RR Janet Greene - Chapter 10

PREVIOUS CHAPTER    |   START FROM THE BEGINNING | NEXT CHAPTER

Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

Chapter 10 - We’re Half-Way There…

[February 12th, 2010]

Janet slid a ring off her chubby ring finger and dropped it into the jar. It landed with a thud in the nest of socks; it wasn’t as big as Matt, but it was the same weight–at least.

“Here you go.  This is the perfect chore for someone your size.  And you should be honored because it's one of Miss Janet’s favorite things in the whole world. It needs a good cleaning and since you’re so teeny-tiny, you’ll be able to get into all the little nooks and crannies.”

Matt stared at the ring.  This wasn’t going to be fun, but honestly at this point…whatever.  Compared to what he’d been through so far, this was practically a vacation. He looked up at Janet. “I don’t have any cleaning supplies, Miss Janet.”

“Oh, you don’t need cleaning supplies, Linty!”  She said brightly as she leaned closer. She flicked her tongue and laughed.  “You’ve got something much better.  Your mouth.”

Matt hesitated, his gaze flickering between the tarnished ring and Janet’s chipper grin. “I’d…I’d really prefer cleaning supplies, Miss Janet.  I think I can finish way faster that way.”

Janet waived a dismissive hand.  “Oh, don’t worry about speed, Linty.  You’ve got all night to finish so you’re free to take your time.

The nerve of this bitch…

“I just…I think I could do a better job with a rag…some soap…anything else.”

Matt’s surroundings rustled as Janet’s big, powerful thighs retreated from the sides of his mason jar. The jar tilted forward, leaning against the crotch of her underwear–but just for a moment before Matt and his jar soared up toward Janet’s face.

“I don’t understand how you don’t understand how things work around here by now.”

The mock sympathy and self-important pomposity was gone from her voice. Matt cowered and sank into the nest of Janet’s socks, strongly preferring her typical, intolerable sass over the intensity and darkness that replaced it.  

“You don’t get to make requests.  I told you what to do, and you’re going to do it.  It’s really that simple.  I’m not about to waste soap or dirty any rags when you’ve got a perfectly good, self-cleaning tongue. Not to mention the stuff on the ring itself that we’d be wasting if you used a rag.”

Matt’s face and neck burned with shame and anger, mostly at himself for not daring to put up a fight. He knew that he needed to quit while he was ahead.  Honestly, it was a surprise and blessing that she hadn’t already just shrugged her shoulders and stuffed him back in her butt for his perceived insolence. Matt didn’t have the luxury of indiscriminately picking fights with this psycho woman, not when he was almost guaranteed to lose.  He had to pick his fights carefully, and this was just a ring, after all.  It’s not like it was a toe ring or anything exceptionally gross.  Matt shivered at the thought.

“You’re right, Miss Janet.  I’m sorry.”

Her expression started to soften and some (but not all) of that obnoxious smugness returned to her upturned lips. “This is better, Linty. I think you’ll see that I was right, as I always am. You’ll be using your mouth, that’s final. And you better get used to it because a lot of your chores are going to be this way, but they don’t have to be this unpleasant unless you make it that way. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

She held his prison jar steady up at her face, staring and waiting in uncomfortable silence.  And Matt knew what she was waiting for. He stumbled awkwardly among the uneven platform of bright, colorful cotton toward the silver ring. Matt didn’t know much about jewelry but from his vantage point, he could clearly see how inexpensive the ring was; if she were paying to have it cleaned, she’d have been better off just buying a new ring altogether.  

He was close enough now to make out the dark buildup of skin, dirt, and soap crammed into the small, intricate engravings of the outer band. A normal-sized person would have mistaken the inside of the band as ‘smooth’, but Matt’s tiny size granted him the perspective to notice all the imperfections.  The inner band wasn’t smooth at all, instead littered with small pockmarks and dimples. Most of them were at least halfway filled, like clogged pores, with the same buildup he’d seen on the outerband. There were tiny, almost invisible scratches crisscrossing the inner band’s metal, like faint spiderwebs woven by time and wear.  

