couchman
07-16-2006, 7:26 PM
The following story is an adult fantasy intended to be read only by persons at least 18 years old.
Sitting on Giggles—Part 5
By
Couchman
Mark loved the feeling of complete powerlessness and the fact that Jenna and Lisa could sit on him as long as they wanted, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his existence as a motionless, inflated clown. His only hope in being returned to normal was his roommates’ friends desire to sit on him as a live person. Although none of the girls—with the exception of Jenna and Lisa—knew of his secret life, they all, after sitting on Giggles, expressed a desire to sit on him, Mark, college student, a human being who could be hurt and smothered if they sat full weight across his body and face. Apparently, they all felt they could do to him what they couldn’t do to an inanimate object: they could dominate him, they could demonstrate their feelings of superiority over him by sitting on him and reducing him to a singular function: something to sit on.
The afternoon after the party, Jenna and Lisa arrived home from their college classes. Lisa was the first to loom into his view, towering over him. Then Jenna joined her and both girls filled his field of vision, standing over him their mini-skirts dangling above him and offering him an unashamed view up their thighs and panty clad hips. The girls gazed down at Mark.
“I kind of like him this way,” said Lisa to Jenna. She sat down on his chest, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable atop his vinyl body.
“Me, too,” said Jenna. “Though I have to admit I loved smothering him when I sat on his face.” Jenna was wearing knee high white socks and a plaid skirt. She turned around and her skirt flew over his face as she plopped her white pantied butt down on his face. “Do you think that Kanya can do it?” She asked, and crossed her golden thighs. “Do you think she can make him normal again.?”
“Of course she can,” replied Lisa. “But when she returns Mark to normal they’re going to be some changes made.”
“For sure,” agreed Jenna. “She got up from Mark’s face and glared down at him. “Kanya is going to return you to normal,” she told Mark. “But after she does…we own you. You’ll be human, again, but there will be no contract. You’ll pay your share of the rent…and you will, she emphasized the word, get sat on whenever we want and for as long as we want.”
“And if you resist,” added Lisa. “Well…You can forget about being anything but a stupid inflated clown forever.”
Jenna placed her knee on his face. “You’re going to find out how painful it can be when you get…” She sat back down on his face. “…sat on,” she lifted her butt off him a ways and then plopped back down, punctuating each proceeding word by repeatedly crushing his air filled head, “…like…a…human…couch cushion.”
The girls were obviously very angry at being tricked with his hypnosis into sitting on him. He wanted to be returned to normal, yet, at the same time, feared he was in for more pain and discomfort than he wanted. Mark was also curious to know more about this mysterious Kanya who had gotten him into his current terrifying state. He had to wait until late that evening to satisfy his curiosity. He heard someone at the door, followed by the voice of a young woman speaking with broken English.
“How he like being stupid clown,” said the woman.
Jenna and Lisa appeared, along with a lovely African woman who was adorned with a black dress, gold bracelets, and a beaded neckless. The African woman grinned down at his helpless body. “Would you like Kanya sit on your face?” she asked him. Of course she knew he couldn’t speak. Her rounded, black silken butt descended to his face and crushed it into the couch with the usual squeak.
Kanya giggled. “Kanya like sitting on your face,” she told him. “Are you sure you want him back human?” she asked the girls.
“Yeah,” said Lisa. “We can’t hurt him like he is now.”
“We want to sit on him and hurt him,” said Jenna. “We want to treat him like the nothing he is. We want to own him and sit on him like we own him.”
“Hmmm,” said Kanya. “…Poor man will wish he was not human…but so be it.” She got up from his face. Kanya and Jenna placed him on the floor. Mark felt his body flood with anticipation. Kanya placed candles on the floor around him. She produced a small silver container of sorts, dipped into it and sprinkled some kind of powder over him. She began to chant with words he’d never heard before. Her huge brown eyes glowed with evil. She danced around him, sprinkling the powder over him and chanting, a wild, terrifying expression on her brown face. She threw outstretched hands towards his feet and Mark discovered he could move them. She chanted some more, throwing her hands towards his legs, his chest, and his head. Mark saw the red ball of his nose disappear. He looked down the length of his body. The clown suit was also gone. He was dressed in the same blue jeans and T-shirt he’d worn before the transformation, with three sexy girls towering over him.
Mark started to get up. “Damn!” he retorted. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Jenna placed a sneaker clad foot on his chest and forced him back down. “It’s going to get worse than that, Mark.”
“From now on,” said Kanya, “you will be slave to Jenna and Lisa. If you disobey them…”She grinned evily and nodded towards Giggles, now back in the corner of the room where he’d been before. Mark stared at the motionless vinyl clown, the clown his body had been imprisoned inside of. He didn’t want to be turned into Giggles again. He wanted to resume a normal life. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted to be himself, Mark, human being with a will of his own. But how much of his own will were Jenna and Lisa going to allow him? He would be their slave. He’d seen how ruthless they can be to him as a person. How much pain and discomfort was he to expect, now that they had the upper hand.
