RR Janet Greene - Chapter 9

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Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

Chapter 9 - Inseparable

[February 12th, 2010]

You’re really just now leaving for work? At this hour?

Matt wanted to judge her–after all, it came so easily, but honestly he had to dedicate all of his limited, food-starved brain power to controlling the smile trying to sprout out from the misery that may as well have been tattooed to his face since he got there.  Was he actually going to get a break from Janet?  Was he finally going to get some privacy?  Some of his favorite moments with Kelli were when she would just leave him the hell alone.  Sure, maybe he wouldn’t have a dumb, old, cracked phone to watch movies on while Janet was gone, but the sounds of silence…god, he could listen to that on repeat all day long.

He felt like a teenage boy watching his mother getting ready to turn over the whole house to him, and his heart fluttered with rare optimism about solitude.  If he wasn’t the size of her nipple, Matt might have put a hand on her shoulder and not-so-gently forced her toward the door.  Janet took a few steps toward the hook where her car keys hung, but she didn’t grab them.  Instead, she opened the fridge, removing not one but two Atkins meal replacement shakes.  

“Ready for the commute in?” Janet asked with a smirk, and Matt’s face dropped.  

No…no, you can’t be serious…

Matt scanned between Janet’s car-crash of a smile and her ugly feet, still bare.  She wasn’t even close to presentable enough to leave the house, and yet she was joking about a commute?

Before Matt could brace himself, Janet's fingers closed around him like iron bars with a roughness reserved for inanimate objects. 

“Don’t worry, it’s only for about eight hours or so and my work chair is super comfy.” Janet said as she brought him around her wide hips. After the blur of her generous stomach and love handles passed him by, Matt found himself once again face-to-ass.  Or rather…Matt-to-ass.  That was his immediate fate, those quaking, jiggly cheeks.  But that problem, devastating enough on its own, was merely nested within a larger problem.  Janet was waddling toward a desk. It looked like a desk she’d own, as there were half-crushed soda cans, bags of chips, and sprinkles of candy wrappers.  But there was also a mouse and keyboard. And a monitor. And a poor, beaten chair.    

“And when you’re done, you can have Rusty’s old home.  You’ll have to earn it every single day though! Just like he did! That means not breaking any more rules, pissing me off, et cetera et cetera et cetera.”

Please, god…no.  She works from home?!

Matt thought that if he wasn’t going to be permitted a break from her rump, that rump would at least be leaving this godforsaken house.  But no such luck.

“You can think of us as co-workers, Linty.  You’ve got a job just like I do.  And it’s time for both of us to get to work!”

Without another word (at least not from her), Janet tugged down her bottoms and drew the ordeal out just long enough for Matt to take in the looming landscape of her bare backside. Her enormous cheeks spread and clapped as she shifted, revealing the deep, humid cleft—a shadowy expanse of cellulite-ridden skin that seemed to stretch down endlessly as she pried the fleshy spheres of peach dough apart. The air was laced with a sour heat and unmistakable musk already trying to overtake the weak establishment of cleanliness from a shower that seemed to be hours ago.  And it only got stronger as he was moved closer.  Matt was panicking, wishing he could scream at her but he dared not let his thoughts pass his lips.

Can you not do simple math?!  I already spent all fucking night up against your rank asshole, you bitch.  Even by your obscene fucking standards I should already be done!  Give me a break…from this…from you.  Don’t do this, please!

In one swift, unceremonious motion, Janet wedged Matt into the cleft, pushing him deep between her massive, soft cheeks. The squishy, excessive flesh engulfed him immediately and as the oppressive warmth closed in from all sides, the muffled friction of her bottoms coming back up over top of her curvy cheeks told Matt that he was definitively sealed. All he could do was lie there, pressed deep in Janet’s flesh, every second a reminder of how utterly trapped he was, lost in the humid, unyielding prison of her body.

It wasn’t until the intense jiggling of her fat glutes transitioned into a heavy and overwhelming compression at her work desk did Matt finally have a moment to think.  And the first thing that came to his mind as the distant sound of keyboard keys clacked above him was his growling stomach.  He still hadn’t eaten.  She still hadn’t fed him.  She had to know. She had to realize.  How else could he eat if not by her? How much longer could he put up with this?

** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

After eight and a half long and agonizing hours, Matt was barely aware of the world beyond Janet’s sweltering crack.  Her annoying conference call voice would turn to fuzz but then she’d readjust her sitting position, grinding her fat ass into the cushion or worse: bouncing her waist up to tuck her foot between the flattened cushion and her bulbous cheeks.  The closest he’d ever come to this kind of pressure came on the few occasions when Kelli would accidentally roll over onto her back with him wedged between her butt cheeks. 

The weight and pressure had been overwhelming, nothing like he’d experienced that first time. And Kelli’s mortified apologies would pour over him the moment she’d realized what she’d done–fretting and fussing, cupping him in her warm hands, staring down at him with her blue eyes of concern. Was it stupid of her? Yes.  Was it embarrassing for the both of them? Yes. But it was tolerable.

Matt suspected he’d never see that look of concern in Janet’s eyes. She hadn’t once acknowledged Matt’s suffering and obviously not even the slightest trace of regret.  This wasn’t an accident, this was Janet’s design. This wasn’t a misstep, this was all part of her twisted plan. Her very presence was a punishment, and his existence between her compressed glutes was a continued torture. If he had to pick between Kelli’s perky, toned cheeks and Janet’s cellulite-ridden, filthy, jumbo-sized marshmallow flab, he would pick Kelli every time, albeit begrudgingly.

Say what you will about Kelli.  She’s stupid, she’s vapid, she’s this, she’s that.  But she was never this cruel.

Matt wondered what she was doing right now. But he couldn’t wonder for long, for the relentless pressure of Janet’s firm twin boulders hugged both the sanity and the dignity from his miniscule naked body, and thinking about anything but the smoldering humidity and pressure was exhausting in its own rite. 

Suddenly, the flesh around him shifted, the pressure easing slightly as Janet adjusted herself.  Matt gave up hours ago on believing this was freedom.  Surely she was just readjusting herself again.  But then her fingers fumbled into the cleft, and he felt a firm pinch on his left ankle as  her nails scraped with callous roughness. The cool air hit him like a shock and felt painful against his sticky skin, and he gasped instinctively like a newborn critter, born into a bright, cold world that was naturally against him.

“Ugh, what a day! You have no idea how exhausting it was.” Janet said with an exaggerated sigh to the limp, glistening man dangling from her fingers. Matt’s fragile body was too exhausted and his mind too overwhelmed to resist or even fully process what was happening. His limbs felt like dead weight, aching from being pressed and contorted by Janet’s smelly cheek flesh.

As usual, the relief of being free from the immense weight of Janet’s oppressive body was tinged with an opaque bitterness.  He’d gotten away from her sweaty, smelly, splayed butt cheeks but now he had to endure her as a person. And what an intolerable person she was! Her voice droned on, acting as if she were the one who’d endured the worst of the day and not him. 

“I swear, the number of reports I had to go through; I was starting to wonder if I’d ever get to the end! All with back to back meetings, mind you. They must think I’m either a machine or a miracle worker!” Janet huffed.  She let out a low-pitched and drawn out moan as she stretched her hands up over her head, sending Matt’s empty, screaming stomach down into his knees from the G-force. “And did you hear my call with Andrew?  Sorry hon, just because you have abs and that swishy-doo haircut doesn’t mean you rule the world.” 

Clarity forced its way back to his mind and his perception of the world sharpened.  So too did his blistering hunger.

“But it does feel good to finally be done!  And I guess you’re all done with your ‘work’ too, Linty!” She chuckled. “At least for now, you little workaholic! We’ll say that I’m done but you?  You’re on break.” 

Matt’s jaw tightened but he stayed silent, his resentment simmering for this oblivious, self-centered woman. She set him down just long enough to pull her hair into a messy bun. “I think it’s time for some truly deserved rest and relaxation!”

His ears perked up at that.

