RR Janet Greene - Chapter 6

What started off as a small, one-shot vignette has grown into its own full-fledged RR story. It's underwent some name changes over time, starting as Grass is Always Greener. Then it was renamed to the standard RR naming convention, sharing space with Kelli Carson. But Kelli's gone...for now! The final evolution of this story's title will be Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

I'm very proud of what this has grown into and I urge the customer who helped me to create it to take some credit below in the comments :)

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Reduction & Relocation: Janet Greene

Chapter 6 - Naked

[February 12th, 2010]

Matt couldn’t move his arms.  He couldn’t move his legs.  Could he move anything?  Nope.  His entire body was rendered motionless by a head-to-toe strip of double-sided sticky tape, holding him firmly against a bright pink sphere.  Where was he?  What was that strange scuffing of rubber echoing around him? What the hell was this sphere he found himself attached to? What were those massive, soft peach pillars and why was he being rolled up them?

“Serve’s up!”

Oh.

Thick, muscular thighs bulged with subtlety below the stretched cuffs of her tight purple shorts. She was getting into position. A quick rub of her massive hands along either side of him and then Matt and the volleyball soared straight up. This must have been what astronauts felt like! His stomach plummeted, threatening to split between his legs and shoot down to his feet.  The volleyball spun just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her face, and then the next second stretched on into minutes.

What a cute smile she had.

There was a deafening crack as Thunder Thighs’s palm crashed with nuclear force.  Matt was launched into the air, taped helpless to the spinning, ascending volleyball.  The propulsion ripped the breath from his lungs as he soared over the net and toward a gaggle of similarly dressed, similarly voluptuous, similarly smiling and engaged young women.

The return would come from a mousy brunette on the other team.  Due to Matt’s current spin, the events played out like a rapid slideshow.  He watched as she clasped her arms and turned her narrow forearms up. And her ponytail bounced as she bumped the ball high.  It was a great bump, and from his vantage point near the ceiling, the girls all looked as small as he was.  He was easily three times higher now, and counting literal seconds until the earth rushed back up to meet him.  And the girls swarmed to his anticipated landing zone.

Another hit and another, each girl sending him flying to someone else.  Another hit from another girl. It was an elegant, light tap with just the fingertips–close to the net and softly straight up.  Matt watched enough of his pretty, blonde, high school crushes playing volleyball to know exactly what this girl was doing.  She was setting one of her teammates up for a spike.

Matt watched the spiker–probably the team captain, lock eyes with him, her crystal blues calculating exactly where he’d land.  And oh, was she good!  

Her thick legs coiled like springs beneath her skin-tight shorts and her flat stomach flexed as her core tightened.  She was airborne now, just like Matt was, jumping up to meet him in his descent.

“Nooooooo!” Matt wailed as she drew back her hand.  Her breasts bounced and waved, as if laughing at the pitiful attempt of her sports bra to contain them.  Matt could have drawn every detail from memory–the chipped pink polish on her nails, the subtle sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead and upper lip…and that smug smile.

In one swift, brutal motion, her palm slammed into the ball, centered directly over Matt’s pinned, splayed body.  The shockwave rippled several times around the circumference of the ball like a planet-cracking earthquake.  The force of her spike sent him over the net, rocketing down toward the gymnasium floor.  Sneakers squeaked as several girls tried to reach him, but he was going way too fast.  

“Point!”

One of the teams seemed celebrated, hugging the spiker and hoisting her up onto their shoulders.  None of them cared about Matt anymore, now that he was out of play.  None of them except for one. She set a pale pink Nike sneaker atop the spinning, rolling ball to stop it where it was.

“You really do just get yourself into the silliest situations, don’t you?”

Matt’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that voice. 

“No…it can’t be..”

The notes of her giggle were sweet sugar falling from the sky.   She used the toe of her sneaker to expertly rotate the ball just enough so that Matt was now looking straight up. The high overhead light fixtures cast a warm halo around her head.  Or maybe she truly was an angel all along.  

“...Kelli?”

She picked him up, ever-so-gently, giving him a tantalizing view of her thick thighs.  She wore purple shorts just like the other winning girls and they were just as tight, but she took it a step further, having rolled the waistband up twice around her trim stomach to expose even more tantalizing thigh. She always did that with her nylon shorts, Matt remembered. 

But her shorts were blue with white trim–her school colors.  She always wore her school colors for athletics. Why was she wearing purple?

“Those big mean girls were so rough with you, huh?  Especially Kelsey.  If it makes you feel better, I didn’t hit the ball, not even one time.”

Matt was in awe of her.  He’d never looked at her this way before. “Kelli, please…I’m….I’m so sorry.”

Kelli tilted her head, genuinely and adorably confused, “You’re sorry? Whatchya talking about, Matthew?”

