Before you could do anything but stare blankly in shock, Sasha lashed her tongue out and grabbed you with it. You were sent flying through the air towards her and for one terrible moment you were convinced you'd be doomed to join that cake in her stomach. But once you were within arm's reach, her tongue let go and she grabbed you in a headlock instead, your face half buried in her impressive breasts.
"I don't *urp* much care for that name, shrimp. I've spent my entire career trying to rid the league of evil, all to protect defenseless people like you. But am I thanked for all my hard work? No! I'm ridiculed! And for what? A little gas?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a little--" You had intended this to sound playful in an attempt to defuse the tension. That tone was apparently lost on her because as soon as the words left your lips, she tightened her hold, making it harder to breath.
"Fine, then," she said coldly, her yellow eyes narrowing. "Let's get on with that demonstration."
She got up from her seat, a massive recliner that was specialized for the obese anthros of the ASL. Despite being constructed to handle even the heaviest of weights, the cushion was worn out and had an imprint of Sasha's butt as big as a crater on the moon. Without further ado, Sasha plopped you onto her chair and turned around ominously.
"Sasha, wait! I'm sorry, this was just a misunderstanding!"
"Tell it to the rump," she said.
She took a small leap in the air and landed backwards, her titanic ass slamming into your miniscule form. She had landed expertly, wedging you deep between her cheeks. A layer of spandex was all that separated you from the skin of her warty behind. The heat and pressure were unbearable. Sasha ground her ass on the chair and you cried out in pain. Your cries were muffled by her mountain of flab, but she could still hear you, if only barely. She didn't dignify your screams with a response. She did dignify them with a fart.
The blast of stench was revolting. If you thought she stank before, it was nothing compared to being closer to the source. The smell washed over you, burning your nostrils and stinking your eyes. You screams beneath her became more desparate. You had been beneath anthros before, it was a sad reality of this business, but being under Sasha was a whole new level of hell entirely.
Sasha sighed in content, and grabbed her laptop off the desk before her, just past the remnants of her cake.
"Now, you be a good slave and think about what you've done. I have a match coming up tomorrow and I need to do some research. Extensive research."
With that she let out another fart, causing you to moan. Sasha chuckled under her breath. The next three hours were spent in utter torment, Sasha's gas seemed to have no end, and she enjoyed bouncing up and down in her seat and grinding you between her cheeks. After the first ten minutes you stopped struggling and just waited for this torture to be over.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, she got up. An animalistic desire to flee from the danger was your first instinct but when you tried to move, you realized that your body was plastered to the chair. Sasha turned around and lowered her face to your flattened form.
"Now," she said dangerously. "Have you learned your lesson?"
You tried to nod but couldn't move your head. You tried to speak instead and out came a quavering, "Y-yes."
"Good," Sasha said, smiling. "I'm happy to hear that! My fight against evil is of the utmost importance, so I need my sidekick's complete respect and obedience if we're going to triumph!"
"S-sidekick?" you stammered.
"Of course," Sasha said, puffing herself up--literally, her throat inflated and she let out a loud burp before carrying on like nothing happened, "the never-ending war against evil cannot be waged alone!"
'Says you, Ms. Fart Frog,' you thought. 'My part in your war ends in five years, max.'
Out loud you said, "Of course, um... noble defender of justice? Would you mind getting me out of this chair?"
"Not a problem, faithful ward!" She struck out her tongue again, this time slamming it against your face. Straining, her tongue pried you from the seat and again she squeezed you tightly against her breasts once you were close enough. You seriously hoped this would not be a recurring thing with her. Though you'd take gagging on frog saliva to frog flatulence any day.
"By the way," she said, "we really must come up with a suitable heroic moniker for you. Something impressive! Not impressive enough to eclipse my name, obviously, but still something good... Hmm, we'll work on that later. But first, faithful ward, I require your aid in a most urgent task!"
You gulped. "What is it boss?"
Beaming, your new mistress said...
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