A day in the market
part I
by willie

We basked in the first rays of warm filtered sunlight shining in through the plate glass window. The giant leaves on the sill tried to rob us of the valuable light, but we were able to find patches of the sun's energy squirting its way through the living maze of green. Outside in the real world, winter's icy tentacles spread out across the city streets. Inside under the morning rays, we were trying to shake the cold night chill.

We knew we had an hour before the manager, Suzanne, would march up the sidewalk outside leaving footprints of thin crushed ice in her trail and unlock the double doors. She was like a postal employee. Neither rain nor snow nor sub-zero temperatures would keep her from her appointed rounds. In the time we've been here she hasn't missed a day, not a single one. In fact, she has never even been a minute late.

"Coffee's done," Max said as she joined our group. She held the steaming pot in one hand and a stack of cups in the other. The smell of the rich brand brought my body temperature up a few more degrees. We all took turns brewing the morning coffee, but Max's always tasted the best. She was the only female in our little group, and she had a knack for cooking.

Letting Max make the coffee every morning would have been nice for the rest of us, but that's not how things worked in our world. Whoever wason second watch made the morning coffee. They were up anyway.

First watch went from ten PM to two AM. Second watch picked up at two and lasted until six. By then, most of us were awake. The watches were very important; in fact they were crucial to our survival. We found that out early on. Although Suzanne kept the place immaculate, an occasional critter did make its way inside. In the first week we lost two men to a rat, but since we put up sentries, we've had no more casualties to rodents. That's not to say we haven't had casualties. We've had more than our share of them.

"So what are you going to do today?" Pete asked me as he took a sip of his tepid black liquid. Pete was probably my best friend. We had grown quite close since we found ourselves here almost two years ago.

"Oh I don't know," I answered. I took a sip myself and trembled as the heat coursed down my throat and exploded in all directions sending warmth throughout my body. God I loved a warm cup on a cold morning.

"Tell me you're not going to spend the day staring up the new checkout girl's dress again," Pete said disgustingly. "You promised."

"No," I answered. "I'm going to spend another boring day hanging with you while you dream of kissing big toes." I gave a disgusting sneer right back.

Pete liked feet, female feet. He loved female toes. I, for one, didn't get the attraction. The thought of hiding beneath five sweaty smelly toes turned my stomach. What floated my boat shook its way fifty feet up in the air. Where Pete adored the smelly hard flesh of a woman's toes, I fantasized about the full soft roundness of the female backside.

Pete was right, though. I was going to do what I had done most of the week. I was going to stare at the humongous backside of the new checkout girl. It had only been six days but I was in love. I finished my share of the Hostess donut and took another large swallow of the mountain blend. I wonder if anyone ever weighed the unopened box of donuts and found the net weight was light by one donut. I doubted it. The fact that so many of the round pastries came in a box along with their fat content, made them our breakfast of choice. The sugar always got me started and the cholesterol kept me going all morning long.

Pete finished his coffee and headed to the frozen food department. He had more room to hide under the open freezers that housed the frozen raviolis and the Ellio's pizzas. He swore women spent twice as much time sorting through the frozen foods than they took grabbing a loaf of bread or a box of cereal. He was probably right. He was the expert on such matters. I just hoped he didn't fall into the trap so many others had perished from.

When we first found ourselves in this prison, we were some fifty members strong. Although none of us had any past life memories, we assumed we were being punished for past acts. Acting out the remainder of our lives as four-inch tall rodents in a giant market was punishment for some pre-lived horror.

Actually, who ever thought up the punishment was a genius. We were taken from normal society. We were put in a place where the three necessities were abundant. We had shelter. Clothes were easily made from a plethora of available sources. And food, well food was obviously not a problem, although we did find the packaging a challenge in the beginning.

The real punishment came from the need to have the opposite sex. The only woman we were given was Max, and Max, even if there was enough of her to go around, wanted no part of us sexually. Max wasn't just a lesbian; Max would have kicked any one of our asses if we even laid a finger on her. Sure a group of us could have subdued her enough to have a go around, but nobody really ever thought about it. Max was one of us. She was just one of the guys.

Our punishment came day in and day out as giant woman after giant woman paraded above us in low cut tops, short skirts, and sandals. Not a day went by without each and every one of us lusting for an uncovered crotch, a half bare ass, or a sparsely clad set of cleavage. We had constant hard-ons, all but Max. She was hard everywhere else.

Many had already succumbed to their desires. One guy, Tom I think his name was, was so enthralled by a three-day-a-week customer's cleavage that he'd sit above the frozen food for hours waiting for her return. By the time she'd come and gone, he was almost frost bitten.

Finally about a year ago, Tom snapped. The woman he lusted for took a little too long picking out a watermelon and Tom jumped. Tom jumped right into her cantaloupes. She felt his cold body land but she had no idea what was happening. She couldn't see him. Between her slaps and her bouncing breasts as she jumped up and down, Tom was mashed into silly putty. I witnessed that one first hand.

Out of the fifty that we started with, only eleven survive to date. Each day we wonder who will go next, lured beyond control to their death. We have a secret bet going as to who will be the last survivor. Who will hold their wits together the longest and avoid their demise? My bet is Max. She seems tougher than the rest of us. She's a whole notch ahead of me and I consider myself a notch ahead of everyone else.

In the end it won't matter. Whoever is the last survivor won't last long alone in our world. Without the strong support of the collective, he or she won't have a prayer in hell of fighting off the desire to become part of one of the giant people. It's already obvious. With each person we lose, they gain more control. As our number dwindles, their lure on us increases drastically. As strong as I consider myself, I sometimes wonder how long I can last the daily pull.

Watching Pete scamper off toward produce reminds me of how Tim met his fate. As recent in my mind as it is, I know it is more so in Pete's. Pete was with Tim at the time. Tim adored women's feet even more that Pete does. The woman looked innocent enough as she approached the spot under the cucumbers where Pete and Tim were hanging out. She lingered a few minutes while she picked one out that was long enough hard enough and fat enough to meet her needs. After she dropped what Pete later referred to as a donkey dick into a plastic bag, she turned to walk off but stopped after only one stride.

The woman did something Tim had been waiting for for months. She slid her left foot out of her shoe and bent down to pick it up. From the way Pete described her face, she must have been spectacular. He then went on to tell me her bare foot outdid her face. I found that very hard to believe.

The woman then turned her pump up side down and shook out the pebble that was bothering her. She gently placed her shoe on the floor and stood back up, but before she had time to retake possession of her shoe, Tim dashed like a crazed bull out into the open and dove head first into it. Pete said he had tried to stop Tim, but was just too late. Tim was on a mission.

A second later, the woman who has not since returned to this market slipped her foot into the shoe. She gave it a little shake and strode confidently off toward the feminine hygiene aisle. That was the last we saw of Tim. We all knew he couldn't have lasted long. We also knew he died with a smile on his face. The woman no doubt wore his tattered remains under her soles for weeks with absolutely no idea a tiny man was ever in her shoe.

Tim wasn't the only man to die under a woman's foot. At least twenty of our dead were crushed under women's shoes. Many deaths were accidental; caused by tiny men getting too close to either smell the aroma a female foot carried with it or to catch a glimpse up a skirt or dress. Many were foolishly crushed just trying to get from one place to another. It didn't take an ESTES engineer (rocket scientist on our scale) to know not to run across the floor during peak shopping hours. It's a shame so many were killed meaninglessly, unable to end it while fulfilling their fantasy.

I remember one guy, a large doofy oaf we called Big George, who lost it when he saw a pair of open toed wooden clogs approach. Of course it wasn't the clogs that switched the silicon chip inside hid head to overload. It was the fluorescent lights reflecting off the red painted toenails hiding behind the shadowed openings that did it. Giant shiny eyes that saw right through Big George were luring him in. Before the woman even stopped walking, George dove into the hole at the front of one of the clogs. He managed to land partially where he wanted. His head ended up between the unknowing woman shopper's big and second toes. Unfortunately for Big George, the rest of his body landed underneath the hard wooden shell of the shoe. We took a poll as to whether his neck broke before his chest was crushed. It ended in a tie.











All the checkout counters have a stool tucked under the cash register. They are there by OSHA standards. Checkers have to be offered the chance to sit down if they are tired. Some of the older checkers do sit down during lulls. Not the younger ones. The new girls were always full of vim and vigor. They couldn't afford to let their boss, Suzanne, catch them at rest. The new checker, the one I was infatuated with, was no different. She had a stool tucked under her checkout counter, but to date, I was the only one that had ever sat on it. I tossed my Styrofoam cup in the trash and headed in that same direction.

The market we live in isn't very deep from front to back. This shortcoming is countered by its width. From the spot where the sun's rays first enter the store to where my favorite checkout girl will be in a matter of an hour and a half is a very long distance for a four inch tall man. I don't mind the walk. I consider it my morning exercise, not that I need it. I have to eat four times my body weight daily just not to freeze to death. What I don't like about the distance is the amount of tiny crosses painted on the floor.

Every time one of us dies we mark the spot with a cross. The tiny crucifixes are scattered all over the floor. Each time I pass one, I remember the person who the cross is commemorating. I also remember how each one died. Most I saw first hand. It seems no matter where we hide, we almost always see our peers meet their demise. I figure that's also part of the punishment. I don't know what I did in my other life, but I do know it must have been bad.

I just passed Billy Haslett's cross, and like every other day, I feel remorse. Billy H. was a good guy, a top-notch person. Seeing him impaled on that woman's spiked heel was something I'll never forget as long as I live. You talk about a slow death. Her heal was completely through his midsection and somehow he was still alive. I still remember his screams as the unknowing woman put bread and eggs and flour into her cart. He floundered under her foot as she left the candy aisle and headed toward the dog food.

The woman with the black spiked heels speared Billy minutes after she entered the store. We still heard his cries as she checked out and left the store. Even Suzanne knew something was up. She always did. She was our warden. That's why she never missed a minute. Suzanne came out of her office to bag the goods. Suzanne only bagged the goods when one of us was in trouble.

Suzanne wasn't only a witness. Suzanne was responsible for a few lives herself. Harvey was one of them. Harvey was an old fart. He was in his sixties. Harvey had seen better days but surprisingly had one more grand finale left in him. He spent hour after hour perched like a crazed cockatoo underneath Suzanne's desk looking up her skirt. Suzanne always wore a skirt. Even in the dead of winter Suzanne had her legs exposed.

As the story goes, Harvey in all his glory got bold one day and jumped onto Suzanne's chair. Her legs were spread and she must have been ovulating for the aroma abounded. Harvey's decrepit knees held and he crawled in-between her open thighs towards her distended vagina. He made it all the way to where his nose hit moisture before the mighty thighs closed. Harvey's quest was squelched, so soon would be his life.

Harvey wanted Mr. Reaper to take his soul. His tired body was ready. Harvey wanted to die inside his promised land. He wanted to think his last thought and feel his last sensation inside the pussy of the woman he had grown to adore. That woman wanted no parts of Harvey's pathetic wishes. She crushed him with her thighs and let his worthless carcass drop to floor. The worst part is I think the sick bitch enjoyed it. We marked his death just outside Suzanne's office. I'm sure she watched.

The first day I saw the new checkout girl standing in the ten items or less aisle, I bee-lined in her direction. After breaking the rule about running through a crowded supermarket, I found a safe spot underneath the counter to check her out. I wanted to see if she was as pretty up close as she had seemed from across the store, but every time I tried to look up at her face, my gaze zeroed in and landed on her voluptuous bottom. It was her first day at work, and to make a good impression, she wore a tight dress. The shiny red material it was made from stretched to its limit around her supple ass high-lighting each curve and crevice. I was instantly in love.

