Caitlin’s feet burned, despite her thick skin. The powdery terrain she tread upon had been heated thoroughly by solar power. A forearm swept across her brow, wiping away a thick layer of sweat that was already trickling down.

As she had done this, a cooling breeze rushed through her underarm, ruffling the unshaven hairs. This had also reminded her of a crucial detail. Once the sun had begun its descent, her husband was relocated to her armpit.

There had been several attempts to adhere him to the musky pit, all to no avail since the bushy area made such endeavors difficult. Wiry hairs drove away the masking tape that had once been so effective securing Andrew to her foot. Her husband ended up using the musky threads to hold himsef in place. Hair had been tied around his waist, ankles and wrists.

Of course, all anxieties about falling free were settled once Caitlin had taken to walking. He rarely saw the light of the afternoon sun, for few were the moments his wife actually lifted her arm. Most of the time was spent in the sweltering sauna, trapped against slick sweat, breathing in the putrid aroma of raw feminine musk.

Indeed, his wife’s underarm had granted him a newfound appreciation for the stench of her foot. Andrew found himself desiring the sting of vinegar that wafted between her toes. It turned out to possess a mitigating effect on the sheer intensity of his wife’s odor.

His residence upon her foot also had allowed him the benefit of enjoying the free, cool breeze that wicked away any excess odors. Now, buried within her swampy arm, there was neither escape, nor relief. At times, the volume of sweat that assailed him provoked the sensation of drowning.

Thus, he was granted reprieve once his wife lifted her mighty arm. Andrew allowed his gaze to linger just a tad too long upon the monstrous triceps that loomed above, mesmirized by its defined curves and bulges. Ocean breeze swept away a decent proportion of musk. As he inhaled, his diaphragm became stricken with greed, expanding with great vigor, if only to capture as much untainted oxygen as possible.

A silver eye fell upon him. Caitlin’s gaze was not one to be ignored. Andrew reciprocated, staring straight into gray irises. Her concern was clearly reflected within her gargantuan pools.

With her full attention, he could only give a mischievous smile, and exclaim, “Oh boy, this really is the pits!”

Caitlin’s eyes rolled in their sockets, while a mote of relief passed over her, “Ha ha. You aren’t going to puke, are you?”

“No,” Andrew denied, while doing the best he could to raise his shoulders. “You want me to?”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted.

“Yeah.”

Not another word was said, as Caitlin’s arm was lowered again. Shadow engulfed Andrew’s form, as he witnessed contours of muscle and bone expand and contract while a great wall of flesh closed in. Soon enough, the surface of her arm pressed him into her pit. In the same manner as a squeezed cloth, pungent liquid leaked out, compelled by force alone. The newlywed man was christened in a rancid wash, refreshing the already stale layer that had clung to his skin. Meanwhile, hairs wrapped themselves around his body, slicking him with their oily touch.

The sensation proved a most peculiar one to Caitlin, as she made her way around the beach. Her husband was but a minuscule speck, one that she felt most explicitly as her arms swung from her pace. If anything, Andrew’s presence within her pit had caused it to perspire even more. Thus, she had taken time, every so often, to raise her arm ever slightly to allow some semblance of relief.

As she made her way around the beach, her eyes were drawn to an active scene of three others of her stature gathered around a makeshift volleyball net. The net itself was not particularly taut, for there was a significant dip near the center. Arbitrary lines were drawn into the sand, which proved easily paved over by a misstep from one of the girls.

An appropriately sized volleyball was passed around. Each giantess proved an armature at this act, allowing the ball to strike the sand, or sending it flailing in an uncontrollable direction. One of the girls, a curvaceous young woman with dark, curly hair falling down her shoulders, had accidentally caused the ball to careen straight towards Caitlin.

The newlywed managed to catch the ball midair, before palming it in one hand. As a result, she received a friendly wave from the culprit herself.

“Hey, you!” she shouted, her voice tinged with a clear latin accent, “We’re looking for a fourth, think you can fill in?”

Caitlin eyed the other two, both whom appeared a tad hesitant. She reflected such a sentiment as she replied, “Uh, sure? But I’m …”

One of the other women, sporting a pixie cut of blonde hair, and a comparable physique to Caitlin, gave a friendly smile, as she assured, “Hey, we’re not pros here. We’re just here to have fun.”

The final member of their triumvirate, a pale woman of black hair, and dark, slanted eyes, held up her hand. “Wait girls. Let’s pause for a second here? No offense, but the team that girl’s going on is going to win.”

Caitlin shrugged her relatively massive shoulders, feeling her husband marinate in even more oily perspiration, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I don’t know jack about volleyball.”

Her critic continued, “I’m just saying, you look like you box with Godzilla every day.”

At this, a red tinge flushed Caitlin’s own cheeks, causing her to turn away.

A giggle erupted from the trio’s most voluptuous member, “Oh Kyoko, of course you’d talk about Gojira!”

Kyoko’s pale face turned red in an instant, as she shouted back, “NANI THE FUCK MARIA?”

In all but words, Caitlin was still brought along for a couple of matches. “Matches”, however, was a generous term for the absolute chaos of the scrimmages she partook in. As was advertised, none of the girls were experts in this particular craft. Points were often decided with a single serve, either with the receiving team missing a soft floater, or the server driving the ball directly into the net or out of bounds.

Maria was the girl she had been paired with. It soon became apparent why, for her partner often struggled making her way around the poorly defined court. Caitlin, meanwhile, often was in two places at once, chasing wild balls, and the occasional spikes by the athletic blonde, whom she learned through the course of exchanging trash talk, was named Sera.

As she competed, her athletic endeavors had left her drenched. Streaks of sweat ran down her forehead, and dripped down her chin. Andrew, still adhered to his wife’s armpit, felt the floodgates open. He set aside precious moments when not weathering an odorous assault of streaming perspiration, to contemplate if old Noah, in his day, ever experienced something similar in his ark.

The torrential downpour ran down the forest of Caitlin’s pit much like a waterfall. Droplets of estrogen infused liquid splashed against his pathetic form, drenching his hair, coating his body, and soaking what little articles of clothing he hand. The hairs that secured him had become slick, and Andrew feared that their slippery grip would falter. He often would grow relieved when Caitlin would return her arm to her side, pressing him against the musty flesh, burying him into layers and layers of musky, liquid exertion. Despite her scent, as gag-inducing as it could be, a tinged nose was far better than falling off.