Jenna stood above him, a leg on each side of his head. His eyes followed her white knee socks and up further to long tanned thighs and thin panty material lightly covering her pussy and hips. The pleated mini-skirt she was wearing, a skirt that was designed to conceal inner most femininity from the outside world, hung nonchalantly above him. Jenna had long since banished any modesty about him looking under her skirt. He was an object to her, an object devoid of sexual feelings. He was something to sit on. He watched as her legs bent. He watched her perfect butt descend to his chest as she sat down heavily on him. She lifted her legs, creating a sexy V shape as her butt remained planted firmly on his chest. The hard floor beneath him offered little to cushion her weight. He struggled to breathe and groaned in pain. Slim fingers pulled the fabric of her skirt close to one thigh, opening his vision to the dominating female atop him. He stared upwards at firm breasts and her soft, beautiful face above them. She was looking down at him triumphantly.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked, coyly.
“Yes, gasped Mark. “Please get up.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” she toyed.
“No…No,” said Mark.
“Well, then…There’s no problem, is there,” said Jenna. She removed her butt from his chest. For a moment, Mark thought she was going to get up off him. Instead, she placed her ass squarely on his face, relaxing her entire weight on his head. Her ass engulfed his face, his nose was pressed deeply into the flimsy material covering her pussy. With only the carpeted floor beneath him, he felt like his head would explode under the weight of her curvaceous body. The pain was intolerable and he flailed his arms in a vain attempt to remove her butt from his face. His chest heaved for air, but Jenna gave no sign of getting up.
“Better get off him before you kill him,” he head Lisa say.
“Do I have to?” said Jenna.
“We have to be sensible about this,” said Lisa. “Not that he deserves it.”
It seemed like it took Jenna forever to remove her ass from his tortured head. She stood up and Mark lay gasping on the floor, like a fish out of water. His nose and other facial bones hurt terribly. The back of his head felt crushed. Mark thought to himself if the girls sat on him like that very often he wouldn’t be around long. The idea of getting himself turned back into Giggles flashed through his mind. At least as Giggles he couldn’t be hurt so badly. He’d really gotten himself trapped into a no win situation.
“Get up on the couch,” ordered Lisa.
He got up slowly. He felt dizzy from Jenna’s cruel facesitting. He made his way to the couch and lied down. “Have you no feelings of mercy?” he asked, softly.
“Mercy?” said Lisa. “Allowing you to get sat on while you’re on the couch is as merciful as it gets.” She approached the couch with obvious intention. Lisa was wearing her favorite sexy black dress and dark nylons.
“No… Please,” he pleaded.
“No? Don’t ever tell us no,” she retorted. She sat down heavily upon his already pained face. Her black panty covered butt crushed onto him, though at least this time he had the couch beneath him to absorb some of her weight. “Ahhh…This is more like it,” said Lisa and crossed her legs. “I love sitting on your face, Mark, when I know how uncomfortable you are under my butt.”
“I hope that Samantha and the others feel the same way,” said Jenna, “when they have the chance to sit on him.”
“I hope so, too,” said Lisa as she continued to sit heavily on his face. “He deserves to be crushed under all of us.”
“They sat on him when they thought he was Giggles,” said Jenna, hopefully. “And they did say they wanted to sit on Mark.”
“They were considering it,” said Lisa. “But sitting on an inflated clown is one thing…sitting on Mark is another.”
“I’ll bet Chesea will sit right on his face,” said Jenna, chuckling. “She wanted to tie Mark down and sit on him. How are we going to tell her she won’t have to tie him down…We own him?”
“I’ll think of something,” said Lisa. Mark smothered under her hot, heavy ass. He hoped she got up soon. He was feeling drowsy, like he was about to pass out. He was relieved when she lifted her butt from his face. His tortured head, and the couch beneath him, returned to their previous position. As he lay gasping for air, Jenna stood next to the couch. She had the cordless phone in her hand.
“Chelsea,” she said into the phone. “Were you serious about sitting on Mark?... Yes…Mark…Our roommate…You can sit on his face if you want.” She looked down at Mark and grinned. Then she replied to something Chesea had said. “No, it doesn’t matter if Mark wants to be sat on. Lisa and I sort of…well…own him.” A tanned hand brushed her pleated skirt back and forth, allowing him alternating views of white panties. “Sure,” continued Jenna. “You can put your whole weight on him when you sit on him.” Her hand stopped brushing at her skirt. She took a hold of the skirt and flipped it over his face as she sat down on it. He had barely enough time to recover from Lisa’s unmerciful face sit, and now his head was engulfed in Jenna’s round butt. “Call the others who were at the party. Anyone who wants to sit on Mark can come to the apartment tonight. He’s here to be sat on.” Mark was listening to the casual voice of a girl who was so used to sitting on him it seemed natural to her—forgetting she was talking to someone who had never done it.
The girls thanked Kanya and told her goodbye. Before she left, Kanya gave Mark another stern warning about not resisting anything the girls wanted to do to him. After his ordeal as an inanimate clown, Mark assured her he would. The girls went to their rooms to study awhile before their guests arrived, leaving Mark to contemplate another facesitting party—but this time as a live, vulnerable person. He was actually looking forward to it, and he wondered if the others would really sit on him.
