ROYAL REWARD: Trapped in the Cat's Crack, Part 3 (Shortstack, Butt Entrapment, 2nd Person)

In the end, Nyanko spends almost half an hour on the seesaw. Half an hour of kicking off the floor and flying up, up, up towards the apex of her arc… Before falling straight back down to the ground again, where the seesaw strikes the earth and, by proxy, slaps your captor’s enormous buttcheeks. They ripple like a pair of giant puddings and, in the process, strike you with the impact as well. By the time Nyanko finishes, your thoughts barely make sense; everything has been slapped out of order and disturbed.

Finally, leaving the playground behind her, Nyanko waddles out of the park and in the direction of the city center, her fat cheeks swinging from side to side behind her, bouncing you, stunned, from one cheek to the other in the process. 

“N-Nyanko!” you cry, struggling to find the strength to speak. “Nyanko, where are you going?” 

She’s humming to herself, and she clearly doesn’t notice you. Even if you had a chance of being heard over her self-distraction, it’s soon drowned out by the sounds of cars and pedestrians, many of the latter commenting on Nyanko’s ridiculous rear. You feel an odd tinge of embarrassment, as if, as its passenger, you’re in some way responsible for its state. 

“Nyanko!” you cry again, louder than the first. Maybe if you can get her attention, you can direct her to somewhere a little more private? “Nyanko!” 

She doesn’t answer. Instead, your reply is the sound of an automatic door swishing open. Followed by a catgirl’s excited ‘oooooo~!’.

You shudder. What’s caught her attention this time?

“...So many pretty clothes, nya.” 

You sigh in relief. Well, that’s not too bad, at least. After all, she could have found a car dealership. You wouldn’t want to be trapped in her ass on a test drive. …Then again, it might just be the safest place to be.

Nyanko lurches into motion, throwing you about. Battered, you lose track of time again, until at last Nyanko comes to a stop, and you hear the swish of curtains. 

You cock your head, one eyebrow raised in thought. Where is she now? In the changing rooms?

“Nyalala, nyalala, changing~, changing~.” 

It seems like a good bet.

You hear the rustle of clothing as she drops her skirt and strips off her top, followed by the twang of her unclasping her bra straps. You blush, despite yourself. Though you’re tucked nicely into her butt, you nonetheless feel strangely embarrassed by the idea she’s undressing. You wonder what that says about you. Probably nothing good. 

Nyanko isn’t wearing any panties, of course, so no sooner is her bra off than she starts trying on her new clothes. 

For a moment, you lie there in confusion, wondering what she’s bought. Then a line of mint green nylon slices through her cheeks and almost bisects you, giving you an answer, if not the one you want. Oh, it’s a skimpy one-piece bikini. Of course.

“Ooo,” says Nyanko. “It’s soooo tight.” You hear a twang as she pulls the nylon taut, and the bikini’s crotch slams into your face, threatening to cut your body in twain. You squeal and gasp, slapping her cheeks. She’s certainly not wrong. 

“Ooops,” says Nyanko after a moment of your struggling. “Sorry, nya. I forgot nyou were in there.” Giggling, she releases the straps, and her swimwear stops strangling you.

“Thanks,” you pant, struggling to recover your breath. You feel like you’ve been halfway strangled. 

“What do you think about it?” she asks.

“Me?” You don’t really know, on account of not actually having seen it. “One moment.” Digging your hands deep into her cheeks, you clamber upward, up, up, questing for the surface like a diver short on air. Finally, with a great gasp, you pop free of her. The cooler air is like a slap in itself. 

As expected, you’re in a changing room. Ahead, a portrait of Nyanko from behind, a familiar face poking out of her ass. As you examine her in the glass, you notice the beautiful mint bikini digging into her curves. It’s like seeing a chunk of meat wrapped in string, fat spilling through the gaps. You have to resist the urge to smack it. 

Nyanko looks back, and you realize she’s waiting for an answer. “It–it’s looks good on you!” 

“Aw, nyou’re just saying that, nya!” Planting her hand on your head, she pushes you back into the warm abyss of her rear. 

*

After almost two hours of trying on clothes, from panties to bikinis to négligées and thongs, each of which slice or crush or smother you in their own unique way, Nyanko finally pauses to catch her breath. “Phew,” she says, “only one item left, nya.” 

“What is it?” you ask, still struggling to speak. That thong almost took your head off. 

“Just a pair of compression pants, nya. …Magic compression pants.” 

“Magic compression pants?” 

“That’s what it says on the label, nya!” 

“...Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready.” You brace yourself, just in case it’s as bad as it sounds. 

It’s worse. Raising her leg and wiggling her butt from side to side, Nyanko slips a foot into the spandex, then the other, and pulls it up her thighs. As it reaches her asscheeks, you feel it stop, and what follows is a moment of grunting and straining as Nyanko struggles to pull its rim over her ass. 

Finally, with a snap, she succeeds. The effect is instantaneous–it’s like your new world has been turned into a crusher. As one, her asscheeks slam tight, threatening to crush you flat between them. The pressure is so strong you can barely breathe, let alone fight back. 

“What do you think?” asks Nyanko, giving her cheeks a big smack. 

You struggle to find the air to respond. “I’m sure they’re… I’m sure they look great on you…!”