A Cheeky New Relationship

Chapter 3 - The Fabric, The Void, and The Flesh

[Dakota]

“This isn’t happening….this isn’t happening..oh god, this isn’t happening…”

Dakota chanted the mantra over and over again, as if it would somehow pull him from the situation in which he found himself.  As if the chant would suddenly convince Emily to neatly fold the him back up in a tiny pink ball of slinky-soft pink fabric, stuff him back into his girlfriend’s huge white bra cup, shut the drawer, and leave the room.

Dakota continued to chant the ineffective mantra as the smug teenager lowered him toward the carpet. He watched as a huge bare foot entered his vision and aimed to rocket through one of the ropey loops of his new pink body.  Due to some bad aim on Emily’s part, one of the bands of the thong snagged between Emily’s big and second toe.  Dakota cringed, trying to funnel his conscious experience and perception far away from the section of rope threading Emily’s bare, chubby toes.

Emily’s feet were much smaller than Lacey’s for sure but much like the rest of her, Emily’s toes were much thicker and girthy. While Lacey’s toes were always painted and manicured, her little sister’s nails contained fragments of chipped, months-old blue paint toward the tips as most of the color had grown out.  Thank god the scent wasn’t too unpleasant, but what was incredibly unpleasant was the jolt of inertia and the painful from Emily pulling just a little too hard, trying to force part of Dakota out from between her toes.

Once the thin rope was freed from Emily’s toe cleavage, Dakota felt the painful stretching sensation immediately subside and the elasticity of his body allowed him to bounce back completely unharmed.  Moments later, Emily’s foot correctly entered Dakota’s loop.

And then the other foot went through.  He watched miserably as her two bare feet pressed firmly into the carpet, her chubby toes shifting slightly and subconsciously to balance the 18-year old’s weight.  Dakota knew that even though he was down near Emily’s ankles, his body was decidedly looped and linked to the bratty teenager.  The only way to break that loop would have been for her to lift up one of those feet, which she clearly had no plan of doing.

Dakota looked down at the soft heap of mesh orange shorts between Emily’s feet. They looked so small on the floor.  He had to remind himself that they in fact were small…they stretched significantly to cover the teen’s curvy posterior.

He could see Emily’s thick calves in his peripherals on either side.

Dakota didn’t want to look up. He didn’t have to look up.

He looked down enviously at the crumpled blue thong resting gratefully amongst the orange fabric of the bratty teen’s shorts.  If the shorts were small, the thong was even tinier.  How could it cover an ass so big?

How….was he….going to cover an ass so big?

Emily’s large knees came and went, and now the flesh on his left and right was getting closer as Dakota was pulled further up her thighs. He still refused to look up, instead fixating on the juxtaposition of bright orange and deep blue between and beneath the teenager’s feet.

The last time he’d seen that tiny blue thong, he was climbing the steps behind Emily.

And now he himself was climbing Emily.

No…Emily was forcing him to climb her.

Dakota had no idea where to go within the thong.  He had been trying to focus his senses away from the sections of rope encased in the bratty teenager’s fingertips, but now he could feel the fat and muscle of Emily’s inner thighs.  He was very close now.

Dakota looked up and immediately wished he hadn’t.  He let out a boyish, submissive whimper that only he could hear.

Beholding the feminine curves of his girlfriend’s little sister at this new size and vulnerability of his would have been enough to bring him to his knees had he any knees to fall upon.  Apparently those skin-tight shorts now crumpled on the floor, despite hugging Emily’s curves so tightly, had somehow left quite a bit to the imagination.  Dakota need not use any imagination about the way that Emily’s massive thighs parted just enough to reveal her pussy.  She had once been the annoying, chubby, freckle-faced girl spying on him and Lacey.  Now Dakota felt like the one spying on her but this towering, ethereal goddess was actually the one forcing him to look. Her curves were beyond intimidating and she was so much more woman than he could ever hope to handle.

Emily was superior.

She was in charge.

Dakota truly trembled to behold her.

She was an 18-year old woman, and if it wasn’t the sheer strength and muscle in her strong, powerful thighs that made him feel like nothing compared to her, the womanly scent and subtle stubble of her soft pussy lips permanently destroyed Dakota’s ability to EVER look at Emily as just her girlfriend’s annoying little sister again.

“Ohhh, you’re comfy down there.” Emily giggled, running three fingers along the crotch portion of the tightly stretched thong.  She wouldn’t have had to reach up to pat him on his head anymore.

Dakota sprinted from the sandwich created by the teen’s fingers and pussy lips but his exit strategy was not much better than the emergency he was evading.