I'm sure that Suzanne didn't care much about the new girl's credentials. Suzanne didn't care if the new checker knew that eggs go in the top of the bag and that the frozen foods get bagged together. Suzanne probably didn't give a shit if the new employee was rude to shoppers. One look at the young woman's perfect face and magnificent body was all it took. Suzanne knew many men would suffer from a severe case of lust over this one. Suzanne also knew many would meet their demise at her hands or feet or bottom. I wondered if I'd be one of them.

It took me a couple days of gawking from the floor before I built up enough courage to climb onto the stool. The new girl hadn't even looked at the stool. I knew it would be a while before she would even think about resting her legs and sitting down on the job.

Two days ago I decided it was time to make the climb. Once again the new checkout girl, Lisa I finally heard someone call her, had worn a super short skirt to work. She wasn't in front of her register more than five seconds before I noticed she had on a pair of teal blue thong panties and, no, I couldn't see the strap. It was so far buried between her butt cheeks I thought it might be gone for good. I desperately wanted a closer look.

I watched her closely as she worked, swinging with grace and style like a seasoned ballerina from the checkout counter to the cash register and back again. Each time she spun, her skirt ballooned up and gently fell back over her flowing curves. I noticed the stool wasn't tucked all the way under the counter like it had been the previous two days. Each time Lisa moved near it, her skirt flowed over the cushion of the stool, temporarily blanketing it in its soft cotton. I knew if I were on the edge of the stool, I'd actually be inside her skirt as it passed over me. That thought convinced me that it was time to make the climb.

As I sat leaning on the leg of the stool staring up at the enormous female backside gently moving above me and waiting for the right chance to make my move upward, another thought crept into my mind. How had the chair gotten from its position completely under the counter to its current position a quarter of the way out? A sick feeling came to my stomach as I answered the question myself. Consuelo must have left it that way.

Consuelo was the head member of the cleaning outfit that disinfected the market every night after the doors closed. She and her cohorts methodically scrubbed the shelves and mopped the floor with the precision of a surgical team. Consuelo wasn't just interested in doing a good job. She had another motive. She had been cleaning the store for so long now that she could see us. Every night she would search every nook and cranny looking for a tiny living souvenir to have some fun with. Consuelo was a very dangerous woman and we avoided her like the plague.

Harry was the first one of us Consuelo found. He was careless and wondered out into the open while the cleaning crew was on duty. He saw one of them and panicked. Harry ran right into a trap Consuelo had set herself. He hid in the safety of fallen box that was triggered to close and sure enough it worked. The raven-haired goddess appeared from around the corner and grabbed the box before any of us could help him. She opened the box and looked inside at her captured little toy. I'll never forget the look of raw excitement and pure power she had on her face. I can only imagine what it looked like to poor Harry. She then dumped the contents of the box into her waiting hand and hurried into the ladies room.

Jason, who spent most of his time in the lady's room, witnessed Harry's demise. We all wanted to make our way into the room to see for ourselves, but we were all too afraid of Consuelo. According to Jason, who would have fled for his own life but was afraid Consuelo would catch him too, Harry was used as a living dildo. Consuelo worked his screaming form in and out of her wet vagina for a good ten minutes before she erupted into screams herself. At that time, Harry's screams had turned to silent whimpers. After she had her climax, Consuelo pushed Harry all the way inside herself, pulled up her panties, and went back to work. We all saw her as she broke through the lady's room door. A rosy glow shown off her tan complexion and a warm smile lit up her face. We knew right away what had become of Harry.

Consuelo caught two more of us since her pussy devoured Harry. Ironically, Jason was the next to meet his demise at her hands. At least it would seem ironic on the surface. Actually it wasn't ironic at all. Jason flat out deserved it. After Harry's death, Jason became obsessed with Consuelo. He began sleeping most of the day so he could follow her around all night. He even gave up hanging out in the lady's room. His new goal in life was to catch a peek up her dress at her man-devouring vagina.

In the end Jason got more than just the peek he yearned for. It was inevitable. Consuelo knew Jason was following. She bided her time and waited for Jason to make a mistake. It didn't take long for that to happen. Consuelo caught him late one night after he strayed too far into the open and carried him into the bathroom. Jason met the same fate he witnessed happen to Harry. It was probably the fate he wanted.

Consuelo caught her third victim the same night she caught Jason. Talk about being on a roll. I guess Barry was interested in Jason's well being because when Consuelo busted through the lady's room door all aglow, Barry was just standing there. He didn't even try to run. He knew it would do no good. He was toast. Barry was a two hundred twenty pound body builder who fell to his knees and cried. Consuelo simply scooped him up and held his dangling body over her open mouth.

"You look good enough to eat," was all she said to him before she dropped him into her mouth. Consuelo sucked on Barry for a while before she swallowed him. Actually she didn't just swallow him. She did to Barry what caused every one of us to fear her more than we feared our worst childhood nightmare. She slowly and enjoyably chewed Barry's muscular body to pulp. Droplets of Barry's blood leaked from the corners of her grinning mouth as she swallowed his remains. "Adios Sr. Tough Guy," she said and went back to work.

The fact that Consuelo was somehow involved made me extremely nervous, but staring up at Lisa's ass and crotch was driving me to the point of madness. I was beginning to understand what happened to us; why we got to the point where we just couldn't take it anymore. Acting on our temptation was like releasing a great burden off our shoulders. It was like taking a dead weight off our minds. It was simply the way.

I waited until Lisa left the confines of her cash register area to grab a cup of coffee before I made my move. When she returned thirty seconds later, I was safely sitting on the black leather of the stool's cushion. The actual climb was quite easy for a man my size. The only thing that made it remotely difficult was the fact that I had to continuously look over my shoulder. Even though the leg I was climbing was well under the counter, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was a set up. I didn't want Suzanne to appear out of nowhere and grab me in mid climb.

When Lisa reappeared in front of me, the enormity of the situation brought me back to my senses. I had been ready to lie myself down on the cushion and put myself at the mercy of Lisa and her beautiful ass. It was scary seeing how close to the brink I was. I realized my current stay had better be a short one so I could maintain my sanity.

It wasn't long before the express aisle got another customer. With him, or her, came the beginning of my entertainment at a much closer level. Lisa's thighs from this range looked good enough to bite into. They were obviously soft, yet they had a muscular firmness. Her skin looked as supple as lamb's wool. As her right leg bumped up against the side of the stool, I had to fight off the urge to run up and embrace it.

As Lisa scanned the items, her skirt cascaded over the seat cushion leaving me with the desire to crawl under it. I felt a tightening in my balls as I thought about how thrilling it would be to actually put myself in the world of her skirt, inches from her thighs and her promised land. Even though I knew I should climb back down to the floor, the temptation was beginning to get the better of my senses. I was unknowingly inching forward, lured by the sirens song in my mind, when I heard a different but all too familiar voice.

"Do you need help with the bags?" came Suzanne's voice from the real world above. The sound of her overbearing tone brought my straying self-control back to the forefront of my mind. Suzanne was here. She had to know I was on the stool. She came to see me get myself killed. I stopped in my tracks and did an about-face. There was no longer any need to linger. I ran back to the far edge of the cushion and jumped to the stool's leg where I slid down to the floor.

Once on the cold linoleum under the counter, I took off running like a bat out of hell. I wasn't absolutely sure if Suzanne knew I was on the stool, but I had a strong feeling she did. I headed in Pete's direction. I ran with reckless abandon, fueled by the overdose of adrenaline that flooded my blood stream, almost getting myself stepped on twice. I found Pete right where I thought he'd be, under the frozen vegetables.

"That's it," I panted to Pete as I sat down next to him.

"What's wrong?" Pete asked. "You're as white as an old lady's sole."

"I have to stay away from that new checkout girl," I answered shaking my head. "I almost lost it and did something stupid."

"You've gotten yourself hooked on her," Pete lectured. "What you need to do is chill here with me for a couple of days." I don't know if Pete intended to make a pun, but he did. Chill under the frozen veggies. "After a couple of days you'll see things from a different perspective."

"I guess you're right," I conceded. "I do need a break, but I don't really want to spend two days staring at ugly giant toes."

"Are you kidding?" Pete sounded exasperated. "It's the middle of winter. I haven't seen a pair of open toed shoes all week. It's quite depressing." We both laughed. I laughed partially in relief. Suzanne had been a little over-zealous. Had she staid in her office a little longer, she may just have had me. I was lucky and I knew it.

After my scare of two day's ago I was sure I had learned my lesson. I was staying away from the sexy new checkout girl and her wondrous rear end; at least I thought I was.

***

part II
by willie

I sipped the last drops of now luke warm coffee Max made earlier as I sat gawking up at the empty stool towering above me like a giant water tank casting its shadow upon the thirsty valley below. I thought back to the feeling of lust that almost overwhelmed me two days ago when I was actually up on the cushion, inches away from the young woman whose spell on me I couldn't break.

Yesterday I spent with Pete, boring and depressed Pete. Pete needed desperately to see a set of female toes, but until the sun warmed the cruel cold world outside to semi-spring temperatures, Pete was seeing nothing but salt whitened dirty boots. I think the day I spent with him did Pete more good than it did me. Pete was so depressed that if I weren't at his side, he'd have run out and thrown himself under a shiny black leather dress boot that parked itself right smack in front of him. Of course they belonged to another cucumber buyer. Where did cucumbers come from this time of year anyway?

I was able to grab Pete's arm and physically restrain him until the woman moved on to the next aisle. I had thought Pete was strong. For that matter, I had thought I was strong. It was obvious we were losing the battle.

After one full day away from the talented Lisa, I thought I had my craving for her backside licked. Well it was almost a full day. After Pete retired to his hole in the wall for the night, I made my way to the express checkout counter. I felt I deserved it. I had stayed away all day looking at shoes.

What I saw at the checkout counter didn't surprise me. Lisa had on another ultra-short costume and she looked marvelous. She looked better than marvelous, but I came away feeling no love for her. My day with Pete was a success. As I walked back toward my own place of rest, I noticed a nagging feeling inside that was trying to tell me something, something I really didn't want to know. I didn't care. My infatuation with Lisa was over. Tomorrow I was going to find a new hobby, and no, the new hobby had nothing to do with feet.

Half way back to my tiny dorm it dawned on me what was nagging at me. It was the stool. It had been moved. I stopped dead in my tracks and thought about it. Was my mind playing tricks on me or was the chair sitting further in the open. I reversed my course and headed back toward the express aisle. What I found confirmed what the little voice in my head was telling me.

The stool was pulled half way out from under the counter. I sat down way under the counter where I knew I was safe and watched for a while. Each time Lisa turned toward the register, her backside rubbed against the side of the cushion. A couple of times it almost looked like she was resting against it. Although she wasn't to the point of actually sitting on the stool, she was a step closer.

I watched a while longer before I pulled my gaze away and retired for the evening. It was almost closing time and Lisa's long shift was about over. Besides, I was starting to get that crazy feeling again. I needed a good night's sleep to sort things out.

That night I lied awake for hours thinking. Deep down, I knew I wasn't anywhere close to being over Lisa. I worried I'd never get over her, not until I got myself killed. I wondered who pulled the stool out. I doubted it was Lisa. She wasn't ready to show a weak side. Maybe it was Consuelo or maybe it was Suzanne. It surely wasn't an accident. No, someone was challenging me and that somebody was winning.

Pete and I promised each other that we'd be careful this morning as we set our opposite courses. We almost believed each other. Not only Pete and I knew the end was near. Our whole colony sensed it. It was Max's strength we all fed off. Her drive always helped us make it through another day.

Like always, Suzanne was the first to arrive this morning, opening the doors with her gloved fingers. I didn't care much for Suzanne, but one part of her I admired greatly was her hands. She had long perfect looking fingers that were topped with shiny well-manicured nails. Her palms were soft and warm looking. I used to imagine being wrapped up by her fingers and squeezed until the life popped out of my body, which is exactly what Suzanne would do if she caught one of us.

