Departures (Chapter 4)

Abruptly, the giantess ceased palming that double handful of her own roomy cleavage from either side, which instantly relaxed that tension on Rafael and caused her twins to sway freely back into their usual pouted momentum. Then, pinching her subject by the arms, Emma pulled the little fellow clear from where she’d so provocatively stuck him, but didn’t drop him straight back into her palm. Instead, rising up from her executive armchair behind the desk for the first time since Rafael entered her office, the well-dressed doctor rose to her full thirty-story stature, then pivoted around to face the seat below. Then her hand descended, placing him squarely in the center of that scarlet leather cushion. Rafael was only confused by this until he recalled the list of lethal possibilities that she’d rattled off for him before, and knew right where this was going. Despite having come here today for cheap euthanasia, and finding Emma undeniably attractive, the idea of what was about to happen – before she even did anything else to him – was enough to leave the broken thing jittering again with equal parts reluctant excitement and antsy dread.

“Oh, yes, I can see it in your face that you already know exactly what I’m thinking about next. Like you read my mind. How very cheeky of you,” Dr. Torres remarked with another wink, then slowly revolved her monumental body in place, turning her back on Rafael and the chair. “Though, you can’t possibly tell me that you’re opposed to going this way. I’ve been told the view from back there is just as sweet as the front. It goes without saying that this is another very popular method for others in your position. Now we just have to find out whether this is what you’ve been waiting for.”

Lying still and supine, Rafael braced himself for impact again as his personal Hispanic goddess of death took her seat again, and in doing so, brought the looming geometry of her tightly-panted hindquarters careening down over him. Apparently more eager to test his mettle this time, Emma didn’t impose the onslaught of pressure on him as slowly as before. Rafael’s life flashed before his eyes, but didn’t yet end, as everything abruptly cut to warm asphyxiating blackness for him when the brunt of the doctor’s sumptuous sculpted booty crashed down on where he laid. Just like that, she sat on him like a comically-undersized human seat cushion. Because she’d placed him right at the chair’s center, aligned perfectly with that deeper more-forgiving fault line of her bum crack, Emma’s weighty landing again purposefully failed to decimate Rafael into a visceral splatter.

Instead he was held captive under the sightless overbearing magnitude of those comely-clad buttocks, instantly overheated and flattened out in a space so tight that it made him feel mummified alive. It was a lot, and definitely not the way he might’ve ever imagined himself dying, but still leagues preferable to the bloody alternatives outside these walls. Even more pitifully than before, Rafael could muster only a half-hearted writhe while stupendously overpowered by such a gargantuan quantity of clenched-up feminine glute heft. Sweating, gasping, and despairing over his own drawn-out passing, he was also bittersweetly aroused by the objective honor of being squashed beneath such a beautifully rotund backside. All things considered, this wasn’t such a bad way to perish.

But it didn’t turn out to be his way, either. In hindsight, Rafael realized he probably ought to have seen this third fake-out coming. Again Emma withheld her full might, when she could’ve so easily placed him elsewhere on the seat so that the initial collision with her gigantic ass cheek would’ve instantly liquefied him into a cranberry stain on her pants. Just when the avalanche-weighty stress of that monolithic derriere was about to cross a threshold of no return, however, she reversed course, heaving herself back up from the chair after giving Rafael (almost) the world’s deadliest lap dance. Even once he was freed from the robust thrall of her behind, he still felt flatter and lower than ever in his life, like a smear of chewing gum stuck on the road. Which in fact wasn’t far off from the dearth of value he’d achieved, and the reason he was here today in the first place. Rafael only hoped that Emma was nearly bored of these degrading amusements, so they could get just get this over with. He was done, in every sense of the word.

“Sorry about that,” Dr. Torres declared, though with a smile suggesting self-indulgence more than apology. She reached down, peeling Rafael’s limp body off the chair, then took a seat again. Simultaneously, she reached below, prying a classy black leather mule shoe the size of a boat off her equally-humongous foot. “But I did tell you that I was going to take my time here, and make sure that whatever way I chose for you was the correct one. And I always mean what I say. There’s no such thing as a do-over here, after all, so we only have one shot to get it right. Though, I think I’ve finally made up my mind about you, Rafael. I know just exactly what you need, and what you deserve. No more playing around. This is for real now.”

Then Emma bent down, lowering Rafael to the floor, where she placed him in the shadows beside her freshly-doffed footwear. At last, gazing up at her complete form from his literally lowest point, the tiny thing could truly appreciate the majestic practically-omnipotent enormity of this deific doctor. Sadist or not, and taking advantage of his penniless state for some midday delight of her own, there was no denying that she was a truly extraordinary being. In the end, Rafael considered himself lucky to have this view of her be his final one on Earth.

“Thank you for choosing Biggest Hearts today for your send-off. I hope this experience has been as satisfactory for you as it’s been for me,” Emma whispered almost-sultrily, even puckering up as if to blow him a goodbye kiss, before she raised the behemoth meaty wrinkle-bellied slab of her luxurious naked foot high overhead of Rafael. Keeping to her promise at last, this was indeed for real, as the giantess’s sole descended without restraint. In a violent yet somehow still-serene flash, Emma slapped that colossal foot down upon her fragile subject. Now putting in an actual effort, it took only a split-second’s worth of concentrated effort from her for Rafael to burst painlessly apart against the bottom of his lovely mercy-murderer’s gigantic foot. In the blink of an eye, his apocalyptic woes were over, and the indeed-gratified Dr. Emma Torres was prepared to invite the next client into her office, just as soon as she wiped away his already-forgotten remains with a tissue and chucked it in the trash.

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THE END (but not the last we'll ever see of this setting)