GITJ Post 334: A Saturday at Melissa's, p9 (7pm: Cici)

No, Cynthia Carlisle was not invited to their little pool party. No, Cynthia was not drinking wine, ordering take out, or watching movies with friends. No, Cici was not in the place she’d want to be most, cuddled up with him on the couch, buried under blankets trying to keep him warm after an evening swim like the rest of them were doing, right at this moment..

What was Cynthia Carlisle doing? Swiping through all their stupid social media and getting mad. Very, very mad.

And eating.

She’d had her simp, AJ, if that was still his name, bring her food. He’d just brought it to her, along with one other man, one of his worker friends. As she sat there eating they stood dumbfounded by her as she wore only her new red Polish “superbra” and matching panties.The lingerie had grown with her over the past weeks which was good; if she was naked these turds would likely not be able to breathe. AJ in particular was especially enamored of her size, she knew. She’d long since crested six feet, was nearly halfway there to seven, and had started calling him just ‘you’ or ‘boy’ or, when she was feeling generously tolerant, ‘puppy’. He seemed to like that, the dehumanization seemed to haha actually turn him on and make him even more submissive. The others did too, the crowd of underling toadies that spent their days constructing all this for the women, like little worker ants for their fucking queen. No one would really know it by just looking at them, but their minds had been turned nearly all to mush by the all-but-constant exposure to the artificial perfumes that were being pumped through this place. It was the same chemical that Cynthia wished she could just bathe in, because it was obviously making her bigger.

Bigger and stronger, tits huge. Hungry.

“More bread. I want more bread,” she growled, having eaten three rolls already. She looked at AJ as he scrambled to try to appease her, awkwardly searching the paper takeout bag in a half-panic.The other toadie just stood there, hands crossed in front of himself in nervous supplication. “C’mon, you. You worthless…thing.”

The toadie heard her chuckle when he shivered, his heart fluttering. He and AJ had set up a spread here in her makeshift dining area in the basement, food that they’d ordered for her from the place she liked. It was a lot and sometimes she’d let them have some. A Saturday night, he thought, and this was now how he spent them, in servitude to a hulking woman that seemed bigger every time he turned around. She was bigger, she was stronger, and despite the fact that he could somehow sense she was turning into a monster he couldn’t do anything but obey every word she said. Nor could AJ.

“More bread, fucker,” she spat.

“b-be right back,” AJ spoke, backing out of the room, leaving the toadie with her.

Where was he?!? She seethed, silently to herself and barely noticing AJ’s exit as she tore a chunk off the bone of what was some sort of pork. She sat at a fold-up table, the flimsy chair beneath her feeling ready to break under her weight. He wasn’t here last night, he’s not here tonight. I had plans!!! Working at the office during the weekdays had not been enough. She’d grown, of course, under the influence of whatever it was coming from Melissa, whatever it was that they now poured through the vents here. But it wasn’t enough. She’d begun to sleep here, hidden away with her simps’ help in the basements and sub-floors away from the construction. She’d made sure they pumped it in heavy, into the dark spaces where she stayed, and ignored the calls from her aunt. She was not going home anytime soon. Weekends, now, too, she stayed all day underground sucking it in, breathing it, and eating. Alone, with her simps at times, practicing.

But last night, Friday night, she hadn’t wanted to be alone. She knew he stayed upstairs, above the office, in the little apartment his skinny-ass wife supplied for him. He was dating her now, yes, but Cynthia could show him…show him how good a girlfriend she could be. A big girl could do it for him, and she could get so big. She wanted to call him down, to her underground caverns, and show him. But he wasn’t here. Last night, and now tonight either. GAH! IT MADE HER SO MAD!!

They were all eating together, the bunch of them, at her place. Sushi. Cynthia hadn’t been invited of course, and she was watching it in full FOMO mode on social media. They hadn’t asked her, they never asked her. She was too ‘other’. There was something wrong with her. It made her growl sometimes but she knew it. She’d have to wait to bring him to her, another night. It just, she figured, gave her time to get even fucking bigger, bigger than them all and then he’d see and rrrrrrrrrrrrggghhhhh.

Cynthia put down her pork chop and looked at the toadie. It was just the two of them, now, alone in this damp basement room. He looked cold; she was never cold anymore. But he, this simpering boy dog thing was just like the rest of the men here; they were all just workers, like ants in a hive, mindless. Squashing one or two wouldn’t make a difference, right?

She felt her mouth start to curl into something like a smile as she leaned forward over the table. She watched his eyes go down, drift to trace the veins which ran in a pattern all over her hulking breasts, leading down into a cleavage deeper and darker than her cave. She knew where their minds went, once she had them looking at her breasts. They got dumb. Well, dumber even than usual.