Odor was not the only opponent he had to do battle with. His wife’s Olympian body moved with a velocity he had never experienced before. He was swept along as she ran around, subject to speeds that only a jet could match. There were no benefits of a pressurized cabin and cushioned seating. Indeed, every movement he felt to its fullest; the flesh surrounding him and the pulsing of every muscle fiber in Caitlin’s athletic physique. Even worse, every shift in direction was immediate, with little to no warning to anticipate. Andrew felt himself becoming dazed due to this, though not to his wife’s scent for once.

Upon their latest scrimmage, Maria returned a rather soft serve courtesy of Kyoko. Her satisfied smile faded immediately, as she witnessed Sera rise up to slap the ball back down. Caitlin rushed over to contest, sending powdery particles of sand flying as she made her way.

Air resistance blasted Andrew. His eyes beheld gallons of liquid fly off of his wife to rain down and stain the poor ground below.

Into the air she leapt. Her mighty arms rose, while silver eyes remained glued to the ball, held still by time itself. Sera herself has already risen higher, her icey blue orbs full of unmitigated focus as she brought her palm against the polyester surface.

With a slap that possessed the audacity of a thunderclap, Sera spiked the ball. Its path was straight and clear, sailing past Caitlin’s outstretched arms, causing a small explosion of sand as it impacted the ground inbound.

Caitlin could only grasp her hair in frustration, which caused her arms to rise, and expose her hairy pits. While she did this, Sera’s keen eyes widened, as she observed something swarming in the bushy depths of the other woman’s underarms.

“Uh,” she stuttered nervously, “you got a .. a”

Caitlin’s eyes veered about in confusion, “A what? A –“

As her gaze settled upon her own self, realization came upon her, “Oh right!”

Maria too, huffing with exhaustion, stumbled up the makeshift court. Despite this, she too, kept a keen eye on the newcomer’s underarm, having been attracted by the appearance of a wayward anomaly. As she focused upon the soaked, minuscule form of Andrew, tangled in a forest of thick black hair, she too chimed in, “Who is that? And what did he do to deserve that?”

A mischievous smile then formed on her lips.

Caitlin blushed, still keeping her arms up. She was put on the defensive as she desperately countered, “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

“Wait!” shouted Kyoko, running to the opposite zone of the court. She was notably not breathing as hard as Maria. Also of note, her eyes shined with an almost fanatical excitement while she regarded the larger giantess.

“I’ve heard about guys who love being stuck in a girl’s armpit! He’s probably one of them!”

With an exited squeal, she raised one of her own arms, revealing the muggy skin within, “Mine are a bit cleaner, but he probably wanted the hair.”

From his vantage, Andrew eyed the clean-shaven underarm. The skin on the smaller giantess was indeed smoother, more delicate. Of her smell, he could not perceive, for Caitlin’s overwhelming odor had denied all other aromas entry.

For some reason, his wife’s wiry hairs, which wrapped around and touched every corner of his body, began to feel a bit more comfortable.

As he heard her words, Andrew opened his mouth to object. It was then he realized that not a word could escape, for he had been drinking of the perspiration Caitlin had exerted as she played. Spitting out the foul liquid, the lanky, puny man cleared his throat, hoping his voice could travel through muggy atmosphere and choking threads.

“There’s none of that going on, I’m just … adjusting.”

Realization passed over the three girls. Andrew could detect a mote of disappointment in Kyoko, while her arm somberly lowered back to its side. Meanwhile, Maria’s face drew ever closer to his wife’s armpit. The minuscule man found himself tempted to bury himself even further in his wife’s musty flesh. Her eyes, dark brown in color, had expanded to the size of a home theater screen. Even if her intentions were purely benevolent, mere observation of such a massive thing approaching drove Andrew to give in to base instincts of flight.

“Adjusting to what?” she inquired, before scrunching her nose, “Oh man, guess I answered my own question!”

A silver-tinged glare was shot at her, “In what way, Seniorita?”

Maria immediately backed off, her eyes wide and quivering. Her throat bulged as she gulped down a waddle of spit. Upon observing the more colossal, and frankly, athletic giantess, grow antagonistic, she quickly answered, “I dunno.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Caitlin lightened her expression, even though it had appeared Maria was attempting to avoid any form of eye contact. Her friends, however, had attained a sense of joviality, and of course, took to teasing the voluptuous giantess.

The newlywed titan then decided she had lingered long enough. The sun still bore down on all, giantess and tiny alike. New streams of sweat coursed down her form. Saying her farewells, she departed, heading towards the beach chairs.

As she surveyed the scene around, Caitlin lifted her arm once more. Her muscles burned of fresh activity, but her soreness proved a pleasant sensation. Drops of foul estrogen-spiked water dripped off of her underarm hairs like that of a wet bush in a rainstorm. The air surrounding the area gave off a distorted visage, a mirage formed by immense heat and moisture.

In the middle of it all lay Andrew. His own jet black hair hung over his face in soaked, matted strands, obscuring his eyes. The young man’s head hung low, even as his bushy restraints kept his body propped up in the pit. He proved conscious, and thus, lifted his neck, so that he could meet his wife’s gaze, across the entrancing horizon of moist, shiny flesh.

He sensed something in his immediate vicinity. Caitlin’s hand, hovering like a heavy cargo craft, loomed over him. Already, her pointer and thumb were extended, brushing away invasive hairs with disturbing ease. The threads that were supple enough to secure Andrew within his wife’s pit parted like fragile feathers in the wake of her mighty digit.

Once the tip of her prime finger and thumb had practically engulfed his torso, he found himself being torn away. The hairs wrapped around his own limbs were dislodged from their musty roots, as Andrew was extracted. He coughed upon taking in air that was not clogged with pungent estrogen, so muggy he could have drank it. Goosebumps formed upon his skin upon being exposed to the comparatively cool beach air. Several deep breaths were enjoyed, even as he was jostled by immense momentum.

Caitlin had brought her husband’s form, securely pinched within her fingers, before her face. She easily could pick up the remnants of her odor upon Andrew’s soaked form. Upon making eye contact, a rather dumb, yet joyous smile formed upon his face. With a sigh of relief, she opened her mouth to address him.

“You alright?”

Andrew shook his head rapidly, displacing a significant amount of sweat. “Dang Cait, your armpit’s a stormcloud.”

A soft red blush formed within her cheeks as a result. She snickered, bringing her opposite hand over her mouth.

“I’m gonna assume you’re alright then,” Caitlin confirmed.

Her husband nodded, “Right as rain, thanks to you.”

“Well, now,” she stated, feeling her speech hasten ever so slightly, “I guess we can just hang out until …”

“There’s one more place that I’ll need to go before I can call myself ready.”

