couchman
04-14-2007, 1:34 PM
Hello, my friends; It's been so long since I've added a chapter you're probably asking:"Who is Couchman? And who is Giggles? LOL. Here's a snynpsis of the last chapter so you can catch up, if you like... Mark, the often sat on main character, was ordered to spend a week at a secret sorority called Domminesque, a place where college co-eds are taught an attitude of superiority over males. He was ordered to serve as a human cushion for the 18 girls at Domminesque. I hope you enjoy this latest chaper. :)
The following story is an adult fantasy intended to be read only by persons at least 18 or 21, whichever is legal age in your area.
Sitting on Giggles 13 “The Costume Party”
Outside by the pool, Mark was feeling dizzy from Mandy’s hot body sprawled atop him on the bench. When she finally got up off of him he stared up at the blazing afternoon sky. He started to get up but then fell back down on the bench. Instead of offering him help, as one human being might to another, Mandy only laughed. He knew then, more than ever, that her perception of him as a vulnerable person was really waning. Mandy and Phoebe disappeared from view. Kathryn, the head mistress at Domminesque, loomed over him.
“Get up,” she ordered. “Go to your room and take a shower. You’re all sweaty and you stink.”
Mark slowly managed to remove his crushed and steamy body from the bench. He hobbled to his basement room and removed his damp clothing. Cool shower water revived him. He toweled off and sprawled on the bed. It felt wonderful not having heavy female butts and bodies compressing him. He thought of Giggles, his inanimate inflated clown friend and wished he could turn into him. At least as Giggles he could be sat on without so much discomfort. It was at that precise moment, merely thinking about Giggles, that he heard voices.
“What are you going to wear to the costume party?” he heard Phoebe ask someone.
“I’ve been thinking I’ll dress up like one of those 50’s chicks…you know…with the full skirts and all those petticoats. It was Mandy’s voice. Mark looked up. He was still alone in his room. He concentrated on Giggles again and found himself in Phoebes’ room. Apparently, Kanya, the evil witch, had instilled in him the power to change from his own body into Giggles at will! His fleshy body had been replaced with the motionless vinyl body of Giggles. Phoebe and Mandy were in Phoebes’ room. As Giggles the Clown, Mark had been propped up against the wall. The girls were still wearing the bikinis they’d worn to the pool. He gazed at their feminine beauty through his goggle-like eyes. They had no idea he had become Giggles. They spoke of an upcoming costume party as Mark drank in the beauty of their tanned thighs, firm fannies, and jutting breasts.
“I’ll probably dress up as a nurse or something,” said Phoebe.
“Mark…er…um...Cushion will probably need a nurse from getting sat on,” said Mandy, laughing. Her big blue eyes shifted directly at him. She lifted his light, airy clown body up and positioned his head on a chair seat. “Oh, Giggles. You poor thing. I hope you don’t mind if I sit on your face.” Her rounded butt, barely covered with pink bikini material was up over his face. She sat down on his inflated face with a whoosh. “I love sitting on his face,” said Mandy, crossing her golden thighs.
Phoebe agreed. “At least we can sit on him as long as we want.”
“You know what…we should pretend Giggles is Mark. We can practice teasing him,” said Mandy.
“Yeah,” thought Mark. “Tease me. You can’t hurt me now.”
Mandy lifted her bottom part way up and wiggled it, seductively. “Your only a cushion,” she told him, “…just something to plop my butt on.” She sat back down on his face. “How do you like having my weight on your face?” She bounced up and down on his air filled head, air whooshing with each contact with her rounded fanny. “I should sit on Mark like this,” said Mandy.
“You’d break him, “ said Phoebe. Mandy sat back down again. She crossed her legs and a more serious tone filled her voice. “What do you think about this idea of using that man downstairs as something to sit on, Phoebe?”
“I think he likes getting sat on, but I’m not sure why,” replied Phoebe.
“Do you think he has…um…more normal sexual needs?” asked Mandy.
“I don’t know,” said Phoebe. She thought a moment and then added: “Why do you ask?”
“Well…,” considered Mandy. “I realize that Kathryn wants us to use him as a learning tool to assert our superiority over males, but…”
“But what?”
“When I was lying upon him by the pool…well…I am a woman and I have feelings…instincts, maybe.”
“Yes. I know what you mean,” said Phoebe. “But we can’t act on those feelings.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Mandy. “We’re supposed to treat him as something to sit on and not…”
“That’s right,” said Phoebe.
Mandy kept her bottom planted heavily upon his clown face. “It’s too bad we can’t turn Mark into this cushy clown guy,” She shifted her butt around on his face. Mark chuckled, his mirth locked up in his mind and in-audible to their young womanly ears. “That would be cool,” added Phoebie. “I’d sit on him all day.” Mandy got up from his face. Mark felt his vinyl nose return to its’ former position. Phoebe approached the chair and stood with her back to him. He indulged himself in the erotic beauty of her bikini clad butt and long smooth thighs. “I suppose I’ll rent a nurses uniform,” she told Mandy. “I wonder if Mark has ever been sat on by a nurse?” She shifted her weight to the side, one buttocks more pronounced than the other as her tight, full butt hovered above him. His eyes followed the lines of her body upwards to her glistening tan back and shoulders, and farther up to full brown locks tied in a pony tail. His plastic groin warmed in anticipation of Phoebe about to plop her youthful ass upon his face. Phoebe was only about medium height, but from his low perspective every female, regardless of height, seemed like giantesses. Suddenly, she put her legs together, rounding her butt to a fleshy moon. Over her shoulder, she glanced down at him—the kind of emotionless glance a young woman would naturally cast to an inanimate object she was about to sit on. Her rounded bottom filled his vision and connected with his face. His pliable clown head was no match for her weight. Her butt mashed his nose and face into the chair seat as she sat on him, nonchalantly without a thought in the world about hurting him. She uttered a soft sigh as her weight settled down on his head.
“I wish I could sit on Mark like this,” she told Mandy. “I’d like to…I mean…I’d like to treat him the same as this stupid clown, but…”
“I know what you mean,” said Mandy. “But he’s still a man.”
The casualness the girls were displaying to him when they thought he was only Giggles made Mark want to turn into his plastic friend forever. He wondered if he would ever tire of female butts crushing his face. But what if, as Giggles the Clown, they tired of sitting on him? He could end up spending an eternity propped up against a wall, gathering dust. Or even worse, sent to a recycling center and pulverized into plastic mush to be transformed into window blinds or soda bottles.
When Phoebe finally removed her butt from him and the contours of his head eased back into shape, he envisioned himself back in his basement room, lying on the bed. Immediately, he was himself again. He knew that Giggles would remain in Phoebe’s room unless otherwise removed—but he wouldn’t be inside him unless he chose. Mark soon fell asleep. When he awoke he was confused. A period of time had elapsed, though he didn’t know how much. He slowly focused his eyes on a clock. It was midnight. For some reason, the girls hadn’t summoned him to be sat on that evening. They were probably all tucked away in their beds, wondering around in dreamland. But the door to his room creaked open.
“W-What?” he muttered.
