RR Janet Greene - Chapter 13

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Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

Chapter 13 - Matt’s Guardian Angel

[Starting February 14th, 2010]

There are some records that shouldn’t be broken.  Worst night of your life was one of those records and unfortunately for Matt, he was breaking it constantly. The last of Janet’s ass sweat was gone within a few hours of her falling asleep, either evaporating against the cool air permeating her underwear or sliding down Matt’s non-consenting throat and stomach. But it’s not as if Janet knew that the flow had stopped.  It’s not as if Janet would have cared if she’d known. Nope, she just kept snoring away, occasionally blasting him with a rank fart, clouding his atmosphere in a sulfuric and muggy haze from which he couldn’t escape. And the worst part of that was that he could only breathe through his nose! And if he’d somehow suckled enough from the sponge to not have saltwater going up his nose, all he could smell was the everlasting residue of Janet’s hot, humid, heavy, eggy farts fogging up her crack like a sulfuric cloud.

It was around noon the next day when Janet finally removed what she endearingly called The Sponge Helmet from Matt’s skull. He could see his teeth marks in the flesh of the sponge as Janet set the torture device in his mason jar.  The replacement jar.   You know…since she shattered the last one into a million pieces the other day in a murderous rage?  Remember that?

The first thing Matt did with his newly reclaimed oral freedom was try to shut his mouth…but he realized with a measurable amount of panic that he could do no such thing.  His jaw had been pried open for so long, it was actually stuck agape! Janet didn’t notice, which was fine with Matt.  She probably would have just laughed at him anyway.  Luckily for Matt, his jaw just needed time to remember how to close.

“Wow, look at that belly!” Janet cackled, poking Matt’s bulging stomach with her pinky finger.  “Is that all Janet Juice sloshing around in there? I think I can hear it!  You were up eating all night long, huh?  Well, that’s perfectly fine; that’s what it's there for after all. And it’s gonna make you big and strong, Linty.  Just you wait and see!”

He hated himself for admitting it, even if the concession lived in the deepest recesses of his mind where no one else could see, but she was right–at least in some capacity.  A warmth had spread through him, and not just the suffocating oppressive body heat emanating from her ample buttock flesh.  His limbs felt stronger; his mind felt less foggy.  It was sustenance, plain and simple.  With every mouthful swallowed, the taste of Janet’s sweat became less like sharp, salty fire and more–

–fuck that.  Fuck all of that right the fuck off. I am NOT using any word that I’d use for actual food…

With every ounce of sweat swallowed, Matt felt like he’d surrendered an ounce of his dignity.  And without his dignity, he realized that the initial burning sensation against his taste buds was more from the humiliation than the actual taste.  He wasn’t hungry or thirsty anymore, but he felt a profound sense of weakness and destitute.  What would his friends think of him if they knew?  What would his family think?  Could he ever have a girlfriend again? What if girls had an extra sense that they just didn’t tell boys about? And they could tell that he’d lived in an ass?  That he drank sweat?  That he breathed farts?  That he’d become Janet Greene’s bitch.

Matt figured he had seen the last of the Sponge Helmet.  At this point, he wasn’t going to fight Janet anymore…not on this at least.  He knew her well enough now to know she wasn’t going to cave.  She took it way too seriously.  And honestly, being hungry or thirsty every waking moment of his life would have been worse than occasionally having to…ugh…fill up on some ‘Janet Juice’.  

It didn’t take much antagonizing and interrogating from Janet for Matt to confess most of this to her.  He thought he was in the clear.  She dropped him into his mason jar with a pair of sunglasses and had him clean the greasy nose pieces and crud that lodged itself into the crevices of her lens and frame.  Whatever…as gross as that was, his strategy of hiding the gunk in the nest of socks would work just as well as it did for when he cleaned the ring.  He realized, by the way, that all her talk about filling up and food whenever he was cleaning the ring wasn’t an accident. She really must have expected him to consume the dirt, gunk, and dead skin he was pulling from the ring.  And now the glasses. Good god, no thanks.  If they looked clean and she couldn’t find the flecks, he’d be okay. If he was doing his chores, that meant he wasn’t in her butt.  And if he was…ugh…voluntarily drinking from her, that meant he didn’t have to wear that god-awful sponge again, he’d do whatever. 