Ahead of the slinky pink cord of rope was one path and one path only.

Dakota struggled to push from his consciousness the various senses forcing their way into his brain as he watched the pink rope ahead of him snaking up and disappearing between Emily’s bare and horrifyingly large glutes.  The flesh of each twin globe jiggled, as if fighting its sister over who got to gobble up more of the string that made up half of Dakota’s cursed new body. He felt the sensation of pressure and earthy, musky odors traveling along the cord like wet water along a rope of tissue paper…as if the sensations he could experience up in that section of the rope were seeping through to reach him. He turned back and ran along the cord, passing Emily’s fingers still rubbing at her crotch and made his way up to a junction point several inches below the teen’s belly button.  Continuing on, Dakota was funneling his senses away from the rope responsible for splitting the teen’s hefty cheeks and was now in the rope that hugged her hips.

Dakota immediately recognized a grave, serious problem…and Emily’s giggling confirmed his fear.

“Oh god…yup…you are like…WAAAAY too small for a big butt like mine.” Emily laughed.  Dakota dare not move from his sense location along her hips, even when he felt fingers slipping in to hike him further up.

“She’s a handful for sure…but I bet you can handle her if you REALLY try.” Emily laughed.

Dakota yelped out in pain, feeling that stretching sensation that he’d felt earlier return, only now it wasn’t just a small section of his new pink body due to the toe snag.  Now, it was his entire body trying as hard as it could to properly hug and hold the bratty teenager’s hips and butt.  He was trying his absolute best, but it just wasn’t anywhere near good enough.

Dakota felt some more of him slip just a little bit deeper between Emily’s bubbly butt cheeks, and the bands hugging her waist stretched beyond discomfort…beyond pain..beyond agony.

“There we go!  See, I was right.  You’re super freaking tight but you did it!” Emily cheered with encouragement and patronization.  Dakota felt two fingers tracing down between her cheeks to fix the twisted rope that was dividing her huge buns and rubbing up against her asshole. Dakota did everything he could to ignore the sensations forcing into his brain.

The warmth.

The pressure.

The scent.

The taste.

But above all else..even above the bitter, acidic, earthy taste of the bratty teenager’s asshole was the stretching.  Oh, god..the stretching.

“Emily, I can’t do this!” Dakota screamed to the annoying bratty little sister of his girlfriend, the one that couldn’t hear him.   “You’re going to break me!”

Emily was obliviously modeling in her older sister’s full-sized mirror.  Gently shaking her big cheeks anchored in the thong’s pink framing as if she were admiring her forced victory over miniscule, pink, fragile Dakota.

Meanwhile, Dakota could feel something that he couldn’t fully put into words.  The feeling was coming from somewhere he didn’t understand, clearly imparted on him by his new body’s connection to reality.

It was best described as that documented feeling that blood transfusion recipients experienced when they received an incompatible blood type:  it was an impending, overwhelming grey dread…and impending sense of doom.

With his reconfigured vision, Dakota could see the source of the new feeling and gasped. The point of origin manifested at the wide, fleshy hip of the teenager who was wearing him as a micro-tear in his fabric.  For the first time in his life, Dakota lamented the narrow waist and small hips of his girlfriend, for her bratty little sister’s hips were far too wide for a thong this small.

Dakota gathered himself into the location of the micro tear, growing slowly from the burden of hugging Emily’s hips, and poured all of himself into assessing the damage.  He tried repairing the growing tear and managed to delay it for a few moments but much to his horror, the tear resumed growing.  The pink string was thinning like a fraying rope under too much tension. New surface areas of the pink thong’s ropey material was being exposed to the open air, which Dakota understood to be a very, VERY bad thing.

The poor man trapped in the vessel of his girlfriend’s thong gripped frantically at the separating string, holding them together with his psyche as if they were electrical cables powering his life support.  It was a valiant effort on Dakota’s part as a normal thong would have snapped long ago, but his most ardent efforts were simply no match for Emily’s curves.

Dakota thought of the burglar.  The stupid one that jumped into the mug.  There was no question in Dakota’s mind what that man saw when he shattered at the feet of the old woman with dementia. The old burglar witnessed–and what ultimately consumed him–was what Dakota saw leaking in through the tears of pink fabric.

There was no screaming burglar to see though. Nor was there any other poor soul whose jumping vessel had become damaged.

What Dakota saw had no color.

No temperature.

No feeling.

In it, there was no emotion or sensation.

There was no history and there was no future.

It was just nothing.