“Shh!” whispered a soft female voice
A shapely women’s form slid into the room. She didn’t close the door completely, leaving a sliver of light. Mark recognized her as Mandy. She was wearing a translucent night gown. She approached his bed and slipped out of the gown, revealing her completely nude body. “We need to be quiet,” she whispered. She lay down upon him and engulfed Mark in her warmth. Her huge blue eyes were wide with lust. Her hot breath caressed his face. She kissed him full on the mouth with hungry lips. Mark was astonished at the sudden turn of events. He hadn’t experienced a young woman relating to him like that since before he meant Jenna and Lisa. He’d been too busy playing the role of human furniture. His masculine instincts took over. He inserted his hardened dick into her warm orifice and it gripped him as if trying to pull all of him completely inside her. Her soft breasts and belly slapped at him. He tried to encircle her with his arms, but she pushed them back, an assertion of her domination over him. Mandy was in control. She impaled herself upon his excited male member and thrust into him. He arched his back and thurst upwards, upwards into her hot, famished flesh. An ecstatic moan billowed out of glossy pink lips. He felt soft, nimble fingers grip his shoulders. Her breath was hot on his ear as she nipped a lobe with sharp teeth and pounced upon him, she, a young lioness, and he, her prey. She kissed and bit at his mouth as their bodies collided in rhythmic savagery. She thrust and sucked him into her volcano until he grimaced as he felt his feverish cannon blast into her depths. Mandy groaned and her body went limp atop him.
“Not a word of this to anyone,” she warned him. Mark was still in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Not a word,” Mandy repeated and sank her teeth into his shoulder. “N-No… Of course not,” he managed to say. Mandy slipped back into her night gown and stood at the door a few moments, her eyes full of questions. Then she was gone, leaving Mark lying in a pool of wonderment. Had he been dreaming or had Mandy just entered his room like a phantom vixen and practically raped him.
The next morning, Kathryn ordered Mark to assume his assigned position on the living room couch. Most of the girls were still in their rooms, but a few had dressed and wondered sleepily about the living room. Mandy was one of them. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a halter top. It appeared to him that she was deliberately ignoring him. She sat down on a chair and chatted with one of the other girls. Mark lay on the couch a few more minutes, wondering what next. He was sure that one of the girls would come over and plop her fanny on him. And sure enough, a lovely girl with auburn hair came over to him and sat down heavily upon his chest. She lifted the denim thigh nearest his head and crossed it over the other—with no indication of acknowledging a human being beneath her butt. She addressed Mandy and the girl she was chatting with. “I can’t decide what to wear to the costume party. What are you planning on wearing?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” said the blonde girl standing next to Mandy. “…Maybe a cow girl outfit or something.” The girl was wearing yellow shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flop sandals. She came over to the couch and sat down on Mark’s legs, adding her own oppressive weight to his body. The girl atop his chest turned to her. “A cow girl skirt with boots and a hat would be cute,” she said to her. “How about you, Mandy?” asked the auburn haired girl butt-torturing his chest.
“I’ve been thinking about just wearing my cheerleading outfit,” said Mandy. Mark looked over at her and envisioned her with a cheerleading skirt and top. Her voice had a kind of aloofness as she got up from the chair and approached the couch. “I guess my cheerleader uniform will do,” she told the others. She looked down at Mark as if admonishing him. For what, he didn’t know. It was her idea to practically rape him last night. “What are you going to dress up as?” she asked Mark and then answered her own question. “I know… Why don’t you dress up as a couch cushion.” The two girls sitting on him laughed. Mandy maintained a severe expression. “Why don’t you dress up as a couch cushion and I can sit on you.” She told Mark. She put her legs together, forming a cone shape with her rounded denim butt as she swooped it over his head. She paused a moment, her butt a little ways above his face and looked back down at him with that same, kind of admonishing expression. Mandy let her butt drop to his face, burying it under a tight, blue denim crevice. Mandy had sat down on his face hard, and his head hurt from her weight atop him. “Yes,” she told Mark. “I think you should just go the party as you are, a stupid couch cushion and I can sit on all night like this.”
As Mark lay crushed under Mandy’s butt he decided that there was a definite malevolence in the way she was treating him. Was she feeling guilty about giving in to her normal young-womanly sexual needs last night and now trying to compensate for it? The three girls continued to sit on him, crushing him with the realistic weight of their soft female bodies. They discussed clothing for an upcoming costume party while their butts relentlessly tortured his supine frame. Mark was running out of breath, but Mandy offered no indication of getting up off his face. “I think you’re smothering the couch cushion, Mandy,” said the girl atop his chest. “Smothering him?” replied Mandy, as if the statement was absurd. “How can you smother a couch cushion? They just lay there and get sat on.” Panic set in. Mark flailed his arms. The girl sitting on his chest seemed to be worried. “But Mandy he’s….” “He’s what?” Mandy retorted. “He’s only a cushion. And I want to sit on him.” The girl in yellow shorts sitting on his legs seemed to be as unsympathetic as Mandy. “Yeah,” she added. “He’s our couch cushion. Mandy can sit on his face as long as she wants.” Mark managed to reach up and put a hand on her hips in an attempt to get her off him before he passed out. Mandy grabbed his arm. He felt sharp teeth clamp down on his hand. Mandy bit him and he reflexively withdrew the hand. “Go ahead,” Mandy told him. “Just try to push me off and I’ll bite you again.”
Mark felt dizzy from oxygen deprivation. Then it suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t have to let her sit on him to unconsciousness, as she obviously intended. He summoned an image of Phoebe’s room and Giggles, his clown head still positioned on a chair. The oppressive darkness beneath Mandy’s butt disappeared and he was peering through those Goggle like eyes again. He had turned himself back into Giggles. Phoebe had dressed in shorts and halter top. She was brushing her lustrous brown locks when she decided to sit down on his clown face. Mark thought it interesting that Phoebe liked sitting on his face when she thought it was a mere vinyl clown beneath her lovely bottom, but was hesitant about sitting on him as a person. She seemed to like the feeling of his big, round, clown nose pushed into the crevice of her butt.
The door suddenly swung open and a frantic girl rushed in. “Phoebe! Come Quick!” shrieked the girl. “Mandy sat on that cushion guy and refused to get up. I think he’s dead!”
“No. That can’t be,” thought Mark. He envisioned himself back in the living room lying upon the couch. He felt drained of energy and couldn’t move. “Is he dead?” he heard someone ask. “I don’t think so,” said another. It was Kathryn’s voice. A strong odor pierced his nostrils. He opened weakened eyelids and looked up at Kathryn, holding smelling salts beneath his nose. “That’s it,”said Kathryn, slapping his cheek. “Wake up.” Mark began to come to and propped himself up on an elbow.
“Mandy!” shouted an angry Phoebe. “Why did you do that? Why did you sit on him so long? He’s a human being. He needs air to breathe.”
“He deserved it,” said Mandy.
“Deserved it?” said Phoebe. “…Deserved what?...To be killed with your butt on his face?” She shot a scornful look at Mandy and put her hand on Mark’s chest. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I-I’ll be okay,” he assured her. Then his eyes focused on her concerned eyes. He grinned. “I didn’t know you cared.” Phoebe summed a defensive posture. “I don’t care,” she muttered. “I just think that…Oh, never mind.” She stood up and left him with the pleasant smell of her expensive cologne.
“Well, this changes things,” said Kathryn. “I can’t have the girls smothering you to death… You may go now. You may leave Domminesque.”
Mark looked about the room at the gathering of girls. They all looked so sexy, their firm young butts especially enticing. He wanted to be at the costume party. He wanted to be there as something for them to plop those sexy butts on. “Um-no,” he told Kathryn. “I’d prefer to stay, if you don’t mind.”