And anyone who wants to judge me for that can shut the fuck up or come fucking fight me. I can’t even find the words to describe how dehumanizing it is to lap up sweat like a fucking dog, much less from an overweight, ‘wears leggings all day’, ‘owns more take-out containers than actual plates’, ‘cat-lady without the cats’ slob of a woman…and you know what?  I don’t have to be able to articulate all that to know that it's far less worse than having it beer-bonged down my throat via something straight out of a Saw movie. I’m never wearing that thing again.  Never.

Matt finished cleaning Janet’s glasses as quickly as he could.  She was on her treadmill now, her footfalls heavy as elephant steps that shook the entire living room.  He grimaced upon seeing all that plump flesh dancing and jiggling with each gallop, barely contained under her dampening t-shirt and mint-green leggings. He’d do what he had to do to keep that retched device off his head, even if it was going to take every ounce of his strength to convince himself that this was okay. Matt turned away from the atomic-bomb blasts that were Janet Greene and her thunderous footfalls on a treadmill, eager now to lose himself in that wonderful photograph he often admired from his perch on the end table. 

Matt was firmly wedged in Janet’s crack during the whole time she cleaned up the mess resulting from her rage the other day.  As much as Matt hated being in there, it was probably for the best this time. If he was out in the open, within line of sight where she could see him, it’d make it easier for her to get triggered, blame him, and punish him all over again.  It didn’t mean he could escape all wraths, of course.  It seemed that a new blast of gas was waiting any moment she even tightened her core, bending over at the waist, sweeping.  But Matt sincerely couldn’t decide if he’d rather be out there dealing with Janet’s face than her asshole.  Sad to say, it was much closer than it should have been.

When he next saw the area by her recliner, fully cleaned and restored, Matt was disappointed to see that there was one thing missing–the only thing he cared about. The photograph had not been returned.  

At first, he held his tongue, hoping that Janet would just return it on her own, but she didn’t.  He hadn’t even made it beyond the first morning before he began obsessively worrying that maybe Janet didn’t value the photograph the same way that he did. Maybe in her throes of destruction, the photograph had been torn or crumpled.  And instead of taking the time to repair it or reframe it, she simply threw it out.  The thought was too much for Matt to bear.  He wanted to wait…it wasn’t even noon yet!  But this could be a time-sensitive matter.  He had to know if she still had it. It was a hard decision that he didn’t take lightly, but he needed to say something.  And oh, how he regretted it the moment the question escaped his lips!

“Oh, does someone miss seeing Miss Janet in her skimpy little two-piece? I’ll bet you think of Miss Janet when you hear me singing that Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny bikini song, dontcha?” Janet teased, poking gently at Matt’s naked body.  “I would think that you get enough throughout the day, huh? And night; haha!” Janet cackled, anchoring her hands on her wide waist and shaking her hips, although it was mostly her breasts and belly that shook.  

“But you know what, it really does make perfect sense.  I’ve always had this way of making men insatiable.” She patted Matt on his head. “And since you used to be a man, I can see how my charms would work doubly on you. We’ll have to make a trip to the craft store and get a new frame but don’t worry, little Linty.  I’ll have your inspiration back up in no time. And I’ll try to think of a way you can repay me.” If only she knew how much of Matt’s focus it took to keep her half of the photo in the unfocused background of his mind…and it was all so that he could focus on the other woman.  

The beautiful stranger.  

She was just so gorgeous. So perfect.  His guardian angel. The woman in the one-piece bikini with the salt-water slicked blonde hair. Just the fact that she existed somewhere out there filled Matt with a foreign, nearly unrecognizable sense of optimism about the world. She was a source of light for Matt in the darkest of dark.  And she could convey all of this to Matt in just one picture.  One single frame of her life. Wow.

