Mejor Cola del Valle GTS dancing II

 

La Mejor Cola del Valle GTS Version II

 

THERAPY 2

Therapy – Part 2

By Ramvo

Sunday Morning

Timmy lay utterly spent, broken and tamed, on the softest surface he had known in days: the crumpled crotch of Dr. Maggy Kilmister’s worn satin panties. He was trapped inside one of the deep mahogany drawers of her bedroom dresser, surrounded by the heavy perfume of her lingerie and the lingering musk of her body.

Since Friday afternoon, when his own mother had casually deposited him—shrunken to barely three inches tall—into the suffocating crevice of Dr. Kilmister’s enormous ass, his life had become a feverish nightmare. The memories were both blurred and razor-sharp: the heat, the pressure, the endless slick darkness, the way the giantess had used him again and again without mercy. He had never imagined that “therapy” could be so degrading, so utterly dehumanizing.

Once his mother had left, laughing as she closed the door behind her, Timmy had become Dr. Kilmister’s personal plaything—and not just hers. Other women had visited the house over the weekend, curious friends and clients eager to sample the living toy Maggy kept in her drawer. But his real training, the systematic breaking of his will, had begun with Maggy’s young assistant, Jenny.

Jenny was a petite, deceptively sweet-looking psychology student—barely 5'2", with long golden-blonde hair, innocent blue eyes, and a body that seemed designed for sin. Her breasts were absurdly full and heavy for her tiny frame, straining against every top she wore, and her round, heart-shaped bubble butt jiggled hypnotically with every step. At normal size, Timmy would have worshipped her from afar. Now she was a playful, merciless goddess.

She had arrived only minutes after Timmy’s mother departed. The two women greeted each other with hungry kisses, hands already roaming, and carried the terrified boy straight to Maggy’s king-sized bed.

The First Session

The bedroom was bathed in warm afternoon light filtering through gauzy curtains. The air smelled of vanilla candles and feminine arousal. Maggy and Jenny stripped each other slowly, savoring the ritual. Maggy peeled Jenny’s tight denim miniskirt down her smooth thighs, revealing a tiny black g-string that disappeared between those perfect plump cheeks. Jenny, standing on the bed to reach, unclasped Maggy’s bra and let the doctor’s enormous, olive-skinned breasts spill free—heavy, pendulous, capped with wide dark areolas already stiffening in the cool air.

Timmy stood frozen on the duvet, staring up at the two giantesses locked in a slow, ravenous kiss. Maggy towered over Jenny like an Amazon, her curvaceous six-foot frame dwarfing the petite blonde, yet their bodies fit together with practiced intimacy. Their tongues danced visibly; soft moans filled the room. Timmy’s tiny cock, traitorous as ever, throbbed against his will.

Finally they broke the kiss and turned their heads in perfect unison toward him. Four gleaming eyes fixed on the little man. Identical wicked smiles curved their lips.

Maggy lay back against the mountain of pillows, her dark hair fanning across the silk. With two enormous fingers she plucked Timmy from the bed as casually as a crumb.

“Time to begin your real therapy, sweetheart,” she purred, bringing him close enough that her warm breath washed over him in humid waves. Her full lips glistened. “You’re going to learn respect. Obedience. Worship. And Jenny here—” she glanced at the grinning blonde—“is my lover and my very enthusiastic assistant. You’ll serve her just as eagerly as you serve me.”

She passed the trembling boy to Jenny, who cupped him in soft, manicured hands.

“Hi, Timmy,” Jenny cooed, voice sugary but dripping with menace. “Be a good boy and this will be fun for all of us.” She dragged her warm, wet tongue slowly up his entire body—head to toe—coating him in a glistening layer of saliva. He shuddered, equal parts terror and unwanted arousal.

Then the games truly began.

Jenny knelt between Maggy’s spread thighs and used Timmy like a living massage tool, rubbing his body in slow circles over the doctor’s massive breasts. The skin was warm silk beneath him; the scent of her perfume mingled with faint sweat. Whenever he slowed, Jenny pressed him harder against a thick, erect nipple the size of his head.