Kathryn considered his offer a few moments. “Well… If you stay, you’re going to be sat on as we planned. And I can’t guarantee that some of the girls won’t sit on your face too long, as Mandy did.
“I’ll chance it,” Mark told her.
“Very well,” said Kathryn. “Just remember. If something seriously happens to you, it was your choice to stay.”
During the days before the costume party, Mark noticed the girls all more gentle when they sat on him. They carefully lowered their butts to him—and some even sat on his face—but the mood of his presence as a couch cushion had changed. The incident with Mandy had frightened them. They seemed to enjoy sitting on him, but none wanted his murder on their conscious. Mark decided to spend more time changed into his clown friend, Giggles. It excited him when they sat on him as Giggles. He loved the absence of concern over hurting him. He remained in Phoebe’s room with his vinyl head placed on her chair seat. Phoebe sat on his face, nonchalantly, while wearing various articles of clothing, skirts, jeans, shorts, etc. He was often treated to the sight of her panty clad butt descending to his face, and often, her completely bare butt engulfed his face. He was an inanimate object to her, and it meant nothing to her to drop her bare butt to his face.
Excitement in him at reached a feverish pitch as the night of the costume party arrived. He changed from Giggles back into his real self and assumed his couch cushion position. He gazed expectantly about the room as the girls began to gather about in their costumes. Phoebe had dressed her self in a white nurse’s uniform, pale nylons hugging her lovely thighs and reaching up to a white dress. Her hair was tied back and a nurse’s hat adorned her brown hair. She spoke with a blonde girl dressed as a 50’s bobby soxer chic, pony tail, tight sweater, long full skirt, sneakers… the works. Mark’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Sit on me,” he thought. “Please come over and sit on me.”
Another girl, also blonde, was dressed up as a cow girl. He followed the contours of her body from her white, Western boots to her tanned thighs and then up to a white leather skirt and red vest adorned with beads. She tipped her broad Western hat as she spoke. She was cute and Mark envisioned her coming over to him and lowering her curvaceous butt to his face. He stared at another girl, dressed conservatively as, perhaps, a secretary wearing a tight brown skirt and white blouse. Horn rimmed glasses adorned her lovely face, and she carried a clip board for added effect. Then his eyes beheld a black haired girl in T-shirt that pushed out at firm breasts. She had plastered herself with heavy make up and a pair of shiny black spandex slacks fit snugly into her magnificent butt. She walked about, carefully, tottering on six inch spike heels. “A hooker,” thought Mark.
As more girls began to file into the room, they laughed and talked while showing each other their costumes. Mark wanted any of them to come over and sit on him. But, strangely enough, none of them came near the couch where he lay. And Mandy? Mandy was conspicuously absent from the party. After about an hour of no face sitting action he heard Kathryn’s voice nearing the room. She was walking with Mandy. Mandy had on her cheerleading uniform. “Stop worrying about it, Mandy,” Kathryn told her. “I offered to let him go, but he chose to stay.” Kathryn led Mandy over to the couch. “I don’t know about the rest of you girls,” she addressed them all, “But I’m going to sit on him.” Kathryn stood next to the couch. She gazed down at him. “He’s here for us to sit on, remember?” She turned and her knees bent as her brown skirt tightened over a rounded butt. Kathryn’s butt filled his vision as it descended to his face. It connected with his face and his head pushed into the couch as she settled her weight atop him. “Remember girls,” Kathryn told them. “He’s only a man—and we know how inferior they are. And right now, he’s only a couch cushion. It’s okay, Mandy,” she was saying as he remained crushed under the darkness of her womanly butt. “You can sit on him. Just use some sense about it.” Kathryn removed her butt from his head. Mandy, in her cheerleading uniform, a red and white mini skirt and shiny red top, looked down at him with those familiar reprimanding eyes. “Can I just—you know—sit on him?...With my whole weight on his stupid head?”
“Of course,” said Kathryn. “Just keep in mind he has to breathe. Go ahead and sit on him like the cushion he is. Just don’t keep your butt planted on his face too long—if you know what I mean.”
“Good,” said Mandy, stepping up closer to the end of the couch where his head was. “I’d love to sit on your face, Mr. Couch Cushion.” Mandy turned her back to him and stood next to the couch. Mark looked up her cheerleading skirt to one of the sexiest butts around, red panties hugging each curve of it. “Fun party…”, she told Kathryn, the tone of her voice a deliberate attempt to ignore him. Her golden thighs went together. The underlining of her red and white skirt was over his head. Her rounded butt, red panty material tight about it, slowly neared his face. She paused a moment, and then Mandy’s butt was all over his head, mashing down on his face with all her youthful weight atop him. She crossed her thighs, leaving one thigh elevated over the other just enough that he could peer with one eye at a smooth leg with the stripped underlining of her cheerleader skirt draped over it. “Isn’t it nice,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “…to have a couch cushion for us to…SIT ON,” Mark knew her words were addressed to him—as if she thought his desire to be sat on was foolish, and she was going to make it as uncomfortable as possible to prove her point. Mandy continued to sit on his face unmercifully. Through the thin slice of light beyond Mandy’s knees he saw another pair of legs approach the couch. He watched as the legs turned and then his stomach flattened as the girl sat down on it. “I like your cow girl outfit,” said Mandy to the girl. It was the girl dressed in Western boots and skirt that had just tortured his stomach with her butt. “Yeah,” said the girl. “…Wish I had a horse to ride.”
Mandy arose from his face. “Here’s a horse,” she said to the girl, patting Mark’s face.
“All right!” exclaimed the girl. “I’m gonna ride you, horsy,” She climbed onto the couch and put her leather skirt over his head as she sat down and straddled it. She gripped his sides with both legs and bounced up and down on his face. “Yippeee!” She yelled. “Ride ‘um… Ride ‘um, cowgirl.” Mark saw red panties barely outlining her vagina each time she lifted up and sat back down. She rode his face awhile and then slid her butt back to his upper chest. She pulled her skirt up and Mark gazed upwards to firm breasts pushing at the sequined vest and to the underside of her face as she removed her broad rimmed hat and waved it as she bounced on his chest.
“You’re not even bucking,” she told Mark. “You’re no fun. You better start bucking or I’ll sit on your face.” Mark tried to buck like a horse, but her weight on him prevented it. “Oh. Is that the best you can do?” she asked him. “Uh-huh,” groaned Mark. “Well…,” said the girl, exasperated. “You’re kind of a lame horsy, aren’t you. I think I’ll put you out of your misery and sit on your face.” She climbed off of him and stood next to the couch. “Sit on his face, Nattie,” encouraged another girl. “Yeah. Sit on his face and smother him,” said another. “They shoot horses when they’re lame, don’t they?” The party of girls were all clapping and joining in the fun. “Okay, Horsy,” said the girl. Here comes….My—Butt,” She flipped her skirt over his head and sat down heavily on his face.
The cute, blonde cowgirl costumed girl sat on his face and crossed her soft thighs. She got more into her act when she said: “I guess I’m going to have to sit on your face until you’re dead—you lame horsy,” she told Mark. He doubted if she was serious. It was an act. She was just having fun with him. But she kept her round buttocks crushed down on his face until he, again, ran out of air.
“Damn it, Nattie! Get off him!” It was Phoebe’s voice.
“Why?” said Natalie. “Kathryn said we could sit on him.”