If he wasn’t separated by two layers of glass (his mason jar and the frame cover), Matt might have chewed Janet and her fat ass out of that photograph like a rabbit would chew through cardboard, leaving behind the only thing he wanted to look at in that picture.  If he squinted his eyes just right, Matt could pretend that it was only her on the beach that day.  And as long as he was fantasizing, maybe he was the one who took the picture of her.  Maybe he was the one who wrapped her up in a big, soft beach towel and kissed her on the cheek. And then maybe later that evening he’d plant another kiss on that adorable birthmark on her inner thigh.  

For the first time since leaving Kelli, Matt felt his flaccid cock beginning to unfold and inflate. And what a good feeling that was; feeling that blood engorging the tissue and creating a rock-hard shaft reminded him that he was a human, but more than that it reminded him he was a man.  It returned to him a fraction of the pride and sense of self-worth that had been taken from him by the evil women of RR Labs, dumb-but-probably-mostly-well-meaning Kelli, and most of all Janet.

Oh, no…

As soon as Janet entered his mind, his cock started to deflate. It didn’t help that the clumsy earthquake thuds near him were coming from her either. But she was so distracted right now.  Matt circled his fingers around his shaft and stared at the beautiful woman in the photograph.  And just like that, his member was throbbing again.  He gave two soft tugs against the sensitive skin of his penis and he gasped. It was almost enough right there to send him over the edge!  The life and possibility in that smile.  The curiosity and optimism in those eyes.  Those huge breasts packed so tightly in that one-piece…

Matt sprawled out on the bed of Janet’s socks, battling the uncontrollable impulse to glance over at Janet sprawled on the beach blanket.  Why was he punishing himself like this? While she was close enough to reach out and touch him, her attention was elsewhere. The same couldn’t be said for the beached whale in the two-piece.  She was watching him relentlessly as he pumped.  He squinted his eyes, trying to black Janet out of the photograph as he started pumping just a little bit faster–tightening the grip on his cock.  He was a man again, and nothing else existed in his world except for him and this mysterious young woman.  

And then, far too soon, Matt heard those dreaded three beeps. Following right behind was the mechanical gears of the treadmill slowing as too did the pounding rhythm of her foot falls. He watched the shake of her soaking wet triceps as she fixed her sloppy ponytail, but only enough to keep most of the hair out of her face.  The last thing he wanted to do was watch her waddle over toward him, but he needed something to kill his throbbing erection, and it worked.

“And now it’s lunch time for Miss Janet and her Linty!” Janet sang with a shrill sharpness through rapid huffed breaths.  She probably thought about food the entire time she was on that treadmill…

Janet plunged one hand into the mason jar to retrieve Matt.  Her other hand was coming out of the back of her leggings.  And when that hand came back out, into Matt’s field of vision, his entire body went cold.

“No…no, no, no..” He murmured, shaking his head in dismay.  This wasn’t possible.  She couldn’t be serious.

It was the Sponge Helmet. The sponge was already dark and saturated. She must have stuffed it between her cheeks prior to her workout.

“Did you say something, Linty?” Janet huffed, still trying to catch her breath from her workout.

“Miss Janet, please!” Matt begged, his words spilling out in a frantic rush.  “I..don’t–I mean, you don’t have to put that on me anymore.  I promise that you don’t! I promise that I’ll…”

Matt faltered, his throat constricting as bile rose at the thought of saying the words.  Thinking about them was bad enough! But the sight of the dark, dripping sponge left him no choice. 

“...I'll do what you wanted me to do. I learned my lesson last night. Please.”

Janet’s lips curled as she brought the sponge closer. Matt’s eyes widened as the acrid stench assaulted his nostrils.

“Let me make something clear to you, Linty…because I think you’re confused.” Janet’s tone was calm but laced with authority. The sponge swayed dangerously close to him now. 

“You didn’t wear the sponge last night as a punishment.  You wore the sponge last night because I needed to feed you, and you wouldn’t let me.” Janet said, as if she were speaking to a child just learning about the phenomenon of cause-and-effect. 

Before Matt could respond, the sponge slapped against his face with a sickening wet squelch, the force making him gag as if he were being waterboarded. His muffled cries of disgust were instantly extinguished as Janet gave the sponge a final press, ensuring it fit snugly over his mouth.  He immediately had to switch all his efforts from resisting to swallowing. Matt speculated with devastating misery that he may never get another erection again after all this.

