RR Janet Greene - Chapter 7

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Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

Chapter 7 - Don’t Tell Me to Smile

[February 12th, 2010]

“Ooo, chilly floor, chilly floor!” Janet squealed, quickly padding over to the plush bathroom rug near the tub.  

“Yeah, no shit…” Matt grumbled. Janet could have stood there on the cold floor long enough for her chubby, block feet to warm up the tile, but little Matt’s feet had no shot at warming what may as well have been an ice cube beneath him. He couldn’t tolerate having both feet on the tiled counter at once so he was forced to alternate, hopping from foot to foot. Pair that with the chattering teeth and hands clasped under his armpits, and his fight against the chill looked more like the most pathetic dance ever. 

Pathetic to him, but adorable to Janet apparently.

“Awwww, are you cold, little thing?”

Matt couldn’t hide the look of incredulity on his face.  

Yes, and stop calling me that you bitch.  My name is Matt.

He didn’t say that though, he only nodded his head up to the heavy woman. And then he remembered he couldn’t just remain silent. That was apparently just as bad.

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“Well, you want these to stand on?” Janet picked the pastel pink panties up off the toilet seat and modeled them in her fingers, as if to tease him with what that cotton barrier could do for his freezing feet.

“Yes, Miss Janet.” Matt’s teeth chattered as he nodded his head.

A contemptible smirk grew on the buxom torturess’s face.  “Beg me.”

In that moment, Matt felt convinced that happiness was a finite resource in the universe.  And this vampiric travesty of a woman could only gain hers by stealing it from him.

“W…what?”

His humiliation deepened as she stepped closer to the counter, her massive body looming over him like a fleshy wall, casting a shadow over his tiny form. He coveted the warmth radiating from her skin, and he condemned the offensive smell of her body odor. She stood there, completely exposed, as if daring him to look—no, forcing him to look.

Her pubic region, her womanhood, the very thing that seemed to give Janet her power, was a hairy, unkempt mess.  Matt couldn’t say he was surprised. Why would she shave or even trim down there if no one was going to be seeing it?  No one except him, that is…

He cringed as the tangled dense forest of pubic hair seemed to reach out for him…as if the dark tufts were a part of her soft, fleshy mound’s predatory arsenal…and this was just how she captured her pathetic, helpless prey. 

Snatched up into a snatch.  Wouldn’t that just be disgustingly poetic?

“You heard me just fine, little thing.  I know that you did.  That’s another rule, by the way! Don’t ask me to repeat things for no reason. But just this time, I’ll humor you.” Janet grinned.  Her presence over him loomed like a storm cloud threatening to crack open with thunder. Considering the hefty bulk of her body, Janet’s breasts weren’t nearly large enough to look appealing on her figure.  But they were the size of jiggly-jello mobile homes to him as they hung menacingly over his head.

“I told you…to beg me.”

Every curse word Matt had ever uttered himself or had heard raced through his head like a scrolling marquee moving at the speed of sound.  He wanted to scream at her and chastise her, he wanted to make her cry.  He could smell the fresh detergent smell of the clean panties in her hand, and he wanted to stand on them so, so bad.  But Matt was more than a slave to Janet–he was a slave to his temper…and she could clearly see it in his face as he stared on, trying to decide what to say.

But since he was trying to decide what to say, he wasn’t actually saying anything.

“Oh, that’s really interesting. You know what I’m seeing right now?” Janet asked, leaning down to get a closer look at Matt.  His peripherals became consumed as each of her palms settled on the counter around him and her hanging breasts drew even closer overhead.

Matt didn’t make any guesses as to what Janet was getting at, which only made the smile on her face grow larger.  

“I see way too much pride.  More pride that should be able to fit in a tiny little thing like you. People don’t like that, you know. But if that’s the way you want it, fine.”

With that, Janet returned the pristine, clean pair of pastel pink panties to the toilet seat.  

Matt should have expected that, but he didn’t.  And now he regretted not just playing along. 

“Miss Janet, please.  I’m sorry, I’m just…going through a lot..please…can I please stand on them?”

 “You don’t have to apologize, little thing. It’s not gonna do you any good. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood this morning, little thing.” Janet cackled, her heavy breasts swaying as she reached down to the pile of discarded clothes by her feet. Her hand returned holding her crumpled pair of lavender panties. "Don’t worry.  I’m not gonna make you beg. I mean, you’re clearly above all that, right?” 