Chelsea and Amber, the cheerleader, were the first to arrive. Chelsea had on a sexy mini-skirt and Amber was wearing her cheerleader uniform, a red and black striped skirt and red top. She was a cute and petite blonde with a sweet face, but her beauty and social status seemed to have endowed her with the same sense of superiority as her friends. Chelsea, on the other hand, was a tall, sexy brunette with a rather cruel face that made Mark shiver. Chelsea was the girl who had suggested tying him down and sitting on him.
Mark sprawled on the couch, his mind filled with a mixture of sexual excitement and apprehension. Jenna greeted the first two guests and motioned to Mark. “Here he is,” she told them, proudly, “A human couch cushion.”
Amber giggled. “Oh, Mark…Are you sure you want us to sit on you?”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” said Jenna. “Lisa and I have a special power over him.”
“A special power,” said Chelsea. “Interesting.” She stared at him with those dark, sadistic eyes.
“Sure,” said Jenna. “Mark is our couch cushion. We can sit right on his face.”
“Like that clown we sat on last night?” asked Amber, innocently.
“Almost like that,” replied Jenna. She grinned at Lisa and approached the couch. Once again, her skirt was over his head as she sat down heavily on his face.
“You’re squishing him,” said Amber, concerned.
“So what,” said Clelsea. “If Jenna and Lisa are using him as a couch cushion, he’s going to get his face sat on.”
“That’s right,” said Jenna, crossing her legs. “He gets sat on all over.”
“I’ll sit on his face,” Chelsea’s words filtered in to the crushing darkness beneath Jenna’s ass. Jenna got up and Chelsea was standing next to the couch. She had a dominating presence that seemed stronger than even Jenna and Lisa’s. Mark felt a tinge of fear. “So you’re a couch cushion, eh,” said Chelsea. “I think I’ll sit on you.” In less than a second of time, Chelsea pulled the fabric of her skirt close to her legs and let her butt drop mercilessly to his face. She let her full weight crush his head into the couch. She arose just long enough to throw her skirt over his face, and Mark glimpsed her black panty covered ass crack before she sat back down, engulfing his face as naturally as she had sat on him as Giggles.
“I like your couch cushion,” she told Lisa and Jeanna. “He’s much more fun to sit on than a plain old couch cushion.” She arose slightly from his face, wiggled her butt teasingly, and sat back down. Chelsea made herself comfortable atop his tortured head and spoke with the others as if he wasn’t beneath her. “I wonder where the rest of the girls are?” she was saying. “Sure hope they show up. This is great.”
“You’re hurting him,” said Amber, again voicing concern with her sweet voice.
“Oh, Amber,” said Chelsea, “Don’t be a party pooper.” She got up from his face. “Sit on him, Amber. It’s fun.”
Mark gasped from being under Chesea’s ass, but he was excited at the prospect of Amber sitting on him. He had always wanted to be sat on by a cheerleader in uniform. She stood next to the couch where he lay. “Do you want me to sit on you, Mark?” She asked.
“Yes,” said Mark, without even thinking.
“Hmmm,” Amber considered. “I don’t know why you’d want my butt on you…but…I suppose I could sit on your chest.” She sat down carefully on his chest. She crossed her legs and giggled. Mark stared at her golden crossed thighs pressed against her colorful cheerleader skirt. “I must be crushing you,” she said. “You make a funny couch cushion, Mark.”
Jenna patted Mark’s face with a soft hand. “Sit here, Amber.”
“On his face?” asked Amber. “You want me to sit on his face? I’d hurt him.”
“You sat on Giggles, the Clown last night,” said Jenna. “…right on his face, if I remember.” Mark had a sudden flashback of Amber nonchalantly plopping her ass on his face during the transformation.
“I know,” said Amber. “I sat on that clown over there,” she said, pointing to Giggles, standing in the corner. “But Mark is a person. I could squish him.” She gazed down, thoughtfully at Mark. “Want me to squish you, Mark? Want me to sit on your face?”
“I’m a couch cushion,” Mark told her.
Amber grinned and uncrossed her legs. She got up off his chest and stood over his face, her cheerleader skirt now failing to conceal red panties. “Okay,” she told him. “I’m going to sit right on your face, Mr. Couch Cushion.” Her tanned thighs came together as her knees bent, accentuating the roundness of her firm butt. Her red and black skirt was over his head and she sat down, full weight on his face. “If you’re a couch cushion, I’m going to put my whole weight on you.” Amber was probably the lightest of all the girls, yet her entire weight crushing his head was still painful. His face mashed down beneath the red panties of her cheerleading uniform. He felt exhilarated. He was actually getting face sat by a pretty, coed cheerleader.
“Atta girl,” he heard Chelsea saying. “Just sit on him.” He then felt the pressure of another butt crushing his chest. He wasn’t sure as he lay crushed in the darkness beneath Amber’s butt, though he surmised Chelsea had sat on his chest. Amber raised part way up, her round ass hovering close to his face, and peered down at him. “Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“He has it coming,” said Lisa.
“Why? Did he do something to you?” asked Amber.
“You might say that,” said Jenna.
“Shame on you, Mark,” said Amber. “Then you should get your face sat on.” She lowered her round butt to his face, again, and crossed her legs, as if casually sitting on a couch. Though his mouth and nose were sealed shut, he could peer under a shapely thigh to where it met and formed a right angle with her calves. The inner lining of her colorful skirt was draped over the upper part of her legs. “I should sit on your face until you smother,” she told him.