Matt swung along with Janet’s gently closed fist, groaning and whimpering in discomfort and disorientation as her footsteps thundered like Godzilla. His mostly obstructed view bounced with each heavy step until she finally dropped him onto the arm of her recliner.

The worn, rough fabric felt scratchy against Matt’s bare feet and even though it wasn’t as painfully cold as the bathroom counter or dining room table, Matt still had to contend with the faint staining and a hint of her scent that seemed permanently embedded into the upholstery. Matt thought that the discoloration of the armrests hinted at just how much time Janet spent slumped here in front of the TV.  But what confirmed the suspicion was the deep, round, unmistakable indentation right in the center of the faded seat cushion. 

The fabric there was darkened and shiny, worn smooth by constant friction as her enormous rump would plop and pummel into it over and over again, day after day. It was impossible to ignore its sheer scale.  It reminded him of two grand canyons. Matt felt like he was looking down into an ancient crater! And Matt trembled in disgust, reflecting on just how familiar he was with the two fleshy, fat asteroids that created those massive indents.

Matt was so morbidly obsessed with the massive ass print that he flinched to recognize Janet entering his frame of view.  Her pants lay in a crumpled heap right next to the recliner.  

From his spot on the armrest of Janet’s throne, he had a regrettably unobstructed view of her enormous backside, looming above him like a heavy, fleshy storm cloud. The pastel pink fabric of her panties had ridden up between her bulbous cheeks, creating a deep, tight wedgie that accentuated the uneven, bulging curvature. There were deep fabric impressions speckled over the plump fat and skin, a legacy of the strained seams of her discarded pants. Some of the polka dots on her panties were perfectly round circles but most were stretched and warped to resemble long ovals from the way they stretched over her curves.

The pastel pink underwear that had been neat and clean that morning was now damp and creasing against the folds of her jiggling cheeks. The wedged fabric was pulled so tightly that it vanished into her crack, leaving nothing to the imagination as her flesh stretched and pressed outwards, the outline of her figure so large it seemed to consume his entire field of vision.

With a few clicks of the remote, Janet’s TV sprung to life and without a single glance at him, she began her descent. Her body lowered with an unceremonious carelessness; Matt’s eyes widened in horror as she plopped herself down, her massive frame dropping onto the chair with a forceful, resounding thud. The irresponsible and inconsiderate impact sent a shockwave through the recliner, making it creak loudly under her weight. The force of her landing nearly threw Matt off the armrest entirely. He grabbed on instinctively, gripping the rough fabric for dear life as the shock reverberated through his jolted body. Much like how an asteroid kicks up tons and tons of dirt, the stale scent of sweat and long-forgotten, long-accumulated food stains and crumbs that made his nose wrinkle were aerosolized due to the striking impact of her ass against the seat.

Without the slightest acknowledgement to his struggle, Janet wiggled and shifted to get comfortable. “Long day, Linty!  Long day indeed.” Janet’s seat-filling hips and chubby white thighs splayed wide as she settled in, sinking deep into the worn ass indentation.  The cushion flattened under the immense strain and Janet let out an oblivious and obnoxious sigh.  

“Oh, we should probably get you settled, huh?”  

Janet leaned over to pick something up off the floor on the other side of the brown recliner.  Matt knew enough now to brace himself as the rickety recliner groaned and grimaced as Janet’s wide, fleshy hips lifted off the cushion. If another ounce of her body fat crossed the rickety old recliner’s center of balance, Matt was sure it would be broken and he’d be catapulted up into the ceiling fan. Her oversized rear rose inches above the recliner’s offensive indent.  Her mostly bare cheeks moved like perverted poetry—slow, heavy, and disturbingly fluid. Her cheeks jiggled as the papers rustled and plastic bags crinkled.

“Crap, I hope I didn’t throw it away…Oh! No wait, here it is!”

Without warning, Janet’s upper body returned into view and her bulbous butt compressed back into the cushion. It didn’t matter how slow the impact was, there was still enough power in her mass to send another violent tremor through the old chair, and Matt felt himself jolt forward.