An internal bout of frustration soured her mood. Caitlin’s mouth tightened, yet did not slip into a frown, tempting as it may be. Despite Andrew making light of the situation, there was no ambiguity that he was a mess. Even through the pads of her fingers, she could feel the exhaustion that inexorably clung to her husband’s muscles.

Levity, however, remained in Andrew’s general demeanor, “This’ll be the nastiest place I’ve been yet.”

Caitlin’s hand fell from her mouth, only to be placed upon her hip. “Well, what could that be?” she inquired.

Brushing the back of his head, and taking time to avert his eyes, her husband stuttered, “Well, uh, it’s a bit crude, but-“

“But?” she repeated, her eyes flickering upwards.

Caitlin then took time to look back over her shoulder. Her eyes peered down, eyeing where she knew what would be addressed next. As she observed the subject of her observation, she repeated, “Butt.”

A sinister cackle exited Andrew’s gullet. He spread his arms, attempting to add some sort of menace to his minuscule frame. Pinched as he was, restrained by the mere tips of his wife’s fingers, he bellowed with bellicose inflection, “And that was my evil plan all along! I was trying to get into your butt the entire time!”

Laughter busted Caitlin’s gut, rattling Andrew as his beloved’s titanic physique quivered with humor. She had gone red in the face, while eyes lay shut, leaking out a few good-natured tears. Sporadic exhales blew back Andrew’s hair, while his olfactory was treated to the aroma of digested chili that exited her mouth. Once wiped away, the giantess gave her husband a wide grin that appeared to stretch into eternity.

“That’s why good wins all the time,” she declared, making sure Andrew felt every syllable, “because evil is dumb. You could have just asked.”

Andrew shrugged his shoulders best he could, “I’m just saying, if I can survive that dump truck, I can survive anything.”

Caitlin allowed a sigh to exit, before looking behind once more, eyeing her rather auspicious rump. Her tight gray shorts had stretched across the bulbous buttocks, leaving its silhouette plain to see for the casual observer.

“I’m holding off on doing anything active in the meantime,” she stated.

“Appreciate it Cait,” Andrew replied, letting out a sigh of relief.

This time, the giantess rotated her entire torso. Her free hand took hold of the band of her shorts. Andrew was brought over the opening. His breath was stolen away as he regarded the vista below him. Caitlin’s shorts and panties had taken a darker shade due to physical exertion. Neither, however, could compare to the dominating view of twin hills that resided directly underneath, plump and taut. A relatively thin sliver of darkness formed a vast border between. A wad of spittle was swallowed, as he considered how that valley, a vertical smile a mile long, could easily swallow him up.

“Well, good luck back there.”

And thus, began his descent. New fumes became apparent, fumes far more revolting that anything he had smelled upon his wife that day. He gagged as always, yet felt his heartbeat steady. A tingle was felt within, but Andrew knew not what this meant.

Hovering just above the colossal rump, Caitlin’s fingers released him, and he fell. He bounced off one of the cheeks, before tumbling upon a cloth surface. The fabric he found himself on was soaked thoroughly; every movement of his released sweat locked within.

Andrew gazed upward, towards the only source of light. He saw his wife’s thumb, forcing the band of shorts and panties to form a triangular orifice that allowed light and some semblance of fresh air through.

Without much bravado, Caitlin freed her thumb, allowing her underwear to snap back, hugging her waist once more. Andrew had been banished into darkness. The cloth terrain he laid upon carried him forth, until he was pressed against his wife’s imposing buttocks.

In the darkness, he could only feel. The flesh he touched was not smooth, nor tight. As he ran his hands over it, he detected sparse, yet wiry hairs. The skin of the area was rather tender, hot to the touch, much like the side of a heated kettle. It was not only soaked in perspiration, but coated in a significant layer of oil, sticky, yet slick.

Andrew had found himself in the slit, the center of his wife’s rear. The scent he perceived as he hovered above, now dominated all else. Caitlin’s usual mix of pungent, sweaty feminine musk now mixed with a foul, rotten, fermented bouquet of waste her body produced.

It was indeed, the worst thing he had ever smelled in his life. And yet, he detected not a trace of the nausea experienced the night before.

Most certainly, his face scrunched after inhaling such a scent, and indeed, tears of pure disgust wet his eyes. However, despite his precarious situation, a situation entirely of his own making, Andrew’s muscles were relaxed, as if he was at his home.

Caitlin tugged at her waist, and she felt the minuscule grain of Andrew’s body further wedge itself inward. Her flesh stuck to him, allowing her glutes to pull him in for a grotesque hug. As she began making her way to one of the chairs, the sensation of her husband’s form tickled the epicenter of her rear. Slowly, he was sliding towards the point of no return.

One of her hands lazily fell towards the area, and gave it a casual scratch. This did not go unnoticed by Andrew, feeling his position jostled. Meanwhile, sweat and oil caused his body to slip even deeper within the valley of buttocks. He let out a grunt of disgust, this time not inspired by the foul fumes that appeared to occupy every fiber of existence within this humid hovel.

“Caitlin,” he expressed, his voice unable to escape the canopy of underwear, “You shouldn’t be scratching your butt like that, it’s unladylike.”

A hand reached forward, and grasped something. It was by far, coated in a greater layer of sweat and oil than anything that resided under her arm. Various wrinkles provided an interesting contrast to its surface, for every bump and divot was made of smooth, yet tender flesh. The object of flesh he beheld most certainly was the source of all things horrid and filthy.

The thing expanded and contracted as his hands caressed, and scraped. Of note, the glutenous skin that held him in place had begun to loosen ever so slightly.

In the outside world, Caitlin let out a relieved sigh, as the itch bothering her rump appeared to have vanished on its own. As she stood over a chair she had chosen for herself, she commented, “Dang, I guess this didn’t turn out so bad after all.”

Glancing to her behind, she gave the great gluteus maximus a jiggle, sending Andrew tumbling about, finding his face smacking against slimy skin.

“Andy,” she announced, with an almost vain hope that her husband, buried within vast quantities muscle and blubber would hear her voice, “I’m sitting down, brace yourself.”

She bent down, feeling her sweaty glutes peel apart ever so slightly. Within the vile valley, Andrew had begun to tumble. Where, he did not know. Desperate, a hand stretched out, and he managed to snag a loose hair so that he did not move from his position. A disgusting squelching echoed, and in the dim light, the young man saw the wrinkled flesh of his wife’s puckered sphincter begin to tighten and ever so slightly widen. It was a mouth belonging to an alien creature, whose grotesque appetite could only be speculated on, for to know would only upset the contents of her stomach.