“Suck,” she ordered playfully. “Open wide, little man.”

She forced his face against the swollen bud until his jaws ached, his mouth stuffed with salty, rubbery flesh. Maggy moaned above them, arching her back, her enormous tits quivering with every breath.

From breasts they moved downward—across the taut ridges of Maggy’s abdomen, into the deep well of her navel where Timmy was repeatedly dunked like a toy in a pool. Then lower still.

Jenny positioned him directly at the entrance of Maggy’s pussy. The outer lips were plump and slick, framed by a neatly trimmed triangle of dark curls. Heat radiated against his skin; the musky scent was overwhelming. Jenny pushed him forward until he was wedged helplessly between the dripping folds.

He screamed—sound muffled instantly as Jenny’s fingertip sealed his face against the yielding flesh.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “First rule: toys don’t talk unless spoken to.”

With deliberate slowness she worked him deeper—feet-first—until only his head remained outside, framed obscenely by Maggy’s labia. Jenny admired her handiwork, then gave one final push.

Timmy vanished completely into the hot, rippling tunnel.

Inside was a living nightmare: slick walls pulsing around him, squeezing rhythmically, coating him in thick juices. The more he thrashed, the tighter the tunnel gripped, and the louder Maggy moaned overhead. When her orgasm hit, the muscular contractions nearly crushed him. A gush of fluid blasted him outward; he shot free like a cork, dangling upside-down by one ankle, coughing and sputtering, drenched in her release.

Jenny plucked him up, dangling him in front of her smiling lips.

“Rough first ride?” she teased. “Don’t worry. The next one’s even more… intimate.”

Maggy rolled onto her stomach, then lifted her hips, presenting her magnificent ass. The cheeks were smooth bronze globes, impossibly round and firm, parting slightly to reveal the deep shadowed cleft. She looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes glittering.

“Remember Friday, Timmy? When your mommy tucked you in here for safekeeping?” She wiggled; the cheeks clapped softly together. “This time you’re going much deeper.”

Jenny laid him in the sweaty valley of Maggy’s crack and spent long minutes kneading and spanking the gigantic buttocks, making them bounce and quake around the helpless boy. Sweat beaded and rolled down the cleft, soaking him anew. The scent was dizzying—musk and heat and faint traces of the doctor’s earlier arousal.

At last Jenny guided him downward until his face pressed against the puckered ring of Maggy’s anus. It flexed greedily, already slick. The heat was intense; the smell earthy and forbidden.

“Please…” Timmy managed to sob.

Jenny only laughed. “In you go, little butt-plug.”

She pushed—slowly, inexorably—feet first into the tight, clenching hole. The ring stretched around his ankles, his knees, his hips. Every inch drew a fresh wail from him and a throaty moan from Maggy. When his head finally slipped past the ring with a wet pop, darkness swallowed him whole.

Jenny left her finger buried a few inches inside, wiggling it to seat him properly, before withdrawing with a satisfied sigh.

For what felt like hours Timmy fought in the crushing, slimy tunnel. The walls rippled and squeezed in rhythmic waves; whenever his struggles slowed, Maggy clenched deliberately, forcing him to redouble his efforts. Jenny lay sprawled across Maggy’s back, kissing her neck, murmuring filthy encouragement.

At last another thunderous orgasm rippled through the giantess. The rectum contracted so violently Timmy blacked out, his last sensation the deafening roar of Maggy’s pleasure echoing through her body.

When he came to, Jenny’s lips were sealed around Maggy’s anus, sucking gently. Inch by inch she drew his limp, slime-covered body out like obscene taffy. When his head emerged she bit down lightly on his torso—just enough to hold him—then shook him playfully from side to side while both women laughed.

They deposited the half-conscious boy on a silk pillow to recover and immediately turned their attention back to each other—kissing, grinding, fingers buried deep—whispering about all the lessons still to come.