With that trademark, punchable grin on her face, Janet proudly showed Matt what she’d been reaching for:  it was a mason jar.  She held it easily in one hand but her fingers barely wrapped halfway around it. To Matt, it was as tall as a two story building–maybe taller. The transparent jar was capped with a threaded lid that contained several holes and the jar was halfway filled with colorful fabrics.  

But what were the fabrics?  Were they crafting ribbons?  

Cloth for sewing?  

Of course not.  This was Janet Greene he was dealing with.  

“Ta-da!” she announced, her voice lilting with pride as she held it up closer–and Matt’s heart sank. 

Through the glass, Matt could see that the jar was stuffed halfway full with crumpled, mismatched socks. Some were striped, others polka-dotted, and a few had cartoon prints of animals, hearts, and even food.

“Here it is, your new little home away from your much bigger, softer, better home!” Janet chuckled, gently tapping the mason jar against the outer edge of her splayed ass cheek. “Isn’t it festive?” She shook the jar slightly, causing the socks inside to shift and compress as if they were spinning in a dryer. 

Matt didn’t say anything, he just stared in abject horror.

“I asked you a question, Linty.” Janet said.

The fuck do you want me to say?

“It’s…umm…colorful, Miss Janet.” Matt said.  “Is that…safe?”

“Oh yeah, tried and tested. Rigorously, I might add!” Janet laughed, showing Matt the several small air holes poked throughout the top.  “But the socks are actually a new idea of mine.  Just some more of my genius that you’ll get to benefit from.  You know how you always lose a sock or two when doing the laundry?”

You do laundry? I doubt it.

“Well, instead of giving up on them and throwing them away, I kept them. You know, just in case their sisters ever turned up again–I’m an optimist, after all!  But I figured while they’re waiting for their sisters, why not use them to make your home nice and cozy?” She beamed down at him, clearly delighted with her own thoughtfulness.

Matt’s stomach churned as he looked into the jar, the cramped, pungent space that was supposed to be his “home.” The socks, though colorful, were unmistakably filthy. He could see the worn fabric stretched thin in places, pilled with lint and dotted with patches of darkened sweat marks. The thought of being stuffed inside, surrounded on all sides by the overpowering scent of her disgusting feet, was almost too much to bear.

Janet unscrewed the lid and plunged two fingers into the center of the sock cluster. “See? Plenty of cushioning in there! Not as much as my butt, but that’s a high bar to clear, am I right?”

Matt was devastated.  He’d spent hours trapped in Janet’s muggy, compressed asscrack practically dreaming about getting away, but this is what he was getting away to?  A fucking mason jar halfway stuffed with her dirty socks?

“Oh, don’t look so glum!” Janet chided. “Rusty was twice as big as you, maybe bigger.  And he didn’t even have my comfy socks to rest on.”   She tapped the glass with a fingernail, as though trying to demonstrate its comfort.  “If it was good enough for Rusty, it’s good enough for Linty.”

Matt’s jaw tightened and his mind swirled with a mix of anger and revulsion. Good enough? This wasn’t good enough. This was just another reminder of how little she thought of him. But as always, he stayed silent, swallowing down his anger as she grinned at him, oblivious to the misery she was forcing on him once again.

“So, am I going to be…sharing this, Miss Janet?”

Janet tilted her head in confusion.  “Who would you share…” she trailed off and then burst into laughter when she realized what Matt was asking. “..oh, you mean with Rusty?” Janet dabbed at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “No, sweetheart. You won’t be sharing anything with Rusty. You’ve got all this to yourself.”

Matt could put two and two together.  It was clear that Rusty was his predecessor.  He was the poor, tiny little soul that lived in Janet’s ass before he did.  But what happened to him?  Where was he?  Maybe he finished his obligation to the experiment and was sent back to RR Labs. That lucky bastard…probably sprinted out of that lab the moment he was restored and never looked back.

“Alright Linty, hop in.  “Janet said, lowering the mason jar so that the opening was level with Matt’s arm-rest perch. “You’re starting to eat into Miss Janet’s shows.” 