As her rump began to sink into the bands of the beach chair, Caitlin’s cheeks began to squeeze together. Andrew found the once vast area he had to maneuver, almost instantaneously vanish. Bulbs of flesh advanced into where there was once empty space. He was squeezed inward, his wife’s cheeks forcing him up against grimy, oily flesh. His face slapped against anal skin, and each inhale drew in its concentrated musk of salt, rot and ferment. Every attempt to remove himself from such a disgusting situation proved hopeless, for the pressure exerted by the surrounding glutes proved insurmountable. He could temporarily push away the tender flesh, but neither cheek would truly yield.

Caitlin settled down, lifting her legs to rest upon the chair. The small nub of her husband had most certainly moved into a most precarious, and sensitive spot. As she focused upon this sensation, a troublesome gurgle erupted from her stomach. To her dismay, she could not settle such a disturbance with a simple belch, what had been trapped was headed the opposite way.

Due to his wife’s motions, Andrew experienced the squelching wrinkles of her sphincter begin to wrap around his head. It was not much of an effort for the horrid hole to do so, Andrew himself was about as large as the area it occupied. A bout of surprise took him, and he let out a frightened shout.

“Oh crap! Caitlin!”

Yet, his screams were muffled, consumed by the tightly sealed cavern that had suddenly decided to take him. Frantic, he attempted to apply his arms, so as to pry the puckered flesh open, but it proved a Herculean task, one that, after a day of sweat and smells, Andrew simply did not possess the strength to overcome.

As Caitlin began to focus upon the strange sensation stirring within her rear, a small, but distinct voice broke her concentration.

“Oh, hello there goddess.”

“Cheese and crackers!” she bellowed, no doubt shattering eardrums of the regular-sized the world around. In shock, her buttocks had clenched, which advanced the anal flesh, as it engulfed the entirety of her husband’s head. His thin legs and lanky arms flailed about in panic, their insignificant strength doing nothing to delay the inevitable.

As Andrew struggled against his rear-sighted fate, Caitlin had begun searching for the source of the voice. There was a certain quality in its timbre that sent shivers up her spine. Her steel colored eyes veered down, then widened as she caught sight of a diminutive shape positioned in between her stocky thighs.

Caitlin peered down, squinting her eyes as she did so. The man that stood in the middle of her massive pillars, uncomfortably close to her crotch, possessed a familiar expression, that of empty obsession, as if absolutely consumed by the sight before him.

“It is a shame that your heavenly ass missed me,” he continued to drone, his lanky arms swinging side to side, as if they were lifeless strings of flesh attached to his torso, “To be but a stain upon your derriere would have been a glorious end.”

There was no mistaking the deep delusion of the one known as “Brando”. At least, it was the name she had recalled being shouted at him, the last time he had committed himself to worship. Caitlin’s eyes had begun veering wildly, praying that the sculpted form of another certain cultist lay nearby.

If her prayers were answered, they did not conform to her desires.

“Uh thanks?” she managed to force out, attempting to placate the man. He was hunched over, with eyes that could have easily bypassed the paltry layer of cloth that loomed to his front.

“You are most gracious,” he droned, not even blinking, “Say, where is your husband? May I witness you making love to him?”

An eyelid upon the giantess had begun to twitch. Another rumble within her belly had rendered an uncomfortable scenario even more so. Her breathing hastened, as words she struggled to form evaporated listlessly into the air.

“That’s … something I’d rather not …”

“-You don’t have to worry about me,” he reassured, assuming a comforting, or at least, what perhaps he thought of comforting, smile upon his face. “In fact, I’d rather you ignore me while you grow intimate with him. To witness such an act of tenderness while being utterly discarded is the greatest humiliation.”

The titaness shifted, in an attempt to alleviate her discomfort. Brando, for his part, remained nonplussed a the massive leviathan of flesh that flexed and rumbled around him.

Caitlin’s readjustment, however, banished her entrapped husband even further into her depths. Into her rectum he slid, his face harshly forced into an adhesive layer of scum that filled his nostrils and mouth with their gut-wrenching aromas. He felt his shoulders squeeze, as they too reached the threshold of his wife’s sphincter. It consumed his body slowly, yet greedily, appearing almost autonomous with its desire to eat up every inch of Andrew’s lithe body.

As Caitlin’s beloved drew closer to being condemned to such a degrading fate, she objected to the fanatic below, “I’m not aiming to humiliate anyone.”

Brando shook his head, his tone taking upon a quality of reverence, “But you oh goddess, humiliate us mere mortals with your presence alone. How can we even compare to you? You can crush us like insects with but a step. Your assets put even the most buxom of us mortals to shame. In your eyes, we are insignificant, meaningless. I want to experience that.”

The object of his zeal averted her eyes. A brief splash of sorrow almost wet the impossibly enormous orbs, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Tears also stung Andrew’s eyes, pouring out from their ducts. Yet, he felt not a gram of sorrow himself. The insignificant crumb of a man could only breathe of the fumes wafting within his wife’s interior. Of such concentration was the atmosphere, he had to will his diaphragm to expand to even take in the muddy air.

There was no light to relieve him, as inch by inch, her oily, wrinkled skin took in even more of his body. His legs flailed about hopelessly, the only part of his free to move. The skinny limbs were the only thing visible outside the anal prison. He was up to his waist in rectal flesh, and could experience every fold, wrinkle and gram of slime, oil and sweat that molested his delicate physique. It was becoming clear to his panicked mind, that, as his reserves were sapped, his constitution tested, and his muscles strained, that each successive struggle of his became increasingly meaningless. There was doubt that there was even hope in the first place.

In order that she not be embarrassed, Caitlin had pinched Brando’s form in between her fingers, setting him upon the armrest of her chair. He shuddered most lecherously in her grip, and his state of undress made his desires stiffly plain. Brando certainly appeared downtrodden that he now was not residing near the most intimate parts of his goddess. Still, his almost delirious speech continued on.

“Don’t be. I have taken pleasure in my meaningless existence. It is a shame men were not empowered as you were. To be but a mite, witnessing a mighty penis fucking a gigantic vagina, while being ignored would have been the highest honor I could have…”

Caitlin shuddered most mightily, fighting back an urge to hurl. “Buddy, uh,” she stammered, “I don’t know how to say this, but just because I’m some 500 foot menace, and you’re six foot whatever, doesn’t make you a mite, alright? I’m just as fragile as you guys.”

Andrew was now up to his waist, literally up Caitlin’s rump. His legs had significantly less room to struggle. He saw shapes and figures form in the barely visible, wet, reddened tunnel. The man considered it was perhaps, best that he could not see, for stains of wasted and disposed fecal matter would have only contributed to the almost impossible task of merely maintaining consciousness, a state that was becoming increasingly fragile.