Mark felt the weight of Natalie’s butt on his face weakening. When she got up off his face, he realized that Phoebe had pulled her off him. “Jeez, Phoebe!” said the cowgirl. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me,” said Phoebe. She looked about the crowd of girls, all staring scornfully at her. The girl dressed as a 50’s bobby soxer chic spoke up. “Oh, I get it, Phoebe,” she told her, sarcastically. “Now that you’re dressed as a nurse, you think it’s your duty to help this nothing man in his misery.”
Phoebe stormed out of the room. The bobby soxer chic with the full skirt and layers of petticoats approached the couch. Mark was still gasping in air from getting sat on by the cowgirl. “Sit on him, Paige,” said one of the girls. “Sit your butt down right on his stupid face.” The blonde girls dressed as a 50’s chic reached down to the hem of her skirt and lifted it up, along with layers of yellow petticoats, to about mid thigh. “Oh, I intend to,” said the girl. “I think I’ll sit on the couch.” She plopped her skirt and petticoats over his head and let it drop, forming a tent over his head. Mark stared up at her sexy butt with yellow panty material stretched tight over each mound of her butt. “It think I’ll sit right here,” she said, and let her butt drop down cruelly to his upturned face. Despite her youthful weight torturing his head, Mark enjoyed the feeling of her sitting on him with all those petticoats draped over his head. He occasionally watched old T.V. programs produced at a time when this type of attire was popular, and often fantasized what it would feel like when he watched one of them plop her full skirt over a chair and sit on it. Back then it was considered risque’ for a girl to even kiss a boy. To sit on his face like this would have been un-thinkable. But while Paige, dressed as a girl from the 50’s decade smothered him under her butt, Mark couldn’t stop thinking about Phoebe. She seemed to have feelings for him that precluded anything being taught to her at Domminesque. He pictured Giggles in his mind and was immediately transformed into him. Giggles was still in Phoebe’s room. Still dressed in her nurses’ uniform, Phoebe grabbed him and tucked him under her arm. “You’re coming with me,” she told him, as if he were alive. “I’m going to bring you out to the party and sit on you.”
Phoebe easily carried his air-inflated clown body down the long hallway. He looked upwards at her beautiful face and perky breasts pushing out at a white nurses’ uniform. Ceiling fixtures above her floated past his vision as Phoebe carried him to the living room. When she got to the party area, one of the girls remarked cattily: “Oh, look… Phoebe’s got that toy, that inflated clown guy… Are you going to sit on him, Phoebe? Aren’t you afraid of smothering him?” Several of the girls laughed mockingly at her. Phoebe ignored them and placed his head on a chair seat. Mark gazed up at her pale nylon covered legs and shapely butt as Phoebe prepared to sit down on him. Her legs bent and her white dress went over his face. He glimpsed her descending butt and white panties as she lowered them to his face. Phoebe sat down on his pliable head, mashing it into the chair seat. His head squeaked as she crossed her lovely legs.
“Hey, Phoebe,” taunted one of the girls. “Why don’t you sit on Mr. Cushion over there like that?”
“Why,” repeated Phoebe. “…Because Mandy almost killed him sitting on his face.”
Underneath Phoebe’s butt he heard Mandy spit the words again at her. “He deserved it. I should have sat on his face and killed him.”
“Excuse me,” countered Mandy, “…but I thought the purpose of Domminesque was to teach us superiority over men, not to KILL them.”
He heard Mandy’s voice soften. “Well… He wants to be sat on like a couch cushion. It’s his own fault if I kill him sitting on his face.”
Through the sliver of light beyond Phoebe’s crossed thighs, Mark could see his real self lying on the couch. Two girls dressed in 70’s disco dresses, one burgundy and the other black were dancing near the couch. Each time one of them swung around, their dresses flew over his head. “What a view,” thought Mark. He decided to change back into himself. He summoned an image of himself on the couch and was immediately zapped into his real body. He watched as high heel shoes and nylon thighs whirled their dresses and panty hose covered butts over his head. The two girls were completely ignoring his presence on the couch. Mark was sure one or both of them would decide to sit on him at any moment. Suddenly, during a dance move with a burgundy dress floating over his head, a girl lost her balance and sat down heavily on his face. They laughed. The girl who sat on his face got up and grinned down at him. “Oh… Did I sit on your face?” She asked, coyly. The other girl with the black disco dress came over and sat on his chest. “Oh,” she said, just as coyly. “Did I sit on your chest?” She crossed her lovely thighs and made herself comfortable atop him. The girl with the burgundy dress stood next to the couch, close to his head. “How do you like my disco dress?” said the girl, lifting the hem of the dress and exposing more of her smooth thighs. She plopped her dress over his head and her knees bent, her butt hovering above his face. “And how do you like my cute panties?” She asked, and then sat back down on his face, crushing his upturned head beneath earthy smelling female butt. He felt the weight of another girl as she sat down on his legs. Once again, as it had many times in the past, Mark was made to endure the combined weight of three girls sitting across his body.
The disco costumed girl sitting on his chest said: “Let me sit on his face.” The girl in the burgundy dress arose from his face and Mark watched as the other girl positioned herself above him. She looked down at him and grinned. “All of our butts on your face…poor couch cushion,” she teased him. Then she flipped her dress over his head and sat down. She only had a chance to sit on his face a few moments when the girl sitting on his legs grew impatient. “My turn,” she told them. “…My turn to sit on his face.”
“Come on,” whined the girl with the black dress. “I just sat down. “I’m tired from dancing and I want to sit… Here,” meaning, of course, his face. He felt the weight of a girl lifted from her perch on his legs. The girl with the black dress reluctantly got up from his tortured face. Mark now saw that the butt that had been mashing his legs belonged to the hooker dressed girl. Shiny black spandex hugged her thighs and butt. She stared down at him with a cruel look in her eyes. “I’m going to sit on your face and mash you good,” she told Mark. She turned to sit down. But before she sat on him, the hooker dressed girl looked over at Phoebe, who was still sitting on Giggles. Phoebe just threw up her hands in resignation. Mark’s vision was filled with the black moon of a butt stretched tight with spandex. The hooker costumed girl sat down on his face without any concern for hurting him. His head crushed down beneath her butt and her whole co-ed weight. She sat heavily on his face, his nose forced into the unyielding black crevice of her spandex covered butt. She spoke to Phoebe as she continued to torture his face with her weight. “Trade places with you, Phoebe,” she offered.
“All right,” replied Phoebe. “There was resignation in her voice. “Good,” said the hooker type. “I’ll sit on that clown guy and you can sit on…um…this cushion, here.” The hooker type lifted her butt from his face and Mark gasped in oxygen. His head and nose hurt from getting sat on so cruelly by the hooker type. Though, for some reason—maybe because Phoebe’s reluctance in sitting on him turned him on, he was ready to be sat on by her, not as an inanimate clown, but as a vulnerable person. Phoebe approached the couch, while the hooker type plopped her butt down on Giggles. Phoebe spoke to Mark: “I don’t understand why you want girls to hurt you like this,” she told him. “But if your idea of fun is having a girl’s butt on your face, I’ll really sit on you.” Phoebe turned and began to sit down. She pulled the fabric of her dress close to her thighs, and the white nurse uniform rounded her lovely bottom into a descending orb. Her butt made contact with his upturned face. As she allowed her weight to settle down on him, his face pushed deep into her sexy fanny. Mark had often fantasized getting sat on by a nurse—perhaps because the image of a nurse is to help people, not hurt them. Of course, Phoebe wasn’t a nurse, she was only dressed like one. But the feel of her weighty bottom crushing his face was still exciting. As if reading his mind, Phoebe said: “There. You just got your face sat on by a nurse. Hope you’re happy.”