And there was one final detail:  an engraving in fancy cursive lettering. 

BL + JG.

JG was obviously Janet Greene, but who was BL?  Probably an old boyfriend, first and only most likely, who she probably couldn’t let go of.

The cheap purple jewel adorning the top appeared the most clean so that’s where Matt started.  He pressed his tightly pursed lips against the jewel and kissed her ring.

“There’s my little helper!” Janet said brightly, her cheerfulness returning as though it had never left. The condescension dripped freely from her voice, through the lid’s tiny air holes, and down over Matt like a shower of filth from which he couldn’t get away. 

“Feel free to kiss it all you want–you’ve got all night. But don’t forget the nooks and crannies! That’s where you’ll find all the really good stuff.”

Matt clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting with humiliation as she placed the jar on the table next to her chair, giving it a final tap with her finger before turning her attention back to the TV.

A small part of Matt hoped that, as Janet flipped through the channels, she would eventually come to stop on a program that he would enjoy watching.  The larger part of him knew that there was no way he could ever be that lucky. 

Sure enough, the rapid channel flicking ceased and Matt audibly groaned.

Why wouldn’t she watch this drivel?

“Jersey Shore!” Janet squealed.  “Oh, it’s a re-run but I don’t even care. I LOVE this episode!” There was a loud crinkling sound as a fresh bag of chips, conveniently but not coincidentally stationed next to her recliner, came to rest in her lap.  When she popped it open and dug in, the living room filled with the smell of sour cream and onion, one of Matt’s favorites.  Was he going to get any?  No.  Was she even going to ask?  Probably not.

“Who's your favorite from Jersey Shore, Linty?” Janet asked through a mouthful of masticated potato. 

Oh god, she had to be kidding. He had to actually talk to this beastly woman about her mind-rotting, trash television?

“I’ve never really watched–”

“--I couldn’t pick a favorite, honestly.” Janet continued facing the TV as she spoke to Matt, her muffled words finding their way out from between her smacking lips and a mouthful of chewed chips.  “But I think you’ll appreciate this:  I’m 100% convinced that Snooki and Jenni are Participants.  Last season they were on a boat and the camera was on the boys, but I saw in the background Jenni reaching into her bathing suit bottom and then handing something to Snooki.  And then she put whatever it was down the back of her bathing suit bottom.  I think they’re sharing a subject!”

Matt shivered.  The only thing worse than ending up with Janet Greene might have been going to a Jersey Shore cast member…but not by much.

“God, I wish I recorded it.  I really should ask one of the doctors about it whenever we go in for our visit.”

Whenever that day was, it couldn’t get here quick enough for Matt.  His biggest fantasy right now involved being back at RR Labs.  He’d be as polite as he needed to be to Janet and the other women, but the second that he was back to normal size….god, they’d all be getting an earful. And the last thing he’d do before leaving is flip off that red-headed freckled receptionist bitch at the front desk.  Maybe he’d moon her, too.  Or piss in the floor-standing potted plant near the TV.  Oh, how fun it was to picture her resting bitch face react.  Matt wondered if Rusty did something similar.  He knew nothing of Rusty except that he, for a short time, was assigned to Janet.  Maybe he got a transfer to someone else just like Matt did with Kelly.  Or maybe he truly did just get to the end. Everything has an end, right?  And how long could an experiment about keeping men inside of a butt really last? No one can stop time, not Janet Greene, and not even the big-titted bitches working in that lab.  When the day came for this experiment to end, let any of those jezebelles even SUGGEST that he extend his stay in the experiment.  He’d sock them in the mouth.

For now, he just had to keep his eye on the prize.  Get out of this alive and unscathed. He had been ordered to use his tongue, but all it took was one lick along the tarnished surface for the metallic taste and faint grime to twist his stomach into a sailor’s knot. Instead, Matt resorted to slinging palm-sized rocks of debris and buildup from the crevices of Janet’s ring with his hands. Whenever the collection gathering at his feet got too large, he’d shuffle it about until the particles sank into the nest of socks, hopefully never to be seen again.  

