Ham Kneading Workout

Written by Septia.


“Oh, so that explains where -Oohhrup- Sam has been,” Morgan assured, proceeding to scratch her rear with a doggy-bag – which may or may not have contained leftovers. 
	To this Obioma nodded and took the seat next to Morgan on the slobby girl's couch, first she had waited since she was the guest, but she realised Morgan wouldn't mind, based on her behaviour. The cushion regressed underneath her weight, forming a crater around her rear, similar to Morgan's. “He's a real little pervert.” 
	“I have been suspecting that, always willing to help out with favours.” Morgan flicked away the bag and tugged on her spot-pattern shirt – which had once been white. “Where are you hiding him?” 
	Obi shifted her rump, springs tensing beneath the shifting weight. “Mm, I think he is still in here.” 


~ 1 ~


Flab sandwiched his body, cheeks compacted to the density of a mattress clasping him on each end. Even as Obi sat he felt his body rolling against her skin when she shifted on the couch, residue of condensed stank from the ass crack fastening to his body – almost as if the rear was aiming to make him a grease snowman. Sam grunted, forced to grasp for a new breath of tainted air, staining his mouth with an odour of salted clay. Though, with it he wafted a familiar stench, one of tepid musk and fast food containers. “Am I home?” 
	Just as pressure eased for a moment, Sam felt Obi's pucker convulse behind him. -Brrffuufrrtth- A plume of fumes billowed through the rim, dousing him in a flood of corn-stew stench containing enough moisture to count as a steam bath. Yet, as the shrunken man endured the gas he felt his muscles begin to tremble and undulate. “Uh oh.” 
	“Uh? uh oh… Mmfg…,” Obioma grunted as her cheeks parted by a wedge swelling up between them. Patches around the crack region of her pants bloated, nylon expanding to span over the bulge budding up. 
	“W-wha?” Obi panted out, before it could expand much further she slumped back into the couch, which was accompanied by the squelch of sitting on a melon made of chewed gum. -Glbllsh-. 
	“Oh that is Sam. It is about time he changed back to -Bhourp- normal, I suppose.” 
	“Huh?” 


With his face moulded onto the sweat salted ham, Sam couldn't do much more than endure as his malleable body expanded to fill up Obi's crack, the ammonia reeking grease of the plump bottom plastered onto him all at once to form a film of sweat oils that smeared and globed onto him with each little quiver of the rear. Though he wasn't subjected to the pants’s dirt imbued texture for too long, as the nylon peeled off from him, making him feel like a mulching banana.


~ 2 ~


“Yup, that is my pal alright, his body is bendable like that,” Morgan lectured whilst dragging the skin-hued putty glob of her room-mate away from Obioma’s padded curves, Sam detaching from the butt with a crackle of drying glue -Chrklr-. 
	“That never happened with me and Eltin, he was just small. Mmf. Do you think he likes this too?” 
	“You bet, explains why he is so eager to help me with this kinda stuff. But he is a nice dude.” 
	“Mm, I getcha, did feel all nice and puffy to sit on him.” 
	Morgan scraped the last of Sam up like a gum and started to fold him up to a square, kneading and stretching his body. “He does make a great pillow, and always there to help. Hey, while you are staying the night already, want to help me thank this great guy and have som-Aauurroaap-e fun to boot?” Morgan didn't wait to flip over Obi's wet shirt and plant Sam on her breasts, kneading him into the shape of a front bra, held in place naturally like glue by Obi's bodygrease. 
	Obi swirled a few fingers in her blond mop of a hairdo, squeezing over the goopy Sam-bra. “Mm, Eltin isn't coming back until tomorrow, so sounds fun. But,” she heaved up her breasts, then let them flop down with Sam smooshed and ground in to clasp around her pudgy domes, “how did you know I didn't have a bra?” 
	“You look like someone who thinks those things are as much of a hassle as I do.” 


~ 3 ~


“Hmmf, he's moaning so much,” Obi noted as she mushed her breasts together with Morgan, the patch of beige clay between them warping under the pressure, the form contorted enough to seem like it could be either of the girl's garments. 
	Morgan slurped over her lips, trying to copy the yoga pose the two women on TV stood in as close as she could. “Oof, you are right, hard to stay in shape with two -Blhoouarp- pretty girls, huh, dirty boy?” Morgan giggled to herself at using such language. 