To be continued…
The following story is an adult fantasy intended to be read only by persons at least 18 or 21, whichever is legal age in your area.
Sitting on Giggles 13 “The Costume Party”
Outside by the pool, Mark was feeling dizzy from Mandy’s hot body sprawled atop him on the bench. When she finally got up off of him he stared up at the blazing afternoon sky. He started to get up but then fell back down on the bench. Instead of offering him help, as one human being might to another, Mandy only laughed. He knew then, more than ever, that her perception of him as a vulnerable person was really waning. Mandy and Phoebe disappeared from view. Kathryn, the head mistress at Domminesque, loomed over him.
“Get up,” she ordered. “Go to your room and take a shower. You’re all sweaty and you stink.”
Mark slowly managed to remove his crushed and steamy body from the bench. He hobbled to his basement room and removed his damp clothing. Cool shower water revived him. He toweled off and sprawled on the bed. It felt wonderful not having heavy female butts and bodies compressing him. He thought of Giggles, his inanimate inflated clown friend and wished he could turn into him. At least as Giggles he could be sat on without so much discomfort. It was at that precise moment, merely thinking about Giggles, that he heard voices.
“What are you going to wear to the costume party?” he heard Phoebe ask someone.
“I’ve been thinking I’ll dress up like one of those 50’s chicks…you know…with the full skirts and all those petticoats. It was Mandy’s voice. Mark looked up. He was still alone in his room. He concentrated on Giggles again and found himself in Phoebes’ room. Apparently, Kanya, the evil witch, had instilled in him the power to change from his own body into Giggles at will! His fleshy body had been replaced with the motionless vinyl body of Giggles. Phoebe and Mandy were in Phoebes’ room. As Giggles the Clown, Mark had been propped up against the wall. The girls were still wearing the bikinis they’d worn to the pool. He gazed at their feminine beauty through his goggle-like eyes. They had no idea he had become Giggles. They spoke of an upcoming costume party as Mark drank in the beauty of their tanned thighs, firm fannies, and jutting breasts.
“I’ll probably dress up as a nurse or something,” said Phoebe.
“Mark…er…um...Cushion will probably need a nurse from getting sat on,” said Mandy, laughing. Her big blue eyes shifted directly at him. She lifted his light, airy clown body up and positioned his head on a chair seat. “Oh, Giggles. You poor thing. I hope you don’t mind if I sit on your face.” Her rounded butt, barely covered with pink bikini material was up over his face. She sat down on his inflated face with a whoosh. “I love sitting on his face,” said Mandy, crossing her golden thighs.
Phoebe agreed. “At least we can sit on him as long as we want.”
“You know what…we should pretend Giggles is Mark. We can practice teasing him,” said Mandy.
“Yeah,” thought Mark. “Tease me. You can’t hurt me now.”
Mandy lifted her bottom part way up and wiggled it, seductively. “Your only a cushion,” she told him, “…just something to plop my butt on.” She sat back down on his face. “How do you like having my weight on your face?” She bounced up and down on his air filled head, air whooshing with each contact with her rounded fanny. “I should sit on Mark like this,” said Mandy.
“You’d break him, “ said Phoebe. Mandy sat back down again. She crossed her legs and a more serious tone filled her voice. “What do you think about this idea of using that man downstairs as something to sit on, Phoebe?”
“I think he likes getting sat on, but I’m not sure why,” replied Phoebe.
“Do you think he has…um…more normal sexual needs?” asked Mandy.
“I don’t know,” said Phoebe. She thought a moment and then added: “Why do you ask?”
“Well…,” considered Mandy. “I realize that Kathryn wants us to use him as a learning tool to assert our superiority over males, but…”
“But what?”
“When I was lying upon him by the pool…well…I am a woman and I have feelings…instincts, maybe.”
“Yes. I know what you mean,” said Phoebe. “But we can’t act on those feelings.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Mandy. “We’re supposed to treat him as something to sit on and not…”
“That’s right,” said Phoebe.
Mandy kept her bottom planted heavily upon his clown face. “It’s too bad we can’t turn Mark into this cushy clown guy,” She shifted her butt around on his face. Mark chuckled, his mirth locked up in his mind and in-audible to their young womanly ears. “That would be cool,” added Phoebie. “I’d sit on him all day.” Mandy got up from his face. Mark felt his vinyl nose return to its’ former position. Phoebe approached the chair and stood with her back to him. He indulged himself in the erotic beauty of her bikini clad butt and long smooth thighs. “I suppose I’ll rent a nurses uniform,” she told Mandy. “I wonder if Mark has ever been sat on by a nurse?” She shifted her weight to the side, one buttocks more pronounced than the other as her tight, full butt hovered above him. His eyes followed the lines of her body upwards to her glistening tan back and shoulders, and farther up to full brown locks tied in a pony tail. His plastic groin warmed in anticipation of Phoebe about to plop her youthful ass upon his face. Phoebe was only about medium height, but from his low perspective every female, regardless of height, seemed like giantesses. Suddenly, she put her legs together, rounding her butt to a fleshy moon. Over her shoulder, she glanced down at him—the kind of emotionless glance a young woman would naturally cast to an inanimate object she was about to sit on. Her rounded bottom filled his vision and connected with his face. His pliable clown head was no match for her weight. Her butt mashed his nose and face into the chair seat as she sat on him, nonchalantly without a thought in the world about hurting him. She uttered a soft sigh as her weight settled down on his head.
“I wish I could sit on Mark like this,” she told Mandy. “I’d like to…I mean…I’d like to treat him the same as this stupid clown, but…”
“I know what you mean,” said Mandy. “But he’s still a man.”
The casualness the girls were displaying to him when they thought he was only Giggles made Mark want to turn into his plastic friend forever. He wondered if he would ever tire of female butts crushing his face. But what if, as Giggles the Clown, they tired of sitting on him? He could end up spending an eternity propped up against a wall, gathering dust. Or even worse, sent to a recycling center and pulverized into plastic mush to be transformed into window blinds or soda bottles.
When Phoebe finally removed her butt from him and the contours of his head eased back into shape, he envisioned himself back in his basement room, lying on the bed. Immediately, he was himself again. He knew that Giggles would remain in Phoebe’s room unless otherwise removed—but he wouldn’t be inside him unless he chose. Mark soon fell asleep. When he awoke he was confused. A period of time had elapsed, though he didn’t know how much. He slowly focused his eyes on a clock. It was midnight. For some reason, the girls hadn’t summoned him to be sat on that evening. They were probably all tucked away in their beds, wondering around in dreamland. But the door to his room creaked open.
“W-What?” he muttered.
