Giantess World
Now isolated in a smaller room meant for one-on-one sessions, though in this case two-on-two, Roberta and Joanne made themselves comfortable in the sturdier leather seats, which were better equipped to handle obese chair-flooding buttocks spilling over the sides like spare tires anyway, though the larger woman hunched backward on the cushioning, preparing to peel her undergarments out of the flab-trap.
Having been pried just a little higher between the paunches of his mom’s udders again, if only to keep him from getting squashed too dizzily, Kyle for the life of him couldn’t comprehend why this activity required a separate space from the rest of the group, given that the pair of shameless mothers were already perfectly comfortable openly talking about, and showing off, their drooling crotches and dark assholes to an audience of near-strangers. Somehow the presence of other people gave him at least some semblance of comfort in case the raunchy seductions ever turned life-threatening, though this was largely a psychological protection and nothing more, considering the things that had already been done to him in that room, or been gruesomely imagined aloud, without the slightest peep of an objection from anyone present.
With her panties already dragged halfway down her pancaked thighs for ease of access, Joanne was busily picking her son’s binds loose, which was tricky business considering the volume of fluid cemented around Tommy held him more securely than the elastic straps themselves. Her determination couldn’t be denied, though, and once he was left floating loose in the hammock of her extra-extra-large panties, dipped low from the weight of congealed liquid, Joanne produced a handkerchief from her purse and swaddled her fragile three-incher into the temporarily warm dry folds. The fabric quickly stained through with bodily sap glued so thick around Tommy that it made him appear 30% larger.
Wrinkling her wide-nostriled snout, almost as though surprised to observe just how much gloop and muff hairs had been molded to her son like the world’s worst arts-and-crafts project, the woman used the cloth to towel away some of the most apparent filth, though seemingly more out of politeness to their company than to help her little offspring breathe better. She swabbed the sex-scented cream off his head, chest, and crotch, while also plucking free nearly enough stray pubes to make a shrunken wig for someone of roughly Tommy’s pathetic stature. Though far from spotless, but at least no longer offensively obvious in his pussy-camping status, the boy was bundled back into a makeshift knapsack within the handkerchief and handed over to Roberta.
“So sorry about the mess, darlin’. But you know better than anyone that you can’t have romance this way without there being a little clean-up on the other end,” Joanne sheepishly declared, mopping off a droplet of sticky leftovers that had soaked through the cloth. She grasped the back of the seat for balance, bending herself over even lower. “What can ya do, after all?”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain. Believe me,” Roberta reassured with a knowing chuckle. “Let’s get this little cutie of yours ready to set a good example for Kyle.”
Blinded inside the kerchief, with the spectacled giantess’s clammy palm cupping beneath his feather-weight, Tommy desperately wished to be let out again, if only to enjoy regular airflow outside these stuffy confines for a few more precious seconds before whatever torture was to follow deprived him yet again of life-force. He got his wish for just a moment when the cloth was peeled back again, but when he looked up, the boy was staring into the plastic mouth of a lotion bottle the size of a water tower. Roberta’s plush fingers compressed, pumping out an air bubble followed by a hurtling blob of skin moisturizer. The stuff splattered all over Kyle, covering most of his body and mixing with what remained of his parent’s dried-on cum. It was at least a more pleasant-smelling alternative to the usual baths he took in sweet-and-sour middle-aged cunt nectar, but still with enough of a chemical whiff off-setting the lilac bouquet at this large quantity that he was left woozy and even more bewildered.
Roberta’s fingers clawed up around the little man in the parachute of Joanne’s personal napkin, swooping him in near to his mother again right as the woman tilted her wiggly rear in their direction. It made the boy feel once again as though he was heading straight for a crash landing on a hostile planet, complete with craggy terrain and mini mole-shaped craters over the surface, not to mention a sunken geyser opening in the shadowy middle, where the heavily-padded hills united along the perspiration-glazed hair-flecked darkness of her most sensitive but not-so-private crevice.