Brando objected, “But that’s not-“

But he was interrupted, his obsession’s booming voice overpowering his own, “You wanna feel small and puny? Been there, done that, there’s no point in flaunting the face that I can be part of a city skyline.”

As she grew more brazen, more confident and determined, her posture straightened, inadvertently tensing her glutes, allowing the bulbous leviathans to squeeze at Andrew’s dangling legs, grabbing more of the diminutive man, leaving only his ankles free. In the tight hole, hugged on all sides by rectal flesh and coated with slime, her husband was rendered immobile.

“Guys like you can still make a good living,” she reassured, prompting for the first time, an almost human change in Brando’s demeanor, that of curious confusion, “You don’t have to put up with our bullshit, you know.”

There was a thunderous rumble in the distance. Andrew’s ears could pick up sickening squelches as the tight containment surrounding him began to expand. Immense pressure, still assailed him, the atmosphere itself pressing into his body. Inhaling became an experience so ghastly, he would have fainted then and there if not for sheer determination. It was now his single-minded goal, a fierce competition of maintaining some sort of dignity, dignity ruthlessly ripped away from him by the mere involuntary motions of his beloved’s domineering buttocks.

Caitlin certainly felt some sort of expansion in her abdomen. A hand rested upon her stomach, to provide some relieve for the pressure building within. There was a strange feeling, the feeling of an expanding balloon, its opening plugged with some sort of object, preventing any air for being released. Silly me and my chili dogs. I’m probably going to have to cut down on those in the future.

As she held back a ticking time bomb, she still addressed Brando who hung upon her every word with focused intent. Her cadence was notably becoming strained. “Just because us gals can stomp around and shit, doesn’t mean your life amounts to jack. Heck, I’d be a skin and bones corpse if guys like you didn’t build infrastructure, grow a lot of food, and other stuff! Who’s really the powerful one there?”

“But I like feeling small,” her self-proclaimed worshipper moped.

A sigh broke the silence, a silence filled with desperate groans from her stomach, “Well, if you want that, could it at least be with another lady? I’m kinda tied down. And if you do find your dream woman, don’t take shit from her, okay?”

The giantess was tempted to double over from the gaseous pains wracking her gut. Within her anal domain, Andrew had been completely swallowed up. Not a trace of him was left within the interior of her panties. He was languishing, every inhalation equivalent to downing several pounds of pure fecal matter. If I come out of this on the other side, I’m scared of what will be left.

“I see … I see,” Brando contemplated, “It is I that must be … respected.”

A small chuckle shook his body. For the first time, the smile that crossed his face appeared warm, genuine. Caitlin could not help but reciprocate to the tiny, lost soul standing upon the armchair, a mere mite on a piece of furniture.

“When I walked in on my ex-girlfriend, making love with another man on my own bed,” he reminisced, prompting a pang of sympathy from Caitlin, among other things, “only for her to discard my feelings, I thought that was all I deserved. You’ve revealed much godd- I ah…”

Brando thumbed his chin, before staring back, up at the statuesque titan herself.

“What is your name?”

“Just call me Caitlin,” she amicably answered, before pointing a finger comparable to a tree trunk towards him, “Yours?”

She knew of it, but as the man screamed out “Brando!” Caitlin, could not be helped, but be lifted with a sense of affirming bravado.

“I, Brando, shall venture forth!” he declared, stabbing a finger towards the heavens.

Caitlin pumped a fist in the air, though regretted it as that further disturbed her stomach, as well as the mysterious nub that had been caught within. Despite this, she shouted out, “That’s the spirit, go get ‘em!”

The rejuvenated man closed his eyes, yet continued to speak, his voice and inflection notably less droning than before, “I know of this priest in Egypt, who proposed an interesting opportunity. I believe my passport isn’t expired. Who knows, I might be worthy enough to attain Heaven.”

He did not address Caitlin, as he then ran towards the edge of the arm rest, his feet tapping against the plastic terrain in a rhythmic cadence. With no hesitation, he leapt off, causing Caitlin to freeze in fright and despair as the minuscule form of the man hit terminal velocity on his way to the sand below.

His landing, however, was as soft as a feline. He then took off, running with the confidence of a man with The World in his hands.

“How did he not hurt himself,” she wondered aloud.

She would wonder no longer. Caitlin’s gut acted up, sending a pang of pain at an intensity not seen that day. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over, the pressure within her backside at the tipping point. As another agonizing growl erupted from the depths, she could only moan, “Good grief, this is gonna be a big one!”

Fumes built up, squeezing Andrew’s body, forcing his mouth open to swallow its repulsive taint. The tight cavern he resided was now a decent atrium. He was pushed the opposite way, sliding against the slimy cave. Dreaded anticipation filled where foul fumes could not, awaiting the final detonation.

At last, after agonizing buildup, Caitlin’s ravenous rectum erupted.

In the manner of a round fired out of a cannon, Andrew was shot through his wife’s rectum. A loud pop deafened his ears, but only for a moment, as the rumbling echo of the greatest stream of flatulence he ever had the displeasure of listening to thundered through the scrunched sphincter. By pure air pressure, he was sent flying, from between the valley of his wife’s cheeks, before colliding against the back of her panties. The soft, moist fabric did little to quell the shock of the impact. In all, he would not find relief nor purchase.

Andrew was completely immobilized, held in place by hurricane-force winds blasted out of the wrinkly hole. He could not even raise his head, to witness the horrifying sight of his wife’s putrid portal expand and flap as it unleahed armageddon. Accompanying the breaking winds were flecks of liquid that coated every corner of his body in a fecal embrace. Moisture further stained the fabric of panties surrounding his insignificant form.

Relief immediately swept over Caitlin, and she felt herself sink into her chair as she released the consequences of a chili dog lunchtime. Her nose scrunched upon taking in some of the emissions released by her rump, and a small giggle was had, as she mused upon the utter foulness of her own fumes. Straining, she pushed out the last pockets of air that still resided in her generous glutes.

There was a reprieve, but Andrew did not possess the luxury of relief. He had grown dizzy, and he felt his battered body collapse against the canopy of underwear. As his wife shifted position, buttocks of an apocalyptic scale expanded and squeezed, bringing the gateway to oblivion itself ever closer to Andrew’s spent form. He had not the energy to even feebly plead for mercy. All he could do was glance upward in despair as Caitlin’s sphincter puffed and expanded once more.

Concentrated, fecal stained wind, shot through the anal passageway once again. Andrew’s body was flattened once more. Pure air pressure assailed him with the force of a speeding bullet train. Yet a train was confined by tracks. His wife’s foul flatulence was omnipresent. It would stain his very soul with its awful aura.

