(Chapter originally written by Azazel-8)
Your blood, which had been boiling a moment before, ran cold at the next words to fall from the malicious lifeguard’s lips. “…You should know gnat, Mari has the whole of next week scheduled off. Something about surprising her boyfriend with a fun trip. So, you won’t be seeing her again for a long time.” She didn’t have to continue for you to know what this meant. You were a good partner, and you knew the ins and outs of your girlfriend’s job. Enough to know that The Oasis staid upon twelves hours a day, every day. Meaning if you couldn’t manage to escape you were looking at a total of at least twenty-eight three-hour shifts beneath your girlfriend’s fellow lifeguards before you would even have a chance of seeing her again. As angry as you were, there was nothing you do could as Hanna left you behind. If you wanted to escape, you had less than twelve hours now to reform.
Under ordinary circumstances, half a day would have been more than enough for you to escape. But, being sat on for nearly twelve hours straight by warm, shifting, sweaty booties was not an ordinary situation. Even so, you did your best to reform, focusing all of your will on doing so and not allowing yourself any sleep. Your reward after all that time being one small edge of your squished body, less than a centimetre in width, slightly peeled from the chair’s surface, raised by barely a hairsbreadth. Your vision had returned a little, but only to the extent that the world was a blur of dully-hued blobs, and your hearing had been mostly restored, not that it was of much help in your current situation.
Any sense of triumph you may have felt was quickly lost as you heard the sound of voices nearby, then the now familiar vibration of someone climbing the chair. Your desperate attempts to wave your tiny edge were pointless, as the voluptuous blonde mounting the steps didn’t even glance in your direction before twisting to drop her wide rear onto your defenceless body. Once more you were subjected to three hours of crushing beneath another oblivious girl, the oppressive mass of the blonde’s increasingly heated rear interrupted only once as she jumped into the pool for a short interval, only to return and drop her now notably dripping butt onto you with a wet slurping noise. Clearly displeased by the moisture, she began to twist and turn, heedless of the pain she inflicted.
By the time her shift was over, all the progress you had made overnight was gone, your body more stuck than ever, your sight once again gone, and your hearing reduced to a distant ringing. This time the only warning you got was the vibration of the stairs and a now familiar sense of dread before yet another mass fell upon you, burying you once more beneath the rear of an unseen lifeguard. Once again you were doomed to spend twelve hours smashed beneath the sweaty shifting rears of these woman with no regard for your presence, the punishing heat of the sun ensuring you got no relief. When your second crusher finished her shift, she was almost instantly replaced with a third, then a fourth lifeguard in turn. By the time the last one peeled herself from the chair your hearing had left you completely, leaving your broken body behind in a pool of her cooling sweat to absorb overnight.
At the dawn of your third day, you couldn’t even claim to have detached a single part of yourself, your only success to speak of the ability to hear the creak of the chair as your next sitter clambered up so she too could drop her ass upon you, starting yet another day of thorough use. And even that had been lost to you by the time your fourth day rolled around, your world utterly silent and dark, with the vibrations of the stairs the only thing to warn you that a new day had begun. Unknown to you, your sitter this time would be Mari’s good friend Viola, and the reason you had even come to The Oasis in the first place. For the first time since Selena, someone actually looked at you before sitting, though the redhead only huffed in annoyance at the apparent stain, reaching down to rub at you irritably for a moment before satisfying herself that you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.
For the briefest of moments, you allowed yourself to believe that you were being saved. That either Mari or someone else you knew had returned to save you, now in the process of scrapping you free. Instead, you were crushed once more as Viola turned and plopped down, bouncing a few times to let out her annoyance at the persistent stain. As if her week hadn’t been awful enough already. In comparison to the last twelve girls to have sat on you, Viola’s hips were relatively small, but were still more than big enough to crush you thoroughly beneath her mass as she bounced vindictively, unaware of the poor innocent crushed tiny who was suffering the wrath of her aimless frustrations.
In a world of touch, smell and taste alone, you were left to suffer for three hours beneath the angry redhead, almost feeling relieved when she was replaced with a much more generously endowed woman three hours later. For the rest of the day, you were dominated beneath the crushing weight of the lifeguards. The burning heat of their cheeks baked into you, making you feel as if you were being steam cooked. The taste of their sweat invaded your mouth, and flowed into your every pore. The thick miasma of their booties took residence in your unseen nostrils, seeping into your very thoughts as if imprinting themselves on your subconscious. By the time your last visitor lifted herself from the chair you could barely even think, time seeming to loose all meaning as you struggled to comprehend that it was finally over, right up until the first sitter of your fifth day took her place.
The fifth day rolled into a sixth, and then a seventh, and in the continued absence of your sight and hearing, you found yourself increasingly able to identify return visitors by the particular feel of their butts. By their unique smells and taste. You could almost find some comfort in the familiarity. In the knowledge that this wasn’t just an endless stream of new women lining up to sit on you. With Mari absent, the biggest butt belonged to Selena, the silver-haired girl easily filling the seat with her hefty rear, forming a tight seal around the edges that ensured you were given a thorough steaming each and every time. Another girl carried with her a particularly potent miasma, seeming almost to stick to you like a physical force as she filled you with her scent. Yet another was continuously fidgety, apparently suffering from a perpetual itch that she was trying hard to grind into dust. And, of course, there was Vicky, who returned twice more to obliviously hammer you beneath her bouncing butt.
By the time your eighth day as a chair ornament was coming to an end, you could barely remember what it had been like to be able to see and hear, let alone able to move under your own power. It felt as if letting your mind drift for even a second was enough to forget you had ever been anything but this. That you had ever experienced anything other than being a chair for voluptuous lifeguards. It wasn’t such a bad life really. You missed your family and friends, well except maybe Jenna, but at the end of the day you were at least being supportive right? Whenever such traitorous thoughts occurred you did your best to shake them off, but it had become harder and harder with each crush. Each burning booty imparting its heat upon you. Each drop of sweat pouring into you. Each womanly scent invading your nostrils. At times it felt like your entire world was made up of these woman, with the hours you spent alone at night just a strange dream interspersing itself between your true duty.
As the final lifeguard peeled herself from the chair with a wet slurp there was barely any sign of you left behind. For anyone who knew to look a slight discoloration was the only indication the seat’s surface was anything other than uniform, but any hope of human features had been lost days ago. You had now been crushed so badly that the depth of your body amounted to less than a millimetre of difference, something that most people wouldn’t even be able to feel with their fingertips, let alone hope to get any purchase on. Even if the park was to suddenly close tomorrow, and you were to be given a week or more to reform, it wouldn’t do you any good. You were one with the chair. Only a concerted and targeted attempt to free you from the outside world had any hope of success.
Your last night before the prophesised return of your girlfriend seemed to pass in an instant, as you soon became aware of the vibrations that heralded another imminent crushing. By now you could count by heart the number of steps, allowing you to know the moment this newcomer reached the point where she would turn to lower herself upon you, almost able to see the looming derriere in your mind’s eye as you felt the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, as an unknown shadow falls across you, is this truly the start of another bootyful day, or does some other fate still await you?
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