“Dorothy?” Lynn called out without taking her eyes from the tiny man in her fist. “Dorothy, sweetie? Maybe you’d like to turn around and show this little guy how nice your jeans fit on you.” Her rigid face was a stark contrast with the brightness of her voice. Simon began to loathe himself for his naivete in falling for someone so frightening, so ruthless. At the earliest opportunity, he’d have to warn Dorothy about what kind of monster Lynn really was…

But in looking at the expression on the oversized giantess, the dreamlike delight that stretched her mouth and made her eyes go all doe-eyed, he was reminded once more that this middle-aged woman wasn’t a fellow victim or an ally. She was a tool of Lynn’s, a handy, fortuitous tool to facilitate whatever Lynn was trying to achieve. She wouldn’t rescue Simon from anyone: she was looking forward to bringing him home and using him in the grossest way he could imagine.

Had he really done anything so bad as to deserve this? What the hell was going on?

Dorothy didn’t exactly giggle and coo, but she gave off that kind of vibe, playfully biting one finger as she grinned at him from over the huge breasts resting upon her midsection. That aroma returned when she did, too. He noticed it the same instant he tumbled from the social media manager’s cold, wiry grip. He struggled to catch himself, stumbling almost up to Dorothy’s crotch, finding himself face-to-face with the deep cleft in her puffy camel toe. The jeggings did nothing to cover or conceal this in any way: if anything, their seam sought out the deep groove like a heat-tracking missile and dug in deep. It was grotesque, how the fabric sluiced into her crotch with a seemingly animalistic urgency.

“You like it, don’t you,” urged Lynn. Simon glanced up at her serious brow, the narrow slit of her unhappy mouth, none of which matched the musical tone of her words. “My gosh, Dorothy! I think he really likes you.”

“Is that true?” The hopefulness in Dorothy’s voice made him pity her. Was she so delusional? She had to know she looked like a dumpy ogress. She couldn’t look in the mirror after getting out of the shower and seriously think she was some guy’s snack. “Does he really? I just… I’m sorry, I have to admit, I‌ really want this to work out. You have to be honest with me.”

“Oh yeah, he’s into you. Anyone could see that.” And because the tiny man was standing there, dumbfounded, Lynn’s narrow hand gave a short sweep to carom him directly into the turgid camel toe. His legs pinwheeled in a desperate effort to keep him upright, but momentum drove him straight into the deep seam. Jeggings rasped over his cheeks as the front of his skull momentarily disappeared between the thick labia.

“Oh my God, I felt that! I actually felt him do something down there!”

“What did he do, do you know? Can you describe it?”

“Well, I’m not sure. It felt like he was rubbing me with his finger, but his fingers are so small now. But I definitely felt a gentle nudge… er, down there.”

Lynn smiled toothily. “Down where, Dorothy?”

“Well, you know. Down between my legs.”

“Between your thighs? He’s not there, he’s standing here on the table.” Lynn slid an arm behind Simon who, at eight inches tall, could easily have stepped over it, but it was a symbol. What it represented was the line he dare not cross if he wanted to come out of this intact. He looked at the salt and pepper shakers in the distance, so close and yet so far. The other tables in the back room of the restaurant were a distant dream, not to be considered at all. But the waitstaff, where were they? Didn’t anyone work here?

Lynn cleared her throat and snagged Simon’s attention promptly. He looked up at her, and she nodded insistently at Dorothy’s hips. His mouth crumpled like he was about to cry, but he obediently got down on all fours and crawled beneath Dorothy’s belly, toward the obscene crotch.

“No, not literally between my legs. You know what I mean.” Dorothy was getting flustered, stammering over the occasional word.

Lynn’s disingenuous tone, by contrast, was syrupy sweet. “I’m not sure I do, hon. Was it anything like this?”

Once again, Simon felt her serpentine fingers coil around his waist, cinching in an unbreakable hold. His palms and knees dragged over the rough tablecloth as she rammed him, entirely without subtlety or grace, into the older woman’s cleft. He grimaced at the pinches in his neck, as Lynn stabbed him over and over between the jegging-covered labia.

Dorothy moaned theatrically, in a fluttering voice and spoke of heartfelt longing. “Oh, my God, what are you doing to me, Simon…” He wanted to shout in protest. He wanted to insist he wasn’t doing anything, he was having stuff done to him. He was being raped, he was being used like a mere object to tease the older woman. But he hardly liked to open his mouth as the heady musk grew stronger, and his head discovered—with subsequent jabs into her vulva—that a certain moisture was beginning to well up and spread throughout the stretchy fabric.