The giantess face scrunched in concentration, passing the second whirlwind that thundered through her rump. Once all foul atmosphere had been expelled, Caitlin collapsed in her seat, in utter relief.

Andrew’s thoughts were a haze. Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth, his lungs and his brain. As his wife relaxed, the mounds of her rear advanced. He fell unconscious before being swallowed up.

A nagging thought pierced the back of Caitlin’s mind. As she now focused on the strange sensation trapped between her cheeks, dreadful realization soon washed over her.

Caitlin’s tanned skin grew ghostly pale. A hand flew to her mouth as she uttered, “Oh shit!”

…

Andrew had been extracted from the depths of Caitlin’s panties once she had returned to the shack. She could only look in terror as his pathetic stature lay at the center of a grotesque brown stain. He was peeled off from his position, then dabbed with wet tissues, removing most of the fecal gunk that had coated his skin.

Caitlin dared not run him underwater, for fear of the shock it would introduce to him. Instead, he was laid upon a layer of fresh tissue, set upon the soft pillow of her bed. The giantess could not help but pout, gazing at her husband’s lithe form, motionless aside from an almost imperceptible motion of his chest rising and falling.

Her silvery eyes grew watery as she regarded him. Andrew’s eyes were shut. Had she been ignorant of the circumstances that had made it so, she would have enjoyed such a peaceful-looking sight. The titan grew almost lost as she focused upon his young, angled face, appreciating his still thick, flowing black hair splayed against the tissue. Her gaze then veered to his sleek physique, smooth and delicate as porcelain. He was indeed, a priceless man, whose value transcended any quantification.

And, like a bull in a China shop, she had shattered him.

There was a stir. Caitlin caught his eyes fluttering open. Relief washed over her face, in the manner of how the lake washed over the sands of the beach.

Steeling her resolve, assuming she had his attention, Caitlin laid down her declaration, “That’s it, I’m stopping this! We’ll figure out something later, but I’m not having you hurt yourself, just to make me feel bet-“

Her mouth froze, for a smile had been captured upon his face. There was no mischief, nor scheming behind the expression. If anything, his lips stretched far too wide to accommodate it. Andrew’s eyes, while wide opened, and staring straight at Caitlin, now appeared to be gazing at a far away place.

“You’re so beautiful Cait. Holy cow.”

His voice had acquired an airy, ethereal quality. Of note, his inflections were slurred; a stark contrast to his rather precise, dexterous annunciation.

This didn’t matter. Caitlin’s cheeks were now hotter than the sun, and were colored in a shade that put red giants to shame.

“Andrew?” she managed to squeal.

He continued to drone on, in a manner similar to Brando. The man’s words flowed in a trance, and certainly entranced whom he was addressing, “It’s like … even your ugly parts are beautiful. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”

Caitlin shook her head rapidly, stifling a squeal. Her hands desperately covered her face, as if her life depended upon this strange incarnation of Andrew not being able to catch a glimpse of her flustered expression.

“You’re delirious Andy,” she stammered, “Just relax.”

“No!” he shouted, determination steeling his stargazing haze, “I need to tell you, you’re so pretty! And you’re kind, you’re thoughtful, you’re so strong and…”

His head began to hang over. Thick locks of jet-black hair obscured his face. Andrew’s voice had taken upon a note of sour.

“… And I’m some stupid jerk who can’t get over some smell. I married the prettiest girl in the world and I can’t appreciate her because of some smell. I’m such a jerk … such a jer…”

His words trailed off, as did his gaze. Dark eyes rolled back, and he collapsed upon his makeshift bed once again, fully unconscious.

It was fortunate he was so, for tears had begun streaming out of Caitlin’s eyes.

The wait was not long, before Andrew stirred once more. But now, instead of a starry gaze, his eyes were in sharp focus. Despite a fog of grogginess clouding his face, his movements proved sharper, clearer, if not cautious. Surveying his tissue platform, he lost his breath, once his vision beheld his wife, looming over him in all her Olympian glory. Matted hair was strewn across her forehead. Stale sweat dried and crusted upon her face. Neither detracted even an ounce of awe he experienced at such a sight.

“Dang,” he exhaled, before scrunching his nose. He managed to lift an arm that felt as if it weighed 50 times more than it should to his face. With an enthusiastic sniff, he grimaced before noting, “I stink. How long was I out? Don’t tell me the honeymoon’s over.”

“Relax,” Caitlin assured, her booming voice soothing his heart, “Just a couple of hours.”

He looked to the window, observing soft orange sunlight stream through, far unlike the bright off-white glare of the afternoon. His head shook before looking back to his wife. A bout of nausea then took him, while his spindly hands began raking through his hair

“I had some weird visions,” he noted, as the episode began to recede, “I wasn’t saying anything embarrassing while I was unconscious right?”

“Nope!” Caitlin affirmed, rather quickly. Her eyes were notably avoiding Andrew. His brow thus furrowed as a result.

“So it seems,” he commented. Unlike Caitlin, he made sure his glare never left her.

He began to massage his temples, and gazed upward again. From his vantage, his wife’s face was obscured from her rather bounteous protrusions of her chest. Her arms, strewn with tensed muscle, strong enough to move the very Earth from orbit, had been splayed to either side. As his gaze descended, he noted, with a significant amount of disappointment, that Caitlin’s now soaked tank-top had concealed the rigid terrain of her stomach.

Dark eyes narrowed upon taking in her waistline, which lay just above the horizon of their mattress. The gray shorts, struggling to contain the monstrous contents within, contained notable splotches of moisture. His teeth clenched as he glared, not at the article of clothing itself, but what it denied him.

Andrew stood up. His legs quivered as they adjusted to support his weight, but this weakness proved temporary. The mite of a man, at least, in comparison to his immense, beloved colossus of a woman, presented a proud posture. Dangerous daring lurked in his obsidian glare. “Might as well go for a test run.”

Caitlin grew red in the face as she objected, “Andrew, you just got knocked out from me farting on you! I’m not putting you through the wringer again!”

Her husband burst in laughter, almost losing his balance upon the platform of tissue, “That really was a bomb I got caught in! That should mean that I should be able to take whatever comes my way!”

His wife took her massive arms off of the bed, in order that her hands could pull at her hair in distress, “I don’t know if it works that way!”

Silence permeated between the two. Caitlin’s breathing, which could generate a gale on its own, was the only audible event in their shack. She took one of her arms, and ran the back of it across her forehead, slicking it over with cooled, concentrated sweat. A troubled shadow passed over her dour expression.

