As you lay there, feeling the agonizing pressure of a giantess' huge bubble butt flattening you into her chair, you wondered how the hell you were still alive. And even more worryingly, if you could survive this, then was there any limit to what dastardly acts your new CEO could do to you?
Beneath Mercedes' enormously heavy booty, time ceased to exist. It was all just one crushing hell. That was, until there was a knock on the door, and a voice calling from outside.
"Miss Mone? They're expecting you."
"Oh shit, time to go and shake up the WWE. Because Mone changes everything," Mercedes spoke to herself, before filling the room with her signature Mone cackle.
Finally! You could get a reprieve from this crazy giant sadist. Maybe while she was out of her personal dressing room, you could find some way to escape?
Except as the mighty rear end raised off of the chair, so too did you. The floor of the chair seat shrank in size as you moved higher into the sky, stuck to Mercedes' perky, round, jiggling right butt cheek.
"Oh, you wanna come with?" Mercedes laughed as she turned her curvy hips in the mirror to see your pathetic form firmly pressed into her juicy butt meat. "Sure, I can give you a ride. I don't blame you, everybody wants a taste of Mone."
Just to make absolutely certain, she moved a perfectly manicured finger around to her firm backside, using a fingertip to press you even harder into her ass, the toned glute bouncing right back and showing you were still utterly stuck.
Mercedes grabbed the hem of her blue fur skirt and straightened it down to cover her booty again, and hiding you from view, before she strutted out.
---
A short while later, the CEO was swaggering backstage with a delighted grin on her face. She'd just made her triumphant return to WWE, showing the WWE Universe that the world still ran on Mone, and warning anybody who wanted to make a quick buck off her name that there was a price to pay when you mess with Mercedes Mone.
But best of all, while she'd been cutting her promo in the middle of the ring in an arena packed with tens of thousands of fans, not one single person had the faintest idea that Mercedes secretly had her new shrunken assistant stuck face-deep into her monolithic right ass cheek. That extra thrill was putting a pep in her step, eager to have more fun using you.
But while it had been incredible for the CEO, it had been a harsh experience for you.
Every single step caused the boulder of a butt cheek to wobble intensely. Add to that the CEO's cocky strut in heels, and how much the curvy lady loved to wiggle her hips, and you were amazed you hadn't dislodged and fallen off to splat in the ring.
It had taken every bit of strength to desperately hold on. You'd clung onto the colossal toned glute for dear life, in constant fear that you might peel away and fall to your doom at any moment.
Even more of a challenge was that as Mercedes had strutted under the hot arena lights, you'd felt the mighty, cushy spheres begin to grow clammy against your skin, as the CEO's butt had begun to sweat.
By the time she was walking back up the ramp, you were concentrating fiercely on staying plastered to the jostling, squishy globe, your handhold beginning to slide.
If she didn't take you off her increasingly sweaty titanic backside soon, you were terrified you could fall and meet an untimely end.
What happens next?
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