For being so soft, the cleavage had no issue in flattening Sam out to a human pancake. Breast-meat kept bulldozing him from either one angle or the other. Froms the girls adjusting to each others movements in order to stay in position Sam was enveloped by an avalanche of chub, jamming him between the bosoms that glistened with sweat. More and more of him compacted into the chest canyons, deep in the recesses where the atmosphere laid painted with bitter tangs. He felt oiled finger reach in and tuck him between the breasts, having him sink into the embrace which compressed and masticated his malleable body. Among the clumps of clotted perspiration and dust Sam was squeezed over he could make out the zest of food crumbs and splotches of sauce. Only the stars knew how long time the filth had gotten to mature, considering the two girls' lax hygiene priorities. -Squllsh- As soon as a little bit of dirt had gathered and smeared onto him it open the door for all the more to latch onto the patches of grime dotting his form. 
	The surroundings rumbled and contracted, his form moulded by the pounding of fat, guiding him downwards to squish into one of the girls’ love handles. Between the folds of fat – where water barely reached even when the girls took a bath – was a congealed streak of sweat, tinted a sickly yellow. Sam was rammed through it, led by hands and fat cramming him through the groove so the paste of body odour piled over him, some the thickness of taffy while the aged perspiration crumbled like salt crystals. 


His journey led him to darkness, shadows that swallowed him up with the slimy grind of ripping off a band-aid, and the grime smearing around him felt like someone took the very same band-aid and wrapped him into it. First was the smell, rank claws of stank curled their talons into his nose and spread the air of saltine so deep he could taste it in his gullet. Second was the heat, an oven baking him into the film of gunk clasped around him. Drizzles brushed him with clots of solidified musk, grease that melted over him like butter in a pan and sprawled out to drape his form in tendrils of oil and stunk like he had been buried in a trove of old socks. 


~ 4 ~


Outside, Morgan and Obi were teetering on one leg each, standing armpit to armpit over the clump of malleable boy-meat, both panting. 
	“But isn't yoga supposed to be soothing?” Obi huffed. 
	“At least one of us is relaxed, and I thought I could act like a pig, this dirty hog must be in heaven, can you believe it? Why did you keep this a secret from me, pal?” Morgan addressed that last to the armpit, from which they could feel some squirms as they moved. “Go ahead and call -Bhuuroah- him out Obi, it is all in good fun.” 
	At this Obi pouted and nearly toppled, but tugged Morgan close to squeeze their arms together. “Hope you like my pit as much as you did my butt.” 
	“Whoo, girl~. Did you and your gal do something like this?” 
	“We didn't, really. But… We did something.” 


Fresh air treated Sam for a few seconds of relief, before he was assaulted by palms grubbing and sculpting, fluffing him up to a poofy rectangle. 
“Lets try this pose with it,” he heard Morgan's voice, before being shoved away, a familiar touch of curved rump padding surrounding him, with the air growing spiced with flatulence. 
	“You got it? So, three, two, one…” 
	The malodorous grasp was torn from him, but returned with a crash as a voice eked out: “B-booty bump.” 
	-Dnmth- bottoms still drooping in perspiration slammed him flat. -Brroorrffftth- The resulting miasma of smog left his body rippling and the end of his pancaked form flapping. With two bursts of tepid gas he wasn't able to tell them apart before they tangled and merged into a concoction of onions brewed in soda and infused with pepper, an odor that tickled and drilled its way through him, as it condensed into dollops of moisture on his skin. Sam was left trembling as the girls mashed and ground their rumps together to smear the stench into their butt pillow. 


“Phoo haha.” 
	“Heheha.” 
	The two girls chuckled as they slumped down from the back to back chair pose, collapsing on top of their squishy pillow, which laid mangled under at least a pair of take out containers. “How was that one, Sam?” Morgan teased and smushed her bottom back and forth over him. 
	“Tried to hold that in for you, hope you savoured it,” Obi followed up and rested against Morgan's back. 
	“This is really fun. But you are right, yoga is straining, have to find a place to stash the little pervert.” 
	Hearing this, a smile curled on Obi's face. She went straight for plucking up Sam and sinking her palms into his body, cramming him to her chest and compressing him further and further. Until she was left with a ball the size of a marble, reeking of dried sweat and pepper. “This should fit a little perv,” she called out to get Morgan's attention, then as she turned she pounced – or, flopped – onto them, plugging the Sam marble up to Morgan's nostril, and watched him submerge past the brim of her nose. 
	Morgan scoffed and chuckled, feeling her and Obi's belly smush between them. “That should do, you are pretty -Boorahp- nasty as well.” Morgan snorted a few times, to move the bump of Sam up the bridge of her nose, really stuck in. 
	Then they laid still, on top of one another. Obi starting to blush. 
	“Want to grab a bite?” 
	“I've got a couple or pierogi stashed in my pants pockets.” 
	Morgan huffed with a giggle. “Pocket pierogi, sounds like a date.”