I'm surprised it hasn't happened to any of us yet. Jerry, who hangs out in the woman's pantyhose racks, tells everyone that it did happen to him. Actually, Jerry hangs out inside the pantyhose packets. He makes a tiny slit in the plastic and squeezes his way inside the nylons. He claims a beautiful young woman once tried to buy the package he was hiding in, thus granting him freedom Suzanne, who just happened to be bagging at the time, pulled him out. Jerry swears she squeezed him to unconsciousness before dropping him on the floor during peak shopping hours. He also claims she left him to be crushed to death by an unknowing shopper. No one believes him. Sure he was found in the middle of the floor out cold, somehow unscathed by shopper's shoes. Lenny and Joe dragged the lucky SOB to safety, but we all came to the conclusion that Jerry wondered out into the open and got kicked in the head.

The cold draft from the open door sent a chill up my spine as Suzanne came in from the cold. She quickly closed the door and headed toward her office. The express aisle, where I was watching from, was along her path. I watched her approach from well under the counter, her dress boots clomping along the cold floor leaving droplets of frozen water in their wake. She removed her long wool coat as she approached my area, exposing a white blouse and a brown skirt.

As Suzanne passed the express aisle, she draped her coat over her arm and in the process dropped one of her leather gloves. It landed on the floor right in front of me. "Shit!" I heard her exclaim. It wasn't often one heard Suzanne use an explorative.

I retreated further into the darkness as Suzanne's lovely hand reached for the glove. Somehow it had landed on the other side of the stool from where Suzanne was walking and she couldn't reach it. I got a good long look at her extended fingers as she reached for the elusive hand warmer. Her fingers were flawless, her nails long and shiny. What weapons they truly were. Then her hand pulled away.

There was a loud screeching sound as the stool moved out into the open. It had been tucked neatly under the counter. I knew right then that Consuelo wasn't the culprit. Suzanne then leaned on the stool with her left hand and reached for the black leather glove with her right. It was still a long reach. I wanted to run out and push it toward her. Actually I wanted to run out and climb inside it, but I held my position.

Suzanne's head was almost under the counter before she finally reached her glove and wrapped her claws around it, digging them into its flesh like it was one of us. She then stood back up, tucked the glove into her pocketbook, another place I someday might want to visit, and spoke.

"Good morning my little rodents," she said and walked the rest of the way to her office. Of course, I wondered if it was me she directed her greeting toward. I don't think she saw me, but who knows for sure. Nothing seems to get past Suzanne. I guess it's her job.

If I peer around the edge of the little wall under the end of the counter, where the bagger stands, I can see clear into Suzanne's office. I watched her hang up her coat and put her things on her desk. She then opened the panel box and flipped up the breakers that turned on the electric door openers. After that, it was off to the lunchroom where she would put on a cup of coffee for the employees. Often times I smelled the coffee Suzanne brewed. A few times I even tasted it. She had her pick of the various blends the market sold and she experimented with a variety of different kinds of coffee.

Of course we had the same variety. We were able to use the same grinders the big people used and puree the beans of our own choice. Our coffee ranged from excellent when the likes of Max made it, to down right foul tasting if made by someone whose heart just wasn't in it. The pot of coffee first put on in the morning by Suzanne was always good. It gave her employees incentive to arrive for work early. Only the first eight or so to arrive in the morning got to enjoy it. After Suzanne's pot was gone, it was potluck as to what the liquid in the pot actually tasted like.

After my early morning scare at the bare hands of Suzanne, who had just disappeared around the corner, I focused my attention back on the stool. It sat proudly out in the open like a pillar of strength, not even remotely hidden from view. Its legs waited patiently to support the weight of Lisa's tired rump. I wondered if today would be the day it was put to that test.

I heard the cranky whine of the automatic door opener's motor, as it was forced to wake up for the day, followed by another arctic blast. I ran back into the safety of my under-counter world and listened. Clomp clomp clomp came towards me. I knew instantly who it was who had just entered the market. Those heavy footsteps belonged to Olga.

Olga, who worked in the bakery and made all the tasty pastries the market sold, arrived shortly after Suzanne every morning. She was a large woman with a hardened face that took no guff from obnoxious customers. At first we thought she was a wicked woman. I guess her girth gave us the wrong impression. As it turned out, Olga was one of the kindest people I ever saw, at least to us that is.

Olga was here from the beginning. She, alone with only Suzanne and the butcher, could see us as easily then as she can see us now. It takes most new employees at least a month before they can focus in on us little people. I know Lisa won't be able to see me for a few weeks yet.

Olga was the only person in the market who ever helped any of us. In fact, she wasn't afraid to stand up to Suzanne on our account. She even saved a couple of us from the clutches of Suzanne. Early one morning last summer, Suzanne spied Laughing Lenny lying in the sunlight right out in the middle of the floor. He had evidently dozed off right out in the open and when he opened his eyes he saw Suzanne staring down at him. She had her high-heeled pump poised above his prone body preparing to grind Lenny into flour.

Lenny's tiny eyes locked with the giant ones a hundred feet up. Suzanne stretched her lips into a wicked grin in an effort to show the soon to be dead not-laughing person that she meant no mercy. She hesitated long enough to get a frightened response from Lenny, but in doing so, she gave him time to run.

Lenny jumped to his feet screaming and ran. Suzanne missed him completely, crushing only his shadow. Lenny sweared up to his later demise that his crushed shadow could be seen on certain sunny days. Once up and running, Lenny began screaming.

"Shut up you little shit," Suzanne yelled back as she stomped after him. "No one in this store can save you now." Suzanne hadn't seen Olga enter the store and clomp her way into the kitchen.

The pursuit continued for five minutes, Screaming Lenny zig-zagging across the floor like a scared mouse, Yelling Suzanne trying to pounce on him like a playful street cat. The chase was about over. Suzanne was on top of her tiring prey who had ran out of room and was cowering against the swinging kitchen door.

Suzanne had her foot raised in the striking position again as she read Crying Lenny his rights. "Prepare to meet your maker Little Leonard," she said as her foot began its descent.

Once again Suzanne missed. The door behind Lenny suddenly swung backward and a giant warm and gentle hand scooped up his shaking body. Well Lenny, as he later told the story, thought he was dead. He thought the booming heart beat sound was heaven calling him. He didn't know he was saved until he heard the deep voice of Olga bellow out above him.

"What do you think you're doing," Olga demanded in her Swedish accent. "You almost killed him."

"Of course I almost killed him," the emotional Suzanne yelled back. The chase evidently had her charged up. The last second loss had her devastated. "Put him back. I caught him."

According to Lenny, they threw a few nasty words back and forth. Suzanne threatened Olga she'd have her fired. Olga threatened Suzanne she'd throw her on the floor and stomp her. Finally Suzanne backed down and went crying into her office. We didn't see her at all that day, not until she went home.

Olga made Lenny a treat to eat and share with the rest of us before she lectured him and sent him on his way to tell the tale. He, along with a couple others, later tried to contact Olga, but she ignored them. Either she decided to keep us at a distance and only help us when our lives are in danger, or she lost her ability to see us on a normal basis.

As Olga marched past the express aisle, I peered up until I could see her face. She seemed to look down in my direction, but her stoic glare passed right through me. I really didn't think she saw me.

Three minutes later, another metallic moan from the direction of the sliding door wailed its way by me. An even colder shot of frigid air followed at much slower speed. It was the butcher. The butcher didn't have a name; at least none of us knew it. She too was a woman, a nasty woman. She hated us. She hated her job and blamed us for being here. Her dream was to cut one of us in half with her cleaver. It was rumored that the only time she smiled was when she had her cleaver in her bloody hands thinking about our little bodies in pieces. It was a rumor because none of us ever hung out in the cold area. Not only was it too cold for our bird-like bodies, there wasn't one of us who wasn't scared to death to be in there. Fortunately, the butcher area was the other direction so she didn't pass my way.

After staring up at the foreboding stool for another half hour, a blanket of courage fell over me covering me in a suit of armor. I decided to climb to the seat of the stool again and have a look from its new vantage point. Nobody else was due in for another half hour. I'd be down, my curiosity squelched, long before that happened. If I lingered too long, the sound of the sliding door would alarm me.

After a long look around, I felt safe enough to start my climb. Suzanne always spent her first hour going over the supply lists, so I wasn't overly concerned about her. The thought of Suzanne's presence never completely left any of our minds, even at night, but for the time being I thought I was safe.

My climb two days ago gave me no trouble at all physically; we were extremely strong and agile for our size. Today's climb was no different. I flew up the wooden legs like I had wings, easily gripping my fingers into the course grain of the white oak. I stopped half way smelling the outdoors aroma of the wood. I knew at one point in my life I had experienced this same manly smell, but from a real tree somewhere in a real forest well beyond the confines of this smelly wretched place.

When I reached the cushion and stood to look around, I was slightly disappointed. I wasn't high enough to see past Lisa's little area. I wasn't able to look out over the store. I don't know what I had expected. I'd been on the checkout counter before, many times. I knew the stool was no higher. If I wanted to see more I had to climb to the top of the cash register. Still I felt cheated. I had expected the cushion to be some higher plateau that, now out in the open, would offer me a view of the world.

I got down on all fours and put my nose to the soft leather. I took a whiff. My nose had gotten quite sufficient at picking up stray odors, but it smelled blanks. The stool's cushion smelled brand spanking new, like it was a virgin waiting for its first piece of ass. That also explained why the freshness of the wooden legs struck such chord with me. The stool had never been sat on.

I sat down and leaned on my arms behind me. I imagined what Lisa's backside would look like from this vantage point as the backs of her succulent thighs leaned against the stool. Her rump would fill my field of vision. I let my hands slide to my side until the softness of the cushion was against my back.

I closed my eyes and dreamt of her soft ass flesh slowly landing on me, engulfing me in warmth. I imagined Lisa's womanly smell overpowering me. I felt the feeling of euphoria overtake me as the most wonderful female ass I had ever seen trapped me. I felt my manhood come to life. He too wanted part of the feeling. I foolishly gave it to him. I pulled my pants down to my knees, exposing my real best friend to the cold excitement of the moment. The leather under me, though cold, felt soft and succulent to my own ass. I lied still for a minute enjoying the feeling, knowing it must soon end.

The moment reminded me of something deep in my hidden memory; from a part of my earlier life when I was no doubt a normal sized man. I remembered hearing the static filled AM sounds of my local news radio station trying to wake me from a morning slumber. I was in that la-la land, still immersed in the nights final dream, but aware of the ever intensifying outside world. I knew I had to get up and face my life but I was still too tired. Just a few seconds more and I'll wake up. Just let me finish my dream.

My thoughts, while lying on the stool with my eyes closed, were similar to my memory but different. These thoughts were in reverse. I was in the world of the awake wanting to join the world of the sleeping. Screw Max's coffee. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream of Lisa's backside. I probably would have had the giant bed I was lying not moved.

It wasn't much of a jolt. The needle on the Richter scale may not even have moved but it was enough to bring me back to my senses. I wasn't alone. Someone, someone quite large was present. I didn't open my eyes right away. I wanted to. I just couldn't. Not because I was still in the world of dreams. No, I was all at once wide-awake. It was fear. I was too frightened of what I might see lingering above me. I was afraid that if I opened my eyes, whatever or whoever was there would see me and attack.

I slowly took a deep breath so I could re-assess the situation. I lied perfectly still for a long thirty seconds with two of my senses peaked. Sound - I didn't hear a thing. Feel - not even the slightest tremor. I did sense something, something enormous and terrifying. I took a moment to ponder the question of 'why isn't gut feeling one of the five senses?'

It wasn't until the adrenaline content of my blood reached the critical level that I slowly opened my eyes. At first, as the daylight peeked its way through my squinting eyelashes like the morning after a bad dream, I saw nothing but air between the lit window and myself. I felt that perhaps my imagination was playing tricks on me. I was halfway through a premature sigh of relief when my eyes opened enough to see I truly wasn't alone.

