The Cost of Bliss

The huge fingertips presented a band of cellophane between them, translucent yet slightly cloudy, as though Morgain were stretching a ribbon made of fog. “Hold still, now,” she murmured. Though she moderated her tone, it still buffeted into Ubaid’s body like thunder rolling down a mountainside. Saliva popped quietly between the gaps in her teeth as her lips spread from concentration into a grin; glistening ivory shields between burning ruby lips shone above him in a terrifying row. The band closed in on him unsteadily, sometimes jerking up, then slipping down, until it finally settled across his belly and crested the lowest ribs. The giantess placed it too taut across him, shoving his guts into his chest with slight discomfort. Ubaid winced, took a deep breath, decided he could endure it. No, it wasn’t too bad, and if he could control his breathing, he could get used to it. More than anything, he didn’t want to disrupt the spell of this evening.

It had cost a few hundred to hire Morgain for an evening. It had cost exponentially more to obtain the chalky violet pills for this evening. The pills did their job, reducing him by means he couldn’t comprehend to the size of a small doll or statuette. The prostitute had been briefed and knew what to expect, even if she didn’t fully believe it until five minutes ago. The cries of “what is this, how is this possible, what’s happening” gradually transitioned to whispered “are you sure you want this, what if I hurt you, are you absolutely sure.”

Of course he was sure. He’d dreamed about this his whole life, and now… voilà.

The woman’s heavy tongue slithered out from between her teeth like a living thing, sweeping over her plump lips in search of something. Ubaid lost his breath at the sight. She was already a lovely woman, when he stood a head taller than her, but now her face was gigantic, all her features were exaggerated and made overwhelming. It was the difference between listening to your favorite song on a CD with noise-canceling headphones, and seeing the band perform live and standing in front of the stack of speakers. Her huge eyes flared, dazzled as they studied him, and he could see every little twitch in her eyelids as imagination and potential danced in her head. Thick, glossy vines of black hair hung around him in a canopy, scented with flowers and spices, draping around him in a gesture of ownership. His heart pounded in his chest, so fast and hard he wondered if he’d have a heart attack.

“There,” she whispered, “you’re ready. Are you ready?” Without waiting for an answer, the massive head pulled back and lifted into the heavens like a hot-air balloon, leaving him taped to the cushion of a chair. He squirmed slightly, testing the adhesive: it held. Ubaid wasn’t going anywhere Morgain didn’t want him to.

Staring up her body was like staring up the façade of a gothic cathedral: everything drew your eyes upward, and all the artistry overwhelmed your comprehension, sweeping you up in vertigo. Her belly was a heavy swell above black lace French-cut panties that reached joyously over ample hips; the small, shadowy cavern of her navel receded within a delicious mound of tan skin. Far above, twin round hemispheres cradled weightily in lace cups, and between these Ubaid could perceive the underside of her jaw and her nostrils as she tossed her head back, flinging her dense mane out of her face. He could climb that hair; he could grip those boobs in a full-body embrace; he could nap upon her belly. If only he could have her for a weekend, rather than a few hours.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Morgain’s sculpted, painted eyebrows arched cutely.

“Ready my whole life, believe me.”

“I’m just worried it’s going to be too much.”

“That’s what I’m paying for. That’s what this is all about.” He laughed, hoping to assure her.

“How will I know if you’re in trouble? What should I do?”

Slowly he swallowed the fiery words he wanted to bark out, a sentiment he knew would chase her off and end this evening without satisfaction. “If you’re worried, just go down a couple times, lightly at first and check on me. Then, you know, harder the next time, a little more. Just keep checking, okay?”

Milky teeth bit one ruby lip. “That makes sense. Okay, that makes sense. I’ll check on you, all right? I’m just gonna go gently at first. I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I really appreciate that, Morgain. That tells me I made the right choice with you.”

Her hands drifted up, rested upon her breasts, slid down her sides. She looked up the hallway. The front door was open in the front room around the corner, letting in the sweet night air. “Lots of helicopters out tonight.” She stared a moment longer before turning back to him. “Are you sure you don’t wanna start with something small? Like, I could give you a blow job.”

