Ass-istant Sam, Promise


Written by Septia


“Hey, Sam? I am about to head out.” 
	Sam brought his head out of a wrap of towels, scrubbing away the lingering dampness to join his girlfriend. “It is about time for me too, I'll tag along.” 
	Sabra buttoned up her blouse and brushed her fingers through her silver steel hair to shake off the excess moisture still hanging in their tips. “Just remember to come home on time. There's this new show I can't wait to share with you, but I can't say anything about it or I'll spoil it and I just wanna see your reaction~.” Sabra spoke in the way that had her bangs  whole body bouncing and bangs juggling over her forehead. It was a side of her Sam saw more the longer they spent together. 
	“Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world,” he ensured. Sabra halted him as he was wedging into his jacket, bringing him close, warmth seeped across from her into him. Sam embraced her in turn, lingering in her atmosphere, being newly showered the air had that soft hazel tinge of Sabra's hair and skin. 
	“Hey, S-sam…,” she mumbled, “I was thinking, if maybe if we-.” 
	A crash of toppled plastic followed by a tsunami of sugary water disturbed the moment – but was only the harbinger for the war cry that demolished the mood: “Devil dicks on horsebacks, my Soooda,” there was a brief, but pregnant pause before the follow-up, “pussy ass dicks, my keyboard is soaked. Baalls, Saaaabra.” The screams ran through the apartment, Sabra unleashing Sam with her expression drooped, regressed into anxious discomfort. “Oooh…” 
	“Ah… slag…” she mumbled “I'm already almost late for work…,” she said and started to unbutton, then quickly glanced over to Sam. “That's not on you, I wouldn't wanna miss our shower, y-you always know how to freshen me right up. I'll just, deal with her.” 
	Sam grabbed her shoulder. “Sabra… You can't miss work just to nanny your roommate. Venol is not a child.” 
	“Crack ass piss, the soda's staining through my stockings,” the voice from the other room shouted. 
	Sabra gave Sam a patient smile. 
	“Sabra, You go, I'll handle her.” 
	“Oh you don't have to-” 
	“My appointment is nothing big, I'll get to it, you shouldn't be stressed all day. I got you, babe.” 
	Her expression melted into joy. “Hey, Venol, Sam's gonna help you out while I'm away, I gotta get to work,” then she whispered, “Thanks so much sweetie,” and gave him a peck on the cheek before hastily evacuating the premises. 
	Sam held his cheek, and sighed. True, his appointment wasn't as time sensitive, but… it was important. It had been a couple months. He'd wanted a place for them, one without any roommates.