As my eyes focused and I saw what was hovering just behind me, I screamed. A giant pair of female thighs was leaning against the stool just behind my head. The attached thong clad rear end hovered over top of me. My first instinct was to get out of their fast, so I began kicking my legs and waving my arms. Had I been on my stomach, I might have made it. Being on my back, I didn't have a chance.

Although it only took about a half of a second to descend on me, I was able to see every nook and cranny of the enormous ass. As elephant sized cheeks settled over me, entombing me in soft yielding flesh, I felt every crease and wrinkle. As the owner of the bottom settled all her weight on the stool, forcing me further from daylight, I felt my tiny body compress to the point of crunching. I knew the only thing separating my face from her asshole was the thin cotton strap of her thong.

The person sitting on the chair sat still for a few seconds giving me a chance to comprehend the seriousness of my situation. I didn't need much time to know my goose was probably cooked. It all depended on who was sitting on me and whether or not that person knew I was there.

Although I wished it were, I knew the rear end that held me hostage could not belong to Lisa. Like the owner of this ass, she always wore a similar thong but she never came in quite this early. Besides, Lisa's ass was much rounder and fatter than this ass. I knew. I was watching it all week. This rear end undoubtedly belonged to Suzanne. Psycho woman had me trapped.

I was scared shitless because I knew I had a pretty good chance of dying under Suzanne's ass. The odds of her letting me go were nil unless, of course, she didn't know I was there. The way she sat down without wiggling her ass made me think that might be the case. As I lied perfectly still unable to move even if I wanted to, I prayed it was true.

We little people were able to go a couple of minutes without breathing. In fact, we practiced at it. We all knew that being able to hold our breath for long minutes might someday be the difference between life and death. Well that someday was upon me and so far I was holding my own. I was counting off the minutes, trying to concentrate on something pleasant. The thought of being under Suzanne's ass, a person I really didn't care for, made it all the harder. I was up to four minutes and Suzanne hadn't budged. Either she was looking at something on Lisa's cash register, unaware of my presence, or she was trying to smother me to death. I didn't know for sure which scenario was reality. I had a bad feeling it was the latter.

***

part III
by willie

A minute and a half later, with my lungs on fire and my consciousness waning, Suzanne moved. Just as quickly as she sat her ass on the stool, she lifted it back off and stood up. Unfortunately for me, my plan of getting up and running when and if I got the chance, wasn't working. I was so out of breath that all I could do was lie there and gasp. My eyes shot open, temporarily, but all I saw were stars.

I thought I did a remarkable job of recovering. After well less than a minute I had my wind back. After not being able to focus on anything, my eyes were ready to re-open, but I was apprehensive to grant them their wish. I was afraid of what I might see looming over me. I might see nothing. Suzanne could be gone, my freedom restored. Or I might see the same ass descending upon me again to continue its torture. Worse yet, I might meet my fate face-to-face, giant eyes to tiny eyes.

As my eyes opened again, they focused on something even more terrifying that what I expected. What I saw hovering above me sent a shot of fear down my spine that made its way all the way down to my testicles where it clamped its crab-like claws around my family jewels sending them back up inside me where they were born. The shot of fear then attacked my manhood in an erotic sort of way causing it to salute the thing that triggered the whole process. Again I shrieked. This time, though, I didn't try to escape. I knew escape was impossible.

I had no more doubt about who had been sitting on me. I had been ninety five percent sure it was Suzanne. Now I was one hundred percent sure. I also knew it wasn't accidental. Suzanne knew exactly what she was doing and now she was going to have some fun. It wasn't Suzanne's face or rear end I was gaping at that assured me she was the culprit. It was her right hand. Poised over top of me, waiting for me to make the first move, were her dangerously clawed fingers. Her painted nails probably looked innocent enough to a big person, but to me they looked like guillotine blades, ready to slice me into ground beef.

It was high noon at the OK Corral. Neither party was budging. Fear of Suzanne's ominous but equally beautiful open hand had me paralyzed. I couldn't see her face. Her fingers were all I could see. The sunlight reflected sharply off the edges of her extended nails making them look like swords folded over and hammered flat again dozens of times, but not a muscle on my frozen body would flinch. I was at Suzanne's mercy. I awaited my fate.

I wasn't totally sure, but I thought the hand above moved. I didn't actually see movement. It was more like the position of the thumb and index finger had changed. They were closer together, like they were about to pinch something.

Suzanne's thumb and index finger weren't as close to my face as they had been either. They had moved closer to my midsection. I tore my eyes off my offender long enough to see their destination. Standing like a proud fool waiting to be attacked was my stupid manhood.

I had imagined Suzanne's giant fingernails manipulating my manhood many times. I had even had dreams, wet ones, about it, but I never imagined it ever actually happening. Suzanne was about to grab, and probably decapitate my penis. The Mexican Standoff was over. I shot into motion. So did Suzanne's hand.

Suzanne's hand was quicker. With lightning speed, her thumb and index finger shot forward grabbing my manhood just under his head with her blunt nail tips. My arms waved and my legs kicked, but her grip was painfully strong. Suzanne began lifting me by my manhood. I screamed as my midsection rose off the stool. I was doing most of the work as she pulled on my penis. I didn't want her to pull it clean off.

I soon got to the point where I couldn't raise myself any higher. Only my feet and hands were still touching the stool. My back was arched drastically but Suzanne did not stop lifting her pinching fingers. I felt the pain intensify as Suzanne's nails dug deeper and my manhood began to stretch.

My balls were the next part of my anatomy that burst into flames of pain as the weight on my hands and feet lightened. Suzanne was actually lifting me off the stool by my penis. As I slowly moved upward, I stole a glance at my poor penis. His swollen head, above Suzanne's fingernails, was dark red. The rest of my manhood was thin as a wire and four times its normal length. I gawked in disbelief that it was still in one piece for a few seconds before letting my head fall back down.

I felt like I was going to puke so I shut my eyes until my ascent slowed to a stop. When I opened them again, I found myself staring at Suzanne's massive mouth. She was dangling me before her face. My head was up side down. So was my view of her smiling lips.

Suzanne then moved me closer to her lips until my face actually touched them. I smelled the mocha blend she just drank. She moved her head from side to side, rubbing my face across her smooth soft lips. By the time my face moved back to the center and I could feel the warm breath coming out of her nose on my chest, her soft smile had changed into a pucker.

The pucker began to loosen and envelope more of my face. I felt moisture on my cheeks as my face moved between the smooth upper lip and massive lower lip of the woman I had feared and tried to avoid for years.

As Suzanne sucked on my face, gyrating her moistening lips around my head and forcing her saliva up my nose, I noticed the pain in my midsection was decreasing. At first I feared that my penis had snapped and the entire area was growing numb. I knew that wasn't the case because my body was still arched backwards. The more Suzanne sucked on me, the further from that pain I went. Suzanne was feeding off my pain; steeling it from my spinal chord before it was able to manifest itself in my brain.

I don't know how long my face was subjected to Suzanne's hungry lips, but it felt like close to forever. I was in la-la-land the entire time. The void that existed from the stolen pain was filled with euphoria. I went with the feeling and enjoyed the full facial massage while it lasted. A voice deep inside my brain, from some distant section that was still functioning properly, was trying to tell me it would end soon. And it did. Suzanne's satisfied lips released their hold on my head.

All at once a shot of excruciating pain mixed with pure terror burst into my brain like the boogieman busting through a child's closet door. It exploded into such colors of orange and red that my retinas burned from the inside. I was overcome by emotion. The remembrance that I was the captive of the queen herself and my torture had already painfully begun filled me with panic. All my childhood fears surfaced and joined forces in their internal attack of my mind's sensitive receptors. I felt my heart jolted to life, beyond life, stretching my arteries like overfilled balloons. My arms and legs began to twitch uncontrollably. I felt my bowels let loose and a burning in my chest as an eruption occurred simultaneously from other end. I felt another bolt shoot up my spine as my manhood snapped. Then I felt freefall followed by impact and a sudden stop. I was conscious long enough to curl myself up into a little ball before falling off the face of the Earth into the darkness beyond.

I opened my eyes to the view of two giant white ass cheeks moving to and fro as they worked against each other. A thin strap of teal colored cotton separated them, here and there. Some lengths of stretched material were buried from view by the cheeks they were trying to separate. The pain in my waking manhood was trying to bring me to my senses.

I knew whose ass it was performing majestically before my awake yet spellbound eyes; barely covered by the ultra short skirt its owner proudly wore. I recognized the gracefulness of its curves, the beauty of its size. It was the ass I had been gawking over all week.

I lied perfectly still, knowing exactly where I was, never taking my eyes off the moving masses before me. I knew I was naked. The cold biting into my chest told me that. I remembered my encounter with Suzanne; how she sat on me then lifted me up by my manhood. It hadn't actually torn in two like I originally thought. It just felt like it had as it snapped back to size like a rubber band.

At first I didn't know why Suzanne let me go without killing me. It wasn't in her to show mercy. No one she ever captured in the past ever lived to tell about it. Maybe I'd be the first. Despite the view, I figured it was time to get off that stool and retreat back to my hole in the wall. I tried to move.

I first tried to bend my knees in an effort to squirm backwards, but they weren't able to rise above the surface of the stool. My ankles were tied to the material. I then tried to lift my arms, but they too were bound to the stool. Lastly I made an attempt to sit up but that was no good either. Stitching around my neck completed my bondage.

I tried desperately to kick my legs free, but Suzanne had sewed them down securely. I attempted to pull my hands through the stitching that had them secured but the thin cotton twine was too tight. The thread across my Adam's apple wasn't overly tight, but any attempt to break it ended in pain. Again I was trapped. It looked like I was to spend the day naked, cold, and staring at Lisa's perfect round rump.

When my kidneys had sufficiently filtered the remains of my last surge of adrenaline, I was able to assess my situation. First off, I was cold. As a result of that, I would soon be hungry. That I might survive, depending on how long it would take me to free myself.

Secondly there was the magnificent but equally ominous ass flaunting its deadly presence in front of me. It wasn't real likely that Lisa would sit down, not on her own anyway. She had shown no signs at all of wanting to take a load off thus far. In fact, she probably wouldn't show any signs all day. That is unless she was coerced into doing so. That led to problem number three.

I knew how the mind of Suzanne worked. She wasn't about to just leave me there to escape or starve to death. She had other plans. I wasn't exactly sure what they were. I knew I'd soon find out.

After about an hour of being half scared out of my mind and unable to pull my sobbing eyes off my potential demise, I heard Suzanne's treacherous voice. My heart switched gears sending a shot of warmth through my chest. The warmth wasn't helping my numbing extremities.

"Hi Lisa. You look kind of busy. Do you mind if I bag for awhile?"

"That would be wonderful," Lisa answered in the soft innocent voice she spoke to her boss with. "We seem awfully busy this morning."

"That's because the weather people are calling for more snow today. It's only going to be a dusting, but you know how these older people over-react."

"Tell me about it," Lisa sighed. The two went on to chat casually. I listened intently. Lisa rang up three more customers then asked her boss something that seemed odd.

"When can I wear something warmer? These cold mornings are murder on my legs."

"Oh I'm sorry," Suzanne answered. "My experiment is over. You can wear whatever you like tomorrow."

"Was the experiment a success?" Lisa asked.

"Indeed it was," Suzanne answered. She then chuckled sending a shiver up my spine. When the shiver hit my brain it popped into a short sharp fit of rage. The bitch set me up. She played me like a fool, baiting me with Lisa and her sensuous rear end. I stupidly took the bait: hook, line, and sinker.

"So why don't you ever sit down?" Suzanne asked her favorite employee, turning my rage back into terror. It wasn't much of a switch. The two emotions are siblings.

