While Deborah and Katherine chatted happily to your sister’s thirsty viewers, you were drowning, in more ways than one. Most directly, you were drowning in the overflowing sweat from your mother’s rear, thick sheets of the salty liquid flowing over you and the miniscule air pocket created by the intrusion of your tiny body fast filling up with a suffocating pool, kept at bay only be Deborah’s continuing movements. Secondly, you were drowning in flesh, the hold of your massive caregiver’s tremendous cheeks at times so tight that they felt like they were going to squeeze the life out of you, often making it impossible to tell where one cheek ended and the other began, as if you were buried underground between two great wet boulders. And, even when those cheeks parted enough to let you breath, to let the sweat drain enough to keep your mouth just above-water, you were still left drowning in abject misery, your traitorous mind bringing up the worst-case scenarios of your fate.
Because Katherine wasn’t wrong. While most of your experiences in your mother’s home gym had consisted of being squished and flattened during one exercise or another, used to soak up her sweat in the aftermath and then left to reform painfully over the following hour or more, this was far from the first time you’d been crushed far more thoroughly by Deborah. You’d lost many days, weeks, even months of your life at the hands of that accursed room and/or your supposedly loving parent’s all-consuming body. Moving here, with a gym nominally absent of any of your family members, and far away from Katherine’s ‘pranks’, had been supposed to be a fresh start. A chance to maybe get some time to actually get a workout in without the constant fear of being squished. Yet now, as the cheeks around you began to move once more, you wondered if this may prove your worse experience yet. Almost as if the world itself was punishing you for ever even trying to change your inevitable fate.
Oblivious to your torment, Deborah smiled widely as the votes from her daughter’s lively chat came in, being overwhelmingly in favour of some continued mother-daughter bonding over exercise. Or at least that was the way she saw it, even if her daughter had barely done any exercise yet. “Aww, you guys are all so sweet. I’m always happy to spend some time working out with my kids.” The grin that earned her from Katherine was returned in kind, and though the messages from the chat were too small for her to see, her smile only grew as that same computerised voice responded. “And we love watching you crush it Ms Little. You’re a crushing machine. Smiley face.” The complement made her smile and gave her the encouragement she needed to continue. Yeah, she was a crushing machine!
It took no time at all for the chat to start spamming out their suggestions for further exercises, and Katherine was more than happy to relay said suggestions to her mother, editing out some wording that may have gone too far in revealing her little game. For her part Deborah was perfectly willing to go along, needing only the vaguest promises of participation from her daughter to commit herself to spending all day in the gym if that was what was needed, having by now completely forgotten her original reason for even being here today. You were the farthest thing from her mind at the moment, even if you were in fact the closest person to her body, and about to become even more engrained.
You didn’t like what it said about you and your life, that even buried so deep between Deborah’s meaty cheeks, you were still able to identify within just a few short seconds the next machine she had moved to in what you feared would be an extended gym trip. As your mother’s buttocks began to slide up and down against one another in increasingly rapid succession, the firm yet fleshy mass of her right buttock grinding against you continuously as you remained stuck to the left, the image of the treadmill you had vaguely made note of when entering formed in your mind and you sobbed mentally. There was no treadmill in your mother’s home gym, but that just meant that she was often keen to use the device when one was to hand, and you had long since become painfully familiar with the feeling of her using one, including both when you were underfoot or trapped against her curves.
Unbidden, you recalled a pervious trip to what had once been your local gym. Not that it had ever been ‘your’ gym. That day, like so many others, you had found yourself buried within Deborah’s gym bag courtesy of another one of Katherine’s little games, unknowingly the subject of numerous bets by chat as to what form you’d return to the house in, if at all. After being roughly thrown around on the walk over, and then again as the bag was tossed carelessly down, you’d ended up becoming an unseen smear on the inside of your mother’s compression shorts as she began her routine. The stretches and warm-ups had been bad enough, but your true torment had come at the hands of the treadmill. With each stride Deborah’s shorts had been pulled tight against her massive rear, already pushing them to breaking point at rest, and you had been squeezed in the middle, forced to swallow down gallons of sweat less you drown in the deluge. When it was finally over you’d begged for mercy, only to be answered by the seat of an exercise bike rising to meet you instead. It was only after a week of daily use that you had finally come free in the wash after a particularly thorough scrubbing.