The idea of those thick, soft lips swelling around his lower body set his blood on fire. Yes, he absolutely did want that. He wanted to see his dick disappear in that gigantic mouth, feel that hot, bulging tongue squirming all over him. “I just paid for the one thing, though. If I raise more money, we can try a bunch of stuff another time. I really just want one thing right now.”

She nodded hastily. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I just…” She waved the thought away with a strong, wide hand that could’ve smashed him like a cherry tomato or wrapped around him in a hug, squeezing, crushing… “Here we go, then. I’m just going to go a little soft at first, and then… okay. Okay.” She sucked in a long breath, causing her face to sunset behind her twin mountains, and then her hair flung into the air as she turned resolutely.

Ubaid watched her plump arm raise slightly and sail overhead like the arm of a Dutch windmill. He glimpsed her shaven armpit, above the roll of caramel flesh formed by the straining bra strap. Her thigh shuddered mightily with one footstep, then one buttock and then another rolled into view like planets in revolution. Her lacy panties arced over her hip triumphantly, dove into the perilously deep cleavage between her buttocks, disappearing apparently for good. He didn’t notice her raven hair shimmering over her shoulders or the smooth, sweet channel of her spine running down her back. Outside, the song of a car’s engine echoed off his neighbor’s houses as the driver raced up the street; another one blasted by shortly after, as if in pursuit or losing a race.

All he saw were the colossal spheres of her ass. Light sprinkled over the upper right quadrants, punctuated with slight goosebumps in the evening air, flowing through every open window in his house. The lace pattern bunched up on the back of her pelvis, pinching into black bunting as it flowed into the narrow fissure between her cheeks. Her hips sloped in geometrically immaculate arcs, from her relatively narrow waist down to robust thighs. Ubaid moaned to witness the tantalizing tuck under her ass, where her thighs ran straight up into her butt, but her butt stuck out and hung slightly with incalculably ponderous weight. These creases swept up gently from beneath her buttocks to run, inexorably, into the chasm of her ass, just as her mighty thighs pressed together and the line they formed shot straight up into her hips’ depths.

Was it too much? The thought flashed through his mind, staring at the ripe, swollen ass cheeks, whose heat flowed over him to defeat the cool night breeze. Was the whore right to be worried? Either one of these, coming down on him with full force, could at least smother him and at worst, crumble his bones like Saltines. Both of them, together…

The corners of his lips tugged back. It would be worth it. If it came to that, this was definitely the way to go.

“All right, brace yourself,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m going to come down now.”

“Please do.” He guessed she couldn’t hear him.

“All right, here I go…” The heels of her palms planted upon her hip bones. “Oh, wait! I forgot.”

The curse in his throat slipped out—no, she couldn’t hear him—but he was immediately repentant as the prostitute’s buttocks swelled and spread. Her thick thumbs jammed inside her waistband, and with some struggle she pried it over her immense globes, tugged it down her thighs, shifted her colossal bulk as she stepped out of them and kicked them away. In the process of this frantic little dance, her beautiful ass had shuddered and bounced and swung nervously back and forth, mere inches away from Ubaid’s little feet. They loomed over his legs as she stood, defying gravity as they bobbled over his shrunken body, tremors taking their time to play out and subside with her least movements.

“There, now I’m ready,” she said, sounding anything but. “I’m coming down now. I’ll be gentle.” One smoky eye flashed over her shoulder as she confirmed his position, and then one thigh and then the other butted against the chair to which he was pinned, and her proud, egregious ass blocked out half the ceiling above him.

“Come to me, yes, at long last,” he gasped. His face turned this way and that, his eyes straining to absorb all of Morgain’s grandeur as once, to take in as much as possible. He didn’t want to miss anything, he wanted all of it and more.

