Weighing your options, you decide to allow Senpai's groin to have its way with you. Your energy's draining from the roasting atmosphere on the seat. And anyway, you can't budge an inch under the sheer weight; tens of thousands of tons of pussy slouching over you from every corner. You'll just have to lie on your stomach, think happy thoughts, and bear it.

You pause. Is "bear it" is the right word? After all, this is the closest you've ever been to Matsudo's naughty bits. It's not like you have to move much, as you soak in the touch of her tender organ. Sensing her panty's fibers covering your tangled hair, a thin trace of moisture atop them, brings a covert smile to your lips.

Making yourself as comfortable as you can, you stretch out, letting the droning hum of machine terminals, keyboard taps, and your beloved Senpai's breath to take your ears. You'll probably have a mere few minutes of quality time with her panties. Better enjoy these little moments with her, no matter how they come to you - even if they crash on top of you all at once.

***

Those little moments...

"Hey... Sodachi, right?" Matsudo stands there, arms crossed. Her eyes are a deep brown, and her pigtails flap in the wind. She pulls you close with a bold tug of your necktie.

Your face goes red. Has she found out? You've always been sneaking glances at her out of the corner of your eye. Ever an absent-minded professor, she often seems to act like she's the only one in the room. When she leans to reach a dropped eraser, or rests her legs on the desk, it's easy to grab a glimpse of her underwear. But it's not only that. It's the way she chews at her pencil; how her body scoots around when working on a tough problem; and the way she rests her chin on her hand when listening to someone... Her mind's always working in a different direction. It enthralls you. But now, those happy peeks might end - she's staring you down, seemingly knowingly.

"Wh-what? Senpai..." You bow again and again. The thought of getting this close to her is heart-pounding, terrifying - she can see right through you. But the thought of losing her is worse.

Matsudo just looks through her nose, her eyes thin and knowing. She has a sign-up sheet in her hand. Her lips slip apart as words flutter out from them...

***

"Nhm, another bug..." Matsudo's typing stops. "You're really pissing me off - get squashed, bug."

An insignifigant shift in her hips jolts you up, along with her voice. The white landscape shifts forward, the force of a steamroller plowing you beneath sweaty cloth. Something must've made you zone out for a second. The colour rushing from your cheeks, your mind encountering a blue screen of death. You try to cry out, but the words choke up in your compressed throat, dying into a pathetic whisper.

She's not looking down - simply staring indifferently at the screen. The keystrokes above become louder. A tiny sigh slithers through your mouth, and you feel ready to fall apart. That was a software bug the intellectual giantess was grinding beneath her proverbial heel.

It's getting harder to keep your eyes open - not that you need to, when you can feel every tiny flex from the sinews and muscles pressing from above. The passive twitches rock your world.

For instance: on every exhale she releases, the president compresses your chest and lungs against the seat, trash in a compactor. Trying your best to keep hold of your limited oxygen, you time your shallow breaths around her. They synchronize with the hurricanes flowing in and out of your president's nose. Each time you gulp the air back in, Senpai's warmth blasts into your nostrils and mouth, dousing you in her feminine pheromones. The heat and odor were overbearing when Matsudo Mountain first descended; now, they make your nose hairs tingle and burn.

A clock ticks somewhere in the room, a reminder of time's passage. When you try to twist your neck in its direction, your joints scream like sirens. The unrelenting pressure from above shows no signs of dying out; you're caught between a rock and a soft, silky place.

***

Your whole body's floating. Everything feels soft and tingly. The clock's frozen in place. As you gaze deep into Matsudo's round, nerdy glasses, you can see everything. Her quiet, analytical eyes. Your own timid face, awfully short in her presence. The lab's desks and monitors, and the meadows outside, distorted to look larger, more vibrant, and more inviting. She takes you in her arms. The vial drops carelessly to the tiled floor, shattering into hundreds of reflective shards. You can't breathe. Sweat rushes across your hair. Your palms clam up. Your pulse races. A beautiful, intelligent scientist, and her loyal Kouhai, sharing an intimate moment.

She breaks the silence: "Oh, shoot. My potion caused an allergic reaction." Casually, the young scientist pulls a large syringe from her blazer's pocket. "Hold still, you'll probably live..."

