This choice: Fluttering like a piece of paper off of Shannon's butt, but at least you're free • Go Back...Chapter #7Masseuse's Favorite Cloth by: bobob1   As the masseuse pulled her hand away from your mother’s jiggly ass flesh, your body was finally ripped free from your mother’s skin. However, your joy was short-lived, as your body didn’t stick to the masseuse’s hand either. Instead, your paper-thin body fluttered away from the two women, flowing back and forth through the air.
The masseuse didn’t spot you at all as she turned around, her body brushing against you and creating a gust of air powerful enough to send your flattened form careening off through the dimly lit massage room. You drifted back and forth uncontrollably, as you had no way to control your body’s movements while you were still flattened and unreformed.
The woman flicked some hair over her shoulder, her hand smacking into your body and sending your backwards. You felt like the world’s smallest airplane, being batted around the room left and right by the oblivious masseuse. Finally, your tiny body came to a landing on an absurdly soft and fabric-like surface.
Before you could even think about reforming, the towering form of the masseuse walked into your view, standing above you like a goddess. Her protruding breasts practically blocked your view of her face, but her attention wasn’t on you anyway. She simply reached down towards you, picking up whatever it was you were lying on. While doing so her thumb also pressed into your body, squashing you into the fabric.
The woman turned to look at your mother. “Next up is my favorite special cloth made from an extremely soft fabric. I had it special ordered from somewhere over in Asia. I guarantee you’ll love the feeling of it all over your body.”
“Sounds heavenly.” Shannon sighed, a sleepy and happy smile on her face. Already, thoughts of the predicament of her tiny son had left her mind.
The masseuse carried the cloth over to the table and began to thoroughly massage your mother’s thick bubble butt, rubbing the cloth all over her. Of course, as cruel fate had willed it, the masseuse held the cloth with your body pointed towards Shannon, subjecting you to the full, up-close and personal experience of being rubbed across every inch of your mother’s smooth ass.
Once finished with her ass, the masseuse moved the cloth up and down your mother’s back, across her shoulders, and down her arms. She then ran the cloth across her giant thighs and long legs, ending with her slightly dirty (and slightly smelly feet). You could only mentally groan as the blissfully unaware masseuse subjected you to this extended torment at the hands of your mother, who had fallen into a peaceful sleep several minutes ago.
With practiced ease, the masseuse flipped your mother gently over onto her back. Without breaking a sweat, she rubbed the cloth and your poor, battered body up and down and all-around Shannon’s absolutely gigantic breasts. Your body grew increasingly flatter and flatter, and your squishy form felt like it was fusing to the fabric of the cloth. It also wasn’t helped by the layer of Shannon’s sweat and dirt that was now coating your tiny body.
The entire process took nearly thirty minutes, but finally the masseuse was satisfied that she had sufficiently massaged and rubbed Shannon’s entire body with the cloth. She crumpled up the cloth, bundling and hiding you from view, and tossed the cloth across the room and into a small sink.
Everything was pitch black inside the balled-up cloth, and you desperately used every ounce of your strength to reform as quickly as possible. You willed your body to pop back into shape, and then you could get back to your mother and actually start enjoying this little vacation. However, your body felt particularly glued to the cloth, and your squishy self refused to budge.
The masseuse bent down and whispered gently into Shannon’s ear. “Time to wake up honey.” Your mother stirred, and was finally woken up by a few gentle shoulder rubs. The masseuse helped her to her feet, and gave her a towel to wrap around herself for modesty. While Shannon rubbed her eyes and yawned, the masseuse returned to the sink and turned on the water.
Water flooded into the sink and quickly covered up you and the cloth, filling you with fear. Your fear doubled as the masseuse poured some soap into her hands and began cleaning the cloth. Her smooth fingers rubbed and pressed against your body, stinging your poor eyes with the burning soap.
You wondered why the masseuse hadn’t spotted you yet, but you didn’t realize that the thirty straight minutes of massaging had smeared all of your recognizable human features. At the moment, you simply looked like an ugly tan spot on an otherwise beautiful red cloth.
At that moment, your thoughts came true in the worst way possible. The masseuse spotted the “ugly tan spot” on her favorite cloth and scrunched up her face in annoyance. She dug around in a nearby drawer for a heavy-duty bottle of cloth cleaner, which was guaranteed to remove any blemishes in high-quality fabrics.
Before she sprayed the cleaner on your body, her eyes were drawn to your mother as she wrapped the towel around herself. The masseuse took note of the curvaceous super model’s rear end, which was conspicuously missing any sign of a tiny human shape. The masseuse realized it must have been a temporary tattoo, and her thorough massage had erased all traces of it.
She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about your little tattoo ma’am…er…son.” She felt foolish for falling for your mother’s prank, but decided to go along with it anyway. Shannon finished wrapping her towel around her body and frowned.
“What do you mean?” She inquired.
“Your tat…son…is no longer on your butt.” The masseuse explained. “I probably scrubbed him away with my cloth while massaging you. I’m sorry.” The masseuse bowed her head, and started to squeeze the chemical cleaner onto your body.
Shannon’s frowned deepened, as she was thoroughly confused about what her masseuse was talking about. Her son? On her butt? Disappeared? What was that supposed to mean? Her son was relaxing in their room with Stacy…wasn’t he?
Shannon felt that familiar tickling in the back of her head, telling her she was forgetting something, but in her relaxed and drowsy state of mind, everything in her subconscious was foggy. Does Shannon manage to reconnect her thoughts and remember your fate, or does her ditzy forgetfulness prevail?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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