She looked down at him, a speck in the vast white plain of pillow. For the rest of their lives, she would always be looking down at him.

“Andrew, I don’t make you feel insignificant, do I?”

The question flowed out of her mouth like a river. It was not the product of measured, anticipated contemplation, but that of instinct, of the troubled unconsciousness floating towards the surface.

A quizzical look appeared on her husband’s face, “Why do you ask that?”

“I met that guy from the other day.” Caitlin answered, rubbing her face, “You know, the one that was getting his rocks off of me smooching ya?”

Andrew scrunched his face in recollection, “Can’t reca – Oh wait, that loon! What, was he bothering you?”

“What he was saying was kinda bothering me,” she admitted, “He was talking about how I make him feel like an ant, or something. Is … is that how you feel around me?”

Guilt, guilt was what had consumed her. Caitlin’s thumbs twiddled at her waist. She was still looking down, but her gaze would lay upon anywhere except Andrew. Her lips, lips that had granted him much ecstasy already on their honeymoon, pouted and quivered.

“Cait,” he beckoned, observing his wife’s eyes find him once more, “I don’t know if I’ve said this, but I’ve gone through life living like a fly on a wall. Heck, college, high school, I was kinda ignored, especially by the girls.”

“Oh … I’m sorry” she murmured in sympathy. There was confusion to as where her husband was directing the conversation. Nevertheless, her attention had been captured.

Andrews arm waved away, as if pardoning a sinless crime, “That’s all well and done by now. Heck, I’m kinda glad that happened, because you know who else ignored me? Bullies.”

As he spoke, an uncomfortable knot had formed within her stomach. Still, she persisted in hanging on his ever word, no matter what they recalled.

“…I had mom and dad as well. But there were days where I really was the invisible man. You changed that.”

“Pardon?” Caitlin said, her stomach at once feeling relieved.

“Once I knew you were … let’s just say, taking an interest,” he continued, allowing himself a knowing smirk, “I felt like the King of the world. It’s the opposite of what you were saying. I’ve never felt more important when you’re around.”

Tumult took hold of his wife’s expression. Her cheeks puffed out while her jaw clenched down. Andrew caught the sight of her hands balling into fists. A ruby complexion formed upon her cheeks, as brilliant as the setting sun.

“Gee,” she snorted, “that’s the second most sappy thing you’ve said today.”

An eyebrow rose, “What was the first?”

Caitlin responded with a smile. Her eyes lay half-lidded, stirring something within his very soul. Andrew’s heart, which had comfortably beat at rest, now accelerated. The colossus that towered above only appeared to grow larger. She exerted a mysterious field, made of the same stuff as gravity, drawing him to the source, wherever it lay. Even the stale scent that remained as a result of the labors of the day smelled of something sweet.

Andrew shook his head, now feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. His crusted over khakis had become tight.

“You’d think I’d remember.” he mused, placing his hands over his waist.

His wife’s mouth had parted ever so slightly. Her own arms had now fallen over her stomach, running over defined hills of abdominal sinew. Thumbs caught her waistband, and began slowly drawing the fabric down her legs. Taut, bulging quadriceps proved to provide a decent obstacle to her task, but eventually, she was able to pull her shorts and panties past her rippling thighs.

“Well Andy,” she began, in a voice that hovered between a whisper and a growl, “Whether you meant to or not, you’ve got me revved up. I guess we are gonna see if your little thesis worked.”

Andrew’s eyes nearly shot out of its sockets as they lay upon what had been revealed. His wife’s privates still rested within an impassable forest of thick ,dark curly hair. Behind the wiry threads, lay a red, glistening slit. The fleshy folds that guarded her most precious entrance bulged out, and appeared to retract and separate. No wonder those of vulgar mind would call them lips, for they resembled a monstrous, toothless mouth, wet with hunger.

He traced his gaze up Caitlin’s towering form, memorizing her strong arms, strewn with bulky, toned biceps. He cursed that her sweaty tank top covered up a formidable six pack, as wells as bulbous mammaries and swollen glands.

Breath departed, as he fixed upon his wife’s face. It lay impossibly far above, even though the bed and pillow he stood upon provided significant elevation. Even from just a few hundred feet into the sky, Andrew would not have been surprised if a few clouds would wander in front of the entrancing view. He proved mesmerized by swollen, reddened cheeks. Half-lidded, glowing eyes the color of steel focused upon him, and him alone.

The weight of her gaze alone was enough for his legs to give out and sent him on his rear.

Immediately, concern passed over her face. “Everything smelling alright?”

Andrew had to be snapped out of his trance, “You smell like an offshore fish monger. But that’s not an issue.”

Caitlin leaned forward, and immediately, Andrew felt both the temperature and concentration of the surrounding air rise.

“What is the issue?” she pressed.

“I’ve just,” he began, staring straight into his wife’s passionate glare, “I’ve never seen a look like that. I’m not used to .. to ...”

A spray of spittle was ejected from Caitlin’s mouth, as she chuckled. “Tough luck,” she declared, “Because you’re going to be seeing this for the rest of your life.”

Quicker than lightning, her hands grasped the edge of the pillow, yanking it towards the center of the mattress. Andrew had no chance to regain balance, and found his position moved as his body was tossed by momentum. Even when motion ceased, he remained on his back. Shaking hands then began to undo his shorts.

Caitlin in the meantime, did not remain still. She braced her knees against the bedside, lifting her body up on the bed. Her thighs straddled the pillow, trapping Andrew in a vast canyon with a cotton surface, and fleshy walls. Slowly, but surely, her torso moved along, blocking out his view of the ceiling. His new ceiling was not of crude, lifeless drywood, but pulsing, moist and very much alive.

Its tantalizing scent hit him with the force of a truck. But, not once was he tempted to hurl out the contents of his stomach. If anything, her odor had lured him into a daze. Not once, could he take his eye of the genital sky, a sky that was now falling.

The air had grown syrupy. It’s intensity was certainly as much as it was when he was trapped within her ravenous rear. But, its bouquet was far more complex, sporting aspects both foul and sweet, repulsive and seductive.

Black hairs began to descent upon the pillow case. Their girth was wider than ropes, and they bent as the maw of his wife’s groin drew ever closer. Already he felt soaked, and the smell had completely overridden ever sense and common sense he possessed. His mouth could not help but hang open, dumbfounded at the lewd destiny that awaited him.

Then, the red folds of flesh collapsed upon him. His lanky form was enveloped by slimy, honeyed flesh, tender to the touch. His wife’s most intimate area emitted an intense heat that warmed every cell of his body.

Once Andrew was pressed to her exposed crotch, Caitlin shouted out, “Oh shit!”