Sam marched over to Venol's room, and opening the door gave him the experience of being hit in the face with a wave of tropical climate. Heaters on blast circulating the stale, noodle spiced air in the room, laundry deposited here and there along with food cartons, and in its center, an island of wrappers and bottles rose up along with a gaming station computer, by which Venol was mounted. 
	A tuft of blue hair fluffed up as Venol peeked over the screen. “Uhm, hey dude,” she mumbled and shuffled back down. “Thanks for offering help and all, but just so you know,” she tapped the side of her headphones, “even with these babies I heard you two going at it in the shower. Would you be cool if I recorded it sometime? You know what, mind wipe that, just help me out.” 
	Sam took in a deep breath. And stepped inside Venol's realm. “Wait, we don't make that much noise?” 
	“You defo’ cute, but I didn't think you were deaf-o too.”
	Rude as that was, Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. Though he banished that thought and stepped around the desk. Venol's dump truck had her holstered in the gaming chair by the armrests, through which the deluge of butt blubber billowed out of with her cheeks, spanning the entire seat.
	“We can talk, but I gotta figure out ho-ooooh my,” he mumbled, seeing the jumbo cup tilted over the keyboard, a lime green liquid pooling between the key caps in rivers. “Okay, lets do this,” Sam mumbled and took off his shirt, he'd just been in the shower, and he was not about to dirty these fresh clothes. 
	Venol blinked. “Oh, so she did mean it like that. That's a solid, but I guess with what a suck-up you are, you'd do anything for Sabra brownie points. Now, how does this thing work exactly?” Venol asked a confused Sam before reaching out and grabbing into his chest. -Ch-Cltwwng- His malleable membrane bent and warped around her digits with ease, and before he could protest she'd have him gripped in both mitts and stretched out between her palms. Sam's chest splayed wide as a caricatured balloon with his proportions warping and moulding flatter as his mass was pulled outwards.
	“Wait, mfmsf wait…” Sam squealed as his head folded backwards and her warm palms smoothed out his features. 
	“It’s ok, I got it,” she ensured, stretching him with a creak of glazed polyester, plying and warping out his malleable form so his limbs sunk back into the sheet of pale, peachy white canvas in her grip. Till she held a moderately rectangular Sam-towel. Pants trailing off him as his legs reeled into the sheet of his malleable mass. “Alright, this's pretty good, like one of those, keyboard cleaning slimes, might as well give the keyboard a deep cleaning,” she mused and brought Sam down. A splatter of soda sprinkled to stain his form while being moulded into the crevices along the caps. At first just displacing the liquid, though soon enough feeling the syrupy splatter glaze his exterior. 
	“Hey thanks, Sammy. You're doing a gal a solid, even if that gal's Sabra. I get it, like I said: you're both pretty loud,” she mumbled and dragged Sam over the keyboard. 
	As he moved across the caps Sam's body smothered through the crevices, ito the depths, swabbing through a buildup of soaking soda on the surface, but then swabbing layers of built-up fatty oils, salty snack dust, and dirt that had long been scrubbed down from marathon gaming sessions. He longed for the atmosphere of Venol's room as he was plunged into this bog of greasy odour, reeking of a gas station onion ring battered in expired cereal and fried in oyster grease. And as he forged down the path across the keys, Sam felt his body scrub up and away clogs of the grime buildup among them with a slithering smear of an anaconda crawling through a swamp -Chhgllrstch-. 
	His presence uprooted, gummed and semi-dried out bundles of grime– not unlike the kind you'd find under a gamer girl's fingernails – and as she pressed him down he dug deeper, through the surface of the keyboard, down the depths in the dungeons hidden beneath the carps. 
	He passed  into the realm of stray crumbs and dirt rummaged away in the dark depths, just for him to smear into the cluttered mess of specs of grime smattering and plastering into his form as he was mushed and gummed through the keyboard, reeking like the pits of an abandoned cheese curing cave from the coagulated sweat smeared throughout this surroundings. 
	“Oh right in there, alright. Geeze I can actually feel all that grit through your skin, kinda creepy,” Venol mumbled as she scrubbed Sam back and forth. 
	The sugary soft drink congealing against his skin together with the dried sweat, skinflakes and dusty to form a batter across his skin while he was swept to and fro across the board until all the juice had seeped into him and given a sickly sweet contrast to the raw salty stench of body odour and debris. 
	Venola patted the Sam-towel down over the keyboard, hearing the muted ticks and taps of the keys pressing down under the blanket of malleable meat, before gently prying him back with a slithering smear of a double-stuffed cheese-pull. -Chhgfrrrllrps- She peered down at his surface and recoiled. “Phwheey, I can see it’s all over you, how'd my keyboard get – that – dirty?” she asked, holding the end of the Sam-Towel, the grit and grime clinging to his skin like frying batter, seemed he was the onion ring now… “That's pretty grody, but got the soda out of the stuff. So hey, least you're being a good boyfriend.” 
	Sam felt his mouth form back together in the break, gasping to respond. Then… hesitated. 
	“Yeah… You're welcome… happy to help out.” 
	“Aww, thanks, dun worry, I'll let Sabra know you were a real help. Now hold still for a sec, I gotta plug this back in,” she said and absent-mindedly stuffed Sam under her armpit as she fiddle with the tech. His body quickly enclosed in an atmosphere dominated by the stench of marinated toenails wasslathered over the gummed, greasy hair tips of Venol's hair, the heat sweltering into him and mingling with the crusted coat of crumbly breading he'd been afflicted with – The Sam onion ring glazed and deep-fried in oodles of Venol's armpit oils. But as he simmered in fresh sweat, a thought lit in his mind, a lantern to keep him focused: this wasn't the worst he'd been put through, and if it was for Sabra… It'd be worth it…