“Good boy.” Janet said, tightening the pink straps around his head. “I’m glad that you’re not going to do your silly little hunger strike anymore and you’re going to feed yourself from now on.  That’s going to make your life a lot easier, believe me. Nobody likes a fussy eater. But you’re still going to wear your Sponge Helmet today for lunch. That’s your punishment for last night.  And you’ll be wearing it for dinner. And just for good measure, you’ll be wearing it to bed again tonight.”

She leaned in closer, her breath warm and unpleasant as it mingled with his oxygen supply.  “Depending on how good you are, maybe you’ll wear it tomorrow too.  And the next day.  And maybe forever if you’re really bad. This wasn’t meant to be permanent, but you broke a lot of my rules last night, Linty.  Important ones.  Like the arguing one?  You thought Miss Janet forgot about that, huh?  Well, she didn’t.  Miss Janet doesn’t forget.” She puckered up her lips and kissed the small gap of air between them.  “Maybe it won’t matter how good you are. I haven’t decided yet.”

Matt was forced to keep wearing the Sponge Helmet. She would blame the extended punishment on whatever she could. But in the absence of even the most minor of behavioral infractions, Janet took no issue with extending just for the sake of it.  She had stopped passing her sweat onto Matt through a drenched paper towel like she did that first day.  Something about not needing to waste them. The action of feeding him became far less ceremonial and flashy and much more like a mindless duty.  Instead of bringing the sweat to him, she’d bring him to the sweat.  

The routine became a grotesque ritual of her literally using him like some sort of sweat-absorbing tool. Janet’s creativity knew no bounds and since the sponge dutifully passed to him whatever it absorbed, Matt found himself sampling the perspiration from nearly every inch of her revolting body. 

“Bet you didn’t know knees could sweat this much, huh?” Janet said cheerfully as she rolled Matt along the backs of her knees, searching for and finding every rogue drop. “My recliner is one of the comfiest I’ve ever owned but it doesn’t breathe that well.” 

In front of the mirror she’d stand, her damp leggings pulled halfway down as she brought Matt’s face and his sponge to the inner curve of her thighs. They radiated enough post-workout that the flesh might have burnt him if it wasn’t so lubricated. The sponge dutifully absorbed sweat from the slick curvature and as Matt imbibed, Janet would make a point of gently clenching.  “Maybe you could even double as a little pad to help with thigh chafe.”

She would also slide him back and forth under her armpit like a glue stick over construction paper. Janet’s underarm routine was, by far, one of the most excruciating for Matt—not because of the intense heat or overwhelming smell, but because of the brutal stubble that scraped against his skin like sandpaper.

As she pressed him into the damp hollow of her armpit, the coarse, short prickly hairs dragged across his exposed body, catching on his sensitive skin. Every stroke felt like he was being scoured by a thousand tiny needles, each one irritating and raw. The sponge squelched and compressed against her skin, especially when she lowered her arm and clamped him into her pit. The stubbles occasionally caught the porous surface causing the sponge to jut painfully against his face.

“It’s okay if a girl forgets to shave every once in a while. Think of this as a little exfoliation, Linty. Be grateful that I shave at all.”

And of course, as if there would be doubt in anyone’s mind, she’d use him to absorb the sweat between her glutes.  As much as the tiny little sponge-stomach team could, anyway.  She’d methodically work him from the tops of her thighs to the base of her spine, swiping him like a credit card deep between the pillowy mounds of plump, peachy flesh over and over and over again. The sweat was often strongest here, both in flavor and in quantity, and Matt would have to consciously bypass his swallowing reflex and let the perspiration slide down his throat.  He’d often wonder why she couldn’t attack her crack with her soapy loofah using this same tenacity.

** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

February 16th, Tuesday

After four days of wearing the Sponge Helmet, Janet was where she usually was when preparing his breakfast: on the treadmill.  She collapsed onto the recliner and scooped him out of his jar. Her sneakers landed with two thuds upon the carpet and Matt winced, waiting for that familiar feeling of the pink strap tightening around his back, and the dried, salted sponge bullying its way between his lips.  But much to Matt’s confusion, the Sponge Helmet was not in Janet’s other hand. 