Without asking, Janet spread her well-worn, soiled lavender panties out in front of him on the counter, smoothing them flat like she was offering some grand gesture of kindness. Try as she might to smooth them, the wrinkles returned as soon as her fingers let up, and the stains and streaks?  They weren’t going anywhere either…

"Here you go, little thing," she said, her tone sickeningly sweet. "These panties are actually even better than the pink ones. As comfy as they are, I probably shouldn’t wear them for a third day in a row! But for you, they’re perfect.  They’re nice and soft, and they’re still nice and toasty from hugging my hips all night. They’ll warm those little feetsies of yours right up.” She winked at him, her lips curling into a smug grin as she turned away from him and toward the tub.  

She didn’t need to make him step onto the soiled, stained panties.  She knew that his feet were freezing.  She knew that he was weak.  She knew he would do it on his own. 

He wasn’t anywhere near happy about the situation or happy with himself, but Matt stepped onto the warm fabric, immediately relieved as the heat imparted on the nauseatingly damp fabric from her body temperature soaked into his freezing feet. The softness and warmth was undeniable, and for a brief moment, he was grateful for the slight reprieve from the chill. But as soon as he breathed in, the overpowering scent hit him like a wall. 

They say heat rises, but the stink seemed to wrap around his head like a blanket and hover. The sharp, pungent aroma of sweat, the remnants of her explosive farts, and days of accrued body odor filled his nose. The strong, sour smell of her worn underwear was reminiscent of cumin and it clung to him, invading his senses, making it impossible to ignore. He hated how she could reduce him to this, how she could make him grateful for something so degrading. His stomach turned and flipped, screaming for him to climb off the soiled underwear.  His feet, however, begged him to swallow his pride, stifle his gag, and stay in the suffocating scent.

Matt’s revulsion only grew as Janet bent over to adjust the shower's temperature, her enormous rear swaying in full view and those jello-jiggly butt cheeks spreading enough to show the dark depths of her most private area.

Blegh!  How can she be so fucking confident?

The way she carried herself—like she was actually proud of that body, flaunting every stretch mark and blatant imperfection. It was mind-boggling to him.

Matt stood silently on the counter, trapped in the nest of Janet’s dirty panties like a baby bird in a tall tree. His eyes followed her as she stepped toward the shower. The steam billowed out as she slid the shower door open and stepped inside.  It almost would have been worth it to shower with her if it meant he could have warmed up. 

Getting cleaned wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world either.  Now that Matt wasn’t obsessing over losing his body heat to the frigid counter top, he was free to focus on the other miseries of his life–and there were many…but right now all he could think about was the layers of repulsive grime and sweat caked over his naked body.  

Spend an evening buried in the asscrack of an overweight, gassy middle-aged woman and I don’t care who you are, you’re gonna be gross too.

He would have used Janet’s underwear to at least dry-rub himself down but he had trouble finding a spot that wasn’t already more soiled than he.  It seemed that every square inch was saturated with sweat or discolored from riding as deep in her crack as he did. Touching that to his skin would have been like trying to dry off with a towel that had just been under water.

Resigned to his current state of gritty filthiness, Matt found the driest patch among her musky panties and took a seat. With nothing else to occupy his mind, he watched Janet bathe. Not because he was interested in her, good lord!  He had a vested interest in seeing how thorough she was going to be with her cleaning.

Matt hadn’t been with Janet long, but his pessimism and his aptitude for pattern recognition led him to a pretty logical conclusion.  He knew that Janet was going to stuff him back between her thick, plump butt cheeks, and his only hope for any semblance of comfort in the coming hours lay solely with the hope that, at the very least, she would clean herself thoroughly.

Please, for the love of God–if nothing else, just wash your fat ass properly.