"I don't need to sit down," Lisa answered stubbornly.

"But that's what the stool is for. All the checkers have one. OSHA requires it." What a bitch. Suzanne was trying to talk Lisa into sitting on the stool.

"I'm fine", Lisa argued. "I don't need to sit, really."



"Why don't you just try it," Suzanne went on. She was on a mission.

Then I heard a different voice. "Yo Peppy." It was Pete. That's what he calls me. "I came to rescue you."

"I'd rather stand," Lisa argued back as Pete's form came into view behind my head.

"You saved me yesterday," Pete said not knowing what was happening above. "I'm here to return the favor."

"The OSHA representative is visiting us this morning," Suzanne protested in a much firmer voice. "I want you to sit, NOW"

"OK," Lisa finally said with a huff. Her ass moved over top of me.

"Run Pete," I yelled. Pete took the hint as the twin cheeks cast a shadow over us. He made a quick left and in a matter of two seconds he was over the edge of the stool. Unfortunately for Pete he dove in the direction of Suzanne.

"Oh shit," was the only thing I heard Pete exclaim after he disappeared from view.

Lisa's ass crack hovered inches above me long enough for me to hear Lisa ask one final question. "What are you doing with your boot?" Then it was lights out.

Poor Pete, I thought to myself as I was swallowed in ass meat. In my mind, his situation was worse than mine. Sure I was being sat on, but I was under an ass I adored; a warm ass that would at least keep me from freezing to death; an ass that would probably be off me as soon as Suzanne went back to her own work.

Pete on the other hand wasn't as lucky. He was captured. I was sure of it. Suzanne had used me as bait to get him. Pete had fool-heartedly taken the bait as I had. Now he was, no doubt, a prisoner to Suzanne's toes. Although he was a footman, I seriously doubted he was enjoying himself.

Lisa gave a wiggle that sucked me further between her massive ass cheeks. Although I knew the thread held strong, I no longer felt the material of the stool's cushion on my back. I was wrapped about 350 degrees in fatty muscle covered with layers of soft velvet skin. It felt good. It felt better than good. I had been dreaming of this moment for days, although under slightly different circumstances. Why fight it, I thought. Lisa's ass meat was sucking the cold from my body and replacing it with warm comfort. I decided to enjoy it while I could. It might not be enjoyable for long.

As I lied underneath Lisa's ass, unable to move and not wanting too, I felt like I was in my own little world. I was in solitary confinement where I was totally removed from mankind. No sight. No sound. I was totally alone. It was quite relaxing, for the first couple of minutes.

I expected Lisa to remain on the stool for a minute or so, two minutes at the most. I was mistaken. By the time she arose, my feeling of bliss had turned to one of concern. I was once again on the verge of unconsciousness. As my lungs began calling for air, a feeling of claustrophobia began washing over me like a cloth veil. I felt the veil turn black and solidify into smothering plastic. I desperately wanted my under-ass excursion to end, but that wish showed no signs of happening. I was forced to fight off my panic and wait.

"It's about time," Lisa exclaimed in her pretty voice as her ass moved away from me. I barely heard her speak between my own gasps for breath.

"Excuse me dear?" came a scratchy sound from the woman on the other side of the check out counter. "Did you say something?"

"No ma'am," answered Lisa. "For some reason my boss won't leave me alone today. It's like I'm sitting on a pot of gold."

"Maybe your boss is right," the obviously much older woman interjected. I pictured a sloppy sagging disgusting rear end rampant with gross cellulite and had to fight of a wave of nausea. I did a slow blink and when I opened my eyes they focused on Lisa's eyes peering down on me. I hadn't noticed the pure beauty of her face. Her soft blue eyes, still unable to see me, turned me into melted butter.

"No, no gold," Lisa said just before she looked away from me. I was sure we had made eye contact, but Lisa showed no signs of it. "It's just a stupid stool, albeit an awfully comfortable one."

"Maybe you should sit back down then," said the woman much to my chagrin. "You were doing quite well while you were sitting."

"Maybe later. Right now I'd rather stand." Lisa gave the stool and me another quick glance. Perhaps she was on the verge of seeing. Lisa took the woman's cash, gave her close to the correct amount of change and wished her a good day.

"Don't be afraid to rest your legs," the older woman said as she headed towards the exit, offering one last glance in my direction. A lightning bolt hit my brain. The old woman saw me. She probably saw us all. She visited the market so often she knew we existed. I had to wonder. How many others knew of our existence?

"Help me!" I called out to the older woman, but she continued on her way unable, or unwilling, to hear me. I looked away from her retreating figure, past Lisa's mostly bare ass, and toward the next person in line. Another older woman was staring directly at me as she placed her ten items on the black rubber. "Help me," I pleaded.

The woman, probably in her early sixties and holding her age extremely well, smiled and said to Lisa, "I agree with Dorothy. You really should sit down. All the other checkers are sitting. If you don't, you'll get varicose veins."

"Just great", I whispered to myself. The shoppers who could see us didn't seem to want to help us. They wanted to see us punished. That explains the number of casualties we've suffered over the last two years.

"What is it with this stool?" Lisa asked. She didn't look down at it. Instead she put her open hand on it, just to my right. "Why does everybody want me to sit?"

"It's like Suzanne said," the woman who had undoubtedly spent hundreds of hours in the market lectured. "It's a rule."

I watched Lisa's open hand as it landed all around me searching for something. Her soft white palm circled my body, narrowly missing me several times, although the tips of her fingernails did graze me sending sparks up my spine. Finally Lisa's hand lifted off the stool. I thought her probing was finished, but her hand made one final pat and landed right on top of me where it stayed for a full ten seconds.

Lisa's warm hand felt wonderful on my naked body, almost as good as her ass first felt. I felt my inhibitions dissolve, like a chemical reaction was burning away my fears. I felt Lisa's life energy emanating from her lifeline and entering me through my massive hard-on. I wanted her open hand to stay on me forever, feeding me her life force, but ten seconds is far from forever.

I felt the connection break as Lisa's palm slid down my body towards my feet. I also felt her fingertips take over the assault. Her middle finger, almost as wide as my chest, slid down my face to my mid-section. The neighboring fingers worked their way down my sides. When the trio reached my knees, they reversed direction and tickled their way back up my body. This went on for a good half minute.

The feeling of Lisa's probing fingers as they manipulated my squirming body was breathtaking. They prodded every inch of my body, concentrating on the area between my knees and my stomach. Somewhere in the real world I heard a straggly female voice interrupt our moment.

"Are you going to take my money?" the impatient woman in line barked. "Or are you going to play with your stool all day?"

Lisa's hand was gone in a flash leaving me with a feeling of desertion. "I'm sorry ma'am," she said. "There's just something about this stool."

"I know there is," the woman answered in a voice smartened by her years. "Take my money and have a seat."

Lisa took the woman's money, fumbled in her cash register for a few seconds, and gave the woman her change. "Have a nice day." Lisa offered in a far off voice. She was obviously distracted by what was once again just below and behind her magnificent bottom - a tiny person she could feel but could not see. And that tiny person was me.

"You too dear," the woman answered. "Now sit".

That was exactly what Lisa planned on doing. Her ass wasted no time in settling over me, but before it could even begin to warm my hungry body again, it was off the stool. By the forced greeting Lisa gave, I knew she had another customer. As she quickly rung this person up, I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't let stupid fears get a hold of me when Lisa was sitting on me earlier. Claustrophobia wasn't the problem. That only happened to me in elevators. Lack of air wasn't a real concern either. Lisa couldn't possibly sit on her stool for a period of time longer than she already had. The express lane had far too many visitors. Suzanne didn't pose an immediate concern either. As long as Lisa was behind her register, I was relatively sure I'd be safe.

Lisa finished with this customer, then two more. Afterward she turned her undivided attention to the stool and myself. This time she actually bent over the stool to examine it more closely giving me an unbelievable close up of her extremely pretty face. I found it hard to breathe with Lisa's warm breath steaming through her sensuous lips and onto to my face. She stared right at me for ages, yet I was positive she saw nothing but thin leather. Finally, she stood back up, obviously unsatisfied, to handle another customer.

My focus went back to Lisa's unbelievable giant ass. I was beginning to shiver and I wanted another dose of it sitting on me. I knew I could make it more enjoyable than the last time. I just prayed she'd sit down soon, but she didn't; not right away. Instead she turned her face back in my direction and began a grueling probing by the sensitive fingers of her right hand.

Although Lisa's fingers felt good as they worked their way over me, they were cold. Her last customer must have bought ice cream or something else freezing. Shivers were shooting down my spine as goose bumps erupted on my arms and legs. I knew if Lisa didn't sit down soon I'd freeze to death.

Lisa withdrew her hand and quickly spun around to another customer showing me once again her best feature. This time I watched it wantonly. Each time it swayed in my direction, I prayed it was coming down on me. Each time it moved away, I cursed. I felt like I was losing my battle with the cold.

By the time Lisa finished with her customer, I was blue. I swore whoever it was must have had fifteen or more items in the ten item or less line. "Have a nice day," Lisa said as she handed the woman her two bags. The woman looked at me and smiled, but said nothing. Lisa followed her gaze giving the stool and me a final gaze before turning away and lowering her bottom towards me.

"Please," was all I whispered. Frozen steam came from my mouth. Somebody upstairs heard me. Lisa's ass slowly settled over me. I felt the life saving heat it gave off before it even made contact with me. Lisa gave a little wiggle and once again I was immersed in my own little world of ass flesh, only this time I was thankful. This time I wanted it to last all day.

***

part iv
by willie

Lisa stayed on her stool for a good five minutes this time, and I soaked up every second of it. I was able to ignore my increasingly balking lungs. I knew I had plenty of time before lack of oxygen would get me. My main concern was to warm up enough to hold me over while Lisa stood up again. By the time Lisa did stand up, my body temperature was close to normal. Still I longed for her to sit back down again.

Lisa took care of two more middle aged women getting last minute supplies before the light dusting of snow hit. The last of which told Lisa that the snow had begun to fall. I knew that meant a slow afternoon. I also knew that Suzanne would not let Lisa go home early, despite the snowfall. Especially if she knew Lisa would spend the day sitting on me. What Suzanne didn't know was how much I was beginning to enjoy being alone under Lisa's supple derriere.

Lisa gave me a quick feel with her cold fingers before sitting on me for the third time. Once again I reveled in my abandon. It just kept getting better. I wanted to live under Lisa's ass forever. I wanted to grow old under it. I wanted to die under it. My wish almost came true. This time Lisa didn't stand back up for such a long time that I almost did die under her ass. I thought she was moving in that direction once, but instead of actually standing, she slid the stool closer to the cash register. At least that's the direction I thought I had moved. Lisa was evidently working while sitting on the stool.

This time I did pass out, but it wasn't painful. Sure my lungs burned, but I was in such bliss I hardly even noticed. I was actually under and partially inside the work of God's hand I'd been admiring all week long. My mind simply faded out. When I woke up, I found myself still in my under-ass world. Lisa had obviously been off the stool for my blood stream was re-oxygenated and my body was cold. Again I lied perfectly still unable to move while my life force was put on hold for the third time that morning. Again I passed out.

Through the course of the day, I passed out numerous times. I awoke sometimes in darkness, still cold but sucking in warmth from my surroundings. Other times I awoke with daylight attacking my sensitive eyes and the cold biting into my tender skin. Each time I was able to find my larger than life security blanket that would eventually settle over me again, sharing its generous supply of much wanted heat.

Each time, my awareness would end the same way. Lack of oxygen would make my consciousness dissolve into sleep. In that sleep came gentle dreams of younger years. I dreamt of happy times spent with my parents, loving moments with my deceased grandparents. I re-lived my first scary days of school and a fight with the class bully. My dreams proceeded through the years of my youth, returning to the same moment in time after each period of awareness. It slowly dawned on me that I was dying a lingering death and my vivid dreams were the medium my brain was using to flash my life before my eyes; a life, that while awake, I had no memories of at all.