“Do it,” said Jenna.
“Should I?” asked Amber. “I will…” she said, as if accepting a challenge. “I’ll sit on his face until he smothers.” She paused a moment, as if waiting for someone to tell her not to. But no one did. “Well…” said Amber. “He is a couch cushion. I’m going to just keep sitting on him.”
Mark felt panic set in. Was she serious? Was Amber, the sweet faced cheerleader, going to smother him into unconsciousness or even death? She gave him not a hint of getting up. Chelsea kept her own ass planted firmly on his chest. He was powerless to move them off him. He was getting crushed—possibly crushed to death by two girls. He tried to rationalize. Surely Amber, who probably had the sweetest temperament of them all, would have enough sense to get off his face before he smothered to death. But Amber didn’t move off his face. She kept her cheerleader ass parked heavily on him, sealing off the oxygen he needed to survive. When he moaned into her butt she only giggled—obviously enjoying her power over him.
Mark didn’t know the precise moment when he slipped into unconsciousness. His head felt like he’d been on an all night drunk. He heard the faint voices of girls, a bunch of girls, laughing and talking. There was music playing in the background. He groaned and his face stung from the sharp slap of a hand. He saw Jenna leaning over him. She slapped him again.
“Wake up,” she ordered him. “Time to wake up and join the party.”
His eyes slowly focused. The apartment was filled with girls, all the girls from last night plus some he’d never seen before. When they saw he was regaining consciousness they all stared at him.
“How long have I been out?” he asked Jenna.
“At least an hour,”
“Amber.” He pointed at her. “You could have killed me.”
“They dared me to do it,” replied Amber. “You’re suppose to be a couch cushion, so I sat on your face like one.”
“Don’t be reprimanding Amber,” spit Lisa. “You have one hour, Mark. One hour to go somewhere and recover. Then you’d better get back here and take your lowly place on the couch. There are a bunch of girls here who are waiting to sit on you.”
Mark staggered away from the couch, mumbling, “I should get myself changed back into Giggles.”
“What was that?” Spit Lisa.
“Nothing,” said Mark, sheepishly. He staggered into the bathroom and dowsed himself with cold water. He cursed himself He cursed the facesitting fetish he had. He cursed women in general. But after he was through cursing, he reminded himself that all of it had changed nothing. He was to remain under the power of Jenna and Lisa until, hopefully, they tired of him.
He went to his room and to the comfort of his bed. He was actually afraid to fall asleep. What if he had brain damage? He may not wake up. He lay there staring at the ceiling until he heard Jenna’s teasing voice outside his door. “Oh, Mark… Oh, Markeeeee,” she teased. “Time to come back to the party.”
“God, what a bitch,” he thought to himself. He rolled himself off the bed and returned to the living room.
“There seems to be something missing from our couch,” teased Jenna. “Oh, I know…It’s the cushion. What good is a couch without a cushion?” The room filled with uproarious laughter. Mark felt embarrassed. All the girls were staring at him and grinning. “Well…You can’t have a couch without a cushion,” he said, flippantly. He hoped that a sense of humor might lessen the harshness of what was to come. He sprawled on his back on the couch. “Here,” he told them. “Is this better?”
“Much,” said Maria, the Italian girl who, in his opinion, had the most perfect butt he’d ever seen. Maria was wearing a tight white mini-skirt. She looked down at him with large dark eyes. “You look much more fun to sit on then the clown at sat on last night,” she told him. Despite his concern that he may have been seriously injured by Amber, he couldn’t help feeling warmth in his groin as he stared up at Maria. She turned and lowered her butt to his face. His vision was filled with the round, white cloth of her skirt, and the indentation of the ass it clinged to as she settled her full weight atop him. And yet again, he was unable to draw a breath as his nose and mouth sealed shut beneath her splendid ass. He had often fantasized Maria sitting on his face, but strangely, fantasy never really simulates reality. His head hurt terribly as she crushed it under her Mediterranean buttocks. It excited him immensely, though. If he were to die, he thought, this was how he would like it to happen. There was something about the soft curves of such an exquisite young woman when those curves—especially the curves of a buttocks—were applied full force to his face. It was like beauty in contradiction.
Maria sat on his face for but a short time. As soon as she got up, Samantha was waiting her turn. She flipped her skirt over his face and sat down. As soon as Samantha got up, Chelsea was ready to smother him again. Mark saw that the girls had actually formed a line to the couch. As soon as one got up, another was poised to sit down, allowing him only a few breaths in between face sits. The girls were dressed in various types of garb. Some wore mini-skirts, some shorts, and others tight fitting blue jeans. All of them, though, took a turn on his face. By the time the girl at the end of the line plopped her tight denim butt on his face he had been sat on by 15 different girls.
The party got wilder. Drinks were flowing freely. The girls were getting more and more drunk and many of them sat across his body—including his face—as if he actually were a part of the couch. They danced and joked and talked, often sitting on his face longer than he would have liked. But that’s what he was there for. He was, to them, a human couch cushion. Be careful what you wish for, he told himself. It just might be more than you can handle.