“Shh!” whispered a soft female voice
A shapely women’s form slid into the room. She didn’t close the door completely, leaving a sliver of light. Mark recognized her as Mandy. She was wearing a translucent night gown. She approached his bed and slipped out of the gown, revealing her completely nude body. “We need to be quiet,” she whispered. She lay down upon him and engulfed Mark in her warmth. Her huge blue eyes were wide with lust. Her hot breath caressed his face. She kissed him full on the mouth with hungry lips. Mark was astonished at the sudden turn of events. He hadn’t experienced a young woman relating to him like that since before he meant Jenna and Lisa. He’d been too busy playing the role of human furniture. His masculine instincts took over. He inserted his hardened dick into her warm orifice and it gripped him as if trying to pull all of him completely inside her. Her soft breasts and belly slapped at him. He tried to encircle her with his arms, but she pushed them back, an assertion of her domination over him. Mandy was in control. She impaled herself upon his excited male member and thrust into him. He arched his back and thurst upwards, upwards into her hot, famished flesh. An ecstatic moan billowed out of glossy pink lips. He felt soft, nimble fingers grip his shoulders. Her breath was hot on his ear as she nipped a lobe with sharp teeth and pounced upon him, she, a young lioness, and he, her prey. She kissed and bit at his mouth as their bodies collided in rhythmic savagery. She thrust and sucked him into her volcano until he grimaced as he felt his feverish cannon blast into her depths. Mandy groaned and her body went limp atop him.
“Not a word of this to anyone,” she warned him. Mark was still in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Not a word,” Mandy repeated and sank her teeth into his shoulder. “N-No… Of course not,” he managed to say. Mandy slipped back into her night gown and stood at the door a few moments, her eyes full of questions. Then she was gone, leaving Mark lying in a pool of wonderment. Had he been dreaming or had Mandy just entered his room like a phantom vixen and practically raped him.
The next morning, Kathryn ordered Mark to assume his assigned position on the living room couch. Most of the girls were still in their rooms, but a few had dressed and wondered sleepily about the living room. Mandy was one of them. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a halter top. It appeared to him that she was deliberately ignoring him. She sat down on a chair and chatted with one of the other girls. Mark lay on the couch a few more minutes, wondering what next. He was sure that one of the girls would come over and plop her fanny on him. And sure enough, a lovely girl with auburn hair came over to him and sat down heavily upon his chest. She lifted the denim thigh nearest his head and crossed it over the other—with no indication of acknowledging a human being beneath her butt. She addressed Mandy and the girl she was chatting with. “I can’t decide what to wear to the costume party. What are you planning on wearing?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” said the blonde girl standing next to Mandy. “…Maybe a cow girl outfit or something.” The girl was wearing yellow shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flop sandals. She came over to the couch and sat down on Mark’s legs, adding her own oppressive weight to his body. The girl atop his chest turned to her. “A cow girl skirt with boots and a hat would be cute,” she said to her. “How about you, Mandy?” asked the auburn haired girl butt-torturing his chest.
“I’ve been thinking about just wearing my cheerleading outfit,” said Mandy. Mark looked over at her and envisioned her with a cheerleading skirt and top. Her voice had a kind of aloofness as she got up from the chair and approached the couch. “I guess my cheerleader uniform will do,” she told the others. She looked down at Mark as if admonishing him. For what, he didn’t know. It was her idea to practically rape him last night. “What are you going to dress up as?” she asked Mark and then answered her own question. “I know… Why don’t you dress up as a couch cushion.” The two girls sitting on him laughed. Mandy maintained a severe expression. “Why don’t you dress up as a couch cushion and I can sit on you.” She told Mark. She put her legs together, forming a cone shape with her rounded denim butt as she swooped it over his head. She paused a moment, her butt a little ways above his face and looked back down at him with that same, kind of admonishing expression. Mandy let her butt drop to his face, burying it under a tight, blue denim crevice. Mandy had sat down on his face hard, and his head hurt from her weight atop him. “Yes,” she told Mark. “I think you should just go the party as you are, a stupid couch cushion and I can sit on all night like this.”
As Mark lay crushed under Mandy’s butt he decided that there was a definite malevolence in the way she was treating him. Was she feeling guilty about giving in to her normal young-womanly sexual needs last night and now trying to compensate for it? The three girls continued to sit on him, crushing him with the realistic weight of their soft female bodies. They discussed clothing for an upcoming costume party while their butts relentlessly tortured his supine frame. Mark was running out of breath, but Mandy offered no indication of getting up off his face. “I think you’re smothering the couch cushion, Mandy,” said the girl atop his chest. “Smothering him?” replied Mandy, as if the statement was absurd. “How can you smother a couch cushion? They just lay there and get sat on.” Panic set in. Mark flailed his arms. The girl sitting on his chest seemed to be worried. “But Mandy he’s….” “He’s what?” Mandy retorted. “He’s only a cushion. And I want to sit on him.” The girl in yellow shorts sitting on his legs seemed to be as unsympathetic as Mandy. “Yeah,” she added. “He’s our couch cushion. Mandy can sit on his face as long as she wants.” Mark managed to reach up and put a hand on her hips in an attempt to get her off him before he passed out. Mandy grabbed his arm. He felt sharp teeth clamp down on his hand. Mandy bit him and he reflexively withdrew the hand. “Go ahead,” Mandy told him. “Just try to push me off and I’ll bite you again.”
Mark felt dizzy from oxygen deprivation. Then it suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t have to let her sit on him to unconsciousness, as she obviously intended. He summoned an image of Phoebe’s room and Giggles, his clown head still positioned on a chair. The oppressive darkness beneath Mandy’s butt disappeared and he was peering through those Goggle like eyes again. He had turned himself back into Giggles. Phoebe had dressed in shorts and halter top. She was brushing her lustrous brown locks when she decided to sit down on his clown face. Mark thought it interesting that Phoebe liked sitting on his face when she thought it was a mere vinyl clown beneath her lovely bottom, but was hesitant about sitting on him as a person. She seemed to like the feeling of his big, round, clown nose pushed into the crevice of her butt.
The door suddenly swung open and a frantic girl rushed in. “Phoebe! Come Quick!” shrieked the girl. “Mandy sat on that cushion guy and refused to get up. I think he’s dead!”
“No. That can’t be,” thought Mark. He envisioned himself back in the living room lying upon the couch. He felt drained of energy and couldn’t move. “Is he dead?” he heard someone ask. “I don’t think so,” said another. It was Kathryn’s voice. A strong odor pierced his nostrils. He opened weakened eyelids and looked up at Kathryn, holding smelling salts beneath his nose. “That’s it,”said Kathryn, slapping his cheek. “Wake up.” Mark began to come to and propped himself up on an elbow.
“Mandy!” shouted an angry Phoebe. “Why did you do that? Why did you sit on him so long? He’s a human being. He needs air to breathe.”
“He deserved it,” said Mandy.
“Deserved it?” said Phoebe. “…Deserved what?...To be killed with your butt on his face?” She shot a scornful look at Mandy and put her hand on Mark’s chest. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I-I’ll be okay,” he assured her. Then his eyes focused on her concerned eyes. He grinned. “I didn’t know you cared.” Phoebe summed a defensive posture. “I don’t care,” she muttered. “I just think that…Oh, never mind.” She stood up and left him with the pleasant smell of her expensive cologne.
“Well, this changes things,” said Kathryn. “I can’t have the girls smothering you to death… You may go now. You may leave Domminesque.”
Mark looked about the room at the gathering of girls. They all looked so sexy, their firm young butts especially enticing. He wanted to be at the costume party. He wanted to be there as something for them to plop those sexy butts on. “Um-no,” he told Kathryn. “I’d prefer to stay, if you don’t mind.”
Kathryn considered his offer a few moments. “Well… If you stay, you’re going to be sat on as we planned. And I can’t guarantee that some of the girls won’t sit on your face too long, as Mandy did.
“I’ll chance it,” Mark told her.