Though the twenty minutes spent on the treadmill were short compared to her time on the bike, Deborah still needed to stop to catch her breath a little when she finally stepped-off, using her much-abused towel to wipe off some of her overflowing sweat. “Phew! That was tough! You guys really know how to organise a workout!” She’d let Katherine set the elevation and speed based on the chat’s suggestions, and they’d been all too happy to crank it up, but it was worth it to receive the applause of her daughter and some encouraging words from the younger woman’s fans. Were she alone, she would have probably towelled off the inside of her sports bra and shorts as well, but as it was she merely dabbed at their exteriors, pleased to note that her rear wasn’t nearly as sore as it would often be. If fact her cheeks felt better than they had in a long time, as if being soothed from within in a way that sent a shiver down her spine and made her want to work out all the harder.
While you dreaded the future, Deborah reminisced about the past, her body moving almost on autopilot as she began another series of stretches. Now that she had become aware of it, the good feeling in her butt was making her happy, unaware that it was the result of your tortured form, which had been ironed and stretched across her cheek. It made her feel nostalgic for all of those other good feelings she had gotten when exercising in the past, giving her the motivation she needed to push her limits, yet tragically never lasting forever. Sometimes it was a part of her body that felt strangely pleasant. Sometimes it was a particular item of clothing that supported her just perfectly. Often it was a surprisingly efficient towel, soaking up all of her sweat with contemptuous ease. If she was lucky sometimes she could hold onto the feeling for days, or weeks even, but she always lost it eventually. Either the effected body part or item of clothing eventually lost its spark, or she’d lose track of the source of that pleasure entirely, towels, thongs and bras alike just disappearing one day. For the last few months, ever since her dear son moved out, she’d been unable to find it entirely.
Your sister and you experienced the next hour very differently. For you, every second was one of torment as your mother moved through exercise after exercise, and stretch after stretch, shaking and grinding her rear all over your pathetic form as she squeezed from you every ounce of pleasure and motivation she could. For Katherine, the only torment was the difficulty she experienced in keeping her desire to burst out laughing in check, and such pain was easily compensated for by the sheer thrill of watching you get unknowingly annihilated by Deborah. It was clear to the blonde that her mother had noticed your presence, if only subconsciously, as she was moving her buttocks around much more than was actually needed to complete her exercises, and each stretch seemed to involve clenching and shaking her cheeks, much to the delight of your sister’s increasingly horny chat, many of whom were beginning to openly fantasise about you being trapped in that fleshy abyss forever.
At a certain point it all started to blend together, and as your squished body became increasingly adhered to Deborah’s left cheek your memories of past torment mixed together with visions of a possible horrid future until you could no longer tell what was real anymore. Outside, after nearly two hours of working out, your massive tormentor was finally beginning to wind down, having returned to the exercise bike for a final sprint, her huge booty looming over the tiny training area as she leant heavily against the console, forcing her legs to keep pumping until the timer finally ran out with a loud beep. Hot and sweaty but satisfied, your mother slowly swung herself around, then slid off the back of the bike, not even noticing as her feet slammed down on the tiny gym and smashed it to pieces, the tired appendages using the broken machines as massage toys as she stretched languidly.
Katherine, herself having barely lifted a finger this whole time, watched with a broad smile on her face, having caught the whole experience on camera. Now they just needed to get out of here before Deborah remembered why she had actually come to these apartments. “Great going mom. I don’t know about you though, but I’m beat. What do you say we get out of here for now and…”
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