It was a meaningless void that lived around the pink, slutty vessel that Dakota called home and it fought constantly to enter.  Or perhaps it was his captured essence within the thong that was fighting to escape?  When water fills a container, the captured air rushes out to exchange spaces. There is no nefarious purpose or agenda between the oxygen and water, they’re simply striving for equilibrium.  Dakota could feel it in his forgotten bones that he was being pulled toward this dimensional void and IT wanted to fill the space created for the warmth of his animated life.

Perhaps it was a natural consequence of a god-defying technology such as jumping…that such a dimension of non-existence could so persistently try to stabilize this unnatural transference of consciousness and sensation.   Dakota couldn’t see it before, but now that the material he’d jumped to was compromised, the void was seeping in.  He saw more of what was on the other side of the impending snap, his chest on fire and the skin of his palms thinning from his failing efforts to keep the string connected around the oblivious teenager’s hips.

More of the void invaded the growing gap in the broken connection point of the thong and Dakota’s eyes widened as he felt it, as if he were a bright light dimming in the darkness.  The teenager’s curves were too much for the thong.   They were too much for him.

Dakota let go of the stressed, tearing pink rope and ran.

Behind him, Dakota heard the echoing snap of the thong’s waist strap and a horrifying, flooding gush followed immediately after. He traveled quickly along the bratty teenager’s wide hip, away from the snapping point. He condensed himself into as small of a point as he could along the pink highway, leaving none of himself behind.

Dakota ran down the cylindrical pink cord, screaming like a child being pursued by a hungry monster.  He reached the small of Emily’s bare back and there was only one way to go:

Down.

His eyes followed the path of the pink cord straight down Emily’s back to the section to which he was forced. The dizzyingly long pick cord plummeted like a roller coaster track and disappeared between the bratty teenager’s bulbous, bubbly bare butt cheeks.  Dakota let out a contemplative whimper, feeling sorry for himself using the time that he didn’t have to spare. For no sooner had he stopped to lament the humiliation did he feel the freezing cold tickle of the void against the nape of his neck.

Energized, Dakota shot downward like a tiny little pulse of electricity flowing through a copper wire. Even from the peak of Emily’s crack, Dakota felt the urge to stop.  Ridiculous, counterproductive impulses clouded his ability to think critically about his situation.  Things like pride and masculinity scolded him. They asked, ‘What the hell are you doing?  Searching for refuge in the asscrack of your girlfriend’s little sister?  Seeking sanctuary between her big, bouncy butt cheeks?’

What else could he do?  He was out of options.

He swallowed his pride and continued, completely burying himself between the bodacious, dense buns of flesh and muscle.  The pressure on his body intensified as his consciousness routed down the pink cord, feeling the hefty weight of the two fleshy buns on either side of him.  It was dark and musky. It was beyond humiliating but the worst part is that for a moment, Dakota felt safe surrounded by the thick, dense flesh of his girlfriend’s little sister’s epic, curvy butt cheeks.

Sadly, the feeling didn’t last.

Dakota had come to the miserable realization that the void had entered into Emily’s crack as well right behind him. Not only had the void entered through the top of Emily’s crack.  The same presence must have sprinted in from the other side of the compromised thong after the snap, as he could feel another instance of the void entering from the bottom of her crack as well!

Surrounded on both sides and buried in the dark, humid asscrack of his girlfriend’s annoying little sister.

WIth nowhere else to go, now fully as deep between Emily’s butt cheeks as he could get, Dakota understood he was cornered.  He could do nothing but wince and wait.  A powerful twitching against his back caused Dakota to turn his focus and face it.  It was Emily’s asshole.  Overcome with disgust and revulsion, Dakota was most upset with himself to recognize that he would have happily crawled inside of it to escape the void coming for him.

Unfortunately, he could do no such thing.  There was clearly only one way out of this pink vessel, and it was up at Emily’s hip where the thong had snapped. The void was gushing in like water on a sinking ship.

And then, as if by miracle, Dakota sensed something else along the conductive path of slutty pink fabric buried in Emily’s butt.  He sensed a light.  Its glow was dim but unmistakable and it imparted in him a strange but welcoming comfort.  It matched the color of the lavender lotion he’d worn to aid him in his jump.

Was there some of that purple lotion on the thong string?!

Dakota traveled up away from Emily’s quivering asshole and found the glow he sensed. Immediately behind it–and immediately behind him–was the void preparing to claim him.  Dakota noticed that the glowing lavender light was actually some sort of circular disk that he could interact with.  Unlike with Emily’s asshole–gratefully–Dakota sensed that this disk was his salvation.  Through it he could leave this wretched, broken thong.  What waited for him on the other side, he did not know.  He did know, however, that it was better than whatever the void would do to him.