Of course this fat-bootied “heavenly body” was too vivacious for the little guy to be convinced he was simply about to be buried in pale-peach-hued earth; Joanne was bobbing in place, waving her pendulous cheeks about to invite her lotion-lubed son into the jiggly fray. The seismic effort of Tommy’s eager mom not only made her derriere lard undulate for seconds on end after each quake ceased, but exerted her already-overheated ass-crack just enough to shake loose two warring trickles of sweat that traveled from her upper back all the way down the racetrack of her taint, leaving a fresh glisten around her anus before joining the soak-fest of her hairy womanhood in front.
The room was hot with anticipation now, even from Roberta, though Tommy knew it was just as easily his own pre-breakdown nerves and the magma-like humidity of his mom’s keister giving this impression. It was close now. That heinous asshole tightened one final pulse in preparation, then loosened along with the rest of the woman’s flaccid glutes. He hadn’t yet found the courage to open his mouth and cry havoc, but the second his mother’s new best friend had eased his puny feet up to Joanne’s unpuckered brown-eye and shoved his legs through, he started screaming on a continuous loop, and only did so louder and more deranged the deeper Roberta pushed him.
His journey into his mom’s asshole was abominably gradual, almost lover-like in its softly twisting style thanks to her helper’s guidance, though again Tommy and Kyle understood this choice was mainly an attempt by Roberta to avoid hurting Joanne with too quick an entry through her once-tight anal cavity, rather than considering the human anal plug’s feelings on the matter. Naturally, Roberta needn’t have been too worried about causing discomfort, since Joanne was more than ready, doing little more than sensitively twitching upon feeling part of her son’s three-inch body wetly thrashing just inside her dank fanny hole. The lotion coating only sealed the deal, and once Roberta had nudged Tommy inside his mom down to his stomach, Joanne’s asshole did the rest, clamping and sucking him inside like a second mouth with a lollipop, until his chin was pressed to her sphincter, leaving everything below Tommy’s Adam’s apple to windmill against the curved tunnel walls inside.
Satisfied with her handiwork, and encouraged by the throaty moan Joanne gave off in time with her giddily bouncing cheeks, Roberta set down the handkerchief and leaned back in her seat to spectate. Meanwhile Kyle’s view wasn’t terribly clear, especially after his mother’s focused efforts to send Tommy cave-diving in his parent’s butthole had caused her tits to squish nearer together around him, but she wasn’t content to watch the show alone. Her fingers burrowed through the pliable depths of her pale veiny jugs, dragging Kyle back up by one thin arm with such force that she nearly dislocated her son’s shoulder while pulling against the supreme leaden forces imparted by her rack.
The six-inch boy had hoped to have his view of the anal carnage between Joanne and Tommy obscured, but knew this was an unrealistic dream, and tried not to grunt too loudly in pain when Roberta tugged him back out of her sweaty cleavage for the umpteenth time, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, lest his mom get any more ideas today about including him in the lesson plan. He wasn’t going to miss a single element of the action now though, from the titillated winces in Joanne’s stretched-open anus, to Tommy’s inhuman shrieks for mercy, to the trail of semi-liquid lotion diluted by rectal sweat trickling its way back out of the portal amidst all the gyrating.
With her cheeks still spanned out to their widest extent, allowing the ceiling fluorescents to harshly illuminate every disgusting nook and cranny of the cursed valley, Joanne’s sultry grumbling soon turned to almost-hiccupping giggles. It seemed she knew something the others didn’t, though they were soon to find out, and Tommy most hellishly of all, when an acidic gut-gurgle announced itself from deep within her bowels, followed by a rumble traveling through in a straight shot. The fart wasn’t a true ripper, and in fact more of a modest toot by the woman’s usual gastrointestinal standards, but still erupted forth with enough gusto that the pressure of Joanne’s anal lips around her son’s neck loosened just briefly enough to let the foul smog flow out like a blast of muggy hurricane wind. As well as momentarily turning the boy’s features rubbery like an air cannon at full power, his hair was blown back into disarray, a humorous image that couldn’t help but draw a guffaw from Roberta and another snicker from Joanne, who of course couldn’t see around the plump obstruction of her own rump, but knew the sensation well enough to picture her son’s expression.