He kept his eyes on her as she lazily danced under the shower head, her hands gliding over her soft skin without much care or attention. She was in no hurry, of course. Enjoying that hot water–must have been nice. And that water pressure…god, it looked incredible. She was definitely the type to never rush when it came to pampering herself. Matt’s heart beat faster as she reached for her fluffy loofah.  She loaded it up with several pumps from a lavender-colored body lotion bottle and the loofa nearly doubled as the white suds grew. For a moment, Matt felt a flicker of hope as she scrubbed the loofa into her shoulders and neck, her armpits and breasts.  This was good…she looked to be going thorough.  The loofa toured the undersides of her glistening breasts and then scrubbed down the pouch of her stomach. Matt rubbed his hands nervously, watching Janet wash her body with the same nervousness as a lush who had bet it all on a horse race.

Okay, okay…not AS MUCH soap as I’d like there to be before she gets to her ass, but that’s alright.  There should still be enough. Yeah, that should be plenty.

She rotated on her heels, the sloshing of water down at her bare feet, unable to get down the drain quick enough, splashed up over the edge of the tub and soaked into the thick shower rug. And now her bubbly fat ass was on full display, as if deliberately presenting to Matt her shiny, rippling rump and then the loofa planted a soft soapy kiss on each butt cheek.  And then his hope crumbled.  The loofa traced the length of her crack–and yes, it completely disappeared between her cheeks as it passed south to north but that didn’t mean she’d gotten in there deep.  That meant her ass was just that bulky and fat.

The loofa briefly toured the full length of her crack before peeking back up and out near her lower back.  Her glistening butt cheeks jiggled in response to the quick scrub and then the loofa quickly retreated from Janet’s ass and disappeared around her waist, out of Matt’s view, and nuzzled into her crotch.

That was it?! That was barely a scrub! Barely a credit card swipe! 

His gut twisted as she continued down her thighs and the bitter realization sank in. Should he really be surprised?  Honestly, should it really shock him that on top of all the undesirable aspects of Janet, poor hygiene was on the list? That brief touch of soap between her cheeks wasn’t going to do a damn thing. A quick swipe, like it didn’t even matter. And really, should it have mattered to someone like her?  She wasn’t the one who had to live in there, so why should she care?

This can’t be happening…

Matt’s stomach churned in despair. She was going to shove him right back in there, where every bit of leftover sweat and filth would latch onto the grimy crystals of ass sweat currently digging into his skin and create a new layer of filth on his naked body.

But Janet, of course, was far too busy in her own world to detect the lamentations of little Matt. She was belting out some terrible rendition of an old pop song, turning the shampoo bottle into her very own makeshift microphone. She swung her hips and twirled dramatically as she sang, and all Matt could do was stand there, helpless and disgusted as every movement sent her enormous ass, stomach, thighs, triceps, and breasts jiggling.

"♪ Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat, it’s gonna take an ironman to sweep me off my feet! ♪" 

It’s superman, you dense cow. Not ironman…and neither of them could lift your fat ass anyway… 

Her voice was loud and obnoxious enough on its own, and the echoing properties of that bathroom certainly didn’t help! And still she continued gyrating obscenely, even feeling herself up and shooting what she’d probably call ‘playful’ looks in his direction. She was performing for him, and he wanted to throw up.  

Meanwhile, the one thing that actually mattered—cleaning her damn crack—was an afterthought, at best. She’d moved on from that and never went back. She didn’t even care. She didn’t have to. Matt was the one who would be shoved back in there, not her. His fate was inevitable, and she couldn’t be bothered to take even the slightest bit of care to make it more bearable.

Matt watched in misery as Janet rinsed and tossed the spent loofah back onto the shower shelf. 

The things that poor loofa had seen…

But Matt only had so much room for sympathy as his experience was a million times worse.  At least that little loofa got to rest on that hook in the privacy of the dark bathroom when she wasn’t there.  How much time had Matt gotten away from Janet?  Practically none.

She twisted the shower knob and the water slowed from a steady stream to a weak trickle at her bare feet.  That shower had fallen far below Matt’s standards for cleanliness. By comparison, Kelli spent more time and attention when washing just her feet!  Matt realized now just how much he’d taken that for granted.  He’d taken so much of his arrangement with Kelli for granted. 

Janet carried the steamy heat of the fresh water with her toward Matt’s island atop her dirty panties, pulling all the excess water she could from her hair into a fresh towel. 

“Are you going to clean me now, Miss Janet?” There was nothing more revolting than the taste of politefulness and respect leaving his scowling mouth.  