The End .
Sitting on Giggles—Part 5
By
Couchman
Mark loved the feeling of complete powerlessness and the fact that Jenna and Lisa could sit on him as long as they wanted, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his existence as a motionless, inflated clown. His only hope in being returned to normal was his roommates’ friends desire to sit on him as a live person. Although none of the girls—with the exception of Jenna and Lisa—knew of his secret life, they all, after sitting on Giggles, expressed a desire to sit on him, Mark, college student, a human being who could be hurt and smothered if they sat full weight across his body and face. Apparently, they all felt they could do to him what they couldn’t do to an inanimate object: they could dominate him, they could demonstrate their feelings of superiority over him by sitting on him and reducing him to a singular function: something to sit on.
The afternoon after the party, Jenna and Lisa arrived home from their college classes. Lisa was the first to loom into his view, towering over him. Then Jenna joined her and both girls filled his field of vision, standing over him their mini-skirts dangling above him and offering him an unashamed view up their thighs and panty clad hips. The girls gazed down at Mark.
“I kind of like him this way,” said Lisa to Jenna. She sat down on his chest, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable atop his vinyl body.
“Me, too,” said Jenna. “Though I have to admit I loved smothering him when I sat on his face.” Jenna was wearing knee high white socks and a plaid skirt. She turned around and her skirt flew over his face as she plopped her white pantied butt down on his face. “Do you think that Kanya can do it?” She asked, and crossed her golden thighs. “Do you think she can make him normal again.?”
“Of course she can,” replied Lisa. “But when she returns Mark to normal they’re going to be some changes made.”
“For sure,” agreed Jenna. “She got up from Mark’s face and glared down at him. “Kanya is going to return you to normal,” she told Mark. “But after she does…we own you. You’ll be human, again, but there will be no contract. You’ll pay your share of the rent…and you will, she emphasized the word, get sat on whenever we want and for as long as we want.”
“And if you resist,” added Lisa. “Well…You can forget about being anything but a stupid inflated clown forever.”
Jenna placed her knee on his face. “You’re going to find out how painful it can be when you get…” She sat back down on his face. “…sat on,” she lifted her butt off him a ways and then plopped back down, punctuating each proceeding word by repeatedly crushing his air filled head, “…like…a…human…couch cushion.”
The girls were obviously very angry at being tricked with his hypnosis into sitting on him. He wanted to be returned to normal, yet, at the same time, feared he was in for more pain and discomfort than he wanted. Mark was also curious to know more about this mysterious Kanya who had gotten him into his current terrifying state. He had to wait until late that evening to satisfy his curiosity. He heard someone at the door, followed by the voice of a young woman speaking with broken English.
“How he like being stupid clown,” said the woman.
Jenna and Lisa appeared, along with a lovely African woman who was adorned with a black dress, gold bracelets, and a beaded neckless. The African woman grinned down at his helpless body. “Would you like Kanya sit on your face?” she asked him. Of course she knew he couldn’t speak. Her rounded, black silken butt descended to his face and crushed it into the couch with the usual squeak.
Kanya giggled. “Kanya like sitting on your face,” she told him. “Are you sure you want him back human?” she asked the girls.
“Yeah,” said Lisa. “We can’t hurt him like he is now.”
“We want to sit on him and hurt him,” said Jenna. “We want to treat him like the nothing he is. We want to own him and sit on him like we own him.”
“Hmmm,” said Kanya. “…Poor man will wish he was not human…but so be it.” She got up from his face. Kanya and Jenna placed him on the floor. Mark felt his body flood with anticipation. Kanya placed candles on the floor around him. She produced a small silver container of sorts, dipped into it and sprinkled some kind of powder over him. She began to chant with words he’d never heard before. Her huge brown eyes glowed with evil. She danced around him, sprinkling the powder over him and chanting, a wild, terrifying expression on her brown face. She threw outstretched hands towards his feet and Mark discovered he could move them. She chanted some more, throwing her hands towards his legs, his chest, and his head. Mark saw the red ball of his nose disappear. He looked down the length of his body. The clown suit was also gone. He was dressed in the same blue jeans and T-shirt he’d worn before the transformation, with three sexy girls towering over him.
Mark started to get up. “Damn!” he retorted. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Jenna placed a sneaker clad foot on his chest and forced him back down. “It’s going to get worse than that, Mark.”
“From now on,” said Kanya, “you will be slave to Jenna and Lisa. If you disobey them…”She grinned evily and nodded towards Giggles, now back in the corner of the room where he’d been before. Mark stared at the motionless vinyl clown, the clown his body had been imprisoned inside of. He didn’t want to be turned into Giggles again. He wanted to resume a normal life. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted to be himself, Mark, human being with a will of his own. But how much of his own will were Jenna and Lisa going to allow him? He would be their slave. He’d seen how ruthless they can be to him as a person. How much pain and discomfort was he to expect, now that they had the upper hand.
