Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Pillowy Prison

Four months. It had now been 4 months since the wish that accidentally merged Christopher into the ass of a random woman who’d been passing by his home. 

Four months of being squeezed into tight pants and dresses. One-hundred twenty days of jiggling and squishing, his life ruled by his owner’s constant battle between her bounciness and the restriction of her clothing. 

Forty or so days (Best as he could count) of being played with by rough, anonymous hands. This woman spent at least a third of her days on her back. It was quite a shock the first time he felt the long shaft of a man stroking up and down the singular crack of his twin, cheeky form. Like a stone pillar floating on an ocean of pillows, Chris could tell the man was clearly enjoying his softness. He consistently received such attentions, convincing Chris that he’d become quite an ass indeed.

Two weeks of hope that he might ever be rescued. Surely his friends had given up looking for him by now. How would they even know where to begin looking?

“Excuse me miss, but do you mind if we check your ass for our friend?”, they might inquire. Ridiculous. 

What would Chris even do if they -did- find him? He wouldn’t be able to see or hear them, to tell them they were right. He could possibly feel them, but he doubted whoever this woman was would just let two strangers play with her rear end long enough to develop a means of communication.
But first off, why would they even assume that -this- of all things was what the wish had done? All he’d asked for was that he could “Get into a girl’s pants.” Chris was certain that his friends wouldn’t know to take that request quite so literally. He was just glad he hadn’t literally been merged with a pair of pants. 

No, he just had to accept that this was his life now. Everyday he’d shift and sway, taunt and tease, move and squeeze as his owner went about her day oblivious to her secret passenger. Everyone else would be forever oblivious as well - his curves sure to catch many a glance, but none ever seeing ‘him’, only -her-. -Her- ass. -Her- curves. -Her- body. Chris saw no point in continuing the charade of his independence. He was her now ass and -nothing- more.

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