As the day went on, I lost track of the time. For a while I was able to determine the time of the day by the angle of the sun's distantly warm rays. But after each smothering, I awoke less and less coherent. Sometime during late morning I lost that ability. I spent all afternoon and into the early evening spending less time in the lucid fading world of Lisa's rear end and more time in the recurring movie about my life.

I was in bed with a pretty young woman. My early twenties were upon me. I felt strong emotions surging through me. Feelings of lust had a hold of me. We were entwined in passion. The tip of the rock hard pillar of my sexuality was flirting with her moist pit of passion. I was about to drive our union home when I heard voices. They were distant, but they managed to pull my attention away from my lover.

"Wake up," said a deep voice.

"Hurry. We don't have much time."

I ignored them and turned my attention back toward my first true love. Again I was interrupted, this time by distant screams.

"Oh my God. Look out!" one yelled.

"Help me, help me," came from another. I almost turned away from my first sexual intercourse to see what the commotion was, but I couldn't. Something larger than life, something I was already acquainted with, settled over me like a thick blanket, thwarting my attempts at movement. I had no choice but to go on and finish my task at hand.

Years later, I was bigger and stronger. I was climbing a cargo net, trying to reach the top. My drill sergeant was driving me onward with a barrage of foul language. My heart was pumping rapidly. I felt my youth coursing through my veins. Higher and higher I climbed until I could hardly hear the verbal assault from below. As I reached the top of the net, I stopped to take a breath before starting my descent back down. When I did, I heard a voice.

"Come on, wake up." I felt fingers on my back pulling me off the rope. "Wake up," the voice continued. I tried to hold on, but a weight was pulling me down. My fingers, already tired from the climb, could hold on no longer. I fell, but I didn't fall downward.

The hands that pulled me from the rope were still on me. They were shaking me. The voices grew louder. Wherever they were, I was moving in their direction. All at once I broke through a barrier into a world I remembered. Two familiar faces looked down at me.

"Untie his hands," one of the faces said. "I'll get the one around his neck."

Although extremely groggy, I slowly remembered where I was and who the two men who were attempting to save me were.

"What time is it?" I muttered, not aware I had asked a coherent question. "It's closing time," the one I knew as Jonsie answered. We have to get you out of here before the cleaning crew moves in."

I instantly remembered Consuelo and sat up with a start. Jonsie had successfully removed my neck constraints. I instantly felt faint. I felt like I was going to pass out again. Jonsie noticed and quickly gave me a sample of a protein mix that the market sold. It was potent stuff and I filled my hungry belly with the nourishing mixture.

I looked toward my feet and saw someone else I knew. Jeff was trying, with little luck to unbind my ankles.

"I can't undue these," Jeff said panic stricken.

"Calm down and try harder," Jonsie commanded. I turned to look back at him, but that fast he was gone.

"Jonsie," I called, but Jonsie was no longer on the stool. I turned back toward Jeff who was now standing with a look of alarm on his face.

I saw movement off to the side. Something large was moving toward Jeff. I watched in amazement as a giant female hand shot into the scene and wrapped its long fingers around Jeff. The painted nails were long and exquisite. I knew they belonged to Suzanne. Then, in a flash Jeff was gone.

I looked up as Suzanne approached the stool. I held up my hands and found them no longer bound to the stool. I raised them before my face in a mock pose of self-defense. Suzanne had a man wrapped up in each of her hands.

"Congratulations," she leered down at me. "You have proven to me quite the bait. First it was your foot loving friend." I remembered Pete. "Then it was the two I found under this very stool. I was able to get one of them in each of our sluttish little check-out girls shoes, and she didn't even know it." I felt the thick drink in my stomach revolt.

Suzanne lowered her face close enough to me that I smelled her breath. It smelled of mangled flesh, a smell I'd smelled once before. My stomach did a flip. "Then there were the first two fools that ventured up onto this stool. Lisa was still working at the time. They didn't think Lisa would see them. They were right. Lisa didn't see them. But the lady who was checking out did see them. She took home two articles she didn't have to pay for. Unfortunately for Mrs. Henderson, they weren't alive when she reached her car. I can't allow little people to leave the store alive. Now can I?"

My heavy stomach felt like it was lying between my feet. This had been D-day for our little community, and it was my entire fault, me and my uncontrollable passion for a certain backside. How many had perished trying to save me? I felt heart broken. I didn't care what Suzanne did with me. I deserved it, just as long as I ended up dead.

Suzanne went on with her nightmare of a story. "Up until a few minutes ago, there were only four of you left. You and these two fools make three." Suzanne held up her hands showing two petrified faces. "Then there was your friend Max. Even Max lost her cool today. I found her beating on the door of the kitchen; like that oaf of a cook can help you people anymore. I took care of her ability to help."

I muttered Max's name. Suzanne only smiled a wide grimace showing me all her teeth. They were stained blood red. My hands went to my face. Oh my God, Max.

Suzanne promptly stood back up, giving the stool and my attention a little shove. She slowly and methodically lowered the screaming Jeff head first into her tight cleavage until not only his screams but also his struggles were quieted. "As for your two remaining friends," she said. Her smile kept getting more foreboding. "They will be my entertainment for the evening."

Suzanne then grabbed the front of her panties and pulled them away from her waist. She dangled the squirming Jonsie over the opening. It must have looked to Jonsie like a crevice in hell.

"Adios muchacho," she giggled as she let go of Jonsie. A tenth of a second later, she let go of her panties. I saw Jonsie's form come to rest in the base of Suzanne's panties, but before his struggles ended, he disappeared, sucked into a hungry female sex, never to be heard from again.

I was shuddering uncontrollably. Despite the unsettled shake in my stomach, I was freezing. A cold sweat was forming droplets on my quivering brow. Still I was forced to listen to Suzanne. "It looks like whomever had you in your stupid pool was the winner. Too bad they're not around to know they won." That's when it hit me. It wasn't the toughest person who outlasted everyone else. It was the stupidest, most selfish one who was the soul survivor. I knew we were a team. I knew we depended on each other to survive. I knew with the loss of each member, our strength fell by a factor of two. That's why the others had to try to rescue me, even if it meant losing their own lives. My arrogant view of myself, thinking I was the toughest man here, made me the winner. It also made me the loser ten fold.

I expected Suzanne to snatch me from the stool, to make me part of her short-lived collection, but she didn't. She turned and headed for the door. I figured what better torture than to be left to freeze to death, alone, as the last survivor in the harsh environment I conquered. How ironic.

Suzanne strutted out the door. I watched the reflection of the streetlights contort as the glass panel rotated back inward. I also heard Suzanne say something before the cold metal clanked shut. "Consuelo and her crew will be in shortly," is what Suzanne's last sentence said.

I quickly reached for the rope that still bound my ankles. I feverishly struggled with my restraints but got nowhere. Suzanne had made sure no little person could untie them by hand. I had to wonder why none of my alleged rescuers had thought to bring a knife. Still I was determined to free myself and find the warmth and safety of my little bed hidden away from the big people's reach.

Although my fingers were getting numb, I was beginning to make some progress towards freeing my left ankle. It had been dark outside for hours, but the store fluorescents gave me plenty of light to see by. They also gave anyone who came into the store plenty of light to see me by, provided they had the power.

I was just about to squeeze my left foot out of the rope when I heard the squeal of the glass door. I froze my movement and listened. Usually the cleaning crew entered in mob fashion, everyone bounding through the door at once. Tonight was different. I heard only one set of shoes clickety-clacking their way in my direction. I knew whose black boots were approaching. It could only be one person, one woman, and I was sitting like a lame duck out in the open just plump for the picking. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.

As the sound of female boots approached, I couldn't keep myself from praying that I'd go unnoticed. I prayed that the woman walking in my direction wasn't the woman I knew it had to be. Like every other prayer I thought about sending to the almighty that day, this one went un-listened to.

The stomping reached my area and abruptly stomped. I knew I was doomed, but I still didn't move or open my eyes; that is until I was told to do so.

"Open your eyes and face me like a man," boomed the Mexican voice behind yet another woman I had grown to fear over the last two years. "Look at me or I'll turn you into an enchilada."

I slowly opened my eyes and looked up. My greatest fear was to be eaten alive. Standing before me in a down right amazing shiny leather outfit was none other than the stunningly attractive yet equally dangerous Consuelo.

"So what do you think?" she asked me, turning from side to side. "Do you like?"

I definitely liked, despite my fear. Consuelo then lifted her right leg and placed her foot on the edge of the stool, my stool. My gaze went from her black boot, up her smooth shin to her round knee. From there, it changed direction and headed past even softer thighs into the enchanted black forest of Consuelo's womanhood. Her black bush and throbbing vagina told me she wore no panties tonight. Her black bush and throbbing vagina also read me my fate for the evening. My hungry fortuneteller told me that I was in serious trouble.

My fear turned totally into awe as Consuelo put her foot back on the floor and straddled the stool. Her vast womanhood, hovering above me like a starving fledgling, figuratively took my breath away. Soon it would literally take my breath away. At least I'd gain some warmth. The trade off seemed almost fair.

I heard Consuelo muttering something. I think she was talking to herself, but I wasn't sure. She was speaking Spanish in that Mexican singsong dialect I never was able to understand. I did understand one sentence she said before I was removed from her world. "Qué un encantando empatando". What an enchanting evening.

The smell was the first to overpower me. I knew right away, by the strong female scent she was carrying, that Consuelo was extremely excited. I also knew she was out for more than a casual sit. I was truly in trouble.

The second attack on my person came in the form of heat. As Consuelo's pussy wrapped it's horny lips around me, my frozen skin felt like it was set ablaze. At first, it was painful, but as my tender skin heated, the pins and needles attacking it ebbed away to a warm wool blanket.

Consuelo sat still on the stool for a few moments, enjoying the power of having a tiny human being waiting his fate at the whim of her womanhood. She was obviously enjoying the anticipation. I was becoming more and more nervous the longer she held me at bay.

Slowly Consuelo began rotating her pelvis over the surface of the stool. Slowly I moved along with her. My feet were still tied down, so I was rolled onto my right side then onto my left side then back again by Consuelo's circular gyrations.

I knew that if Consuelo was content with riding me slowly like she was doing now, I had a good chance of survival. I didn't expect that to be the case. I couldn't get the thought of what she did to Harry and then Jason out of my mind. The fact that I didn't actually see her vagina devour Harry first hand didn't matter. Jason's telling reenactment had left little for the imagination. Consuelo was sure to pick up the pace sooner or later. As it turned out it was later.

Consuelo did pick up the pace somewhat, but she sped up so slowly, I didn't even know she was doing it. All of a sudden I realized I was being rolled around pretty well. I also noticed how much wetter my surroundings had begun. Consuelo's love juices were flowing. They were forcing their way up my nose and filling my sinuses. Her fluid flooded my mouth and gushed down my throat into my stomach. I gagged, and my lungs took a mouthful. I gagged again, trying to cough but only managed to take in more of the sweet tasting liquid. As Consuelo's assault seemed to intensify, throwing me round and round and side-to-side, I began to panic.

I stupidly tried to scream, not for Consuelo's mercy, but to help myself control the wave of panic that was overtaking me. That only opened the floodgates. My open mouth quickly was pumped full of more love juice that made it's way into my lungs. My lungs in turn went into spasm and revolted. I coughed hard once, then twice. Each time I coughed I took in more fluid. I was drowning, but Consuelo showed no signs of slowing her grinding action. At last the time of my death was near.

I tried to look past my body and into my mind. I tried to summon the dream of my life I had left earlier. I still had so much of my past life to re-live. I wanted to go back to sleep. I needed to finish the dream, but the harder I concentrated, the more my body called me back. Finally, feeling cheated, I gave up on the dream. My full attention went back to surviving the pounding I was taking. And then it abruptly stopped.