~ 1 ~


Venol was set to spend the forenoon with Sam poised to stay tucked away on her person as she did so, soaking and marinating in the armpit until every inhale brought air tinged in ammonia and vinegar. He was shifted around as she gyrated back and forth in her seat. 
	-Shhrlllprt-. Venol, slurping up noodles from an instant pot with her eyes still glued on the screen. Dollops of broth and clumps of rehydrated vegetables toppled onto her chest, where it splattered on the Sam-towel splayed out over her breaths -Sllpths-. Spittle laced brine drooled down his form, displacing the armpit-fried batter of grime and gunk he had garnered from wiping her messes clean, pathways of the artificially flavored slop clearing in the grime to give Sam some sense of cleanliness. Though like washing your hands without soap, it more shifted and stirred the grime across his form than cleansed it, and below he was getting soaked in sweat with his body enslaved in her cleavage. 
	“Mmfgph, mmpw,” Venol mumbled to herself in-between slurps. Clicking her chopsticks together before she reached out for a donut, pinching the pastry between the chops and dunking it with a deluge of spice in the noodle broth, waiting for it to soak up the soup before hoisting the loaded pasty to her maw and scoffing it down with moist smacks. A hail of crumbs pelted Sam, globules of sugary, salty pastry clotted in salty, Haber spiced fluids smattering over his skin. The molten sugar binding onto him, glued down in chunks simmering in the tepid spices as the perversion of sweetness through a broil of scolding peppers stirred his senses, the grimy scents piled up with renewed vigor. 
	“Mmnf, … mf, hmmm…,” Venol peered down over her chest, swallowed her donut, and put the instant pot down. “Phee, … thanks for the help, really appreciate it, but I should be better than this,” she mumbled. The girl sponsoring herself on the armrests and heaving up. The billowing patches of womanly flank flab sloughing out of the armrest windows were compressed, bulldozed by the armrest as she hoisted herself up, and once she was through they sprung back out with a jostle of flab -Pptwwhhng-. Even as she stood, the sides of her ass laid sculpted in grooves of the armrests windows, giving the appearance of a pair of fat mushroom caps growing out the sides of her butt. 
	“Phaa, … I really need a new chair,” she said, caressing the grooves on her cheeks. 
	Venol picked through the bottles on her desk, cleared up the wrappers, putting together dishes and sorting the rubbish in various sacks. 
	“This… is starting to look, kinda presentable,” Sam mumbled. 
	“Hey,” Venol scoffed down to the Sam-towel hanging on her chest like a drape. “Thanks,… Went a bit overboard last night.” As she waddled around while cleaning up, the lower half of Sam kept bumping into her thighs, juggled back and forth by the plump pillars as she strode. And, her clean, smooth skin bumping into his, … Oh, she wasn't wearing anything but a bra, was she? 
	Venol wiped her brown and looked, prying Sam off her chest with a creak of old tape and folding him up on in her embrace to rest on her chair. “Ought to get dressed for the day, 'suppose,” she stumbled her way to the closet. 
	Sam let out a sigh. This wasn't how he intended to spend his morning, but he had at least finished 'helping' Venol. Though he was gonna need another shower, … Sam's body gradually contracted, moulding towards his usual self. 
	“Tyro's ball sack,” Venol shouted. “I knew I left at least one pair that fit somewhere, …, shere, … ahah, … Theere, this should do it-.” -Kkrrriiiitch- a tear of fabric cut through Venol's bedroom, the scream of wefts rent asunder with the tensile pressure of her hind.
	“… Tits, …” she mumbled, discarding the torn scraps and storming back to her computer. “Should've gone shopping ages ago,” she mumbled. 
	Sam stared up as his surroundings darkened, and Venol's chonky plump bubble butt fell from on high: a meteor of ass fat. 
	“W-wait Veno-.” 
	-Sppthhwwlp- Venol's rear crashed down on Sam, the protruding armrest molds at the side of her hips popped into place to lock her hind down in the seat. Sam's body was compressed flat under the steamy surface of her hind, bulldozed into flattening, so he felt his body burgeoning up along the contour of her thighs and moulded into her crack, with the sleek lubricant of fresh sweat plastering into him the balm of sweat. “Okay, … where do the,” Venol mumbled and gyrated her rear into the seat, negligent of the squeals and pleads muffled out from under her dump truck of an ass, “Where's a girl gotta bother to find some durable underwear?…” 