The therapy, they agreed, was progressing beautifully.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Bodysitting/Facesitting GTS II

 

New story: The Posterior Bonding Ceremony

 The Posterior Bonding Ceremony

By Ramvo

Disclaimer: all characters in this fictional story are of legal age, 18 or older!!

The basement of Kappa Delta Rho was dimly lit by strings of fairy lights and scented candles vanilla and musk to mask any telltale odors. The senior sisters, all in matching black lace thongs and cropped hoodies with the Greek letters glittering across their chests, lounged on plush couches arranged in a semicircle. In front of them knelt the ten new pledges, nervous freshmen dressed only in white cotton panties and thin tank tops, each holding a small glass vial between trembling fingers.

Inside every vial squirmed a one inch man shrunken "pledge toys" sourced from the university's disciplinary reduction program. Some had been arrogant frat boys, others scholarship athletes who crossed the wrong sorority member. Now they were property, destined to prove the pledges' worth.

Big Sister Elena, chapter president and undisputed queen of the house, stood at the center. Tall, curvaceous, with long dark hair and an ass that looked sculpted for dominance, she smiled sweetly as she addressed the group.

“Welcome to the real initiation, pledges. Tonight you learn what it means to own someone completely. Not with chains or cages with your body. Specifically…” She turned, bent at the waist, and slowly peeled her thong aside, spreading her plump perfectly rounded cheeks wide with both hands. “…this.”

The pledges leaned forward, eyes wide. The tiny man already lodged in Elena's anus was visible only as a faint, frantic lump pressed against the wrinkled pink ring. Every few seconds she gave a light clench, making him twitch visibly.

“Placement is everything,” Elena explained, voice calm and teacherly. “You don't just drop him in and hope. Watch carefully.”

She relaxed her glutes, widening the cleft so the candlelight caught the glossy sheen of natural moisture. With two fingers, she gently nudged the tiny deeper until only his kicking legs protruded from the outer furrows. Then she squeezed slowly, deliberately. The legs vanished with a soft, wet schlick.

“Mmmh… See that? The ring catches him like a trap. Once he's seated right, gravity and your own heat do the rest. But you control the pressure. Too tight too soon and he panics uselessly. Too loose and he might crawl. We want controlled panic enough to keep him moving, enough to remind him who's in charge.”

The pledges giggled nervously. One blonde, petite Mia whispered, “He's still kicking in there?”

Elena straightened, letting her cheeks snap shut. A tiny bulge appeared under the lace before disappearing again as she clenched. “Oh yes. Every flutter is a little prayer for mercy. And it feels… exquisite.”

She clapped once. “Your turn. Panties down, vials open. Big sisters will supervise.”

The pledges obeyed, sliding their underwear to their knees. One by one, they tipped the screaming tinies into their waiting cracks. Soft thumps echoed as each man landed between warm, meaty hills, huge spheres of juvenile flesh for them. Giggles erupted immediately.

“Oh my god, he's sliding right to it!” sophomore pledge Lauren squealed, bending to watch in the full length mirror propped against the wall.

“Widen your hips, sweetie,” her assigned big sister Chloe coached, kneeling behind her. “Like you're about to sit on his face because you are. Now two fingers… push… there.”

Lauren gasped as the tiny vanished into her ring with a slick pop. She clenched experimentally; her eyes fluttered. “Holy shit… I can feel every little punch.”

Across the circle the scene repeated: tinies dropped, guided, inserted. Some girls were clumsy at first accidentally smearing their toy along the crack before finally lodging him. Others were naturals, pushing with practiced ease. Moans mixed with laughter.

“Don't be shy about squeezing,” Elena reminded them. “Pulse in sets of five. Hold… release… hold. If he stops moving, clench harder. Revive him. We don't waste good toys on the first night.”

For the next hour the pledges remained bent over or on all fours while big sisters critiqued technique. Mirrors were passed around so each girl could see her tiny's faint outline under stretched cotton.

