orgasm instantly. A wave of fresh cum flooded down and out of her, completely covering her new found favorite toy and further destroying her already waterlogged panties.
Whatever it was, it had stopped moving, either to exhausted or afraid to offer even the slightest hint of resistance. It was of no consequence to her; awake or not, Chelsea planned on fucking him for as long as she could.