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Rated: GC · Interactive · Action/Adventure · #2302405
Matt, now a family man, traverses adult life with his typical luck. (BIO UPDATE 08/12/24)
This choice: Joining The Great Booty-Flicking Contest (RES FOR ALISTAIR)  •  Go Back...
Chapter #5

Unwillingly Joining the “Booty Flicking” Game

    by: Alistair Author IconMail Icon
You couldn’t tell where you were going as you pinwheeled through the air, screaming the whole way.

Your flight was abruptly halted as you impacted on a very soft, warm surface. Lifting your face away from it, you looked up and immediately locked eyes with one of the girls who had been flicking something at their friend’s rear.

The freckled blonde’s brow furrowed in confusion for a split second, before her sky blue eyes lit up in sadistic glee.
Sensing that you were about to be grabbed by the blonde, you looked around for escape routes, quickly summarising that you had landed on her thigh. What greeted your eyes was the sight of five other affected, who were laying prone on the blonde’s other thigh, hogtied using their own limbs, their eyes wide with fear.

Your brief confusion over the sight of these affected and the realisation that they were actually the something that the two sorority girls were flicking towards their friend may have cost you your chance to escape, as you felt movement behind you, and turned to find the blonde’s pink painted fingernail rushing towards you faster than you could blink.

The huge slab of varnished keratin hit you like a truck, and your mind briefly blanked out from the shock of the impact.
When you regained your senses you found yourself soaring through the air, facing backward towards the blonde sorority girl, who teasingly blew you a kiss as you flew away from her, which earned a laugh from the other contestant in this twisted game, an olive skinned brunette with glasses.

“Look out Orla! This one ain’t tied up, might be a ‘lil more lively than the others!”The blonde called out to her friend.

“A-alright Amber… that s-sounds fun!” A voice with a distinct Irish accent stammered out from behind you.

You turned yourself mid air towards the voice, almost wishing you hadn’t as you saw the ass that you were headed towards coming at you.
Time almost seemed to pass in slow motion as you took in the sight of the woman who’s backside you were about to land on.

The prone girl, presumably called Orla, was much, much heavier than either of her friends. The bulk of her weight was contained within the truly enormous backside that Amber had sent you on a collision course with.
Each pale cheek was an entire cellulite-dappled landscape unto itself, and could likely demolish an entire city block scaled to your size under their unfathomable surface area. It was quite possibly the largest ass you had seen since your last encounter with Cynthia Morrow, almost twenty years ago.
The entire landscape of her ass jiggled and quaked with each stifled giggle, each anxious shift of her hips as she anticipated yet another victim to be dumped onto the hostile planetoid at the base of her spine, and you could see several unwilling pioneers of that planet bouncing with every jostle of the ground they were laying on.
A minuscule bikini thong was pulled down around her thighs, the pathetic tan material digging so deeply into the soft flesh of her hams that you almost couldn’t tell that they were there.

It wasn’t just her backside that was huge, however. Her comparitively small chest was still utterly blessed, the sides of her massive mammaries and gut squashing out from the sides of her torso as she lay on them.

She brushed the mess of her curly red hair, which reached to between her shoulder blades, from her face as she looked over her shoulder, towards the swell of her rear, biting her lower lip at the sight of so many affected bouncing around on it’s rippling surface, and undoubtedly at the feeling of countless more already claimed by the depths of her cavernous crack.
Orla’s soft, freckled face was wearing an expression that in any other scenario you would have found cute, one of trepidation and shyness, but with a hint of mischievousness, the kind that a child would have when they were getting away with something that they knew their parents would get them in trouble for doing. But in the current situation, the kind of giddy glee that shone in her emerald eyes did not bode well for you or any of the other affected that were being fed to her ginormous ass.
An ass that was rapidly getting closer and closer as you careened towards it. You caught Orla’s eye as you soared towards her, and her mouth gaped in anticipation as she watched your flailing limbs, eager to feel them clambering across the vast expanse of her rear.

You closed your eyes as the landing zone grew closer and closer…

1) You land on the vast expanse of Orla’s left butt cheek, and despite the danger of your location, it’s definitely not the worst place you could have landed, and gave you a decent chance of escape.
Just as you were about to start trying to get off of the overweight Irish girl’s backside, a frightened yell coming from one of the affected being jiggled closer to her asscrack reminded you that you weren’t the only person being tormented by these girls… but Aiden also needed your help. Were you willing to risk getting yourself trapped before you could find him? Could you actually bring yourself to leave these other victims to a fate worse than death to ensure you could escape?

2) Unfortunately for you Amber’s aim was perfect, and you find yourself landing dead centre in the middle of Orla’s abyssal asscrack, slipping between her soft, jiggling cheeks with no resistance.

3) Surprisingly, it seems that Amber overshot her friend’s backside by a considerable margin, much to the delight of the third girl, who mocks her friend’s terrible aim before landing a perfect crack shot with her next flick.
You, meanwhile have landed in the grass, right in front of Orla’s face, and the two of you lock eyes as you struggle to reform. What does the gargantuan ginger do with you?

You have the following choices:

*Noteb*
1. Selflessness or Self Preservation

*Noteb*
2. Crackshot

3. Meeting Orla Face-to-Face

*Noteb* indicates the next chapter needs to be written.
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