“Oh, Christ,” Simon moaned, keeping his voice down.

It wouldn’t be a tableau of humiliation without Lynn’s laughter ringing like bells. “Whoa, slow down there, Simon! There’s more than enough for a hungry little guy like you! You need to learn some patience or you’re going to burn yourself out before Dorothy gets her cookie.” She smiled up at the research analyst. “He’s getting a little randy, Dorothy. Are you sure you can handle him? I don’t think he’s going to be gentle with you.”

“Oh-h-h!” Dorothy gasped, unconsciously cradling her breasts in her arms. “Oh, my sweet little man, I’m here for you!”

Lynn practically squeezed Simon’s guts into his rib cage like a tube of toothpaste, as she wedged him harder and harder into the steadily dampening crotch. He could feel it oozing around his neck and shoulders, which grew cold with the restaurant air when she pulled him out, and warmed right back up when she thrust him in for more.

“Patience, my sweet little man, patience,” Dorothy said. “Please, we have to wait until we get home, okay? Please try to restrain yourself.”

“I don’t think he can wait that long,” said Lynn. “‌Maybe you should give him a little taste to tide him over. We don’t want to be cruel to the little guy, after all.”

Dorothy shook her head as though coming out of a dream and glanced around. The back room was still empty, but she saw the shoulder of a busboy disappear into the kitchen for a fragment of a second. “Oh, we can’t! Not here, not now. It wouldn’t be right. It’d be… obscene.”

“Don’t be silly, Dorothy. No one’s coming back here. We practically own this place! Look at it.” Lynn shared a hot look with the waitstaff at the edge of the room. The woman frowned, but turned and closed the service door with a loud latch, giving confidence to the two women that they would be left quite alone.

“I’ve just never done anything like this before,” stammered Dorothy, going back into her dreamy state.

“Have you always wanted to?”

“No, I’ve never even thought about anything like this.” Dorothy struggled to contain and heave her breasts aside and spy the tiny man. All she saw, however, was Lynn’s slim arm disappearing beneath her.

“Really? No dreams about showing up naked at college?”

“Well, sure, everyone has those. I still do, once in a while. That’s something you’ve got to look forward to.” Dorothy chuckled nervously.

“Haven’t you always wanted to run naked through town, though?” Lynn decided Dorothy was taking too long—beating around the bush, pun intended—so she brought her other hand up, slipped her fingers into the waistband of the jeggings, and started tugging them down. “Just to feel so free, so uninhibited by anything?”

“I… I guess…” Dorothy slowly swung her head around to look at Lynn. “What are you doing? Lynn, are you taking my clothes off? No, no, don’t do that.” One of her thick arms peeled away from her floppy boobs and timidly swatted at Lynn.

“Come on, Dorothy, you’re going to love it! Don’t you want to take this to the next level?”

Dorothy glanced around the room again. “Sure, but right here? Do we have to?”

“We have no choice, girl! Your little man’s practically champing at the bit to get at you. He’s not to be denied.”

“Well… I don’t want to let him down…” Her immense boobs rolled upon her belly as she let go to begin thumbing her own waistband. Her broad hips shimmied with great exaggeration as she fought to cinch the tight garment over them.

Simon, seeing very little of this, was terrified as the gigantic woman swayed in her delusional state. She looked unsteady on her feet as she mumbled along with the lines Lynn was feeding her. But Lynn’s fist held him fast, clamping harder as his struggle to escape reminded her of what she had in her slender hand. There was no escape, there was no protecting himself from disaster, and no one would save him. This was beginning to sink in, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to scream or vomit. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair, and it certainly wasn’t reasonable. What the hell shrunk him down? What made boring old Dorothy think she wanted him? And why was Lynn orchestrating all of this? He planted his palms upon the base knuckles of her thumb and forefinger and pushed down as hard as he could, but he couldn’t pop his hips out of the ring her fingers formed. As far as he could tell, his bare dick was rubbing against her palm, but she didn’t give any indication of being aware of this. Likewise, she didn’t notice his little bare butt grinding against the fleshy meat between her knuckles. She didn’t seem to care that she had a totally naked little man in her hand, except as a device to be used to deceive the bland woman who’d grown old and let herself go into thinking she was beautiful, for some unknowable reason. This was a form of evil Simon wasn’t familiar with: usually evil people made sense. You could study their actions and, eventually, guess what it was all leading to. This was true in books and movies and even the news. But Lynn was beyond all this. Nothing she was doing made any sense at all. What could she get out of Dorothy feeling attractive? Why was she victimizing a little nobody like an intern? What was it going to take for her to feel satisfied and to put an end to all of this?