“Look how pathetic he is,” Chloe said, pointing at Lauren's reflection. “All that muscle, all that ego, reduced to a little lump in your asshole. Squeeze again, make him dance.”

Lauren did. The bulge jerked wildly. She bit her lip, thighs trembling. “He's… begging or something. I can feel his mouth opening against me.”

“Good,” Elena purred. “That's when you know you've won. Now the endurance portion.”

The pledges were told to pull up their pantiestight, seamless ones provided by the house and sit in a circle on the carpet. No cushions. Just firm pressure.

“Two hours minimum,” Elena announced. “Talk, laugh, drink your wine coolers. Act normal. Your toy is part of you now. If you feel him weaken, give a little flex. Remind him that breathing is a privilege. And remember that their distress is your pleasure!!”

The room filled with chatterclasses, boys, weekend plans while beneath panties and between massive cheeks, ten tiny men fought for air in hot, humid darkness. Sweat beaded and trickled, adding slick lubrication that pulled them inexorably deeper. Every casual shift of a hip or cross of legs ground them further into wrinkled flesh.

One pledge, redheaded Taylor, closed her eyes and sighed. “He's still going strong… like a tiny vibrator. I think I'm gonna cum if he keeps this up.”

The big sisters laughed approvingly. “That's the point,” Elena said. “Power feels good. Control feels better. His suffering is your pleasure.”

As the clock ticked past midnight, Elena stood. “Final test. Full insertion, no fingers, just muscle. Push him past the ring. Let your rectum claim him.”

The pledges focused, breathing deep. Soft grunts and whimpers filled the room as tinies were swallowed deeper by rhythmic contractions. One by one the visible bulges vanished completely.

Mia looked down at her smooth panties, no trace left. “He's… gone. Inside me.”

“Exactly,” Elena said. “Tomorrow you'll feel him all day walking to class, sitting in lecture, sleeping. Take him out only for bathroom breaks, and only if you're careful. These toys are expensive to replace.”

She smiled at the circle of flushed, empowered pledges.

“Congratulations. You're officially sisters. And you each have a permanent little secret tucked away where no one else can reach.”

The new initiates stood slowly, adjusting their panties, savoring the faint, hopeless flutters deep inside. As they filed upstairs to their rooms, hips swaying, they already knew: the ritual wasn't over. It had only just begun.

Taylor's Room – 1:17 AM

The world had become heat and pressure and darkness.

His name had once been Ethan, six feet tall, college quarterback, the kind of guy who laughed too loud at parties. Now he was nothing: a one-inch smear of life wedged deep inside Taylor's rectum, past the tight ring that had swallowed him whole during the final "full insertion" phase.

The sphincter had closed like an iron gate behind him. No light. No air current. Just the slow, rhythmic undulation of slick muscular walls that pulsed with every beat of her heart. The temperature was unbearably hotter than a sauna, thick with the humid musk of her body. Sweat from the basement ritual had dried into a sticky film that glued his limbs to the furrowed lining. Every attempt to shift even an inch only smeared more mucus across his face, forcing him to taste the bitter, salty tang of her insides. 

Ethan considered the irony. He had always checked Taylor’s exquisite butt every time he had the chance, but now, he was buried deep inside the perfectly rounded ass cheeks he had drooled over only a few days ago. He was not more than a living suppository for her and a pleasure toy for her to use and discard anytime she wished.

He tried to breathe. Shallow sips through nostrils pressed flat against wrinkled flesh. Each inhale dragged in the heavy scent: feminine, earthy, faintly metallic. Exhaling was worse, his chest compressed so tightly he could barely expand his ribs. Panic clawed at him, but screaming was impossible; his mouth filled instantly with soft, yielding tissue whenever he opened it.

“Move. Just move. She has to feel it. She has to let me out.” He thought.