Janet moved on to drying the rest of her body, not acknowledging Matt’s pressing question nor his irritated, cross-armed stance.  He couldn’t blame her lack of ability to divide attention between him and drying her body. Firstly, she was probably stupid and secondly, there was a whole lot of square footage to dry.

“Miss Janet?”

She might not have cared to answer.  More likely than not she just didn’t hear his pleas, and the same could be said about the audible gasp that escaped his lips next. As Janet bent over to pick up her clean underwear, her massive cheeks parted, revealing the grim depths of her horrifying crack. 

Matt stole a glimpse of her spread cheeks earlier when she was in the shower but now she was less than a foot away…and oh, how he cursed his 20/20 vision.  He grimaced and nearly stumbled backward because his body didn’t permit his eyes to look away.  It was like a car crash.  It was like the end of the world.  It was already clear that Janet didn’t take care of herself and now, looking up close, literally where the sun didn’t shine, the details were unmistakable. Discolored patches of irritation decorated the plump flesh and took on a darker hue of peach-brown, having never known the sun or even natural light for more than a few minutes at a time.  The walls were caked with sweat and grime which should have all been washed away if Janet knew how to take a proper shower.  Greasy strands of hair decorated the entire length of her moist crevice.

She was literally just in the shower…how can her ass still be so dirty??

And at the center of all that horror was the monster of the movie.  Janet Greene’s asshole.

They say that the scariest thing about monsters is what the viewer imagines that they could be–and that even simply revealing the monster squashes a substantial amount of that fear.  

This was not the case with Janet’s asshole.  Despite having been pressed firmly against it and having been blasted by it, this was the first time Matt was actually seeing it in the light. The camera in his mind flashed against his will and he knew he’d never rid himself of that photograph, now embedded and copied into the wrinkles of his brain.  He would have given up anything to forget it.  

The ring was tight and wrinkled, and the skin around it had graduated from the pale, sun-starved peach of her glutes to a revolting stained dark brown. While the hair in Janet’s crack was sparse compared to her mound, there still existed a relative wiry black forest around the wrinkled, pulsing hole. To date, he’d been in two asses (three if you count the blonde-braided, fake, chipper bitch at RR Labs with the fancy yoga pants and the huge ass), but until now, he’d been lucky enough to never have the light required to actually see what those disgusting orbs of flesh, fat, and muscle hid from the world. 

He stared on in horror, not only how objectively repulsive the sight was, but poor Matt had the added layer of torment knowing that there was a very good chance he’d be entering that crack again–that he’d have to squiggle and flail against that pulsing, puffy ring. It looked like it could and would swallow him whole. 

Janet’s back straightened and her dense, doughy cheeks quaked with a vengeance before they resealed around her dark crack and awful asshole. One final jiggle was enough for it to peek once more at Matt, and it offered just one more wink at him before disappearing behind the flesh, as if to say ‘see you again soon.’  Acidic bile tickled the lower half of his throat, and Matt somehow avoided throwing up.

How can you have no modesty? And so much disrespect for me?!

She still hadn’t acknowledged him yet.  Would she ever?

“Miss Janet, please.”

Maybe if she wasn’t humming more god-awful 80’s songs, she’d actually be able to hear Matt trying to be heard!  Janet slipped her bare feet into the legholes of her panties, one thunder-thigh at a time.  She almost toppled over at one point but unfortunately caught her balance.  Her wide hips swayed as she pulled them up her trunk-like thighs, and those big, jiggly cheeks bounced like twin molds of jello as the fabric thinned from stretching. 

Those pink panties had looked spotless compared to the lavender pair currently protecting Matt from the freezing cold counter. However, he realized now that laundry detergent and a wash cycle could only do so much.  As Janet hiked the panties further up her thickening thighs, generous expansion of the girly pink fabric revealed that while the panties now stretching over her bulbous bare ass might have been machine-washed, the stain-ridden fabric had actually given up on being clean a long time ago.  

Sure, the scent of her musk and ass had been pummeled out but the stains remained like scars. Matt watched in a paralysis of anger, disgust, and fear as the white trim of her generously stretchy waistband finally snapped tightly around her waist, sealing away her twin globes tightly enough that their great divide was still so obscenely visible.  The panties might have fit her better back when they weren’t so stain-ridden, but now the threadbare fabric clung to her curvature like an undersized net, molding her amorphous fat rear into a shape that somehow looked even more grotesque than her naked ass.