All he heard for the next hour was horrifying accents coming from the TV and Janet’s obnoxious laughter.  There was plenty of munching as well as she absentmindedly plunged her hand into the crinkling bag every few seconds.  She occasionally took a break from staring between her propped up bare feet where the TV image rested, over toward Matt to check on his work.  She seemed satisfied each time before returning her gaze to the pale glow.  

Her laughter continued to break through the room as she watched her show, her wide mouth never less than half-filled with food.  Matt recognized it not as a laugh of someone happy and carefree; it was the hollow, grating sound of someone distracting herself from a reality too bleak to face.  She could fool herself all she wanted.  It didn’t matter how similar the nerve-grating laugh sounded to her genuine one, it was all for show–to convince Matt that she wasn’t actually devastatingly isolated from happiness.  Her shit-eating grin, her regular breaks into out of tune, offkey bursts of singing…she appeared cheerful, or at least she was trying to.  Janet Greene was a master at pretending, there was absolutely no doubt in Matt’s mind.  And her entire life revolved around this sad, low-lit, cramped place she called home.  With nothing else, and no one else, she was completely alone–and she was a loser. But he didn’t feel sorry for her; not one bit.  

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

“Don’t take too long of a break over there, Lazy Linty.” Janet cautioned with a cackle as she swallowed her final mouthful of chips from the empty bag. She tilted the bag up and poured the crumbs into her gaping maw  “Otherwise you’ll get too comfy and it’ll be harder to start back up again. Trust Miss Janet.”

Matt drug his arm across his forehead, mopping up the sweat. His forearms were on fire and his knuckles bore abrasions from reaching into the tight crevices where the jewel attached to the band. But sure…he’s the one who needs to stop being lazy..not the pale whale wiggling her chubby toes and humming 80’s pop songs while watching a show literally called “Bridalplasty”.

As he caught his breath, he noticed that Janet was still engrossed with the TV.  Some ditzy blonde was crying in her wedding dress because it was going to rain that day or something and Janet was scolding the frail old man who owned the venue.  

I guess it was his fault that it rained?  God, what bitches.

With Janet distracted, Matt felt empowered to take a few more moments to rest his sore arms and tired core. He noticed down by his feet a few flecks of dirt, oil, and skin buildup that he’d dislodged from the ring and gave the nest of socks a nice shake, trying to hide the buildup in the depths of the sock nest. His gaze then shifted to the contents of the end table upon which his mason jar rested.  Sharing his cluttered space with the mason jar was mostly trash: crumbs, wrappers, and a sticky glass of flat soda.  But one thing that wasn’t trash stood out to him: a framed photograph that loomed over him like a towering monolith.

The image was framed in cheap plastic and the surface was smudged with fingerprints, but the subject of the photo was painfully clear.  It was Janet, sprawled out on her stomach atop an unlucky beach towel, toward the end of a sunny beach day.  She was wearing a horrendous, bright pink two-piece bathing suit that did its best to contain all her abundant excess.  Propped up by a single elbow and her chin planted on her palm, she waved to the cameraman with an arrogance and confidence that would never leave Matt anything other than bewildered.

And of course her massive ass dominated the frame. Even though her face was the closest thing to the camera, her splayed bottom was positioned front and center like it was the proudest feature of the shot.  Her enormous cheeks spilled outward endlessly, like two bowls of pale vanilla pudding turned upside down and lifted. Each cheek seemed to be frozen in mid-wobble as if they were captured mid-bounce. Jiggling from her wave, no doubt. Those fat orbs always jiggled.  The curves rose high, pale and stretching the limits of her too-small bathing suit bottoms.  The pink fabric had ridden up so severely that it was nearly invisible, only just barely there in the shadowy cleft of her globes.