There were no answers. There was just Lynn’s cold fist around his private parts, and the snap of a billboard’s worth of jeggings suddenly popping down, out of view beyond the edge of the table, and the abrupt presentation of a gnarled thicket of pubic hair, crowding around the edges of the teal thong.

“Oh, no,” Simon said. “No, don’t do this. This is bad, this is very bad.” He twisted in Lynn’s grip to stare up at her. “Lynn, please don’t do what I think you’re about to do.”

“Whatever could you mean, Simon?” she asked him. Her face was twisted into a rictus of cruel delight.

“Don’t do it! Don’t do it, please! This is disgusting!”

“What’s that? You want to go inside her what?”

Her contrariness was whipping him up into a frenzy. “No! The opposite! Keep me away from her, please! I’m begging you!”

Lynn chortled sweetly. “Dorothy, you’ll never believe this, but now he’s begging me to let him go inside you!”

Dorothy’s breath hitched within her massive bosom. “Oh, my sweet lord…”

“What do you think? Should I?”

“I… I don’t…”

“Right here, in this restaurant, where anyone could walk in on us at any moment?”

Dorothy’s cheeks burned, and her thick hand flapped to cool herself. “Oh, no, don’t say that… we shouldn’t, this is so wrong…”

Grinning, Lynn gingerly plucked the thong to one side and gently brushed Simon’s head into the thicket of pubic hair, dragging him up and down. His skull roared with the rasp of coarse, kinky hairs scraping over his scalp and cheeks. They crunched when she jabbed him into them, and they slashed at his eyelids and tried to crawl into his lips the rest of the time.

“I don’t know, Dorothy, he seems pretty desperate.”

“Oh, my God…”

“Here, I’ll pull him away from you.”

“No!”

Lynn sat up and blinked at Dorothy. “What was that?”

“I mean… I think it’ll be okay, if…” The big woman began panting, her huge breasts rising and falling with each breath. “I‌ mean, we shouldn’t, obviously, but… maybe if it’s quick…”

“It’s your lucky day, little man,” Lynn said, leaning in close to her hapless prisoner. “That’s right, dig in. She said it’s okay.”

Simon stared at her in horror and commenced to screaming as his limbs dragged over the tablecloth and she closed the distance between him and the monstrous pussy that awaited him.

It was indeed something out of a Cronenberg film. The scraggly hairs craned and reached for him with a life of their own. Hanging from the swollen, distended outer labia were thick, ropy strands of milky fluid, anchored to the rumpled jeggings that strained between the immense thighs. The thong was soaked a dark navy blue, where it disappeared between her inner thighs; Lynn tried to hide her grimace as she tugged it away from the vaginal entrance, fitting it to the side of the thick labia. And more fluid, clearer but just as thick, were dribbling down her inner legs. The intense aroma of the giantess’s arousal filled his head and chest as the thighs drew nearer, the hair brushed over his spine, and the labia fairly quivered in anticipation. This pussy was starved for something to stuff it, and there was only one thing in Lynn’s hand.

Lynn smiled to hear his little scream, a thin, reedy note that barely reached her ears. She couldn’t even see the little man screaming, only felt a frenzied squirm in her fist, and when she grew tired of it all, she bit her lip and gave one last thrust. The annoying, buzzing little scream abruptly cut off. She looked up to see how her coworker was taking it.

Dorothy gasped at the contact, staring at nothing with wide eyes and a mouth like a large, rosy O. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her head relaxed, sinking back. She reached for the little man. She started to, at least, pudgy fingers grasping at the air as they neared the looming, lusty woman, but she didn’t want to bump into Lynn. Her hands twitched in frustration for a moment before hovering back up to her boobs. Fat fingers disappeared in bulging flesh when she squeezed herself. Even she found it amusing how her own breasts resisted being contained by her grasp. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a tiny man trying to hold one of her boobs… and, oh yes, she was going to make him try.