Even just the mention of ‘eating’ reminded Matt of how long it had been since he’d eaten and it made his stomach flip and scream; yet he felt so revolted looking down at the colorful, crumpled socks that he almost started dry heaving.

“Oh, come on, Linty! Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little jump.” She gave him a look of mock pity, her head tilting to the side as her smirk radiated smugness. 

Fear isn’t the problem, you smug, hopeless moron.

“Is that what it is?  You’re afraid of heights?” Janet sighed with a light chuckle.  “Don’t worry, Linty.  I’ll help you get over your fear.”

Before Matt could react, he felt a massive finger jab his bare bottom.  She used a fraction of a fraction of her finger’s full strength, and still it was too much for Matt to resist, try as he might.  He toppled over the rim with little grace, falling into the jar with a small, pitiful thud as he landed face-first into the heap of Janet’s socks.

“There we go!” Janet cooed, her voice brimming with satisfaction. “Fear conquered; you’re welcome, Linty.  In fact, Miss Janet is gonna help you get over ALL of your issues.  Just wait and see!”

Matt’s face contorted like a crumpled piece of paper as he clamped his lips shut and plugged his nose, determined to block out the toxic fumes surrounding him.  His chest swelled and his ribs strained as he held his breath, locking it in with an iron will.  It was an exercise in futility, of course.  Janet wasn’t going to take him out; he was going to have to breathe.  But the fighter in him didn’t listen to reason.  His cheeks turned a desperate shade of crimson and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to meditate away the burning agony.  The fire in his lungs grew too large and, of course, Matt finally lost his fight. 

His lips popped open like a champagne cork as he gasped for air.

Matt was shocked to learn–and honestly, slow to accept–that his first breath of air did not provoke his gag reflex.  There was no horrible taste on his tongue or scent in his nose.  The socks making up his nest didn’t appear to be dirty.  

Did she really put…clean socks in here?

It was insane that Janet would pass up an opportunity to torture him.  It was almost too hard to believe.  And yet Matt was on his third deep breath and the vile scent of foot funk was nowhere to be found–just the faded scent of cheap detergent.  If only she’d have sprung for something that smelled better.  It smelled like a budget knock-off that tried smelling tropical but came off more like sour suntan lotion.  Matt just couldn’t catch a break!

Socks rustled and knees buckled as Janet settled Matt’s mason jar down firmly between her thick, bare thighs.  The contacting flesh turned even more white as Janet’s massive legs pressed against the sides of the jar like a soft, pillowy vice.  From his vantage point within the jar, Janet’s thighs rose up like fleshy walls on either side of him, dominating his peripherals.  He looked up, the only way he could escape the looming presence of all that flesh, and he saw Janet grinning down at him.

“Alright, Linty.” Janet said. “We need to have a little chat.” 

She drummed her fingers on the top of the closed jar, the sound echoing through the glass and making him flinch.  “You’ve been benefiting from my hospitality, right? Being taken care of by Miss Janet?”

Matt said nothing and then Janet’s eyebrow raised. 

Shit, she actually wants an answer to that bullshit question.

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“I work hard and make all the money here in this house.  I pay the bills, keep the lights on, and buy the food. 

Matt’s stomach screamed obscenities up to the torturess. 

“It’s not fair for me to do all the work around here while you just sit around, taking up space.”

What?  Taking up space in your fat ass?

“Don’t you agree?” She asked.

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“Great, I’m glad we agree.” Janet said. “But don’t worry. I recognize that your contributions will be practically nothing compared to mine…because, well…you’re kind of like nothing compared to me…not to be mean.”

Matt clenched his jaw and his fists.

“But it’s just the truth, you know?” Janet chuckled, patting the jar as she clenched and unclenched her thighs around Matt’s jar.  “But anyway, you’re going to spend the time away from my butt productively, okay?  You’re going to do chores to help Miss Janet out. Sound good?”

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“Everyone pulls their weight around here, even if that weight is measured in grams instead of pounds!” Janet cackled.

Or in your case…tons, I’m sure.

~