But there was more to the picture. Something different. Near the water’s edge where seafoam separated water from sand, someone was stepping out of the waves. The sun was low, threatening to end the day and it glinted off her wet skin, casting her in a glowing, radiant orange-pink light. She was young, slender, and impossibly beautiful. Her elegance and grace formed a stark contrast to Janet’s pale, bloated, unflattering sprawl on the beach towel not more than a dozen feet away. The water that clung to her toned legs and flat stomach sparkled like diamonds. Her long light hair slicked back and cascaded down her shoulders in wet, shining waves.

Her swimsuit was simple and elegant—a modest jet-black one-piece that highlighted her natural beauty without trying too hard. She wasn’t posing or drawing attention to herself, yet her presence in the photo felt magnetic, stealing the focus from Janet’s overbearing display. She wasn’t even looking at the camera, she seemed to be shifting her luscious mane of blonde locks from her shoulders.  And yet her candid smile was poetry. It beamed a soft radiance that was profoundly breathtaking and effortlessly provocative, not smug and cringeworthy like the smile of Janet.

A light dusting of freckles flanked her cute button nose and created this aura of innocence and allure. Her eyes were so bright with excitement and optimism–it was like they were trying to convince him that the world wasn’t actually as bad as it seemed.  They pulled Matt in. And for a moment, the most wonderful thing happened.  His mind allowed him to forget, for just a few seconds, where he was.

Matt’s mind raced as he tried to reconcile the image of the woman’s youthful beauty with the oppressive, lonely reality of Janet’s existence. He wondered if they knew each other; it would explain why they were both in the same picture but the thought of this beauty associating with someone like Janet seemed too outlandish for reality. The two of them couldn’t have been more different. Matt stared closely at her body language, trying to pick out clues that might offer context.  The freckled blonde beauty wasn’t looking at Janet.  Her black-painted toes weren’t pointing in Janet’s direction so she wasn’t walking toward her.  At Janet’s towel, there was a weathered pair of black flip flops with white thongs he’d recognized earlier from Janet’s wall of footwear.  And a folded pair of capri jeans. And more snacks and wine than a normal person would bring to the beach.

There was nothing else–no additional footwear, no other outfits, no extra towels…nothing in the vicinity of the picture that gave Matt strong vibes of belonging to this beauty.  Okay, so he was right.  She was just some girl that Janet’s photographer happened to catch in the background. Probably on purpose, to be honest.  If the photographer from that day had his way, he probably would have rather snapped photos of the beautiful woman and cut Janet out entirely.  But maybe it was more spiritually serendipitous than a horny photographer’s plan. Maybe it was fate who chose to capture this beautiful stranger, for Matt’s benefit. Maybe the gorgeous woman in the one-piece was an angel sent from heaven, encouraging Matt to get through this nightmare.  Matt stared longingly and sighed. This girl, whoever she was, exuded everything Janet lacked—grace, poise, and a sense of self-awareness that didn’t demand attention or sympathy. She was everything Janet pretended to be but wasn’t. 

His gaze flicked back to Janet’s looming figure splayed out like warm jello in the recliner, her eyes still glued to the tube and her massive bare thighs still splayed into the cushion, crumbs dotting her shirt as she slurped at her tub of diet soda. It was just unbelievable. Janet had framed this photo—displayed it—without even noticing how much her own presence paled in comparison to the goddess of a young woman standing in the background. Or maybe she had noticed and didn’t care.

It was a good thing that Matt was almost done cleaning Janet’s ring because he found it very hard to focus after spotting the beauty in Janet’s photo.  He caught himself constantly stealing glances at her, like a high school boy with puppy love.  He’d alternate between getting hard gawking up at her and then immediately deflating whenever Janet let out a fart, a burp, a laugh, or in general whenever he returned to cleaning the easily-missable filth from Janet’s ring. He worked faster now, hoping to spend the remainder of his free time staring at the photo.  

“Ooo, I’m getting hungry.” Janet said, rubbing her stomach.

You literally just ate an entire bag of chips…

The recliner creaked as Janet drove her bare heels into the foot rest, sending the recliner up to a fully upright position.  In doing so, crumbs launched from her body and joined others that had long-since found themselves a home embedded in the carpet under her soles.  

