Giantess Stories: White Trash by Aborigen

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White Trash by Aborigen


Blake stared after the young woman on the other side of the coffeeshop,

entranced: she had a fat ass. Not a broad one, but very full, very round. The

woman herself was no prize, mainly white trash, hanging out with some huge, fat

woman and a flock of squalling brats. They'd flooded the counter, screeching at

the coffee jerk to show them how to work the paper umbrellas, holding Blake up

from getting his soda right away. He sat back down, soda in hand, and proceeded

to leaf through some new library book, when he happened to glance up at the

right moment, coming eye to cheek with the flaxen-haired trailer park girl's


Her jeans hugged very tightly, hefting the buttocks up into perfect twin

hemispheres; Blake wondered whether her ass was naturally that firm, or if it

was the tight denim that made it so pronounced. It stuck out in a defiant curve;

her buttocks shouldered against each other cozily while she walked. He imagined

his face grinning up at her, in place of the seat cushion, as she stood before

the chair, yammering something about a pick-up truck to her friend, before

finally settling into her chair. Yes, Blake definitely found that a pleasing


He did not, however, notice the fat friend of the girl eyeing him

surreptitiously. After a couple glances, she whispered to the blonde that she

was being stared at. The blonde had the wherewithal to not turn around

reflexively, but simply asked what they should do. The fat woman suggested they

do the regular, and the blonde agreed after a moment's pause, calling over one

of the kids to give her a hug and whisper instructions in her ear.

Blake, still grinning, turned back to his book and tried to focus on the

material, but found himself lost in idylls over what he'd do with her beautiful

ass. The blonde got up from her chair and straightened her jacket; Blake craned

around to spy her bottom through a potted plant; the fat woman went to the

bathroom; the young girl held something in her hands and went tripping up to the

counter. The blonde kind of did a little jogging thing on her feet, as if to

wake up a sleeping foot or stretch her knees, and her ass heaved and jostled

tantalizingly for Blake. His

erection stretched through his trousers and threatened to become

embarrassing if he had to stand up. He slid one hand into his lap, under his

book, and gave his hardened penis a firm grasp, to alleviate it somewhat...

"Hey, mister?" came a voice from behind him. He turned around quickly to face

one of the grimy little redneck kids, the young girl who'd gone up to the

counter unnoticed. She'd come around from behind Blake and was holding something

in her hands. Bold little girl, Blake thought, to talk to strangers in a place

like this...

"Yeah, what's up?" he asked her, settling back to face her.

She grinned and he saw she was missing one of her front babyteeth. "Can you

tell me what this is?" she chirped, holding up what looked like a mirror, except

it flashed in many colors like the bottom of a CD. As she held it in her hand,

she bounced a beam of light off the store's bulbs up Blake's chest, leading it

up to his face; once it flashed in his eyes he flinched for a moment, then gave

an alarmed shout as the chair seemed to explode around him. When he gained his

vision back, the chair had spread out to become a platform many yards across,

and the little girl towered over him by another good many yards.

Again she grinned her toothless grin, eyes wide in wonder. "I did it again!"

she whispered to herself, reaching down with one enormous hand towards Blake.

Blake shrieked a high-pitched girly shriek as her hand grew and spread around

him like a huge net, lean fingers splayed to grasp him, and before he could

crawl away on the enormous seat cushion she'd snatched him up. Her fingers

clutched him eagerly and he struggled to free his arms; unfortunately, her hands

were quite sticky. He thought he smelled cherry ice cream, Starburst candies, a

hamburger and a raspberry Blow-Pop. She could probably open her hand and he

wouldn't fall, but just remain plastered to her palm like a tiny Velcro'ed doll.

Wait, that's right! How'd he get so small? Or did the room just grow? And

what gave the little girl the right to molest him like this!? "Hey, little

girl!" he called up to her. "Put me down this instant! Go tell your mother to

call a doctor!"

She looked down at him and giggled. "Uh-uh! Make me!" she said.

He was furious. "Put me down right now, you impudent little child!"

She laughed and squeezed him in her fist until he shut up. He looked ill, so

she said "Awwww," and brought him up to her face, racing past a flat plane of

bright orange t-shirt to a dirty neck to an ice-cream stained chin, to that

huge, giddy, snaggletoothed grin. To his horror, her lips pursed and he found

himself staring at a huge pink wad of puckered mouth, easily wider across than

his shoulder span. Shrieking once again, he twisted and jerked in her fist as

her face grew closer and closer, her young, puckered lips twitching slightly

until his face was buried in them, cutting off his scream.

"Manda! You bring that over hear right now!" The fat woman, emerging from the

bathroom, leaned into the area to call to presumably her daughter. The little

girl trotted over and held out her little prize.

"Look, mama! I shrunk him right down and made him tiny!" she said gleefully.

The little girl dropped Blake into the fat woman's waiting palm. Her skin was

slightly cool and greasy, with a rough leather texture. As soon as he was free

of the young girl's fingers, the fat woman wrapped her talons around him

securely. "You sure did, honeybunch... hey, why's he all sticky?"