“Geez Louise, Joanne,” Roberta gaped, feigning ill-mannered shock for a second before both women shared another round of mirth together. “What did you have for lunch today?”
“TERRIBLY sorry. That’s all on me,” Joanne gushed, also playing up the playful sense of false guilt, when in fact it was just her son who had it all “on him” in terms of eggy backdoor stench now. “But you know how they say. Better out-”
“-than in,” Roberta finished for her with an amiable wink.
“Ya know, darlin’, I couldn’t have said it better myself!”
Kyle meanwhile was left to shiver and sweat in his mom’s cleavage, which was all but pulsating now with her elevated heartrate, not only from the tremors in her cans but his own all-too-natural reaction at getting a hard whiff of feminine wind-breaking seemingly on par with a mustard gas bomb. He could only imagine what Tommy was going through, though he could also rely on his own revolting recent memories for an accurate guess, which only increased the sensory torment, inhaling the fumes of the toot and having them amplified in his addled mind upon being reminded of the similar air-pollution lurking inside his own mom. Though not quite the same, either, since Kyle was coming to learn that apparently all frumpy frizzy-haired incest-crazed giantesses had a unique set of odors and shapes unique to their repugnant lower halves, much like a fingerprint or set of dental records. Reveling in dismayed horror for both Tommy and his own future self, Kyle tried unsuccessfully to cough through the last remnants of gassy lung-poisoning air, while Roberta and Joanne laughed their way to full BFF-ship.
“That’ll just about do me, I think,” Tommy’s monstrous mother heaved. Slumping forward against the leather chair for support, she fumbled to find her panties tangled in her thigh gap, though it took a few failed grabs, preoccupied as she was by the three-inch anal voyager still squirming and stimulating her closer to the need for orgasm. “I can’t thank ya enough for the assist, Roberta. Really. That just hit the spot. It seems my baby and I get a little somethin’ out of these visits every time now, even if there are occasional missteps.”
“Don’t mention it, dear, really. And thank you for reminding me as well,” Roberta said. Her tone abruptly jolted to a less-sunny croon as she wrenched her own comparatively double-size son from the numbing embrace of her marshmallowy cans, holding him close to her sparsely peach-fuzzed upper lip and glowering at him beneath the rim of her glasses. “I’m sure Kyle’s going to leave here today with just as much to think about as me. Aren’t you, baby? I may not have raised as polite a young man as I used to think, but I certainly didn’t raise a dunce. It’s shape up with Mommy or ship out with Joanne. The choice is entirely up to you.”
“Yes, I can’t imagine you could make it any plainer than that,” Joanne chortled. “Will you two be heading back to the group?”
“No, I… think we’ve got plenty to work on amongst ourselves already,” Roberta said after some thought. “There’s too much good work to be done.”
She eyed Tommy’s hapless wailing head one last time as his mom’s cheeks were allowed to clap weightily back together around him, when the woman finally stopped white-knuckling the extra girth to keep it good and spread. Kyle caught a new sparkle in his own mother’s stare, obviously mulling deeply over the atrocities she’d just so gladly witnessed.
“I think we’re gonna do the same,” Joanne said, then mischievously added: “Plus, it’ll give the others back in there a chance to get in a word edge-wise. Not exactly big talkers, are they?”
“The sweet things. They’ve got a lot to learn still,” Roberta sighed while twirling a finger around her son’s head and causing him to sink deeper between the greasy slabs of her tits. “I say the sooner they all openly embrace this lifestyle the same way you and I have, the faster they’ll have their relationships back on track.”
“Too right! We’ll see ya again here soon though, won’t we?”
“Oh, absolutely. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”