The pressure was constant, the heat radiating from her pores steaming him. Combined, it felt like nothing more than a meaty waffle cast in the iron of Venol's rump, with about as much agency as well. “Venol…” his cries were smothered under a ton of chub smothering him. As the woman shifted and shuffled in her seat, she was inadvertently milling Sam with the grindstone of a posterior, smearing him along the motions of her hind like an ointment. Sweat and grease accumulated across Sam as his form moulded out to cover more ground of her hind, sweeping the sap of concentrated girl brine under him, his senses dominated by the odour of burnt onion rings pickled in gymsocks. 
	“Hmmm…” Venol said and leaned forwards, in the inching motion Sam felt his malleable form slosh up between her thighs, over her crotch in a grind of liquid laté wrapping up buttered steak. 
	“Mmmm, mm hmm, …” Venol pondered and leaned back, scraping the Sam-sheet back over her hind so his form sprawled and stretched over her cheeks, welling up over the bulwark of a bubble butt: “Weeeh, these ones aren't my color,” she'd inform herself. And lean forward again, scanning the scream. 
	With a gradual rocking-horse motion the roommate shuffled and smeared Sam across her hind, steampressing him flat and cupping him around her body, pressurising him flat against reservoirs of built-up perspiration, squeezed into it and through a combination of the sticky caulck vacuum sealing his body, he was cemented into place against he tainted radiator of pudge. 
	“But what about, these?” Venol hummed, fidgeting in her seat as Sam pancaked beneath her quarterpounders moudling his form. 
	Sam was stewing in the slop of old sweat that saturated his body, riling up patches of keyboard gunk and spicy broth, all broiling with the brine of Venol’s sweat as his body was compacted, layered over himself and smeared taut up across her rear, along her thighs, over her crotch like a stubborn patch of chewing gum. 
	“These ones, … aren't, the worse, but they look a lil’ tight, …” Venol mulled and leaned forward. 
	Her rising rear giving Sam air and light, as he stared back into the back of her chair, silencing his movements and shouted. 
	“I'm still down here, Venol.” 
	This made the woman jump, her rear clattering back into he seat with a thud -Thhdbdsm- and smooshing Sam flat with the weight of a boulder of lard clapping into him onto the lid of a humid anvil. 
	“Whoa? Oooh, … Oh Junk, Oh demon dicks, I didn't even, hang on, …” Venol huffed and hastily wrung herself out of the seat, slopping free like a cork out of a bottle -Chlrlpth- and stumbling over, hobbling over to her mirrored closet. “Sam, you okay under there? Buddy, really didn't mean to do that, ok, I'll patch you up  and you'll be as fine as-, …” She stopped, and observed her reflection. Sam's pastel peach skin hue laid sleek and smooth in a ¨'V' patch over her crotch, the brim holes curving around her thighs were smooth and sleek, with a vague hem formed over her crotch and continuing down along the peak of her thigh. After a pirouette she glanced at her fine, swollen buttocks, seeing him sculpted against her skin, with a panting imprint of his face stretched out across the seat, clutching over the cleft of her cheeks, a touch rosy to tint the peachy tones. 
	“Hmmm, …” Venol mumbled, patting the vaguely panty-shaped Sam, brushing along the brim over her rear and stretching it around her thighs, up to her front to meet with the flap over her crotch, and rubbing the malleable flesh together till the hem was one continuing strap around her. “That's, … pretty good…,” she mumbled. 
	Sam panted out and wheezed. “Venol, what are you saying?” 
	A hint of fluster went crossed her cheeks. “I mean,” she said, wobbling her rear in the direction of the mirror, watching Sam jiggle on the waving blubber caressing over them. “Gotta admit, you could make a fine pair of panties, in a pinch…” She paused, hoisting her buttocks up in her cupped hands, jiggling them intermittently. “Which happens to be what I'm in right now, …hint.” 
	“Venol…” Sam grumbled. 
	“I know what you're gonna say-.” 
	“Venol, I am not gonna be your panties, get me off of your ass right now.” 
	“Aww comeooon, you're literally the only piece of undergarments that fit me right now. I can't go out and buy new underwear naked, plus, … you know, …” she said with her voice taking on a tint of the sultry, “being all clapped up on a hot girl’s booty cheeks ain't the worst fate a dude can have for a day, is it~?” 
	“Do you know how many guys out there would be begging to have a waterbed like mine wear them out for an afternoon?” 
	