The little girl laughed. "Oh, I hurt him a little, so I gave him a kiss to

make him better!"

The fat woman cuffed the girl on the side of the head. "You cain't go gettin'

'em all messy afore we give 'em to Ginny! Now you run tend to your brothers,

we're about to get outta here," she said, patting the little girl on the fanny

to send her on her way. She then rolled her hand around to look down at Blake:

he found himself staring up a long stretch of red and white-striped tank top,

seemingly painted over tremendous, flabby breasts, leading up to a hideous

castle of gnarled features and garish, reckless paint job. "Ain't you a cute

one?" she purred at him in a smoker's rasp. "Oh, Ginny gonna love you."

From behind a tiny sneer of distaste, Blake asked, "Who's Ginny?"

The woman laughed, her belly and deflated breasts heaving and rumbling

grotesquely, from his perspective. "Ginny's the woman whose ass you been starin'

at for ten minutes! You gonna get more o' that ass than you kin handle, now!"

Still laughing, she turned around and met Ginny, coming up from behind. "Here

you go, hon, you do him good."

"Oh, I always do," Ginny said with a radiant smile. For white trash, Blake

thought idly, she was a little cutie... maybe there was some way she could be

rescued from the trailer parks, brought up right, cultured, groomed... His

ruminations were cut off by a moment of free fall as the fat woman dropped him

off into Ginny's outstretched palm. Her hand was much smoother, warmer, even

sweeter-smelling, and it was quite a comfort when she wrapped her tender digits

around his tiny, shaken body. When she turned him around to glance at him, he

felt a warm glow wash over him as her red lips (garish red, he thought) parted

and revealed a perfect set of teeth, nearly white (stained from smoking, he

thought distastefully). "My, you are a cutie," she purred.

"That's what I keep hearing," he coughed, still cramped from three women

clutching him in their fists. She laughed, then thrust her fist into the pocket

of her denim jacket as she strode quickly into the women's room.

The accoustics off the tiles became Blake's world, as well as the scent of

industrial soap and the cloying hint of unattended-to toilets. Ginny pulled him

out of darkness again, and he had to admire how much nicer the women's room

looked, even in a cheap-ass coffee shop. She strode into a stall, swinging her

tiny fist (still large to Blake) and giving him a good show of her hip and left

thigh, with the seemingly tattooed-on jeans.

"So... you like my ass, huh?" Ginny asked, closing the door.

Blake turned a deep scarlet, and he could feel the glowing heat in his

cheeks. "I, um... you don't play around with words, do you?"

Ginny grinned, and her right hand locked the stall door, then began fumbling

with her clothes below Blake's view from her fist; she held him at such an angle

that he couldn't crane around to see what she was doing. "No, it's okay, hon,

you can say it," she said sweetly. "Lots of guys like my ass, I guess it's a

prized possession. I get a lot of stares, a few compliments..." She got

thoughtful. "Sometimes a little more attention than makes me comfortable, but at

least they like it, you know? Could be worse, I could look like my mom out


"That's your mom?" Blake asked, surprised. "I don't see any resemblance." One

small section of his mind wondered how he could be so casual with a 100'-tall

woman clutching him in her fist, holding him practically over a toilet; Ginny

was so beautiful at this size, however, that he forgot all his practical


"Well, she's my foster-mom, but she takes care of me," she said. "Like when

some of those guys get fresh, she usually whips out a can o' mace on 'em. Pshhht!"

Blake flinched as she pantomimed spraying him down with a can of mace that

would've been twice his size in every direction. "But then she found that

prismatic mirror in the back of Rolling Stone, and now she just tells me

when someone like you's been staring at my ass too long, and then we just shrink

'em down and gather 'em up!"

He blushed again and said, "Quite an efficient little system you've got

there." She thanked him, her other hand still fumbling with her clothes from the

sound of it. "So, um, what're you doing there? And what are you going to do with


"I'm, mmmph, trying to squeeze out of my jeans," she grunted,

accidently clenching her fist around her diminutive prisoner, "and you'll see

what I'll do with you."

Blake's mind began to race. Was she going to throw him in the toilet and...

pee on him? Maybe even take a dump? That'd be horrible! Nice as her ass was, he

wouldn't want to see it fill his sky and suddenly deliver a kiloton payload of

feces on his neighborhood! He could just picture himself clutching to a huge log

of shit as a floatation device, as she laughed down at him, flushing the toilet

handle slowly...

But she had no such intentions. She turned around, facing the toilet and

holding Blake behind her, so he was well away from that aquatic demise. He,

however, found himself face-to-ass once again, this time her titanic huge

buttocks shrink-wrapped in a thin satin sheath: her panties. He heard her

giggling. "Do you like it?" she asked him, quietly.