“Very well,” said Kathryn. “Just remember. If something seriously happens to you, it was your choice to stay.”
During the days before the costume party, Mark noticed the girls all more gentle when they sat on him. They carefully lowered their butts to him—and some even sat on his face—but the mood of his presence as a couch cushion had changed. The incident with Mandy had frightened them. They seemed to enjoy sitting on him, but none wanted his murder on their conscious. Mark decided to spend more time changed into his clown friend, Giggles. It excited him when they sat on him as Giggles. He loved the absence of concern over hurting him. He remained in Phoebe’s room with his vinyl head placed on her chair seat. Phoebe sat on his face, nonchalantly, while wearing various articles of clothing, skirts, jeans, shorts, etc. He was often treated to the sight of her panty clad butt descending to his face, and often, her completely bare butt engulfed his face. He was an inanimate object to her, and it meant nothing to her to drop her bare butt to his face.
Excitement in him at reached a feverish pitch as the night of the costume party arrived. He changed from Giggles back into his real self and assumed his couch cushion position. He gazed expectantly about the room as the girls began to gather about in their costumes. Phoebe had dressed her self in a white nurse’s uniform, pale nylons hugging her lovely thighs and reaching up to a white dress. Her hair was tied back and a nurse’s hat adorned her brown hair. She spoke with a blonde girl dressed as a 50’s bobby soxer chic, pony tail, tight sweater, long full skirt, sneakers… the works. Mark’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Sit on me,” he thought. “Please come over and sit on me.”
Another girl, also blonde, was dressed up as a cow girl. He followed the contours of her body from her white, Western boots to her tanned thighs and then up to a white leather skirt and red vest adorned with beads. She tipped her broad Western hat as she spoke. She was cute and Mark envisioned her coming over to him and lowering her curvaceous butt to his face. He stared at another girl, dressed conservatively as, perhaps, a secretary wearing a tight brown skirt and white blouse. Horn rimmed glasses adorned her lovely face, and she carried a clip board for added effect. Then his eyes beheld a black haired girl in T-shirt that pushed out at firm breasts. She had plastered herself with heavy make up and a pair of shiny black spandex slacks fit snugly into her magnificent butt. She walked about, carefully, tottering on six inch spike heels. “A hooker,” thought Mark.
As more girls began to file into the room, they laughed and talked while showing each other their costumes. Mark wanted any of them to come over and sit on him. But, strangely enough, none of them came near the couch where he lay. And Mandy? Mandy was conspicuously absent from the party. After about an hour of no face sitting action he heard Kathryn’s voice nearing the room. She was walking with Mandy. Mandy had on her cheerleading uniform. “Stop worrying about it, Mandy,” Kathryn told her. “I offered to let him go, but he chose to stay.” Kathryn led Mandy over to the couch. “I don’t know about the rest of you girls,” she addressed them all, “But I’m going to sit on him.” Kathryn stood next to the couch. She gazed down at him. “He’s here for us to sit on, remember?” She turned and her knees bent as her brown skirt tightened over a rounded butt. Kathryn’s butt filled his vision as it descended to his face. It connected with his face and his head pushed into the couch as she settled her weight atop him. “Remember girls,” Kathryn told them. “He’s only a man—and we know how inferior they are. And right now, he’s only a couch cushion. It’s okay, Mandy,” she was saying as he remained crushed under the darkness of her womanly butt. “You can sit on him. Just use some sense about it.” Kathryn removed her butt from his head. Mandy, in her cheerleading uniform, a red and white mini skirt and shiny red top, looked down at him with those familiar reprimanding eyes. “Can I just—you know—sit on him?...With my whole weight on his stupid head?”
“Of course,” said Kathryn. “Just keep in mind he has to breathe. Go ahead and sit on him like the cushion he is. Just don’t keep your butt planted on his face too long—if you know what I mean.”
“Good,” said Mandy, stepping up closer to the end of the couch where his head was. “I’d love to sit on your face, Mr. Couch Cushion.” Mandy turned her back to him and stood next to the couch. Mark looked up her cheerleading skirt to one of the sexiest butts around, red panties hugging each curve of it. “Fun party…”, she told Kathryn, the tone of her voice a deliberate attempt to ignore him. Her golden thighs went together. The underlining of her red and white skirt was over his head. Her rounded butt, red panty material tight about it, slowly neared his face. She paused a moment, and then Mandy’s butt was all over his head, mashing down on his face with all her youthful weight atop him. She crossed her thighs, leaving one thigh elevated over the other just enough that he could peer with one eye at a smooth leg with the stripped underlining of her cheerleader skirt draped over it. “Isn’t it nice,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “…to have a couch cushion for us to…SIT ON,” Mark knew her words were addressed to him—as if she thought his desire to be sat on was foolish, and she was going to make it as uncomfortable as possible to prove her point. Mandy continued to sit on his face unmercifully. Through the thin slice of light beyond Mandy’s knees he saw another pair of legs approach the couch. He watched as the legs turned and then his stomach flattened as the girl sat down on it. “I like your cow girl outfit,” said Mandy to the girl. It was the girl dressed in Western boots and skirt that had just tortured his stomach with her butt. “Yeah,” said the girl. “…Wish I had a horse to ride.”
Mandy arose from his face. “Here’s a horse,” she said to the girl, patting Mark’s face.
“All right!” exclaimed the girl. “I’m gonna ride you, horsy,” She climbed onto the couch and put her leather skirt over his head as she sat down and straddled it. She gripped his sides with both legs and bounced up and down on his face. “Yippeee!” She yelled. “Ride ‘um… Ride ‘um, cowgirl.” Mark saw red panties barely outlining her vagina each time she lifted up and sat back down. She rode his face awhile and then slid her butt back to his upper chest. She pulled her skirt up and Mark gazed upwards to firm breasts pushing at the sequined vest and to the underside of her face as she removed her broad rimmed hat and waved it as she bounced on his chest.
“You’re not even bucking,” she told Mark. “You’re no fun. You better start bucking or I’ll sit on your face.” Mark tried to buck like a horse, but her weight on him prevented it. “Oh. Is that the best you can do?” she asked him. “Uh-huh,” groaned Mark. “Well…,” said the girl, exasperated. “You’re kind of a lame horsy, aren’t you. I think I’ll put you out of your misery and sit on your face.” She climbed off of him and stood next to the couch. “Sit on his face, Nattie,” encouraged another girl. “Yeah. Sit on his face and smother him,” said another. “They shoot horses when they’re lame, don’t they?” The party of girls were all clapping and joining in the fun. “Okay, Horsy,” said the girl. Here comes….My—Butt,” She flipped her skirt over his head and sat down heavily on his face.
The cute, blonde cowgirl costumed girl sat on his face and crossed her soft thighs. She got more into her act when she said: “I guess I’m going to have to sit on your face until you’re dead—you lame horsy,” she told Mark. He doubted if she was serious. It was an act. She was just having fun with him. But she kept her round buttocks crushed down on his face until he, again, ran out of air.
“Damn it, Nattie! Get off him!” It was Phoebe’s voice.
“Why?” said Natalie. “Kathryn said we could sit on him.”
Mark felt the weight of Natalie’s butt on his face weakening. When she got up off his face, he realized that Phoebe had pulled her off him. “Jeez, Phoebe!” said the cowgirl. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me,” said Phoebe. She looked about the crowd of girls, all staring scornfully at her. The girl dressed as a 50’s bobby soxer chic spoke up. “Oh, I get it, Phoebe,” she told her, sarcastically. “Now that you’re dressed as a nurse, you think it’s your duty to help this nothing man in his misery.”