Jenna stood above him, a leg on each side of his head. His eyes followed her white knee socks and up further to long tanned thighs and thin panty material lightly covering her pussy and hips. The pleated mini-skirt she was wearing, a skirt that was designed to conceal inner most femininity from the outside world, hung nonchalantly above him. Jenna had long since banished any modesty about him looking under her skirt. He was an object to her, an object devoid of sexual feelings. He was something to sit on. He watched as her legs bent. He watched her perfect butt descend to his chest as she sat down heavily on him. She lifted her legs, creating a sexy V shape as her butt remained planted firmly on his chest. The hard floor beneath him offered little to cushion her weight. He struggled to breathe and groaned in pain. Slim fingers pulled the fabric of her skirt close to one thigh, opening his vision to the dominating female atop him. He stared upwards at firm breasts and her soft, beautiful face above them. She was looking down at him triumphantly.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked, coyly.
“Yes, gasped Mark. “Please get up.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” she toyed.
“No…No,” said Mark.
“Well, then…There’s no problem, is there,” said Jenna. She removed her butt from his chest. For a moment, Mark thought she was going to get up off him. Instead, she placed her ass squarely on his face, relaxing her entire weight on his head. Her ass engulfed his face, his nose was pressed deeply into the flimsy material covering her pussy. With only the carpeted floor beneath him, he felt like his head would explode under the weight of her curvaceous body. The pain was intolerable and he flailed his arms in a vain attempt to remove her butt from his face. His chest heaved for air, but Jenna gave no sign of getting up.
“Better get off him before you kill him,” he head Lisa say.
“Do I have to?” said Jenna.
“We have to be sensible about this,” said Lisa. “Not that he deserves it.”
It seemed like it took Jenna forever to remove her ass from his tortured head. She stood up and Mark lay gasping on the floor, like a fish out of water. His nose and other facial bones hurt terribly. The back of his head felt crushed. Mark thought to himself if the girls sat on him like that very often he wouldn’t be around long. The idea of getting himself turned back into Giggles flashed through his mind. At least as Giggles he couldn’t be hurt so badly. He’d really gotten himself trapped into a no win situation.
“Get up on the couch,” ordered Lisa.
He got up slowly. He felt dizzy from Jenna’s cruel facesitting. He made his way to the couch and lied down. “Have you no feelings of mercy?” he asked, softly.
“Mercy?” said Lisa. “Allowing you to get sat on while you’re on the couch is as merciful as it gets.” She approached the couch with obvious intention. Lisa was wearing her favorite sexy black dress and dark nylons.
“No… Please,” he pleaded.
“No? Don’t ever tell us no,” she retorted. She sat down heavily upon his already pained face. Her black panty covered butt crushed onto him, though at least this time he had the couch beneath him to absorb some of her weight. “Ahhh…This is more like it,” said Lisa and crossed her legs. “I love sitting on your face, Mark, when I know how uncomfortable you are under my butt.”
“I hope that Samantha and the others feel the same way,” said Jenna, “when they have the chance to sit on him.”
“I hope so, too,” said Lisa as she continued to sit heavily on his face. “He deserves to be crushed under all of us.”
“They sat on him when they thought he was Giggles,” said Jenna, hopefully. “And they did say they wanted to sit on Mark.”
“They were considering it,” said Lisa. “But sitting on an inflated clown is one thing…sitting on Mark is another.”
“I’ll bet Chesea will sit right on his face,” said Jenna, chuckling. “She wanted to tie Mark down and sit on him. How are we going to tell her she won’t have to tie him down…We own him?”
“I’ll think of something,” said Lisa. Mark smothered under her hot, heavy ass. He hoped she got up soon. He was feeling drowsy, like he was about to pass out. He was relieved when she lifted her butt from his face. His tortured head, and the couch beneath him, returned to their previous position. As he lay gasping for air, Jenna stood next to the couch. She had the cordless phone in her hand.
“Chelsea,” she said into the phone. “Were you serious about sitting on Mark?... Yes…Mark…Our roommate…You can sit on his face if you want.” She looked down at Mark and grinned. Then she replied to something Chesea had said. “No, it doesn’t matter if Mark wants to be sat on. Lisa and I sort of…well…own him.” A tanned hand brushed her pleated skirt back and forth, allowing him alternating views of white panties. “Sure,” continued Jenna. “You can put your whole weight on him when you sit on him.” Her hand stopped brushing at her skirt. She took a hold of the skirt and flipped it over his face as she sat down on it. He had barely enough time to recover from Lisa’s unmerciful face sit, and now his head was engulfed in Jenna’s round butt. “Call the others who were at the party. Anyone who wants to sit on Mark can come to the apartment tonight. He’s here to be sat on.” Mark was listening to the casual voice of a girl who was so used to sitting on him it seemed natural to her—forgetting she was talking to someone who had never done it.
The girls thanked Kanya and told her goodbye. Before she left, Kanya gave Mark another stern warning about not resisting anything the girls wanted to do to him. After his ordeal as an inanimate clown, Mark assured her he would. The girls went to their rooms to study awhile before their guests arrived, leaving Mark to contemplate another facesitting party—but this time as a live, vulnerable person. He was actually looking forward to it, and he wondered if the others would really sit on him.