"I... good God, I love it!" Blake was stunned. He thought she'd be mad or

something, but here she was, hiding out in the bathroom with him, showing him

her ass for a private display! "I've died and gone to heaven! You have such a

lovely... you know. Um, would you mind if..."

"What? Would I mind if what?" She sounded genuinely interested, but with a

slight sound of amusement to her musical voice.

Blake pretended to become bashful, despite the raging hard-on that spread

against the padding of her middle finger. "Well, it's just that you have such a

beautiful ass, and here you are, alone with me... showing it to me... do you

mind if... I mean, could I just..."

Ginny laughed merrily, and her voice echoed off the walls of the bathroom

stall. "Come on, out with it!" she demanded, swaying her gigantic ass

tantalizing before the miniscule captive in her fist.

Nearly faint with lust, he spat out, "Would you mind if I could please touch

your ass?" He was rewarded with a rich peal of laughter, and the assurance that

he certainly could. He was, however, expecting that she'd free his arms; rather,

she just brought him in closer and rubbed his head into one huge cheek. His skin

slid across the huge sheet of satin, and she had just enough give to her flesh

that he could make analyses of how much of that was fat, how much was muscle,

and how much was firm, young flesh. She couldn't have been more than 25, he

guessed, maybe 21 even; plenty young for a firm, gravity-defying ass, no matter

how large or full it was.

He barely noticed, in the midst of this affectionate grinding into her

buttock, what her other hand was doing. He twisted his head up to observe, and

could only get glimpses as she'd drag him down and the curve of her ass would

obscure his view of her hand. Once he rose, however, and broke the horizon of

her cheek, he could see her thumb hooking into her waistband... down, blocked by

the planetary ass... up, and he met the waistband halfway. She was cinching her

panties down... "Ginny? What are you doing?"

She giggled softly. "You really like my ass?"

"Oh, do I ever! Oh, sister!"

"How much do you like my ass, little guy?"

He wished he were normal-sized, so she could see by his erect penis how

inappropriate this nickname was for him (he hoped), but he laughed like a sport

and said, "I love it so much, I could just kiss it, hug it..."

Ginny seemed very pleased with this response. "Why, that's wonderful! You

know, my ass wants to kiss you, too!" With that, she forcefully thrust him up

between her bare ass cheeks, and he couldn't even draw breath to scream as the

gigantic valley of buttocks rushed at him, engulfing him between two huge walls

of warm, soft, yielding flesh. He struggled, head and shoulders exposed from her

fist, but it was to no avail: having him wedged up her butt, she slowly dragged

him down until her anus found him. Once it did, she laughed and shoved his face

into her tender poophole a few times; it quivered and tensed against his sour


"And it wants to hug you, too!" he barely heard her call, embedded in her

flesh as he was, when suddenly her tremendous cheeks began to rumble, then

clench... her fist released him, but he dangled from her butt like a Christmas

tree ornament, and felt her panties slide up his legs, over his body... and then

the tight press of her jeans! He was trapped in her rear! But at least his limbs

were free... Her buttocks churned massively around him, rocking him left and

right and giving him a clench (with distant, muffled laughter), but at least his

arms and legs were relatively free. The first order of business was retracting

the front of his head from her puckering anus; after that, he experimented with

crawling along the mercilessly narrow passage, guessing which direction the

wasteband of her jeans might be in. As she walked, however, her buttocks

throbbed and rolled around him, impeding his progress nearly completely.

Eventually they came to a rest, giving him one more secure clench before

falling still. He heard one muffled voice: "You got him, then?" The fat friend.

Ginny must've walked back out to the coffee shop... should he scream for help?

Would anyone hear him?

"Yeah, I got him in there," Ginny said.

"But you didn't, you know, do the thing?" The thing? What was the thing,

Blake wondered.

Ginny's laughter, then, brightly: "I'm about to!"

One scene flashed in Blake's mind, the image through the leafy fronds across

the room... how he stared at her gorgeous, perfectly rounded, perfectly smoothed

ass, packed into those jeans... hovering, the delicious last moments before...

"Ginny, no!!" he screamed. "It's too tight in here as it is! There's no room

for you to-"

His cries were cut off as she bent over, stretching the jeans tightly over

her buttocks, wedging them fiercely up her crack; Blake might have survived

that. It was the hard slam of her ass onto the chair that finally pushed her

firm, strong ass inward around him, squeezing his body like a tube of

toothpaste, slowly grinding his bones, shooting him full of pain until he

finally burst.

Ginny kinda squirmed at the moist sensation: that was the only thing she

didn't like, in all this. She looked like she had a heavy flow, and had to tie

her jacket around her waist to make it out to the station wagon. But right up to

that point, it was fun: the ticklish sensation of the tiny man squirming between

her cheeks, clenching him and crushing him with her buttocks, and then finally

feeling this stiffening lump in her ass when she sat down and did away with her

little men. And she'd done this many times; after all, she had a nice ass, with

plenty of admirers.




Giantess Stories: White Trash by Aborigen

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