She bent forward, disappearing beyond her own ass. The dark, shadowy seam between her cheeks widened slightly. Her buttocks seemed to roll away from each other, gradually, and light crept in deeper into her ass crack. The slimmest diamond of light peeked between the upper bulges of her thighs, below the creamy, enticing spheres, below where her taints gave way to her vulva. Ubaid wondered if he should’ve just had her lie down on the bed, as the shadows spread over his own body. She would have been a delirious landscape of sexuality to explore, and there would be no threat of being crushed or smothered, he thought as her cheeks spread and the toasty radius of her anal sphincter revealed itself. “Hey, Morgain,” he called out, but his voice echoed between her buttocks and got lost. The immense buttocks shuddered as she shifted her stance slightly, and they spread over his body, growing closer. “Morgain! Wait a second!” His words rang sharply in the crevice and no further. “Morgain! Hold up! New plan!” His heart beat a hundred miles a minute, his brain was growing dizzy from the blood flow, and the tremendous ass grew larger and closer…

“What was that?” The gigantic ass froze, then drew back as Morgain stood up.

“What?” Cold air replaced the cozy warmth as the prostitute retreated. “Come on back down, have a seat. Let’s do this, you were so close.” The fear had been part of the act, part of the drama to heighten the moment. Ubaid had hoped to scream at the top of his lungs, to hammer his puny little fists against the all-encompassing feminine weight as she overtook him. Instead, he could only watch as that beautiful, glorious ass twitched beyond his reach. He seized the hateful strap of tape that restrained him, but he only succeeded in getting his thumbs stuck. “Morgain! Hey, honey, please just come on and sit down on me!”

“I need to see what that was.” She walked away, pulling her night gown off the back of a nearby chair. Ubaid watched her go in furious helplessness. He noticed her large shadow shifting over a wall that wreathed her in red and blue. Her voice was weak and distant: “What’s going on out there?”

“Morgain! Let me up! What do you see out there?” He freed his thumbs and strained to twist his shoulders enough to reach one end of the tape.

She shrieked sharply. “¡Dios mio!”

“Light ’er up,” barked a male voice from the street. He sounded casually savage, like someone imitating a line from an action movie. The front hall crackled with percussion, as though a hailstorm had erupted on his porch. Ubaid could hear the screen door getting torn to shreds. The prostitute cried out, and her heavy, curvy bulk moved with surprising speed past his chair. He screamed her name as she thundered past, gown flapping behind her.

Now the red and blue lights flickered over a hallway gouged with small and large holes, streaks of bright green paint. Ubaid heard the wood frame of the screen door bang against the wall of the front closet. His core temperature dropped as boots flooded up the hall, shadows multiplied and thickened in the hallway.

He stared in terror as masked me in helmets and body armor piled into the dining room. They held long, menacing chunks of blackened steel and panels of Kevlar, and they moved quickly, swinging their weapons into rooms, up the other hall. One lumpy giant in night-black grimaced and snarled into a microphone on his shoulder. “The fatass bitch ran out back. Three of you, round the north and south sides of the house.” He lowered his weapon and turned to the others, who lowered theirs and divided into teams stomping out the back and returning out the front.

“The fuck is that, sarge?” It was a younger man’s voice, coming from the mask of someone with two black stripes on a black sleeve, someone who hadn’t turned so quickly to depart.

Ubaid looked at him, them up at the chunky, bulging armor plating of the giant standing before his chair. The blackened shell containing the sergeant’s head glowered at the speaker, then ground like a millstone to regard the tiny, naked man taped to a seat cushion.

“The fuck even is that,” he growled. His thumb popped a snap, and leather creaked as his heavily armored fist pulled out a slim canister. Usaid hardly had time to scream before his lungs filled with pepper spray.

2 thoughts on “The Cost of Bliss

  1. This story left me extremely unsatisfied. The assplay started out great, but it didn’t go far enough before the cops showed up out of the blue for no reason that was explained. I’m always going on about plausible character motivations, and I have no idea what the cops are doing in this story. They entered Ubaid’s house without knocking or a warrant, and they severely damaged his property without cause. Professional law enforcement officers simply don’t do that.

    The world-building here needs some serious revision.

    Liked by 1 person

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