Matt had enough of being ignored. Who the fuck did she think she was? He cupped his hands around his face and shouted. 

“MISS JANET!”

The oblivious behemoth finally turned her head to face Matt and she locked eyes with him.  

“Oh, was that you squeaking this whole time?” Janet cackled, tugging at the leg holes of her underwear to unrestrict the blood flow in her thighs.  “You’re a lot quieter than Rusty was, but then again he was a decent bit bigger than you.”

Rusty?  Who the hell…good lord, nevermind, I don’t think I wanna know…

Matt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “Miss Janet, are you going to–”

“--what are you trying to say to me, little thing?” She pushed the damp hair out of her ear. “You need to speak up!”

“I said..I mean, I asked, are you going to clean me…..Miss Janet?” He couldn’t hide the annoyance anymore. The hothead in him couldn’t sugarcoat his tone anymore than it already was and the pragmatic thinker in him hoped that the titaness wouldn’t pick up on it.

Janet set her hand upon the broad shelf that was her hip and cocked it out.  “I dunno.  Are you going to ask me nicely?”

“Miss Janet, can you please–”

Ooof!

Janet swept Matt off of the counter and plucked him out of her dirty panties.  She tossed them into the hamper near her bed and made her way to the kitchen.  Matt whimpered in her palm, as dirty as ever.  It looked like she did pick up on his annoyance and frustration.  But he didn’t allow himself to believe that it was the reason Janet denied him a cleaning.  He remained grimey and sweat-ridden, but that was going to happen anyway, right?  Janet was never going to wash him off, he just knew it.

She looked down at him now, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she adjusted the waistband of her panties. "I have to admit, this is kinda new but it’s actually really cute how tiny you are. Makes it easy for me, you know? You fit perfectly wherever I decide to put you," she continued, her voice light and airy, like she was chatting with a friend about something trivial. "You didn’t mind being in my crack all night, did you? I mean, I’m sure it’s the best place for someone like you to be, right?"

Janet gave her butt a little pat, smoothing out the fabric of her panties as if to remind him exactly where he’d been. "I bet it felt like a little cocoon, huh? All safe and snug between my big ol’ cheeks." She smiled down at him, that patronizing smile that made Matt feel even smaller than he already was.

"I mean, you’re so small, I doubt you could’ve been uncomfortable down there. Not like you take up much space, right?" she teased, her voice playful and sweet, but with that ever-present note of dominance. Superiority may as well have been tattooed onto Janet Greene’s vocal chords.

She turned back to the mirror, giving herself a once-over, adjusting her hair and inspecting her reflection with a satisfied hum. "You’re lucky, you know?" she said casually, tossing a glance his way. "Not every guy gets to be this close to a woman like me. But you don’t have to try at all, do you? It’s like you were just…made for it." Her laughter was soft but sharp, cutting into him like a blade wrapped in silk. “It’s like my buttcrack is a lock, and you’re the key.”

Janet had decided on a very similar outfit to what she wore yesterday, and probably every day before that: leggings that hugged her thick thighs so tight that they almost looked shapely, and a casual top that looked like it had been picked for comfort rather than style. Her green leggings terminated a few inches above where her ankles should have been.  No shoes, no socks. Her shirt, stretched snugly over her tits, warped the bold, bright, unapologetic letters across her chest.  However, Matt could still read the shirt, unfortunately. 

Don’t Tell Me to Smile. 

Matt scoffed to himself, loud enough for some much-needed catharsis but quiet enough to be unheard.  

Don’t worry, no one wants to see you smile. Oh my god, does she always dress like this?

Matt’s hands balled into fists, but he remained silent, redirecting his gaze to something slightly less offensive like the vast expanse of the dresser, unable to escape the crushing weight of her words.

Janet continued fussing with her appearance, oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling inside him. To her, he was just an accessory, a cute little toy to play with, torture, and tuck away whenever she pleased. She didn’t wait for an answer. She never did. Her words were more for her own amusement than anything else. Matt could feel his face flushing as he stared up at her, powerless and belittled, her towering form casting a long shadow over him.

~