Dakota frantically mustered all of his consciousness into the one focal point of the lavender disk as the void ravaged along the slutty pink string, an ominous monster in the dark traveling toward the lavender light.

The source of the light originated on the circumference of the pink thong cord and it projected against the fleshy, dense walls of dense, pillowy cheek meat hugging it tightly on either side.  Somehow, Dakota was able to pass through the lavender disk as if it were a door.

He felt himself leaving the vessel of the pink thong and discovering new distance he could make between himself and the approaching void.  The saving lavender light was cold like the void, but the hue of his surroundings gradually shifted from lavender to a dull but engaging amber.  The cold made way for incredible, cocooning warmth. Dakota had all but secured the last of his humanity, consciousness, and painfully amplified senses before the glowing lavender disk started to fade.  Dakota watched as the two flows of void met where he’d escaped the thong and equilibrium was finally reached.

He felt so far away from the pink thong string and yet he could feel it against his skin.  It felt just like a normal string of fabric now, but it was almost as if he was squeezing it himself.  Did he have his body back?  None of this felt right.

Where was he?  What was this impossible warmth that surrounded him?

He sank deeper into the pillowy, cushiony embrace of whatever saved him, feeling himself disperse into the far reaches of its volume just as he did with the thong when he first transformed.  Only this time, he felt the ability to spread out and concentrate into a single area leaving him.  He continued to dissipate into the amber volume of soft, comforting mass and as he did, the darkness of Emily’s asscrack was being gradually destroyed by light.

He could see again!  He had escaped Emily’s disgusting asscrack!

Dakota looked around and he saw Lacey’s bedroom.  He saw her bed and her window.  He saw his dumbbells on the floor next to her fuzzy pink slippers.

Whoa…now he was spinning….but why?

He saw Lacey’s shut bedroom door.  He saw the dresser he’d spent the night in.

He saw Lacey’s full-length mirror…

The realization hit him all at once and even as he stared with his own eyes, he rejected everything.

It couldn’t be.

The transition of lavender light to the soft, inviting amber.

The gradual warming and dissipating of his consciousness into the pillowy, dense mass of softness.

He felt the pink cotton fibers of his body being replaced by something foreign, and yet so much more familiar than the inanimate material of his girlfriend’s thong.

It was being replaced with warmth and overwhelming mass.

It was fat and muscle.

Dakota had just jumped from Lacey’s thong into Emily’s asscheek.

As he stared on in horror as the bratty teenager admired her enormous posterior in the mirror, Dakota could feel himself continue to dissipate further, his consciousness and complete palette of senses spreading out evenly amongst Emily’s bottom like butter spread over two thick, doughy buns.  The connection grew and continued to warm around him, the ample fat of the teenager’s ass cheeks insulating him at first but soon he realized he himself was inhabiting the fat.  He was inhabiting the muscle.  He was becoming Emily’s ass.

A hand came down from the heavens and cupped Dakota’s face.

Nope.

It wasn’t his face.  It was Emily’s hand cupping her massive bare ass cheek. The reverberations of light force rippled through the teenager’s super soft, almost comically bouncy ass cheek, jiggling and jostling Dakota in a strange and uncomfortable sense of confusion.  Dakota summoned up the strength of his consciousness and tried focusing it away from the teenager’s slapping hand. He quickly realized, however, that this was nothing like being contained within the slutty pink vessel of Lacey’s thong. In the thong, he had free movement to travel anywhere and everywhere within the thong’s strings and fabric.  He could focus himself into a single tiny stitch or expand out to cover its entire surface area at will.

Dakota felt that newfound and barely experienced skill slipping from his abilities.  It fully evaporating into a memory as the last of his concentrated essence was forcibly and evenly dispersed–against his will– from cheek to cheek as if he were a paper-thin square of butter spread over two thick, doughy buns. He was painfully and embarrassingly aware of every square inch of Emily’s expansive ass..to such an extent that he had to force himself not to think about it as just the thought made him feel like blushing and gagging.

He had succeeded in escaping the void, but at what cost?  It was true that it could no longer “get” him, but so could nothing else. Nor could he get out.

It wasn’t that Dakota had merely entered the plush sanctuary that was either Emily’s left or right glute. He had become them both…and not just her big, jiggly cheeks…he was everything…all of it….

Dakota had jumped to Emily’s ass.

~