She began peeling him off the ball, and Matt leaned into her touch.  It was heavenly and soft, and he didn’t question how he got here. Despite the cloud of her overworked body’s humidity surrounding him, he felt himself sinking into her safety as she cradled him against her damp chest.

Bouncing steps followed and the giggling of the volleyball girls grew delightfully faint with each passing step. Matt thought that Kelli was taking him home, but when he left the comfort of her breasts, they were in a completely different room.  It wasn’t the gymnasium or locker room or anything like that.  But it also wasn’t Kelli’s room. Why did he feel like he’s been here before?  

She was wearing a pristine white spaghetti strap t-shirt and form-fitting, figure-enhancing (as if she needed it) leggings. Wasn’t she just in a volleyball uniform?  When did she have time to change her entire outfit? And why were the leggings that color of green?  God, what was it about that color?  Something about it…just made his stomach uneasy. 

“Kelli, I…I missed you.” Matt said.

Kelli’s eyes widened, sparkling with charming excitement. Then her mouth curved into an infectious smile.

“You missed me?!” Kelli squealed, her voice going up at least a full octave as her grip on Matt instinctively tightened–not painfully, but enough to remind him how impossibly small he was in her hands.  “Oh my gosh, Matthew!  You’ve never said something like that before! You’re just the cutest little thing ever!”

Her knees buckled and she let herself fall backward onto a brown recliner. It was old, weathered, beaten-up, and it didn’t match Kelli’s beauty or brightness in the slightest, and yet she knew exactly where the lever was to pop up the footrest.  Her pink Nikes thudded against the flattened brown carpet.

“You have no idea how much I missed you too!” she gushed, nuzzling Matt against her warm cheek as though he were a cherished treasure. She was the center of his world but that was okay, because he felt like he was the center of hers.

“So what have you been up to, Matthew?” Kelli asked.  “Are you all caught up on your shows?  We can put on one; whatever you like.”

Matt smiled, “That…would actually be so great.  Thank you, Kelli.”

Kelli beamed, and then her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh!  Guess what? I picked up a new hobby. You wanna see?” she asked, leaning back in the recliner. Her toned arm stretched over the side, reaching for something hidden out of Matt’s view.

Matt shifted uneasily in her hand; he suddenly became aware of the room’s temperature and it was making it hard to think straight. “Kelli, where are we?” he asked, his voice quivering as sweat began to bead along his tiny forehead. The air felt oppressively heavy, as if the thermostat had been cranked to its limit.

Kelli’s head tilted thoughtfully, her expression both playful and distant. “Ya know, to be perfectly honest, I don’t actually know where I am,” she said, her tone nonchalant as she looked around. Then her bright eyes snapped back to him, brimming with a sense of certainty and finality. “But I do know that you’re home.”

Matt’s stomach twisted.

What the hell does that mean?  This isn’t my home.

Before he could reply, Kelli let out a delighted chirp, “Oh! Here it is!”

Her hand reappeared, clutching something long and metallic. As she lifted it into view, Matt tilted his head in confusion.

“Is that… uh…”

“It’s a trombone!” Kelli beamed as she hoisted the heavy instrument onto her lap, her thick thighs flexing slightly under the snug embrace of her leggings as she placed Matt gently on a nearby wooden end table.

Matt blinked, still reeling. “I… guess it is?” He couldn’t reconcile the image of bubbly, effervescent Kelli so proudly clutching the brass monstrosity now gleaming in her hands.

“Check this out. I’m actually getting pretty good at it.” she said, her confidence radiating as she positioned the trombone. “I think I might be a natural.”

The heat in the room was smoldering now, as if someone had turned the thermostat to max and then smashed it with a baseball bat. Matt wiped the sweat from his face, the salty and gritty sting burning his eyes like it was sea water. The humidity clung to him like a suffocating blanket. His gaze darted to Kelli, who was obliviously positioning the trombone with the enthusiasm of a kid showing off their favorite toy. There was something so wrong about this–something so wrong about all of this. It was so hot, and what was that smell?

“Kelli…” he uttered, his voice faltering.

She glanced at him briefly, her lips curving into a mischievous smile before she raised the instrument to her mouth. Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, the snug spaghetti strap top stretched that much tighter over her breasts.

“Kelli, please!” he shouted, his voice barely audible against the suffocating silence.

Her lips pursed around the mouthpiece and then she winked.

Before Matt could say another word, she blew with all her might.

The low, bassy rumble reverberated through Matt’s bones.  His eyes snapped open and he gasped with a yearning for fresh air as the remnants of Kelli’s beautiful face faded away. Matt found himself in his all-too-familiar, horribly worse nightmare. The soft, suffocating heat around him was inescapable, and he knew exactly where he was: wedged deep between the immense, fat ass cheeks of Janet Greene. Every inch of his tiny naked body was smothered by her overpowering, excessive presence. Her warm, plush flesh pressed against him on all sides, holding him captive in a prison of soft skin that he could never escape from on his own, but at least now she seemed to be lying on her stomach so the pressure wasn’t as great as it could have been. 