Phoebe stormed out of the room. The bobby soxer chic with the full skirt and layers of petticoats approached the couch. Mark was still gasping in air from getting sat on by the cowgirl. “Sit on him, Paige,” said one of the girls. “Sit your butt down right on his stupid face.” The blonde girls dressed as a 50’s chic reached down to the hem of her skirt and lifted it up, along with layers of yellow petticoats, to about mid thigh. “Oh, I intend to,” said the girl. “I think I’ll sit on the couch.” She plopped her skirt and petticoats over his head and let it drop, forming a tent over his head. Mark stared up at her sexy butt with yellow panty material stretched tight over each mound of her butt. “It think I’ll sit right here,” she said, and let her butt drop down cruelly to his upturned face. Despite her youthful weight torturing his head, Mark enjoyed the feeling of her sitting on him with all those petticoats draped over his head. He occasionally watched old T.V. programs produced at a time when this type of attire was popular, and often fantasized what it would feel like when he watched one of them plop her full skirt over a chair and sit on it. Back then it was considered risque’ for a girl to even kiss a boy. To sit on his face like this would have been un-thinkable. But while Paige, dressed as a girl from the 50’s decade smothered him under her butt, Mark couldn’t stop thinking about Phoebe. She seemed to have feelings for him that precluded anything being taught to her at Domminesque. He pictured Giggles in his mind and was immediately transformed into him. Giggles was still in Phoebe’s room. Still dressed in her nurses’ uniform, Phoebe grabbed him and tucked him under her arm. “You’re coming with me,” she told him, as if he were alive. “I’m going to bring you out to the party and sit on you.”
Phoebe easily carried his air-inflated clown body down the long hallway. He looked upwards at her beautiful face and perky breasts pushing out at a white nurses’ uniform. Ceiling fixtures above her floated past his vision as Phoebe carried him to the living room. When she got to the party area, one of the girls remarked cattily: “Oh, look… Phoebe’s got that toy, that inflated clown guy… Are you going to sit on him, Phoebe? Aren’t you afraid of smothering him?” Several of the girls laughed mockingly at her. Phoebe ignored them and placed his head on a chair seat. Mark gazed up at her pale nylon covered legs and shapely butt as Phoebe prepared to sit down on him. Her legs bent and her white dress went over his face. He glimpsed her descending butt and white panties as she lowered them to his face. Phoebe sat down on his pliable head, mashing it into the chair seat. His head squeaked as she crossed her lovely legs.
“Hey, Phoebe,” taunted one of the girls. “Why don’t you sit on Mr. Cushion over there like that?”
“Why,” repeated Phoebe. “…Because Mandy almost killed him sitting on his face.”
Underneath Phoebe’s butt he heard Mandy spit the words again at her. “He deserved it. I should have sat on his face and killed him.”
“Excuse me,” countered Mandy, “…but I thought the purpose of Domminesque was to teach us superiority over men, not to KILL them.”
He heard Mandy’s voice soften. “Well… He wants to be sat on like a couch cushion. It’s his own fault if I kill him sitting on his face.”
Through the sliver of light beyond Phoebe’s crossed thighs, Mark could see his real self lying on the couch. Two girls dressed in 70’s disco dresses, one burgundy and the other black were dancing near the couch. Each time one of them swung around, their dresses flew over his head. “What a view,” thought Mark. He decided to change back into himself. He summoned an image of himself on the couch and was immediately zapped into his real body. He watched as high heel shoes and nylon thighs whirled their dresses and panty hose covered butts over his head. The two girls were completely ignoring his presence on the couch. Mark was sure one or both of them would decide to sit on him at any moment. Suddenly, during a dance move with a burgundy dress floating over his head, a girl lost her balance and sat down heavily on his face. They laughed. The girl who sat on his face got up and grinned down at him. “Oh… Did I sit on your face?” She asked, coyly. The other girl with the black disco dress came over and sat on his chest. “Oh,” she said, just as coyly. “Did I sit on your chest?” She crossed her lovely thighs and made herself comfortable atop him. The girl with the burgundy dress stood next to the couch, close to his head. “How do you like my disco dress?” said the girl, lifting the hem of the dress and exposing more of her smooth thighs. She plopped her dress over his head and her knees bent, her butt hovering above his face. “And how do you like my cute panties?” She asked, and then sat back down on his face, crushing his upturned head beneath earthy smelling female butt. He felt the weight of another girl as she sat down on his legs. Once again, as it had many times in the past, Mark was made to endure the combined weight of three girls sitting across his body.
The disco costumed girl sitting on his chest said: “Let me sit on his face.” The girl in the burgundy dress arose from his face and Mark watched as the other girl positioned herself above him. She looked down at him and grinned. “All of our butts on your face…poor couch cushion,” she teased him. Then she flipped her dress over his head and sat down. She only had a chance to sit on his face a few moments when the girl sitting on his legs grew impatient. “My turn,” she told them. “…My turn to sit on his face.”
“Come on,” whined the girl with the black dress. “I just sat down. “I’m tired from dancing and I want to sit… Here,” meaning, of course, his face. He felt the weight of a girl lifted from her perch on his legs. The girl with the black dress reluctantly got up from his tortured face. Mark now saw that the butt that had been mashing his legs belonged to the hooker dressed girl. Shiny black spandex hugged her thighs and butt. She stared down at him with a cruel look in her eyes. “I’m going to sit on your face and mash you good,” she told Mark. She turned to sit down. But before she sat on him, the hooker dressed girl looked over at Phoebe, who was still sitting on Giggles. Phoebe just threw up her hands in resignation. Mark’s vision was filled with the black moon of a butt stretched tight with spandex. The hooker costumed girl sat down on his face without any concern for hurting him. His head crushed down beneath her butt and her whole co-ed weight. She sat heavily on his face, his nose forced into the unyielding black crevice of her spandex covered butt. She spoke to Phoebe as she continued to torture his face with her weight. “Trade places with you, Phoebe,” she offered.
“All right,” replied Phoebe. “There was resignation in her voice. “Good,” said the hooker type. “I’ll sit on that clown guy and you can sit on…um…this cushion, here.” The hooker type lifted her butt from his face and Mark gasped in oxygen. His head and nose hurt from getting sat on so cruelly by the hooker type. Though, for some reason—maybe because Phoebe’s reluctance in sitting on him turned him on, he was ready to be sat on by her, not as an inanimate clown, but as a vulnerable person. Phoebe approached the couch, while the hooker type plopped her butt down on Giggles. Phoebe spoke to Mark: “I don’t understand why you want girls to hurt you like this,” she told him. “But if your idea of fun is having a girl’s butt on your face, I’ll really sit on you.” Phoebe turned and began to sit down. She pulled the fabric of her dress close to her thighs, and the white nurse uniform rounded her lovely bottom into a descending orb. Her butt made contact with his upturned face. As she allowed her weight to settle down on him, his face pushed deep into her sexy fanny. Mark had often fantasized getting sat on by a nurse—perhaps because the image of a nurse is to help people, not hurt them. Of course, Phoebe wasn’t a nurse, she was only dressed like one. But the feel of her weighty bottom crushing his face was still exciting. As if reading his mind, Phoebe said: “There. You just got your face sat on by a nurse. Hope you’re happy.”
To be continued…