I thought I was dead. I awaited the bright light and the tunnel, but saw nothing. I listened for soft celestial music, but only heard distant gastric noises that sounded like far off thunder. Thunder that had once been upon me, along with the violent storm it followed. Both the storm and the thunder had moved on, leaving that electrically charged smell in the air.

I tried breathing. I had a vague recollection of that smell and I really wanted to experience it again. When I did, the smell of spent electricity was gone, or had never been. I breathed again. I felt liquid move in and out of my mouth and up and down my windpipe. I was breathing liquid. My lungs felt funny, but the urge to cough was gone. I wasn't dead. I was still in the cleaning woman's pussy and I was breathing and living off her love juices.

A feeling of renewed hope stole me for a moment. I could stay alive inside Consuelo's pussy. Not only could I breath, my stomach felt nourished. In fact, I felt energy coursing through my veins. My body was totally living off Consuelo's juices. That meant if I could survive the physical abuse of Consuelo's actions, I just might survive the night. It also meant I might spend a lot longer than tonight inside Consuelo.

I waited for Consuelo to take a breath and resume her pleasuring at my expense, but she was content to sit still for a while. I felt her vagina quiver now and then as a shiver of thrill went through her. It felt like a bomb waiting to be detonated and I was at ground zero. Every now and then she'd rotate herself around the stool, keeping my environment nice and wet, but for the most part, Consuelo stayed relatively still. I figured that the rest of the cleaning crew had arrived and Consuelo didn't want to make a scene.

As the night wore on, my surroundings seemed to become continuously active. I could tell that Consuelo was doing her best to contain herself, but she was slowing losing the battle. Mini fireworks were exploding all around me as her pelvis actions increased. I knew she couldn't hold out much longer. I also knew she wouldn't have to. The cleaning crew usually finished up in about an hour. It seemed to me that I had been patiently waiting for at least that long.

I knew my wait was over when Consuelo's movements went from the slow swirling motion to a front to back screwing motion. At first, the tempo front to back was the same as the swirl had been, but the leisurely pace accelerated quickly. Consuelo began fucking my tiny body in earnest. With each forward push, my body, led by my head went further inside her. Her vagina muscles contracted as she slid backward, pulling me from the stool. Then they'd loosen as she moved forward, forcing me in further.

It didn't take long before I was virtually standing on the stool, like a rigid dildo. The ankle binding I had been able to loosen, allowed that foot to twist to the standing position. That sole was flat on the stool. The twine holding down my other ankle was not loose. That ankle was twisted painfully at a ninety-degree angle. Consuelo was so lubricated that the ankle pain was the only pain I felt.

Faster and faster Consuelo moved. Harder and harder she hit the stool. Each time she came down, I felt my head hit her cervix. Had my feet not been tied down, I may have shot through her cervix like a lucky sperm cell to be reborn in her womb. I felt my left foot come free of the binding. Now it was only my right foot, no longer in pain, which held me from disappearing for good.

As Consuelo continued her seemingly unending assault on me, I could do nothing but hang in there and try to make the best of it; not that getting a little enjoyment out of the deal before I was literally pulled apart was too difficult. The feel of Consuelo's vagina, with its rolling hills massaging up and down my body, was intense. I soon realized I was approaching an orgasm of my own.

Because I was totally at the mercy of the relentless stimulation, the orgasm took less time to begin that I thought it would. I tried to hold it off but just couldn't. No man could. The fact that I had Consuelo's juices flowing through me didn't help. I was being attacked from within as well as from without.

The power of my orgasm floored me. I know I had at least one before with a woman. My recurring life dream told me that, but the orgasm in that dream wasn't anything like this one. With this orgasm, I peaked and stayed peaked. Consuelo's vagina held me on the edge while it worked me over. My internal energy level kept rising, fueled by the attack of Consuelo's vaginal walls on my manhood. It felt like my sore penis was being grabbed by one contour, fed a dose of sexual pleasure, then handed off to the next for another dose. I felt an explosion coming, Mount Etna ready to burst, but held at bay by an unnatural force.

My body was stiffer than my manhood. My muscles were beginning to burn. Consuelo's love juices were sizzling against my skin. Still, I wasn't able to release the fireball just inside the tip of my erection. I remained in sexual limbo, stiff as hard rubber, while Consuelo had her way with me.

Consuelo was rapidly approaching a climax of her own. I wasn't just able to feel it from the outside. I felt it coming through her love juices; that same fluid I'd already ingested and digested. I felt an electrical current flowing through me intensifying with each pelvic movement Consuelo made. As I breathed in more of her juices, the amperage intensified until in flowed in harmony with my own orgasmic energy. Consuelo and I were performing Tchaokovsky's 1812 overture using every sensory receptor in my body as a musical instrument.

Finally, despite whatever was holding my orgasm at bay, I had reached the point where my prostate won. It was time in the overture for the cannons, and when they finally fired, they fired hard and they fired long.

The cannons didn't totally take over the stage. The rest of the orchestra played on. Consuelo was climaxing herself. Although my cannons were at the forefront of my current existence, the other instruments, driven by Consuelo's pleasure, resounded. Her violins and cellos set the tone. Her drums set the tempo. Her woodwinds lit the fuses. I was a minor but equally important part of the music playing my part like an unwitting pawn in a musical game of sexual chess.

Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture lasted over fifteen minutes. Consuelo and I played on for at least that. I was on full body peak the entire time as Consuelo nursed her orgasm, using my erect body to feel climax after climax until she could climax no more. Finally, utterly spent herself, she slowed to a stop coming to rest with her ass flat on the stool and me still totally inside her.

I was so spent by the time my last dry spurt pulled a shot of pain from my empty balls that all I wanted to do was curl up into a tiny ball and find the tranquility of sleep. Consuelo was more or less finished with her own set of vibrant climaxes. Her vaginal walls still quivered periodically like late breaking upper atmosphere lightning strikes echoing behind the storm.

I had experienced enough fear, passion, and sexual enjoyment for one day and I desperately wanted to go to what I considered my home. Consuelo, on the other hand, seemed like she was in no hurry to move at all. She was content to bathe in the tranquility of her passion. She was enjoying the calm after the storm.

I felt the glowing feeling of sex I had basked in wash away with another cold wave of terror. Again I feared for my life. What was next for me? I wondered if Consuelo would show some gratitude and release me. She showed no signs of compassion in the past. The odds of her showing some now were slim, but still I held onto a thread of hope. Sex, especially good sex, tended to put people in a good mood.



As Consuelo continued her casual sit, I noticed my body was still rock hard inside her. My muscles didn't burn like they had during Consuelo's churning, but still I remained statuesque. I turned my attention inward. The electrical charges I felt earlier still shot through me like shooting stars, but their intensity level had waned to an almost subconscious level. It didn't take me long to realize I was being controlled by her juices, still flowing through my lungs and blood stream. I knew I had to just be patient and wait for Consuelo to tire and to go home. Then the connection would sever and I'd regain control of my body. I felt somewhat at ease because, despite my separation from the outside world, I knew it was very late. Soon, very soon, Consuelo had to leave the market. Still I had a bad feeling in my gut. I knew Consuelo. She was not apt to let one of us little people go. Then again, I was the last. I was the sole survivor. I deserved to be set free. If not, then so be it. I was feeling too tired to care.

I was tired. I was past tired. I was physically and emotionally spent. If I couldn't go home and sleep, I figured I'd do the next best thing. Despite my predicament and the fears that went along with it, I closed my eyes and let sleep steal me away. Soon I was dreaming again.

***

part V
by willie

We had her backed into a corner and she was obviously scared to death. She was no longer the bigmouth tease she was back in the bar. Joey and I had followed her out to her car after she got us, especially Joey, all hornied up. We were just having fun, continuing the game she started. We didn't know she'd take us seriously and run.

To me, it was a game, played by two guys who had too much to drink. I just wanted to put the bitch back in her place; let her know not to flaunt her stuff so flagrantly. I thought Joey had the same thing in mind. That is until he grabbed her by the hair and slapped her face.

I froze. I was astonished. I had never seen Joey hit anyone before, let alone a young woman. With me watching, unable to react, Joey threw her to the ground and slapped her again. She struggled, but Joey beat her until she stilled. I told him to stop but he didn't hear me. At that moment in time, Joey didn't even know I existed. He didn't know anyone existed. It was he and the tease.

I watched Joey's hand force its way up her skirt and into her panties. I saw her respond with another flurry of panic. I watched in disbelief as Joey's other hand put an end to that.

Then his pants were down and he was forcing himself into her. She screamed but Joey took care of that too. He put both of his hands around her throat and squeezed until she uttered only gasps of dying breath.

It wasn't until Joey shot his wad that I regained control of my frozen motor functions and pulled him off of her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I screamed. I threw Joey to ground, allowing him to retrieve his own pants and looked toward his victim. I felt I needed to help her, but when I saw the motionless body lying cold on the pavement, I panicked and ran. With Joey at my side, I fled the scene. I was an instant accessory to the crime.

"I plead not guilty," I said to the judge. The Honorable (and female) Judge Blackmoore didn't see it my way. I was sentenced until death to prison. Where? I didn't hear. I was too busy arguing my case when my surroundings changed. I wasn't in the courtroom any more. I was in a jail cell. No, it wasn't a jail cell. It was something alive. I was inside a living jail cell whose walls were moving. I was inside a giant pussy and I was awake.

It didn't take me long to remember where I was. Despite the dream, and the truth it unveiled, I was once again aware of my surrounding environment. I was also aware that it was moving.

I felt freedom work it's way up my body as I was painlessly extricated from Consuelo's vagina, but with it came the bitter cold of the nighttime market. Normally at this time of night I'd be warm and cozy inside my three blankets made from the soft cotton crotches of lady's Hanes where the freezing temperatures couldn't turn me to ice. No person of my size could survive thirty-degree temperatures for long. Although still half asleep, I wondered if Consuelo was done with me. Would she take me with her, my escape from one prison to another? Or would she leave me to freeze to death as the last frozen survivor? My fate was in her hands.

Consuelo gave me one final shake before she stood up. I watched through squinting eyes that weren't yet adjusted to the market lights as her gleaming pussy moved away. It looked big enough to eat all eleven of us. Then I remembered there were no longer eleven of us. I was the only survivor. The others were all gone.

I watched Consuelo smooth down her skirt with her hands and turn to face me. As her face drew close to me, I tried to back away, but found I still was not able to move. Her juices still held my muscles at bay. I felt my over-active adrenal gland try to break the hold, but to no avail.

"Don't try to struggle, my little lover," Consuelo said softly to me. Her warm breath felt good against my wet and rapidly cooling skin. "Don't try to breathe either. My fluids have complete control of you." She was mostly right. Her fluids had control of all but my racing mind.

"You will remain frozen on that very stool until the oxygen level in those fluids pulsing through your body drop to a critical level. When that happens, your body will be free to function on its own. The transition might be quite uncomfortable." Consuelo chuckled. "Of course by then Heidi will be in to find you. You do know Heidi, don't you? She's our infamous butcher."

I felt like exploding. I knew about the butcher. We all did. We feared the butcher more than we feared Conseulo or Suzanne.

"Heidi caught a man once and chopped him up into tiny pieces," Consuelo went on. "She cut up his arms and legs first while he was still alive and screaming. She then dropped his stump into a sausage grinder. Parts of that poor soul made their way into many unknowing people's gullets."

"Why do you look so concerned, mi amore'" Consuelo continued. Since I wasn't able to change my facial expression, I guessed she read the fear in my eyes.