Her pussy clenched at the thought. All the things she could try with this little man, all the games she could play. Fireworks were going off in her brain, every one a new idea that sparkled into a dozen new possibilities. New worlds were unfolding within her, as the thick mass pushing between her labia nudged ever more insistently at her.

The clench, unnoticed by Lynn, send icicles of terror up Simon’s spine. The thick, meaty labia spread begrudging around his shoulders, as his head disappeared within searing walls of tender tissue inside. Inside! He was actually inside another human being! And when those walls began to shiver and then constrict around his head, he wanted to scream. He didn’t, of course, as basal reflex took over to avoid filling his throat with the copious fluids Dorothy’s pussy was churning out. Good lord, where did all that water come from? Did she suckle a garden hose for ten hours a day? How could she produce so much juice without her skin drying up and flaking away?

Simon drew up his hands to push the immense pussy away, but his palms only clapped against the thick, bulging slabs of labia, fingers immediately knotting in hundreds of dense, kinky hairs. He tried to push, but his arms were bent at an odd angle, unable to reach forward for any leverage. When his shoulders complained he backed off immediately, but he couldn’t take going any deeper into this toothless mouth, so he grabbed two fists of hair and held on tight.

“Oh, ouch,” Dorothy murmured.

Lynn’s head snapped up. “What? Am I‌ hurting– …I‌ mean, is he hurting you? Oh, I hadn’t thought about menopause. Is it really painful down there?” Inwardly she cursed, forgetting all about the changes a woman’s body goes through. Her own mother used to share intimate complaints about this, so she knew the unpleasantness ahead of her.

“It’s nothing like that. No, I keep myself… my gosh, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I keep myself, uh, nice and limber. I‌ don’t know, I‌ just never lost my libido. I know that most women do, but I never did.” Dorothy gasped and turned her head, biting her lip. “I know I’m not much to look at, and frankly, in many ways I’ve given up. I’m invisible to men, so what’s the point? But when I get home… let’s just say I have a very rich interior life.” She simpered coyly at her own turn of phrase. “I read a lot of erotica, and I’ve even tried my hand and writing some. It’s not very good, but I‌ joined an online community and they’re very encouraging. Can you believe it? A crowd of women like me, all taking up the typewriter, so to speak, and cranking out these lurid fantasies you’d never imagine coming out of us.”

Lynn could not, in fact, believe it. Was this true?

“My fantasies have always been the normal stuff, you know, a couple getting away on a vacation and role-playing. A‌ wife taking her gardener into her room, getting found out by the husband, but he joins in. You’ve read stuff like this a hundred times, I’m sure. It’s not very imaginative, but there’s a huge demand for it.”

Lynn had never read anything like this. She chalked it up to a generational phenomenon.

“But lately… I don’t know, I’ve just had this real appetite for bondage and discipline. That’s what you kids call it, right? I’ve been exploring women like me, people that no one assumes anything about, no one fantasizes about, suddenly coming out of their shells and demanding the sex life they need. Stuff they’ve kept locked up inside themselves all this time.”

“It sounds very empowering.”‌ Lynn was fairly impressed.

“But like I said, lately it’s just been starting to get a little weird. The women in my stories have been getting stronger, bigger, like taller. They can punch a man and knock him down. And the men, I used to write about CEOs with influence, who could command a woman to do things she wouldn’t ordinarily, unlocking her own deep fantasies. But now the men in my stories are getting thinner, shorter… not necessarily older, but feeble, definitely. And then one of these women sat on one of these men, sat on his, er, face…” Dorothy blushed slightly and struggled with her flobbery boobs. “And she covered him entirely. It didn’t make sense at their scale, their real sizes, but it just seemed right. Her butt covered his face, even his ears, and he started to, um, enter her.”

Lynn sat bolt upright in her chair. “Was this before or after Derek?”

Dorothy said quietly, “This was about two weeks before Derek. I thought about sharing it with the group, but I was afraid they’d find it too weird. And then I found this little man in my butt, and…” Her thighs squeezed on Lynn’s hand and her pussy clenched again. “I thought it was a sign. I thought I’d had a vision and… it sounds stupid, I‌ know. But I didn’t know whether I was predicting the future or I’d actually summoned it into being. There was this moment, where…” She laughed, then gasped again. “Wow, he’s really squirmy.”