Chelsea and Amber, the cheerleader, were the first to arrive. Chelsea had on a sexy mini-skirt and Amber was wearing her cheerleader uniform, a red and black striped skirt and red top. She was a cute and petite blonde with a sweet face, but her beauty and social status seemed to have endowed her with the same sense of superiority as her friends. Chelsea, on the other hand, was a tall, sexy brunette with a rather cruel face that made Mark shiver. Chelsea was the girl who had suggested tying him down and sitting on him.
Mark sprawled on the couch, his mind filled with a mixture of sexual excitement and apprehension. Jenna greeted the first two guests and motioned to Mark. “Here he is,” she told them, proudly, “A human couch cushion.”
Amber giggled. “Oh, Mark…Are you sure you want us to sit on you?”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” said Jenna. “Lisa and I have a special power over him.”
“A special power,” said Chelsea. “Interesting.” She stared at him with those dark, sadistic eyes.
“Sure,” said Jenna. “Mark is our couch cushion. We can sit right on his face.”
“Like that clown we sat on last night?” asked Amber, innocently.
“Almost like that,” replied Jenna. She grinned at Lisa and approached the couch. Once again, her skirt was over his head as she sat down heavily on his face.
“You’re squishing him,” said Amber, concerned.
“So what,” said Clelsea. “If Jenna and Lisa are using him as a couch cushion, he’s going to get his face sat on.”
“That’s right,” said Jenna, crossing her legs. “He gets sat on all over.”
“I’ll sit on his face,” Chelsea’s words filtered in to the crushing darkness beneath Jenna’s ass. Jenna got up and Chelsea was standing next to the couch. She had a dominating presence that seemed stronger than even Jenna and Lisa’s. Mark felt a tinge of fear. “So you’re a couch cushion, eh,” said Chelsea. “I think I’ll sit on you.” In less than a second of time, Chelsea pulled the fabric of her skirt close to her legs and let her butt drop mercilessly to his face. She let her full weight crush his head into the couch. She arose just long enough to throw her skirt over his face, and Mark glimpsed her black panty covered ass crack before she sat back down, engulfing his face as naturally as she had sat on him as Giggles.
“I like your couch cushion,” she told Lisa and Jeanna. “He’s much more fun to sit on than a plain old couch cushion.” She arose slightly from his face, wiggled her butt teasingly, and sat back down. Chelsea made herself comfortable atop his tortured head and spoke with the others as if he wasn’t beneath her. “I wonder where the rest of the girls are?” she was saying. “Sure hope they show up. This is great.”
“You’re hurting him,” said Amber, again voicing concern with her sweet voice.
“Oh, Amber,” said Chelsea, “Don’t be a party pooper.” She got up from his face. “Sit on him, Amber. It’s fun.”
Mark gasped from being under Chesea’s ass, but he was excited at the prospect of Amber sitting on him. He had always wanted to be sat on by a cheerleader in uniform. She stood next to the couch where he lay. “Do you want me to sit on you, Mark?” She asked.
“Yes,” said Mark, without even thinking.
“Hmmm,” Amber considered. “I don’t know why you’d want my butt on you…but…I suppose I could sit on your chest.” She sat down carefully on his chest. She crossed her legs and giggled. Mark stared at her golden crossed thighs pressed against her colorful cheerleader skirt. “I must be crushing you,” she said. “You make a funny couch cushion, Mark.”
Jenna patted Mark’s face with a soft hand. “Sit here, Amber.”
“On his face?” asked Amber. “You want me to sit on his face? I’d hurt him.”
“You sat on Giggles, the Clown last night,” said Jenna. “…right on his face, if I remember.” Mark had a sudden flashback of Amber nonchalantly plopping her ass on his face during the transformation.
“I know,” said Amber. “I sat on that clown over there,” she said, pointing to Giggles, standing in the corner. “But Mark is a person. I could squish him.” She gazed down, thoughtfully at Mark. “Want me to squish you, Mark? Want me to sit on your face?”
“I’m a couch cushion,” Mark told her.
Amber grinned and uncrossed her legs. She got up off his chest and stood over his face, her cheerleader skirt now failing to conceal red panties. “Okay,” she told him. “I’m going to sit right on your face, Mr. Couch Cushion.” Her tanned thighs came together as her knees bent, accentuating the roundness of her firm butt. Her red and black skirt was over his head and she sat down, full weight on his face. “If you’re a couch cushion, I’m going to put my whole weight on you.” Amber was probably the lightest of all the girls, yet her entire weight crushing his head was still painful. His face mashed down beneath the red panties of her cheerleading uniform. He felt exhilarated. He was actually getting face sat by a pretty, coed cheerleader.
“Atta girl,” he heard Chelsea saying. “Just sit on him.” He then felt the pressure of another butt crushing his chest. He wasn’t sure as he lay crushed in the darkness beneath Amber’s butt, though he surmised Chelsea had sat on his chest. Amber raised part way up, her round ass hovering close to his face, and peered down at him. “Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“He has it coming,” said Lisa.
“Why? Did he do something to you?” asked Amber.
“You might say that,” said Jenna.
“Shame on you, Mark,” said Amber. “Then you should get your face sat on.” She lowered her round butt to his face, again, and crossed her legs, as if casually sitting on a couch. Though his mouth and nose were sealed shut, he could peer under a shapely thigh to where it met and formed a right angle with her calves. The inner lining of her colorful skirt was draped over the upper part of her legs. “I should sit on your face until you smother,” she told him.