“I’m thinking…chinese. There’s a really good place about 20 minutes away from here; they don’t deliver but the fried rice is seriously to die for.  It’s called Wok Star.”  Janet snorted.  “Isn’t that a funny name?  It’s like Rock star but they swapped Rock for Wok since they use woks and...”

Thanks for explaining the entire joke, genius. I wouldn’t have gotten it if not for–

Matt felt his heart skip a beat and interrupt both Janet’s continued ramblings about asian cookware and even his own inner monologue.  She was actually going to drag her fat ass out of this house and to the store?  And leave him with…what…at least forty minutes of alone time?!

Okay, fucking finally…

Matt had spent the entire day with Janet while she worked from home and he felt his little heart soar at the thought of finally being away from her.  And he felt his cock inflating like a life raft at the prospect of being alone with this photograph.  It wouldn’t be easy to ignore Janet’s boat-sized ass taking up 79/80th’s of the frame but Matt felt so starved for self-pleasure and self-care.  He had tunnel vision. All he saw was the pretty girl in the photo.

“Oh, look at you!” Janet said, kneeling down.  Startled and red-faced that he’d just been caught ogling the photo, Matt quickly looked away and up toward a massive face approaching his mason jar like the curious eye of a child at a zoo.

Her eyes squinted with exaggerated scrutiny. “You actually did a pretty decent job in there, Linty!”

Sigh…that was close.

“Thank you Miss Janet.”

“Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say?”

“Umm..yeah…I mean yes, Miss Janet.  So I think I’m just going to relax and take a breather, while you’re out.” Matt said.

Janet laughed, “Oh you wish, Linty.” Janet said, opening the mason jar.  “You know you’re coming with me.”

Matt felt his blood pressure start to increase.  “Miss Janet, I’ll be okay here. Really, you don’t have to.”

Don’t you fucking dare bring me.  Don’t take this away from me.  Lord knows if you’ll ever again leave this damn house again.  Give me my space! Give me a break!  Let me get more than a few feet away from you! Let me just remember what it feels like to not have you within arms reach.  Just for a few minutes!! I’ve spent all day with you. Please!

“I know I don’t have to.  I want to. Rule #6: If Miss Janet goes out, Linty goes out, too.” 

Matt squinted his eyes, more to himself than to Janet. 

Wasn’t Rule #6 about arguing?  

Whatever…no way Matt was going to bite into that deliciously ironic hook.

She traced an unlucky hand along her unattractive, plump glute. A few taps with her palm and her hefty bun jiggled like jello.  “...and 99 times out of 100, you’ll be in here.”

WHY?!  Why are you doing this?!  I’ve clocked 13 fucking hours in your ass!  MORE than 13! What does 40 minutes matter to you?  It means the world to me! Just let me decompress from all of this!

Janet plucked her ring along with Matt out of the sock-filled mason jar.  “Oh, this looks great.  Good job, Linty!  I mean, it’s not perfect or anything like that.” She added, giving the ring a quick shake before sliding it back onto her finger.  “But I didn’t expect perfection. You’re still you, after all!” She chuckled at her own joke and as with most of her jokes, she was the only one laughing.  “But still, I’ll give credit where credit is due.  That little mouth of yours did wonders.”

Matt hung limply in her grasp, his limbs aching from the awkward position and hours of hard labor. He quickly scanned down at the colorful socks hundreds of feet below him.  He couldn’t make out any of the buildup and gunk that he’d plucked out and he hoped that Janet didn’t notice it either.  

“And it does a body good, am I right?” She laughed, poking his stomach. “It’s like a win/win for both of us.”

Does a body good? What the hell are you talking about?

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“If you put this kind of effort into everything I ask you to do, I think you’ll find that being here with Miss Janet can actually be pretty wonderful.” Janet grinned.  “Anyway, it’s time to go.”