~ 5 ~


In the cavern Sam's breath was absorbed by the goo on the wall, yet the noise of mucus sloughing entombed him. Loggers had globbed up onto him when he was first shoved in, but he was promptly sucked into the gutter of slime. On each little hair jutting out from the walls hung globules of bog hued snot, trudged through the nostril he was smothered in trails of gunk swabbing off on his skin. Phlegm drooped and clung to spots of sweat and filth dotting his body. -Shgllrsh- Goo congealed to a gelatinous hull, Sam's expansion halted by the limited space of the nose-hole. His body was dragged up and down as layers of green blobs soaked down onto him like caramel on a carnival treat. Pulped up with the nasal gunk, Sam's nose was eased from the sharp pungency of salt, to be stuffed with wafts of congealing sweetness. However, as layers build up and slathered him to a cocoon of snot, the odor s of musk and sweat stewed to the point it forged the reek of pickled vinegar, mixing with the foul smells of two slobs in an apartment. The longer he stayed, the more potent it grew. 


~ 6 ~


Obi murmured and turned, blinking when her head met something that bounced her back. She crawled up it in a sleepy haze, and soon realized she had been sleeping on Morgan's belly. Sprawled out on the floor, their had been clothes torn off and strew over them as improvised covers. From The girl's nose, she saw a path of green, a blob the shape of a raindrop hung from her nostril, glistening in the morning light, and containing a shadow of something matte. 
	Obi grasped the booger and smushed her hand over Morgan's chest, caking off the globs of phlegm in winding patterns. When Morgan started to come to she smothered her chest with her own, squishing and sliding the booger Sam between them. “Morning.” 
	“Good morn-Haaawnn,” Morgan begun a yawn, that ended in a belch -Hourraap-, “ing. Oof… I need to use the bathroom.” 
	“Well… I also have to go to the can.” The girls exchanged a glance, to themselves, then to the snot ball. 


-Brfffhlft- 
	“Phoo… aa, g-geeze I am backed up.” 
	-Phrroorth- 
	“You're telling me, how old were those leftovers?” 
	Morgan huffed, constantly fidgeting in the shared toilet-seat to have enough room. 
	“Practically new, just a week or so. Mmf…” -Pffiirrth-.
	“Least We are giving our audience a show, right Piggy?” Obioma panted as she released bouts of dense smog to evaporate in the bathroom air, but smacking point blank into Sam. 


Clumps of snot, musk, hairs and gunk littered Sam the butt padding as he was heated by the raising clouds of gas. The grunts he could muster muffled by puttering of stained puckers. -Phrlrltbllsh- With a moist burst one rim bulged outwards, the other soon followed as he was trapped between the cheeks, at the first row seat. -Shrrlft- The mounds crackled as they crawled through the rims, swelling the exits to accommodate the bulk of the brown sludge baked and compacted through the foul workings of the slobs’ innards. The loaves radiated out heat and oozed bitter odours drowning Sam's air in heat that stung through his nose as much as his throat. 
	“Pshoo, got a b-big un for him, oo, too much cheese,” Obi complained as the amber trunk of waste moseyed out of her brim like candle-wax, stench wrenching out through cracks and furrows in the mud along with puffs of -Pffrth- that clung a stench of old dairy to match the musk of the girls swirling around him. 
	“You are telling me? Feels like I am a turkey, or stuffed with one, you are gonna owe me one after we have treated you like this, dirty pervert,” Morgan complained as her pucker warped over the cracks and buckled segments of the caramel hunk. 
	Their brims pattered and undulated over the mulch, smearing up the surface filth to collect in their cracks, so the stench stayed ever close to him while he was kneaded to and fro, mangled by masses of ass pudge. Dung stacked and curled up in the toilet to a trove, resembling a stack of tinder-trunks with he hues of brown mingling and looping over one another, raising the temperature enough for Sam to feel sweat, fermenting even in the odours of his own body. 


~ 7 ~


“Mmnrf… Aaa, soft toilet-paper like this should be a mainstay,” Obi mused to herself as she wiped the folded Sam between her cheeks, streaks of brown lacing over his filth contaminated skin. Once she was done handing it over for Morgan to fold and wipe herself with. 
	Sam's head spinning and stomach turning at the warm muck surrounding him and mingling with the dust and fabric clotted sweat and mucus, he was lost in the odours curling around one another, like a child in a dark forest. 
	“Oh, can see about lending him to you at times, but he is still my room-mate.” 
	Obi sighed and nodded, then looked around. “Do you have any perfume wipes?” 
	Morgan shoved Sam up her bottom,” Mmf, yes, I was just gonna grab some to 'shower' with as well.”