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Another story I found on the web. This one is written by  fionabrown





She was furious. It had been an awful evening. The party was hot and uncomfortable, and she felt sweaty and uncomfortable. Her date had been really mean to her as well - he claimed that a 400lbs 50 year old had no business being out at night and should be asleep in her fat bed. Now she couldnt get a taxi home and had to walk for miles. And it was raining.

Coming through the park, she saw the leery old drunk asleep on the bench. He was actually quite well spoken, but small, wiry, and with a nasty glint in his eyes. She wondered what his story was.

She also wished he'd get lost too. She'd never been happy with a man - perhaps it was her size, or her personality? As she passed the bench, she could hear him stirring. He woke and slurred out to her that he wanted to take her fat ass, whatever that meant.

She realised she hated him too. Her house had been on the market for months, and she knew he was putting buyers off. Who wants to buy a house beside a noise singing wino, hidden in the neighbouring park. Because of him, at night no one went there.

"Come back, where are you going" he slurred as she waltzed past. "Fat bitch"

It was the last straw. She turned around and walked the three steps back to him. She looked at his small frame lying on the hard bench. She turned around, mentally comparing her immense size to his diminutive stature.

Yes, he was to blame for everything. With that thought, she heavily sat down on the centre of the bench.

Her cushion was pulverised. Her width meant that her buttocks stretched from his crotch up to his chin. She sat back and relaxed on the trash. Looking down, she noticed his face getting redder and redder. Not a sound passed his lips. She wondered if she had crushed all the air from him. She bounced a little in meanness, but nothing came out.

She pondered the futulity of his life. Nobody would miss him. She leaned gently left to right, feeling his body compress, his bones squeeze together under her massive body. Actually, she quite liked this feeling.

She realised she had total power over the tramp. He was completely pinned, and could not even breathe. She knew that she was crushing him. She lifted up for a second, momentarily throwing her weight back to gain momentum, and then heard nothing, followed by a sudden wheezing and gasping.

It occurred to her that if she was normal, she might be concerned for somebody in his position. But she felt evil, and powerful. She was drenched in sweat from the walk and her clothes were wet through from the rain. Her feet ached. Her limbs ached. She wanted a comfortable seat. She flounced back down on the man.

She looked down into his eyes. He looked glazed, and puzzled. Not pleading. Resigned. She wondered if he always looked like that, or just when he was being mauled by a bottom which now owned him. She definitely felt ownership. He had cost her hundreds of thousands in lost house sale, so now she had him instead.

She wriggled her buttocks. Such a simple small act. She had huge meaty buttocks. She concentrated on the simple motion of her tensing them - invisibly underneath her - and feeling him actually grind in compression. It was that simple. She could torture the tramp without anyone even being able to see, had they been watching.

She stayed like this for ages, occasionally getting up off the tramp. It seemed so comfortable, and so natural. After around half an hour, she stood up. He seemed dazed, but even still the sight of his unshaven face irritated her. She positioned herself over his face. Even sitting up here, she realised her ass would still reach his little belly.

She sat down again. She didnt know that his head turned involuntarily to the side under her great weight. It didnt enter her head at all. But she was comfortable, and wiggled around. Her right buttock was centred against his face. Her clothes held her flesh from spilling around his forehead, but the qualtity of flesh was there. She thought she might be more comfortable if she moved over a little, to squash his face under that crack, between those buttocks, in that giant crevice.

She slid over and now her buttock spilled over the top of his head. She relaxed her weight fully. She knew she must smell bad - she had been so wet and sweaty. It made her smile. Serves the little tramp right.

She stood up, and peeled down her wet panties. The rain had soaked through to them, and this, combined with her sweat, had made them noticeably odorous. She rubbed them against his face slowly, looking directly into his eyes. His breathing was shallow, but he was there, aware of what was happening. She could see it in his mind. She very slowly rubbed the smelliest gusset against his face, and then rubbed the bottom against his nose too.

She turned around, and lifted her skirt back. Then she slowly lowered herself downwards, until she could feel her flesh against the unshaven face. It irritated her smooth behind, but when she saw fully and absorbed his face in her flesh, she hardly noticed.

She relaxed fully once again. Her voluminous skin, over her tremendous buttocks, easily encompassed his whole face. Even though he was looking to the side, her soft yet meaty flesh squeezed around his face, smothering him completely.

But it wasnt the smothering that he hated the most. Not the sweat, or her strong smell. Not the oily sweat that she was smearing on his face. Not even the humiliation. It was the massive compression, the huge crushing she subjected him to. The ever increasing compression that her giant frame so effortlessly imposed on him. It caused him so much pain. And he saw her anger, and realised the pointlessness of his situation. He knew he would have to endure this for a long time. And he was resigned to it.