“So, you like me?” she asked, watching the toadie’s jaw drop open to a gape as she gently pressed her breasts together between her arms. “What’s your name?” she asked, indulging the thing with what he would think would be actual interest. She watched him, swaying there on his feet for a few moments, saying nothing

"Can't you speak? Did no one ever teach you?" she continued, slowly squeezing, then releasing the pressure on her breasts, making them swell out and then in, out and then in in a pulsing, undulating rhythm. She knew they loved that, that they found that hypnotic. "Or is that just the effect I have on you?"

“Muh…Mason,” he said, finally answering her question.

First name, last name? Or is that just his job here? she thought, Not that it matters.

"I.. I.." the toadie stammered helplessly, suddenly feeling bold enough to address her again.

“What is it?” she asked, eyes narrowing, studying him. If she squinted enough, here without her glasses, she could almost pretend this was him, Dr J.

"No.. Wha.. I..." He was obviously confused, standing there in the semi-dark with this blond Amazon swimming in the weapons-grade pheromones being pumped into the room.

"Oh, you poor creature,” she chuckled, hearing her voice deepen. She’d decided, finally, that she’d indulge herself with some fun and felt her thighs quiver. If he wasn’t here at least she could make herself feel better with one of them. “You can't even talk, can you?” she asked, “Why don’t you come here, closer…” Suddenly, then, she pushed aside the table, laden with her dinner as it was, Its metal feet scraping against the concrete floor. “...let me kiss you better."

She loved - or, she’d grown to love - the feeling she got when they began to shake like this. When their little feet began to move all by themselves, when they were drawn to her like a moth to a big huge fucking moth-magnet. She sat there, on the little folding chair that she knew she could bend into a crumpled little ball of metal tubes if she wanted. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t Doctor, but this was something she could do to kill the time. Maybe it would make her feel better.

He came to stand in front of her, now, where she sat. If she stood, she would tower over him. But as it was she was looking up at him. That would just not do. Without a word Cynthia lazily placed an arm on each of the man's shoulders, and then she pressed down gently. A look of surprise - or maybe some deep survival instinct rallying from the depths - came over his otherwise slackened face. It was followed by one of shock as she pushed down, forcing him to bend in his knees. He tried to push against her with his legs, but found her strength utterly irresistible. With both his hands, he grabbed her wrists, trying to remove her hands from him, but all his efforts proved totally ineffective. Her female arms did not move at all, except to force him down further. She stopped pushing when his face was level with hers, he in a crouch. Tilting her head slightly, she leant towards him, her lips puckering in preparation of meeting his.

The man turned his head away from hers, this time for sure on instinct. "I thought you liked me." Cynthia cooed in mock disappointment. She removed her left hand from his right shoulder, easily shaking off his grip from her wrist. She was delighted to see that she could hold him in place with just one hand on his other shoulder as effortlessly as she had done it with two. With her free hand, she gently cupped his chin, turning his face back towards her. She could see his neck muscles bulging as he tried to fight against her, but his struggles once again proved futile. It gave Cynthia a tremendous thrill to see a full-grown man utterly unable to fight against her vastly superior strength. She had been experimenting, in her time alone down here, with what she could do. It was fucking incredible.

Cynthia leaned towards the quivering man and, still holding his chin, pulled his face to hers. Then she parted her lips slightly and planted them on his. Until just a month or so ago she hadn’t kissed many boys at all. Now, she’d kissed a bunch. Despite the pleasure he felt, with her big pillowy lips on his, she felt him place both his hands on her shoulders, desperate to push her away, grunting with the effort. The blonde-haired young woman remained completely immobile aside from now opening her lips a little further, pressing them against his face, forming a seal around his mouth. With the man still struggling without effect, Cynthia began to inhale slowly and deeply.

His eyes bulged wide in astonishment and his efforts to force her away from him became desperate. Cynthia continued to breathe in, her mouth locked on his. The look in his eyes became panicky and the color began draining from his face. Quickly, his struggles grew weaker. She kept on drawing air into her lungs. His eyeballs seemed to be about to pop out of his head. His complexion was now a bluish white, and his arms hung redundantly by his sides. Cynthia heard a muffled squelching sound and tasted blood in her mouth. Instantly, the man's eyes became dull.

She stopped inhaling, taking her lips off of his and bringing the kiss to an end before removing her hands from her victim. His body seemed to fold up on itself as it became a heap on the floor. Cynthia looked down at him, where he lay crumpled at her feet, and smiled as she used a single finger to wipe at the corner of her lips. It surprised her that she had enjoyed the taste of his blood as much as she had enjoyed sucking the life out of his male body. What a feeling - to have collapsed a man's lungs just by kissing him! "So this is how it feels to be a goddess," she mused to herself, to the empty room.

Now where was that other one, the bald one, with her bread?

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