“Do it,” said Jenna.
“Should I?” asked Amber. “I will…” she said, as if accepting a challenge. “I’ll sit on his face until he smothers.” She paused a moment, as if waiting for someone to tell her not to. But no one did. “Well…” said Amber. “He is a couch cushion. I’m going to just keep sitting on him.”
Mark felt panic set in. Was she serious? Was Amber, the sweet faced cheerleader, going to smother him into unconsciousness or even death? She gave him not a hint of getting up. Chelsea kept her own ass planted firmly on his chest. He was powerless to move them off him. He was getting crushed—possibly crushed to death by two girls. He tried to rationalize. Surely Amber, who probably had the sweetest temperament of them all, would have enough sense to get off his face before he smothered to death. But Amber didn’t move off his face. She kept her cheerleader ass parked heavily on him, sealing off the oxygen he needed to survive. When he moaned into her butt she only giggled—obviously enjoying her power over him.
Mark didn’t know the precise moment when he slipped into unconsciousness. His head felt like he’d been on an all night drunk. He heard the faint voices of girls, a bunch of girls, laughing and talking. There was music playing in the background. He groaned and his face stung from the sharp slap of a hand. He saw Jenna leaning over him. She slapped him again.
“Wake up,” she ordered him. “Time to wake up and join the party.”
His eyes slowly focused. The apartment was filled with girls, all the girls from last night plus some he’d never seen before. When they saw he was regaining consciousness they all stared at him.
“How long have I been out?” he asked Jenna.
“At least an hour,”
“Amber.” He pointed at her. “You could have killed me.”
“They dared me to do it,” replied Amber. “You’re suppose to be a couch cushion, so I sat on your face like one.”
“Don’t be reprimanding Amber,” spit Lisa. “You have one hour, Mark. One hour to go somewhere and recover. Then you’d better get back here and take your lowly place on the couch. There are a bunch of girls here who are waiting to sit on you.”
Mark staggered away from the couch, mumbling, “I should get myself changed back into Giggles.”
“What was that?” Spit Lisa.
“Nothing,” said Mark, sheepishly. He staggered into the bathroom and dowsed himself with cold water. He cursed himself He cursed the facesitting fetish he had. He cursed women in general. But after he was through cursing, he reminded himself that all of it had changed nothing. He was to remain under the power of Jenna and Lisa until, hopefully, they tired of him.
He went to his room and to the comfort of his bed. He was actually afraid to fall asleep. What if he had brain damage? He may not wake up. He lay there staring at the ceiling until he heard Jenna’s teasing voice outside his door. “Oh, Mark… Oh, Markeeeee,” she teased. “Time to come back to the party.”
“God, what a bitch,” he thought to himself. He rolled himself off the bed and returned to the living room.
“There seems to be something missing from our couch,” teased Jenna. “Oh, I know…It’s the cushion. What good is a couch without a cushion?” The room filled with uproarious laughter. Mark felt embarrassed. All the girls were staring at him and grinning. “Well…You can’t have a couch without a cushion,” he said, flippantly. He hoped that a sense of humor might lessen the harshness of what was to come. He sprawled on his back on the couch. “Here,” he told them. “Is this better?”
“Much,” said Maria, the Italian girl who, in his opinion, had the most perfect butt he’d ever seen. Maria was wearing a tight white mini-skirt. She looked down at him with large dark eyes. “You look much more fun to sit on then the clown at sat on last night,” she told him. Despite his concern that he may have been seriously injured by Amber, he couldn’t help feeling warmth in his groin as he stared up at Maria. She turned and lowered her butt to his face. His vision was filled with the round, white cloth of her skirt, and the indentation of the ass it clinged to as she settled her full weight atop him. And yet again, he was unable to draw a breath as his nose and mouth sealed shut beneath her splendid ass. He had often fantasized Maria sitting on his face, but strangely, fantasy never really simulates reality. His head hurt terribly as she crushed it under her Mediterranean buttocks. It excited him immensely, though. If he were to die, he thought, this was how he would like it to happen. There was something about the soft curves of such an exquisite young woman when those curves—especially the curves of a buttocks—were applied full force to his face. It was like beauty in contradiction.
Maria sat on his face for but a short time. As soon as she got up, Samantha was waiting her turn. She flipped her skirt over his face and sat down. As soon as Samantha got up, Chelsea was ready to smother him again. Mark saw that the girls had actually formed a line to the couch. As soon as one got up, another was poised to sit down, allowing him only a few breaths in between face sits. The girls were dressed in various types of garb. Some wore mini-skirts, some shorts, and others tight fitting blue jeans. All of them, though, took a turn on his face. By the time the girl at the end of the line plopped her tight denim butt on his face he had been sat on by 15 different girls.
The party got wilder. Drinks were flowing freely. The girls were getting more and more drunk and many of them sat across his body—including his face—as if he actually were a part of the couch. They danced and joked and talked, often sitting on his face longer than he would have liked. But that’s what he was there for. He was, to them, a human couch cushion. Be careful what you wish for, he told himself. It just might be more than you can handle.
The End .