Her hips sunk into the pillow, pressing it into the mattress. The flesh of her privates was soft, tender, while the expanse of cotton compensated for her incomprehensible weight. Were he on a solid surface, Andrew certainly would have been annihilated.

Sensitive skin experienced ever facet of her husband’s body. Tears began to form in Caitlin’s eyes, as she uttered ,”Fuck! Andy! Fuck!”

The giantess fell forward, bracing her torso up with her elbows. Her waist, meanwhile rose, its incredible mass ascending in the manner of a vast extraterrestrial mothership. And, much like such an intrusive, exploratory vessel, it had abducted a passenger.

Andrew was stuck within her folds. He had not entered in the vast, flooded cavern that lay at the base of the vertical maw, but he was certainly buried in enough flesh to be concealed from the outside world. He managed to tear his face away from the burning slime to peer down, only to realize he was several stories up.

He, however, would never get a chance to appreciate the gravity of being stuck to a monolithic womanhood, several stories in the air. Something far stronger than gravity forced him back down.

Caitlin slammed her hips into the pillow, grunting as her husband was forced into her lecherous folds again. Her insides were rendering into jelly, while her mind had receded into pure instinct. Her hips rose once more, not to the height they were, before smashing back down, sending another thrill of passion through her body.

In rhythmic cadence, she humped the pillow below. The shack was filled with naught but the steady slap of wet flesh against fabric, and desperate howls and moans that followed. As the night drew on, her tempo steadily increased, her waist almost becoming a blur as it bucked up and down.

All the while, Andrew was simply along for the ride. His body tumbled and flailed about within steamy skin, wiry hairs, and syrupy nectar. He shouted out, both in fear, and in desire. Frail arms clung to Caitlin’s genitals, both for a sense of security, and intimacy.

Finally, the apex had been reached, and Caitlin thrust her hips down one last time, burying Andrew into her. The dark passage way, whose entrance he had become overly familiar with, swallowed him up, and he was lost in a torrential flood, that was just about to be unleashed.

Her head, slick with the sweat of passion, rose up, and Caitlin let out a scream that pierced the night sky.

Lecherous discharge slammed into Andrew, carrying him out of her cavern, and back down into the pillow. His body was still molested by reddened skin, as gallon after gallon slapped and assaulted his body. No great downpour could ever compare, the hot and heavy maw above could have drowned him with its sticky precipitation.

As her hips retreated, Andrew broke through the surface of muck, spitting out what had invaded his mouth. While he attempted to gather his breath, another great torrent fell upon him, burying the newlywed under a new mass of viscous love.

Caitlin, still reeling from her session, allowed herself a look under, admiring the massive, spreading area of moisture that now stained the pillow. A small speck, that of her husband, lay swimming in the middle of all. Heavy panting slowed as a warm glow caressed her innards.

“Fuck.”

Another laugh escaped her, with the audacity of a whisper. Drops of sweat hung off her hair, before splashing upon the bedsheets below.

Realization then crossed her eyes, “Shit, I probably shouldn’t be laying on this soppy cushion tonight.”

The giantess rose. Every muscle of hers felt twice as heavy. Placing her feet on the ground, she picked up her discarded shorts. Her legs carried her away, as she also retrieved other articles of discarded clothing from the ground, including her now crusted morning workout clothes and socks.

Finally, for good measure, she stripped herself of her sweaty tanktop.

Bunching these gathered articles into an incomprehensible ball, she placed it at the head of the bed. Her fingers then descended upon the soaked pillow, extracting her husband from her sloppy discharge. A tired smile was upon his face. Though very much spent, the experience had gone considerably better for him than the previous night.

“Holy … holy cow …” he exclaimed. A cough shook his body, allowing him to empty his mouth of more muck.

As Caitlin, with her free hand, tossed the dirty pillow off the surface of the bed, Andrew began eyeing the pile of clothing she had set as a replacement most critically.

“Cait, I don’t know if that’s much of an improve-”

What words he had left were lost to the wind, as he was swung around, his destination determined by the motion of his wife’s hand. He was dropped into the mass of dirty articles, sinking into fabrics with stale flecks that broke off with even the smallest of movements, and others that leached out musky sweat if he so much stepped on them.

He did not get a chance to raise an object, for he was consumed by another set of lips. Caitiln’s kiss buried him even deeper into her filthy pile, subjecting him to the brunt of her labored aroma. Her head then settled down upon the makeshift pillow.

Resigned, Andrew let in a deep breath, taking in foul and stained air. All of his wife’s scents, from her estrogen tinged sweat, to the vinegar spiked essence of her feet, to the putrid, foul emissions of her rear, and the fishy, pungent, syrupy bouquet of her womanhood, combined and mixed. Caitlin, pure, unadulterated Caitlin was in his nose, in his mouth, in his eyes, in his lungs and on his skin. Forever, he would be marked by this behemoth of a woman.

But, his banishment to a disgusting sleeping arrangement did not bother him in the slightest. What disturbed Andrew, that fateful night, was that he was beginning to like it.

….

Caitiln was aroused from her slumber. Heavy eyes glanced at the bedside clock. A small smile crossed her lips, for she had drearily calculated that she possessed a few more minutes of precious time to sleep.

Hope Andy got enough rest, he was coming in late last night.

There was a rumble in her stomach. It was not long before she decided to release whatever lay within. A wet trumpeting of rectum echoed throughout the room. Her white panties, the only article of clothing she wore, took on a small amount of moisture.

“Heh, that’s gonna stain the sheets.”

As her gas passed, she was made aware of a curious sensation beneath her offending rear. Essentially trapped in between her glutes, was a minuscule nub. She was about to pass it off as a figment of morning exhaustion, when realization hit her.

Her hips, twisted, lifting her magnificent rump off of the mattress. A vast crater marked where it had rested. Stuck, in the valley of her tush, buried in white cloth, lay her husband. He was face down, dressed in nothing but dark boxers. The movement proved enough for him, for he was able to peel his head away from the fabric of her panties. His dark, sheepish gaze met a mischievous, sliver glare.

“And just what were you doing down there eh? Whiffing my farts from afar ain’t good enough for you?” Her voice had taken on a playful tone. Caitin’s mouth drew into a smile, as provocative scenarios played within her mind.

Andrew let out a sigh. His body stiffened, as he prepared for what was to come. As he opened his mouth, he sealed his fate.

“All the better to smell you with, my dear.”

From above, the dark, massive shape of Caitlin’s finger careened towards his position with the ferocity of a falling meteor. Resigning himself to his fate, Andrew braced himself for his destiny.