“Oh, shit!” Lynn jerked the tiny man out of Dorothy’s vulva. He was flushed deep red with goo running over his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. His throat emitted tiny rasps as he fought against her viscous fluids for fresh air. When the goop slipped over his mouth and he blew a cum-bubble, larger than his own head, she broke out in laughter.

“What’s so funny? What’s going on?” Dorothy blink-blinked and looked down at Lynn, started to back away.

“Oh, no, honey, it has nothing to do with you.” Lynn awkwardly dragged Simon over the tablecloth, fairly scraping the fluids off of his face. It wouldn’t do to kill him before she got him home. No, he had to last much longer than that. “Simon was just telling me how much he loves… natural women! Yes. He’s so grateful you don’t shave down there.”

Dorothy gasped and released one huge boob to cover her mouth. “Oh my God, I forgot all about that. Am I horrible down there?”

“No, no! He loves it, I promise. Isn’t that right, little man?” Lynn pantomimed assent by dragging him up and down Dorothy’s scraggly pubes, as though this equated to nodding his head. “He’s just crazy for you. He can’t believe how perfect you are for him.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous…”

“No, seriously! It’s just like you were talking about, in your erotica. Fantasies being unlocked, new worlds opening up, new possibilities. He never knew it could be this wonderful. He… what’s that?” The blonde made a show of leaning in, as though to listen to Simon’s tiny, mouse-like entreaties. “Oh, the poor dear.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He just confessed—and this cannot leave this room—that he has been ashamed all his life of telling anyone about his fantasy.”

“His fantasy?”

“Yes, a woman just like you. Your age, built like you, with all your ample features.”‌ She shook her head slowly. “You just never know what the heart wants, but it wants what it wants. How sad, that he’s been suffering in silence all these years, wanting something he thought he could never have.” She looked up at Dorothy. “But now he has you! That’s true, isn’t it?”

Dorothy’s bottom lip quivered. “Yes, yes, oh, my God! Yes, Simon, you have me! If you want me, I’m all yours!”

Simon, of course, screamed bloody murder, but his voice was too small to carry. Ambient evening traffic rumbled through the restaurant’s bay windows, tinted from the outside view. Only Lynn got to hear his anguish, and she drank it in like a Cabernet.

“Is there any way you could, you know, show yourself off for him?” Lynn’s voice was soft and light.

Dorothy clucked her tongue. “I really don’t know what you mean. He’s basically seen everything I have to offer… what with where he was just playing around…”

“It’s just a gesture, hon.” Lynn caused her eyes to twinkle, somehow. “On this magic night, where two hearts come together as one, so to speak. You know what I mean? Your own fantasies have been leading up to this, and he’s been yearning for this his entire life. There’s no reason to reduce it to, like, crude rutting. I just think it would be nice to cap it off with a little demonstration to, you know, welcome him to his new world.”

“New world?”

“You are going to be his world, after all. Isn’t that true?”

Dorothy’s laughter was nearly hysterical. “I suppose. I guess that’s right. But what should I do?”

Lynn sucked a long breath through her nose. “Nothing too elaborate. You don’t have to make up a mating dance or anything,” she said, laughing. “How about you just turn around and bend over and show yourself off to him?”

“Oh, nobody wants to see anything like that.”  Dorothy’s hand flapped the notion away.

“I can promise you, one special little guy does.” Lynn winked at her coworker and gave the shrunken man a warning clench of her fist, standing him upright near the edge of the table.

Dorothy finally glimpsed Simon, grasped in Lynn’s little fist like one of the old-fashioned GI‌ Joe’s from back in her day. He was indeed a brave little soldier, getting past his inhibitions to confess his innermost longings to her. She tilted her head and smiled so warmly upon him, then nodded sweetly and began the laborious process of turning around. Her jeggings bit into her thighs and would not let her legs separate any more, so she hopped awkwardly in place, each foot twisting to crank her massive body around.

Simon’s heart quailed at the lost opportunity. His feet rested on the harsh cloth of the restaurant’s covering. His knees buckled, as Lynn didn’t know how much pressure to exert in holding him in place. Her fingers dug into his sides and he wondered if she could crack his ribs with an angry clench. But for a moment, he was face to face with the old ogress, gazing up at her without her boobs to occlude the view, and all he had to do was… something. Anything. A scream, flailing arms, even an anguished expression to break through the illusion his blonde tormentor had constructed.