Consuelo then picked up the stool and carried it in front of her so she could still focus on me. Consuelo carried the stool to the back of the market and placed it in front of the door that led to the meat cutting area. "It's only fair that Heidi gets a turn with you. She might even use you like I did before she turns you into pulp." With that, Consuelo gave me a little wave and disappeared around the corner leaving me alone and vulnerable.

I stood on that damn stool for hours like a piece of petrified wood waiting for Consuelo's juices to run out of oxygen. In that time, many thoughts flew through my very awake and aware mind. The most concerning thought was more of a worry.

Heidi the butcher scared the hell out of me. I knew I deserved to die; not for the innocent slut my friend Joey beat to death. I didn't kill her. My only crime on that night was fleeing the scene. For that I paid dearly. I deserved to die because I was responsible for the deaths of ten of my friends. Still I had a will to live.

The thought of how I would die was playing havoc with my ability to remain calm. I definitely did not deserve to be cut up into tiny pieces and dropped into the sausage machine. Nobody deserved that fate. Not even Joey. I was sure the butcher would have no mercy on my pathetic little life.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morn I began to get light headed. With the dizziness came a desire in my lungs to breath. It was like they were pregnant and were experiencing a craving for real air. I figured the liquid I was living on was beginning to lose its life sustaining abilities. At the same time, I heard a noise. It was a scary creaking sound that I had heard hundreds of times. It was the front door of the market. Somebody was in work early.

I panicked and put everything I had into taking a breath. It worked. I sucked in a little air and gagged. I was attacked by such a fit of coughing I thought my ribs would crack. With each inhale of oxygen came a gushing exhale of vaginal juices. Although they had tasted somewhat sweet going in, they tasted disgustingly stale on the way out, causing the gag reflex to intensify.

After a few minutes of vomiting from my burning lungs, I was able to slowly regain control of myself. I had fallen from the standing position I had been frozen in for hours and was now on my hands and knees, but I was still unable to regain control of my motor functions. To make matters worse, whoever had entered the market was heading in my direction. I heard the steady clomp clomp clomp of her heavy boots. I was pretty sure who it was even though she wasn't one who traveled through the main part of the market often.

Again, with the intruder bearing in on my location, I gave another attempt at movement. Again it worked; somewhat. I fell backward and landed on my ass. Although I managed to move, I still didn't have total control of my body. I was now in the sitting position; a position that gave me a perfect view of who or what came around the corner.

My mouth was the first part of my body that worked. My vocal chords were the second. What I saw come around the corner and stop before the very stool I was a sitting duck on made the fear I had experienced so far this day seem trivial. I screamed for all I was worth. The puke filled scream I let out, and the surge of adrenaline that went with it, freed up the rest of my muscles. I stood up and tried to run at the same time and fell flat on my face. I rolled over and looked toward my feet and screamed again. The dreaded twine still had my left foot anchored to the stool.

I looked from my immobilized foot to the behemoth that towered before me. She was like no one I had seen before. She must have been six-six and two hundred fifty pounds of no-fat woman, dressed in a white apron. Her frightening garb resembled that of someone I'd seen before. I saw the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in college and the person looming before me was a female version of the character that hung the struggling girl on the meat hook. This version, although just as foreboding, was a good deal more attractive in her facial features than her chainsaw swinging counterpart.

Heidi towered before me. Her straggly blonde hair provided a picture frame for her strikingly featured face. She had deep-set eyes under a pronounced far head. Her nose, too small for her face, was still large enough to inhale me. Her lips would have been big and fat had they not been stretched to the sides by an enormously wide mouth. No make-up or lipstick had probably been applied to her weathered skin in years, if ever. Still she carried a strange sort of attractiveness. She was naturally pretty and she was big.

"Well what have we here?" Heidi said with a deep Swedish accent. "Someone has left me a tiny surprise. I haven't seen one of you people in weeks. I thought that crazy warden killed you all." Heidi looked at my foot still tied down. She reached into one of her deep pockets and pulled out a butcher's knife that was easily twice the length of my body. "Let me get that for you," she said as she raised the shiny instrument above me. That set me off in another failed attempt at escape. Heidi just waited patiently for me to slow my struggles. When I did, she moved rapidly. The knife came down so quickly that I only saw the glimmer of blue light that reflected off its cutting edge. Again I screamed and closed my eyes.

I felt the knife hit. It made contact in the general area of my foot. I didn't feel any pain, but that didn't mean anything. One doesn't always feel a limb being severed, not if an ultra sharp weapon does do it. I twisted my ankle and twisted my toes. They felt like they were all there. Again that didn't mean anything. People with lost limbs often feel phantom movement or pain. I needed to buck up and see for myself.

When the dust had settled, I slowly opened my eyes and looked toward my foot. Much to my surprise it was still moving on the end of my leg. Next to it was a fine slit in the black leather as long as my leg. Clumps of white padding protruded through the slit. So much for Lisa's stool, I thought. I bent my knee in an attempt to free my foot and to my surprise found the twine no longer held me captive. Much to my relief, Heidi proved to have precision accuracy with her butcher knife.

I wasted no time in jumping to my feet and backing away from the gash in the leather. It was like Heidi's butcher knife had been a bolt of lightning that was about to strike the same spot twice. I didn't stop my backward strides until I almost walked off the back of the stool. I tore my eyes from the gash and looked up to see if Heidi was still wielding her knife, but she was no longer in front of me.

Foolishly thinking I had a chance of escape, I turned and jumped from the leather cushion that had been my home for most of the day. I planned on landing on the stool's leg and sliding down it to the floor like I had done after my first visit to the stool, but something else got in the way. I jumped right into Heidi's waiting palm.

Consuelo's juices did not only keep me oxygenated and nourished while I stood frozen on the stool. They also kept me from freezing. When I broke free of her hold, the cold attacked. Once again, the cold night chill was upon me. Heidi's warm hand took care of that. She instantly wrapped her long thick fingers around my body. Her hand was huge. The only part of my body that stuck out of her clenched fist was the top half of my head. I could see but my mouth and nose were firmly pressed against the last digit of her index finger. Once again I was not able to breathe.

"Where do you think you're going little man?" Heidi boomed at me as she lifted me up to her face. "There is no escape. Now you belong to Heidi to do with you as I please."

At this point in my day from Hell, I was tired. I was too exhausted to be afraid. I just wanted it all to end. I wanted Heidi to kill me quickly. I wanted Heidi's fingers to smother me to oblivion like Lisa's ass almost did, but I knew that wouldn't happen. My day wasn't over yet.

Heidi carried me through the door and into the area where us little people never ventured. For the first time since my imprisonment, I was in the lair of the butcher. Despite my exhaustion, I was beginning to feel fear again.

"Don't worry," Heidi said to me softly. For a big woman, she was really quite attractive. "I know about your stories. They are not true. I don't chop up little people. And I don't make sausage out of them." She smiled, showing me the enormity of her mouth. "I'm actually quite gentle." She then loosened her grip allowing me the opportunity to catch a breath or two. It also allowed herself to get a good look at her new naked prisoner.

"You are a mess. How did you get yourself into such a predicament?" Heidi asked me. Without giving me a chance to answer she wrapped me up again and began walking. "Let's go ask Olga. I think she's still in her kitchen working." In a flash I was moving from front to back at Heidi's side as she headed back through the metal door and across the market. When she reached the swinging door to the kitchen, she used the fist I was in to push the door open. I was lucky I wasn't crushed.

"What can I do for you?" Olga asked her compatriot. "I was just leaving. We're catering a party tomorrow and I just finished putting it all together."

"You poor thing," Heidi said. "I want to show you what I found outside my door." Heidi lifted me up and again uncurled her fingers. "I found a little person, and he's naked and all crusty."

"That poor little fellow had a bad day today," Olga said as she peered into Heidi's palm at me. The sight of four giant eyes staring down at my nude body made me feel extremely embarrassed. I could nothing but wait until Olga saved me. Surely she would.

"What happened to him?" Heidi asked.

"Suzanne caught him on a stool this morning and tied him to it," Olga explained. I couldn't believe it was only this morning I was captured. It felt like days ago. What an extremely long day this had been.

"He spent most of the day under a checkout girl's ass. Evidently he likes derrieres." Both women were sneering at me. "Suzanne used him as bait to catch all the remaining little people. A new shipment of them is coming in next week and Suzanne wanted to get rid of all the old ones first.

"Fool," Heidi boomed at me.

"A fool alright," Olga continued. "He was still tied to the stool when Consuelo came in. She was next to sit on him."

"It looks like Consuelo did more than just sit on him. He's lucky he's still alive. When she finished with him, she evidently left him for me."

"What are you going to do with him?" Olga asked.

"I have four halves of beef to butcher and package so I don't have time to play with him now. I'll have to save him for later. The question is what do I do with him for now?"

"Well he does love bottoms," Olga suggested. I gulped. I thought Olga would help me. What was she saying?

"That's a great idea," Heidi said. An ear-to-ear grin formed along her huge mouth. She then handed me over to Olga. "I have to take off my robe first. How about cleaning him up for me?"

Olga carried me over to the sink and immersed me in warm soapy water. Her hands didn't feel anywhere near as safe and secure as Lenny had described them to be after she rescued him. Her washing technique was down right rough. After she rinsed me off, she dried me and held me before her face.

"I guess you figured I'd save you and set you free," she whispered. I nodded. "I only rescue little people when Suzanne is after them. I hate her very much." Olga then looked past me to where Heidi was adjusting her clothes. "Are you ready for your little friend?"

"Ready," Heidi answered. I heard enthusiasm in her voice that made me feel ill again. Olga turned her hand toward Heidi to show me my next adventure. Heidi's apron was gone and her pants were pulled down to her knees exposing a nylon-covered rear end that put Lisa's to shame.

Heidi's rear end was easily twice the size of Lisa's, but it was extremely well proportioned. Although it contained its share of blubber, it maintained its shape quite well. I guessed the tightness of the nylons were responsible for that until Heidi slid her huge hands inside the nylons and pulled them away from her skin. The giant ass I was moving toward maintained its shape. The huge buttocks I was about to come in contact with was indeed quite firm.

"Drop him in," Heidi giggled over her shoulder. Olga dangled me by my feet over the open pantyhose for a few grueling seconds before letting me drop. I screamed, but my voice was instantly muffled as Heidi's fingers pulled away. I was, once again, trapped in ass meat and I knew I'd be for a while.

Heidi immediately pulled up her pants and I was in complete darkness, not that I could see anyway. The tight nylon material held my face so tightly to Heidi's ass I couldn't even breathe. It wasn't until she began walking that the bouncing and swaying of her huge bottom allowed me a quick gasp here and there. It didn't take long for me to learn to breathe autonomously. I had been getting practice at breathing all day.

Of course, Heidi had to try plopping her ass down on a chair first to see if she could feel me before walking back to her butcher area and getting to work on her sides of beef. I know she didn't feel me while sitting. I know she didn't feel me while walking around either. I was but a tiny molecule in a mountain of ass flesh. She went to work, nonetheless, with a tiny captive helplessly waiting his fate stashed away deep in her eminence.

This is where my story comes to an end. My day at the market is almost over. Despite the bouncing around, I'm exhausted and will soon be finding the comfort of sleep. I'm warm. Despite my sore manhood, I have a hard-on. I'm sleeping on the softest bed I've probably ever been on. I'm not even worried about my future.

Now that I've been captured, my future fate is obvious. I'll no doubt be used as a sex toy, probably passed from one woman to another. I might even learn to enjoy it. Will I survive? I think I have a good chance as long as Heidi, Olga, Consuelo, and whomever they share me with keep me away from Suzanne. I did survive today. I am the last survivor. Maybe I'll even escape one day to lead the next set of incoming prisoners against the overlord named Suzanne. If I do, I'll tell you about it.

At this point in my day, I don't care about tomorrow. I'm not concerned with what Heidi is going to do with me when she finishes her job. I'm not even thinking about my dead friends. All I care about is sleep. Good night.