You wake up in a daze, finding yourself still squished between two big doughy masses of flesh. Ugh, you were never going to get free of Missy at this rate. As a few moments pass, however, it dawns on you that the scent here isn't nearly as awful as it should be, and not nearly as oppressively crushing. You feel around a little and realize your whole body isn't actually sandwiched, it's just your upper body. Your lower half is still pressed against some flesh, but you're not buried in the booty coffin you'd been consigned too up to this point.
All your questions were answered in an instant as light suddenly poured down onto you from above. You looked up to see two hands prizing apart the mass of flesh you were currently trapped in, and saw two faces looking down at you. One was Missy's, peering down at you wickedly. The other, the owner of the body you were currently imprisoned in, was Layla. Layla was a pretty well-known victim of Missy's. As the former cheerleading squad captain, Missy's rise to power had involved the merciless destruction of poor Layla's will. Even if someone didn't know the backstory, anyone would know Layla as "that fat titty chick." Layla's tits were huge. She herself was fairly chubby as well, but below the chest she was nothing compared to Missy. Still, it explained the prison you were in: you were sandwiched between her tits, peering up out of her cleavage. Your lower body was (now obviously) held against her belly by her shirt, which was tucked in to her skirt beneath you.
"Finally, you're awake!" said Missy, cackling. "It's not polite to keep a lady waiting, you know."
"Wh--" you said, squinting into the light. "What's going on?" The air above you was chilling your sweat-drenched face.
"Wanna know a neat little fun fact about little miss tits-for-brains here?" said Missy. "She's been wearing shirts with plastic insides. Like inside-out toilet training sheets for babies, sewn into ugly shirts!" You weren't sure what to make of that, nor could you predict where this was going, so you didn't say anything. "She had to, you see, because otherwise she'd be in a real pickle. When she volunteered to step down as cheer captain to make way for me, she and I had just come to a little bit of an arrangement. See, I'd told her that a shitty cheerleader like her wasn't even half as valuable as my toilet. And as you can imagine, she really wanted to prove herself. Initially she wanted to prove she was a half-decent cheerleader. But I had a better idea. If she wasn't even on the level of my toilet, maybe she should start by proving herself at least as good as that first!"
The gears turned in your head, and you now had an inkling of what she was driving at. Still, the idea was too nasty to entertain seriously. Either way, Missy continued. "So, I told her I was going to put her to the test for the rest of our time in school. And she could either take some initiative, or else I'd be coaxing the performance out of her, and I'd be choosing her pretty little mouth as my new toilet bowl. Well, brilliant leader and motivator as I am, that really seemed to spark some drive in little ol' Layla... She showed up the next day wearing these goofy shirts, and now these fat, wobbly, whore tits are my toilet seat at least once a day! The plastic shirts keep it all from leaking and ruining school for everyone. I really must commend her inventiveness!"
Your heart began to sink as you came to grips with what was clearly about to happen.
"Anyway, long story short, I've been shittin' down the middle of these tits for over a year now, and since you demonstrated some serious aptitude for being a shit-dwelling hobgoblin yesterday, I thought I'd make my two favorite pets join forces!" You gaped at her in horror. "Don't give me that look, runt," she said, some of the fake charm peeling back. "Consider yourself lucky! If you do a good job, I might order Lame-la to keep you between those hooker titties 24/7!"
You couldn't begin to imagine what "doing a good job" meant in this context, but as far as you were concerned, the new goal was to survive. Missy grinned and turned around, presenting her massive ass as she pulled down her pointless underwear. She sat heavily against Layla's chest, and your world became dark once again.
An ominous rumble echoed above you, before a compressive blast of gas erupted from Missy's ass into the nearly-airtight confines of Layla's shirt, forcing you downward into the bottom of the tucked-in shirt. Down here, it was actually a little lighter as a little bit of light penetrated the shirt, and you looked up at the stunning underboob above you. But your awe didn't last, as a torrent of shit flooded down from between Layla's tits, making them seem strikingly like a pair of buttcheeks. Missy's shit crowded the space within the shirt, engulfing you. You quickly rose to keep abreast of it, realizing you had to get up between her cleavage again. Even though you'd be face-to-face with the source, it'd be better to have it rushing past your face than to be buried in it. You pried Layla's cleavage apart as best you could and shoved your head and torso up, With a lot of wriggling and writhing, you finally felt air -- not fresh air, but air -- above you. You opened your eyes and found yourself face-to-face with Missy's crack, just as she was finishing up her assault.
Then she was done. But she didn't get up. A few dreadful moments passed in silence.
"Well?" said Missy expectantly. "If you're alive in there, you better lick me clean! I've gone to all this effort to install a bidet in my toilet, now it better start working unless it wants to get demolished!"
You fearfully did as you were told, pushing out from Layla's chest as best you could, and began licking her length and depth of her crack. She pushed back on you, sliding up and down, making sure your tongue reached every nook and cranny.
At last, she was satisfied. She stood up, pulling up her underwear and laughing. "Oh my god, you two are a pair! Little miss shitty-titties and my little toyboy!" You looked back at Layla, who had the look of someone who'd long lost the ability to be surprised, or horrified, or hopeful. "That was the real deal in terms of royal treatment for my ass," Missy said as the laughter subsided.
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