Hold still... In her awe-inspiring presence, that's the only thing you can do. That's the only thing the clocks can do.

Hold still.

***

In an effortless motion, Matsudo scratches her gut. More warmth assaults you as her uniform white shirt lifts back, revealing a once-scrawny, now immense stomach. The slender fingers lay right above you, their shadows twisting around and curling over her soft, receding stomach flesh. Her rolling skin molds you beneath it. Even this unsanitary, subconscious move becomes a delicate, rehearsed dance from your perspective. You reach up, fingers outstretched, frail and tiny against a single one of Senpai's slender digits. You can still get her attention... Or a last, delicate touch of her hand...?

You're not sure what you want anymore. The monolithic hand rises out of your vision, into the realm beyond the desktop.

The air is heavy. Scent of raw fish brings sensations of lightness to your head. Your throat is dry, and your gut aches from the pussy's throbbing pressure. It's like the lewd lips are trying to slowly consume you whole, trap you within them, breath by breath. Her body heat has only grown with time, capturing you in a squishy sauna of sweat and cloth.

To see the president in a sauna, revealing her slender form in a skimpy swimsuit, heat fogging up her glasses...

Water. That's what you need. You're thirsty from the blistering heat; this dizziness making everything spread out larger is the result of dehydration. A brief sip of something...

The perspiration's built up around Matsudo's panties. Imperceptible at normal size, pebble-sized beads start at the fabric's frayed hem, like morning dew on grass. Across the smooth Mound of Venus, the liquid grows from droplets, to puddles, to a swampland. The juices are most intense right at the gates of her vagina - a greyish stain soaked in a clear outline of her monstrous vulva. It's so wet, you can feel it traversing your cheek. Thirst dries your lips.

...No! Absolutely not! Though you can barely move, you shake your head intensely at the idea. Your dignity hasn't descended that low.

Still, your lips are so parched. The waters cascade around your tiny frame with her idle motions. Every drop echoes in your ears. The humidity in the air caresses your tongue. It tastes of Senpai. If it's Senpai, is it that bad?

Shutting your eyes, and swallowing, you stick your tongue out - and lap a loose do from the surface. The salty taste of Matsudo's sweat trickles down your throat. Your body melts in relief - and in a flash of sobriety, shame takes its place. You want to bury yourself in a hole and cry. In a sense, underneath the crotch's unworldly weight, you're already buried hopelessly deep.

***

And you can see yourself, blonde hair, bright eyes, wandering into the room. You approach the vial and spot the lip mark. You try to shoot out to yourself to stop; but the other Sodachi takes a sip. And... nothing. Everything stays normal. You approach Matsudo, and profess your love. She takes you in her hands, and you sink deep into her being - a single speck in a pure field, a drop into a pond.

Are these memories? Premonitions? Fantasies, as your brain breaks apart, oxygen failing? Are you seeking some greater meaning behind a senseless and pathetic death - unnoticed beneath your crush's sex?

It stretches on forever - the length of her legs below, dangling by the edge of the chair...

Is Kotoko still there? You hadn't heard him walk out - or really heard anything over Senpai's diligent bodily functions. It's not just hard to see him, amid the musty air; it's hard to picture anything existing beyond the realm of Senpai's pussy. Time, too, has lost meaning. You may have been here for hours, or minutes. It blends together in an intoxicating, dank microcosm.

Your pressure-numbed joints reach up one last time aching from the Goliath above them...

.......

Distant clicks and hums bless your ears. You're suffocating because of this. It's your fault - the choice to wait here, the choice to climb up, the choice to drink the potion, the choice to join this club...

.....

No regrets touch your body in your last moments. You're with Senpai.

....

Senpai is around you, smothering you.

...

You'll never leave her.

...

You're a crumb lost in her valleys and peaks.

...

...

You're glad you met her.

...

Sodachi Taiyou...
Unable to escape the smothering of Matsudo's pussy...
Found himself slowly extinguished underneath it.
Heat, thirst, pressure, and air deprivation left him lifeless...
but without a scratch or bruise on his smiling face.


Click.

Matsudo stretched, chuckling softly. "Finally. Thought I'd never get solve that bug."