Matt was cast in pitch-black darkness but he didn’t need light to know that the walls of flesh surrounding him were slick with more than just perspiration. He’d been blasted awake, and the residue of the gritty blast glazed him as much as the plump cheek meat that imprisoned him. 

Pppprrrrrrttt!

Another hot, oppressive gust of foul air blasted his entire body, and thank god her panties were made of cotton and would allow at least some of it out into the open air on the other side!  The cloud of noxious stink was permitted to seep through that thin fabric but even so, the heat was akin to a furnace set to full blast.

Once his ears stopped ringing, the smell really took hold of his senses.  It was rancid, putrid, and agonizing.  The stink of stale, trash air that had been trapped inside her massive body, appreciating and aging for who knew how long. He tried to turn his head away, but it was no use; he was too small to overpower such hefty buns that wanted nothing more than to hug the life out of him.  His vision blurred as his lungs fought for oxygen, and he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.  Or was it just condensation of her muggy crack? A humiliating mix of helplessness and disgust washed over him. The thick, sweltering air clung to him like a damp fog on the hottest summer morning, leaving him to wait for something…anything to change.

But at least he didn’t have to wait long.

Without warning, he felt it—a gravitational shift, a change in the relentless and astonishing pressure around him. The heavy, fleshy walls on either side of him gave a slow, lumbering rise. Her butt cheeks were spreading. Amidst the spread cheeks were two fingers, collecting ample perspiration as they entered her cleavage of her glutes, searching.  They finally found what they were looking for: him, entombed in the deep crevice and Matt clung to those fingers with a frantic desperation as if they might change their minds at any moment and leave him in here for the rest of his life.

His body, barely tall enough to extend from fingertip to knuckle, was caught between finger and thumb.  She tugged him out from the deep recesses of her crack and those big doughy cheeks fought like hell to keep him buried inside. The remnants of her rank ass clung to him as he was peeled away, making the experience all the more degrading. He gasped for air as her immense, steaming buns parted, the cold rush of the outside air a sudden shock against his tiny, overheated body.

“Good morning, little thing” Janet murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. Her eyes were still half-closed and her hair was a mess of tangles.

Not a morning person…who could have guessed that?

There was no acknowledgment of what she had put him through, no apology for the hours spent wedged between her sweaty cheeks, nor for the explosive farts that had blasted him awake. To her, it was just a fact of life—his place beneath her, literally.

He hung helplessly in the firm grip of her fingers, dangling in the air like an insignificant bug. Janet barely glanced at him, her focus elsewhere as she casually fixed her waistband.

Janet's fingers tightened slightly around him as she brought him up to her face, a casual flicker of curiosity crossing her half-asleep expression. Her mouth stretched wide as she let out an exaggerated yawn, blowing warm, humid morning breath across his entire body. Matt couldn’t decide which end of this disgusting human being smelled worse.  Then, as if he were just another part of her morning routine, she inspected him as her lips curled into a lazy smile. 

“Now that’s an alarm clock nobody could sleep through, am I right?” Janet cackled. “It even woke me up!”

Her enormous brown eyes blinked slowly, shedding accumulated sleep crust that a normal sized person might not have noticed.  Ignorance was bliss and unfortunately for Matt, ignorance was a privilege not provided.  He could only stare, too weak and humiliated to respond but he knew he had to.  He could see in her face that she expected a response.  

“Good morning, Miss Janet.”

“How did you sleep?”

Matt struggled, both to find the words and conceal his boiling rage. “I…it was difficult to get comfortable, Miss Janet.”

She laughed.  And good God, did he hate that laugh. In fact, it was less of a laugh and more like a pig choking on its last meal.

“Not comfy enough?  Are you saying I need to eat more and get these things bigger and softer for you?” her palm gently tapped her expansive left glute and it rippled like an orbular waterbed.  “I think she’s plenty big enough but it’s like I always say, I don’t need more than a little nudge to throw away the lid for my pint of Ben & Jerry’s, if you know what I mean.”

“There was just a lot of tossing and turning.  I was having a hard time finding–”

“--oh yeah, I’ve always been that way.” Janet said. “I’ve been told I moonlight as a dancer.”

How could she be so cruel? And care so little about what she was putting him through?

Janet reached down with a free hand and tugged at the seat of her panties.

“Wow, I think a shower’s in order after that.  What do you think?”

“Good idea, Miss Janet.”