Matt whimpered as Janet lowered him to her rotund backside.  Her pink panties had been gobbled up by the lumpy dough balls of fat which were temporarily tattooed with the wrinkled textures of her recliner’s crumpled cushion. The grooves and ridges from the fabric of the chair were stamped into her bulbous glutes all the way down to the back of her knees and the indentations created hideous shadows under the low light of her living room.

The waistband of her bottoms cut deeper into her hips to compensate for the tug, creating soft rolls that spilled over the edges. The bulk of her cheek flesh rippled and jiggled as she bounced on her heels, for what Matt believed could be no other reason than to tease him. She lowered him closer to the shadowy cleft waiting below her panty line.  Waiting for him. 

The heat radiating from Janet’s body tickled Matt’s bare feet and then ascended over him like a disgusting ooze, and the faint musk of sweat crescendoed into absurdity as her meaty cheeks spread just enough to accept him. The soft flesh engulfed him immediately, the warmth and pressure swallowing him whole as she wedged him deep as he could go into her crack.

The weight of her glutes settled on and around him, pressing in from all sides with a suffocating firmness and warmth as the waistband over his head snapped back into place against her broad lower back. Janet gave her rear a satisfied pat, the sound echoing and reverberating through Matt’s fleshy, rank prison. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” she cooed, wiggling her hips to adjust him deeper into place. The motion rhythmic, unbearable waves of pressure through Matt, the soft, heavy flesh shifting around him like an oscillating avalanche. “We gotta hurry, Linty.  Wok Star closes in an hour.”

Janet’s enormous, thick, sound-insulating butt cheeks blocked out all but the faintest sounds but he could still make out the radio…and guess what she was listening to…

“The hottest hits, the greatest vibes–Arizona’s 80’s heartbeat!”

“Heeeeey, Arizona!  The sun’s dippin’ and she’s taking the hot weather with her. Temperature’s down to 74 degrees but the vibes are just getting hotter and hotter here on KZZP 104.7 Desert Pop FM!  We’re keeping the 80’s alive and kicking all day long, just like we do every day. So get comfy in your seat, turn down the ol’ air conditioner and crank up that stereo! Here comes some David Bowie.”

Fuck…seriously? I hate Arizona…

Even if he could somehow escape his prison of rancid flesh, how long would it take him to get back?  Matt’s mind drew another picture of Kelli.  Oh, how far away she was at her college on the east coast.  In her small, shitty room.  He remembered cringing whenever he’d hear her footsteps thumping up the steps.  He would have given anything to hear those footsteps right now, coming to save him from this.

The rumble of her car’s engine as she drove, the hum of a drive-thru speaker as she placed her order, the laughter of people nearby–it all reached him in muted, warped tones, coming from a world to which his membership had been revoked.  

She was much more excited on the drive home, wiggling her wide hips and grinding her overflowing ass into the driver’s seat. The temperature was much higher as well.  So hot that he could feel sweat droplets the size of basketballs seeping through Janet’s large pores and clinging to his skin.  

Why the hell is it so hot right now?  Did she actually turn the heat on?

Not only was the heat on, but she’d also activated her heated seats.  But why?! The fast-talking lady on the radio said it was 74 degrees outside! Was wedging him between her chubby butt cheeks not enough of an undeserved punishment? Was she literally just trying to torture him?

“Ohhhh! We’re halfway there!  Whoa Whoaaaa! Linty’s in my derriere!  Kiss my cheeks and we’ll make it I swear!”

As if Bon Jovi wasn’t terrible enough on their own…Jeez, adding a healthy dose of Janet into the mix was enough to destroy anything.  The first time he’d caught one of Janet’s devastating farts directly to the face, chest, and stomach, Matt sincerely thought he was deaf.  He’d have taken another one of those eardrum-rupturing eruptions if it meant he didn’t have to listen to Janet accompany Jon Bon Jovi.  

Matt didn’t know how far away the light at the end of this tunnel was, but he knew that one day he’d get to the other side of it.  And when he did, he’d burn each and every mix CD sheltering an 80’s pop song.

~