He kicked. Punched. Twisted. His tiny fists hammered against the pulsing walls like rain on a tent. For a glorious second he felt the flesh quiver in response a distant ripple, a muffled clench. Then the walls tightened deliberately. A slow, powerful squeeze that crushed him from all sides, forcing the last of his air out in a silent wheeze. Stars burst behind his eyelids.

Above, worlds away Taylor stirred in her sleep.

She lay on her side in the narrow dorm bed, one leg drawn up, the motion shifting everything inside her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she felt the faint flutter deep in her core.

"Mmm… still going," she murmured drowsily, voice thick with satisfaction. Her hand drifted down, pressing lightly over her lower belly as if to feel him through layers of skin and muscle. "Good boy. Keep fighting. It feels nice."

She clenched once experimentally, lazily. The contraction rolled through her like a wave, milking him deeper. Ethan's world compressed to nothing but crushing heat. He felt himself sliding in inexorably, helplessly further into the slick tunnel. The walls grew even tighter here, the air thinner, the smell stronger. He clawed at the mucus slick surface, nails finding no purchase.

Taylor giggled softly into her pillow. "You're so pathetic… like a little worm trying to swim upstream." She rolled onto her back, spreading her legs slightly under the covers. The shift sent a fresh trickle of moisture down, lubricating the passage and pulling him another fraction deeper.

3:42 AM

Ethan had stopped counting time. His muscles burned. His lungs ached. Every few minutes the giant body around him moved,Taylor shifting in her sleep, sighing, scratching an itch on her thigh. Each motion ground him against new folds of flesh. Sometimes she clenched reflexively in dreams; other times she relaxed completely, letting her rectum loosen just enough for him to gasp a desperate breath before the next involuntary pulse sucked him back in.

He was delirious now. Hallucinations flickered: the basement lights, the laughter of the sisters, Elena's calm voice explaining technique like it was a cooking tutorial. Pulse in sets of five. Hold… release… hold.

Taylor's body obeyed its own rhythm. A dream induced Kegel squeezed him hard once, twice, three times. He thrashed wildly, hoping to trigger mercy. Instead, she moaned low in her throat, hips rocking once against the mattress.

"Fuck… yes…" she whispered, half asleep. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, pressing directly over the spot where he was lodged. The external pressure crushed him flat against the rectal wall. He felt the heat of her arousal building around him, walls swelling slightly, growing slicker, hotter.

She came quietly little more than a shuddering breath and a tightening that nearly snapped his ribs. The aftershocks rippled through her for minutes, each one grinding him like a pestle.

When the orgasm faded, she sighed contentedly and rolled over again. "You're staying right there," she mumbled. "All night. All tomorrow. Maybe forever if you're lucky."

5:58 AM – Dawn

Ethan was barely conscious. His struggles had dwindled to weak twitches instinct more than will. The air was almost gone; he survived on microscopic pockets trapped in the folds. His skin was raw from the constant friction, coated in a film of her secretions.

Taylor woke slowly. Sunlight filtered through blinds. She stretched, arching her back, feeling the tiny lump still deep inside.

"Still alive?" she asked the empty room, voice playful. A deliberate clench. A faint kick answered.

She smiled, patting her muscular ass cheek through the sheets. "Good. Class in two hours. You're coming with me and within me!." she giggled mischievously.

She stood, walked to the mirror, turned sideways. No visible bulge anymore, he was too deep. Just smooth skin and the secret knowledge of total ownership.

As she pulled on jeans tight enough to add constant pressure, Ethan felt the final shift: the world compressing one last time as denim hugged her perfect curves. No escape. No mercy. Only endless, rhythmic darkness and the indifferent heartbeat of his new goddess.

Down the hall, the other pledges woke to similar sensations. Ten tiny men, trapped in ten young women who now carried them like living jewelry, hidden, helpless, forever reminding their owners of the power between their cheeks.

The ritual was complete. The torment had only begun.

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Gothic GTS I

 

Hogtied Vids I

 

Hogtied I

 

Gifs I