“Do we need to keep doing the sponge thing, Linty?” Janet asked, red-faced and fanning herself.

“No, Miss Janet!” Matt said with an eagerness that provoked a belly laugh from his captor. “Well, that’s good to hear.  Cause Miss Janet is having a hard time preparing every one of your meals like this.  Miss Janet doesn’t need anywhere near that much exercise, right?”

“No, Miss Janet.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to drink from a dripping faucet anytime you want instead of being force-fed from a gushing firehose three times a day? It’d be so much better for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“It’s nice of me to be thinking of you like that, isn’t it?” Janet said, raising an eyebrow at the growing flatness and shrinking enthusiasm in Matt’s tone. “If you don’t agree, we could keep doing the fire hose if you want.”

“NO, Miss Janet!” Matt exclaimed, causing himself to flinch from an expression a bit too enthusiastic. “I…I really appreciate you thinking of me.”

“Okay then.” Janet said with a smirk.  She leaned forward, forcing out an audible groan as her belly and breasts compressed.  Matt thought she might be returning him to her crack but instead, she continued to stretch down toward the footrest of her recliner.  Where her feet were resting. 

They were more pink than normal. The tops, from her toes to her ankles, carried indentations from her sneakers.  She must have been running without socks on. Yuck. Despite how beaten down and flattened the armrests of Janet’s recliner were, they were luxury-soft compared to the foot rest.  There were cracks in the leather all throughout, and the color was several shades a darker brown than the rest.  Each foot towered over him like a building. At the top of the agonizingly long, vertical landscape of glistening wrinkles were five wiggling toes. They rested at the peak of each foot and flexed as if to call him up.  But there was no way he could scale her sole. 

Her sole shifted suddenly, and a sweat-laden gust of air moved his way.  Her foot rolled over to its side like a toppled statue, causing her toes to splay open before him, at his level.  Janet’s toes were one of the few things he interacted with that were smaller than he was, and yet they carried a formidable stench of sweat and musk that was so strong it caused Matt’s chest to tighten.  

“Go on.” Janet said, wiggling her toes.  “Don’t be shy now, Linty.  You said you could do this yourself and you didn’t need Miss Janet’s help.  I’m waiting.”

Matt’s mind hesitated but his body betrayed him. He was already crawling toward the heat emanating from her foot and those rancid plump toes. He aligned his body within their natural curl and he buried his face.  His lips parted, and the salty, pungent scent overwhelmed him once more. His throat felt dry, but not for long. His tongue slipped out and ran over the pungent skin. As he licked the salty sweat from her toes, the taste hit him almost immediately—salty, tangy, incredibly intense, but less unbearable than when he’d started.  Worse than her knee sweat, belly sweat, and the sweat that would accumulate under her breasts…yes.  But not nearly as bad as her ass sweat.  Nothing really was. 

Matt kept licking, desperate to prove he could handle it. His small hands reached out to steady himself against her foot, feeling the soft, plush surface as his tongue swept along the crevices of her toes. 

“How cute is this?” Janet’s chuckle echoed from above, and when she spoke again, there was no hiding her amusement. "Look at you, Linty.  So eager. It looks good on you, really."

Matt couldn’t bring himself to stop, even as the taste lingered on his tongue, as the heat from her foot grew almost unbearable. The viscous fluid was satiating him and if he was going to do this, he may as well get all the benefits he could.  He licked faster now, his movements instinctual, hoping to satiate the hunger that gnawed at him while also getting this over with as quickly as he could.

After she’d decided that he had his fill, Janet plucked him out from between her toes like a stubborn weed and returned him to his jar, but not before telling Matt that it would do him well to remember something.  She opened the top drawer of the end table and pulled out the Sponge Helmet. 

“I’ve still got it, Linty.” She dangled it playfully against the curved glass of his jar. “And we’ll use it again if we have to.  And remember…there are plenty of other flavors of ‘Janet Juice’ you can try…and the best part for me is that most of them I wouldn’t even need to work up a sweat for.”

~

Stay tuned for the next chapter in Janet Greene's story!

Chapter 14 - Every Day is 'Take-Your-Linty-to-Work' Day