And he didn’t. Not because of the fear Lynn had instilled in him, but because of the warmth that radiated off of Dorothy’s face. The deep creases running from the corners of her mouth to the sides of her nostrils, as her wrinkled lips stretched and smoothed in that saccharine grin. The dreaminess of her eyes, suddenly dark and moist with real, pure affection. He couldn’t look up into that expression of a desperately lonely woman falling powerfully in love with him, couldn’t look into that and then shit on it. It was overpowering, it was…

Fuck that! Of course he could! He flung up his arms and screamed, but it was too late. Dorothy heaved her breasts to the side as she rotated like a planet. Her massive hip rose and fell, rolling along in its path, and then her shoulder blocked her head and her buttock came fully into view, then the other. Her curly hair spilled down her shoulders, and then disappeared as her head bent forward, her shoulders sank forward, and her entire back lowered and disappeared beyond her colossal rump.

It was as impressive as it was horrifying. Those bulbous, pronounced spheres, imperfectly round, hanging a-quiver beside the table, with that wobbly dark seam between them. Not the neat, clean stripe of a young, tight crack between two pert cheeks. No, very far from that. This was a deep gouge between two protuberant masses of flesh, so much more than any human should be able to pack on, and lumpy flesh at that. Lumps, maybe even nodes lodged in the pale skin, amassed to give the impression of globes in general. Look at it quickly and you could tell yourself you were looking at two large spheres of carved alabaster, that milky and smooth. But it only took another couple of seconds to dispel that illusion, and all the flaws leaped out at you. The fine hairs that glinted in the candlelight, the ass crack that twisted and bumped on the long, long route down from her pelvis to the all-engulfing crevasse between her monumental thighs. The dips, the divots, the nooks and crannies, all the deviations in contour that led to picking out the slight moles and freckles. Not many of those, not at all, but definitely all over.

Hypnotized, he barely noticed the release of the hand around his body. Instinctively he drew a deep breath, his air suffused with the healthy flora of a rampantly productive vagina (not to mention the paste that even now was cooling and drying all over his upper body). His tiny chest rose and fell, and he looked down at himself with a start, surprised at his liberty. He shook out his arms, urging the blood back into his torso, and looked at Lynn.

The blonde giantess kept a close watch on him, even as she vigorously scrubbed the coating of vaginal secretions off her hand and wrist, rubbing her skin raw with a not-entirely-absorbent linen/polyester napkin. Her thin lips were screwed up in disgust but she made not a sound in her task, doing nothing to dispel Dorothy’s trance. That was priority, clearly. She glared back at Simon and nodded her head at Dorothy’s planetary backside.

The little man badly wanted to plead with her, but he knew what it would get him. The tension in Lynn’s face was warning enough. Miserably he turned back to Dorothy’s presentation, only to find things had gotten worse, much worse.

The monstrous woman had reached around with her fat hands, was digging her stout fingers into her own abundant ass cheeks and was hauling them apart. Her own hands, dwarfed by her own buttocks, were a surprising sight on its own, but there was more. Her ass crack had all but disappeared, with the restaurant’s mood lighting spilling into the yawning chasm. There, in a large diamond of burnished, brown flesh, was a puffy anus, dozens of sharp lines pulling in from all around to disappear within the sphincter like light toward a black hole. It clenched as he watched, pushed out like a kissing pair of lips, then sucked in possessively. His heart fell into his stomach.

And below this, separated by a short patch of wrinkly puce skin, her fat labia once again throbbed with fullness, scraggly hairs starting halfway down and proliferating into impenetrable brambles just above the strained crotch of her jeggings. Dorothy had bothered to tug her own teal thong off her hips, and they lay, taut and gummy, upon the tights. There was nothing but the glory of a fearsome, gigantic ass spreading before him, and the unspoken invitation to the chambers within.

Simon’s breath escaped in a terrified gasp. He was fixed to the spot, his body rigid with revolt, unable to twitch his little finger as he drank in the spectacle before him.

The great cakes of Dorothy’s engorged labia spread, exposing a deep ridge of thick, glossy, pink meat. It nearly spurted from between her outer labia, excited to likewise be freed as his own pathetic body was. Her deep cunt churned and flexed before him, baldly eager to welcome him in its own beefy embrace. And the fluids seeped out and ran freely over the whole scene.

“Go on,”‌ he heard Lynn hiss. “Give her a kiss.”