Janet’s fingers lowered Matt toward her dresser. He was high enough that he didn’t have to stare head-on into her gross ass or love handles, although chest-height wasn’t much more pleasant of a view. Really there was no good view of Janet Greene.  The best would have been from behind because it might have meant she was getting further away, but then he’d have to deal with watching the nauseating sway of her hips.  

Her grip loosened just enough to let him tumble onto the cool wooden surface and then her hand darted for the top drawer. His tiny legs wobbled beneath him as he stood up.  Gravity seemed to work differently in her crack, and without the strong pressure of her massive cheeks to hold him in place, Matt found himself actually struggling to maintain balance.

From his vantage point, the dresser seemed like an endless plain of glossy dark wood, and Janet loomed high above him like a living, breathing mountain. 

His eyes wandered over the dresser, settling on the personal items scattered haphazardly. It was a welcome break from the demonstration of cleavage as Janet reached into her lower drawers.  Towering makeup bottles and perfume stood like buildings on a city block, though Matt doubted she wore makeup…or perfume for that matter. A hairbrush lay on its side, larger than him as most things were, and its spiked bristles held a dense, tangled net of Janet’s auburn-brown hair. There were also hair ties and scrunchies. Jewelry and trinkets. But the thing that caught his attention, drawing an involuntary grimace across his face, were the framed photographs that dotted the space around him.

The pictures were of Janet in her younger years, posed with the same smug and completely unfounded confidence she exuded now. 

Jesus, she was hideous even then.

In one frame, she wore a cheerleading outfit. Her hair was tied up into tacky pigtails, with that stupid, smug smile plastered across her slightly less fat face.  It must have been a halloween costume because there was no way a girl like her could have been a cheerleader. She looked more like a bloated chipmunk than someone people would cheer with. 

“Oh, I haven’t worn these in awhile.” The air from the drawer wafted out, carrying with it the faint scent of clean laundry as Janet pulled out a pair of pastel pink panties with white polka dots. She continued rummaging, allowing Matt more time to admire Janet’s photographs as one might admire a derailed train.

Another photo showed her at prom, wearing some gaudy pink dress that hugged her already thickening figure. How the hell could you be so confident looking like that? Her arms looked doughy, her face round and flushed, but she still had that delusional self-assurance—like she thought she was hot stuff. Matt’s lip curled in disgust. 

She looked like an overstuffed sausage, standing there with one hand on her hip, like she was posing for the cover of some trashy magazine. The bright red lipstick smeared on her lips looked more like clown paint than anything seductive. There was no date to be seen in the picture, and Matt would have bet his life that she waddled to that dance just as alone as she was in the photograph. Even in her “prime”, Matt would have run full-speed from her. And time hadn’t done this woman a single favor.

“Like what you see?”

Matt flinched.  Back to reality with the abrasive cruelty of Janet’s voice.  Looking up, he saw her smirking down at him.  How long was she watching him?

“I know what you’re thinking.  ‘Miss Janet, you were a looker back then, too?’” 

Matt was actually thinking something different–when she looked down at him like that, she appeared to have three chins instead of just two.  But he didn’t tell her that.  Instead, he just said, “Yes, Miss Janet.”

She scooped him up off the dresser–with nowhere near the level of care or respect that Kelli used to.  “Alright, time to get clean.” She collected all of her items, including Matt, into her left hand. Matt winced as she pressed his tiny body into her pink panties and balled them up. At least they smelled good…that surely wouldn’t last.

The tiled surface of Janet’s bathroom counter was far more cold than the dresser (and obviously millions of times colder than her sweltering fat ass).  It was so cold, in fact, that Matt could literally feel the tile sucking warmth from him, starting at his bare feet and working up his legs.  Janet neither noticed nor cared–obviously. Janet popped open a pill bottle; it looked like a standard prescription bottle but instead of being amber orange, it was some kind of purple color.  She barely glanced at him as she popped a pill or two and then continued about her routine, reaching for the hem of her oversized sleep T-shirt.

His stomach twisted as she casually pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. He winced at the sight, involuntarily recoiling. Even her back was gross, showcasing an unapologetic display of thick rolls. Her wide hips and bloated thighs jiggled with each movement as she removed her socks and then finally peeled her tight underwear off her expansive ass. 

Janet was now just as naked as Matt.

She didn’t bother covering herself or showing the slightest bit of modesty, completely indifferent to his presence. Matt felt his face flush with a mix of disgust and humiliation as she kicked her crumpled dirty clothes into a disorganized, colorful ball on the floor. It wasn’t just the sight of her body that made his skin crawl; it was how utterly unbothered she was by it.

She doesn’t care that I’m here and that I can see her. She doesn’t even think of me as a person.

To her, it must have been like getting naked in front of a family pet. He was so insignificant that it didn’t matter if she was naked or not. His opinion of her—of her revolting body—was utterly irrelevant. Somehow that realization stung more than anything else.

~