	'If the water was sweat, maybe, …' Sam thought, but only expressed it through a grouchy countenance. 
	“Yeah, I made it a bit awkward. I know you got a girlfriend, but I thought like, this doesn't count and you know,” she mumbled, then sighed. “Look it’s, ok, Sam. I'll be straight: you're sooo comfy. Like, it feeels like my ass is getting a real hug with you spanned over it, strung up, and you aren't gonna rip like those other traitors…” she paused. “You. You aren't gonna rip, … right?” 
	“I won't rip, … no, …,” Sam admitted. 
	“Okay, phew, so, in normal circumstances, I'd just let you go, but, …” she mumbled as she traced her fingers along Sam's hem, straightening it out, stringing it upwards in a little ruffle pattern, kneading his frame out over her cheeks, “Since I'm in a bit of an emergency, you could just, be my panties, for the day, ehm, the afternoon. Just while I go out and get some new underwear? You aren't gonna leave me naked, are ya?” she said. 
	Sam remained silent. 
	“And…,” Venol continued, “Sabra, did, tell you to help me out while she was gone, isn't that right?” she prodded with a playful tone, “bestest boyfriend in the neighborhood?” 
	“… I would be kind of jerk if I said no…” 
	Venol nodded with vigor. 
	“Okay,” 
	Venol fist pumped in victory.
	“But, only so you can go to a store, pick up some underwear, and go straight back home. I have things I need to, … do today, as well. But, I'll help you out.” 
	“Hah, you got it, buck,” she said and gave her ass a smack, watching the ripples along her rear mold across Sam. “I'll strap into something quick and head out right away, and, you know, I don't mind if you enjoy the ride~. Maybe it’s even worth a five star review~.” 
	Out of courtesy Sam held himself back from saying: 'let’s see if it can make it to two stars…' 


~ 2 ~


The sun baked the busy streets, with the only cover being the occasional clouds passing by above granting floating patches of shade. People were milling about, busy with errands and appointments, and Venol was just among the crowd. Even dressed up in a full workout tracksuit she didn't stand out against the diverse crowd, even if her ass was getting side eyes. Sam was shielded from the stares, but not from the heat, the baking, trapped humidity of being sandwiched under spandex and girl butt, the heat was siphoning in through the material, but trapped as it came into contact with both of their skin, the rays of sun and stuffy compartment sowing seeds of heat that blossomed through her pores as a fresh fruit of juicy sweat, reeking of cup noodle broth and rosewater with a bucket of salt thereto. In her room Sam was steampressed, but now he was boiling in drooling dumpy dew, wheezing to himself as his form was moulded and stretched along the swaying motions of her hips as Venol wandered down the street. 
	“Oh tits, you know what it is?” she asked down to her crotch, “It’s that I can barely feel you down there, just feels like more of me, but still in a warm cuddle, but not awkward or itchy like regular fabric, you could take up this underwear thing full time.” 
	“Mmgpghrhag.” 
	“Ugh, fine I get it, I'm going, I'm going, just gotta, … Hm?” she paused, staring at a crow that was gathering at the side of the sidewalk. Approaching, Venol gasped, seeing a stand manned by a team of hot guys, cooking potnoodles with the efficiency of an assembly line, and putting out free samples in cute lil' paper cups. “Free noodles,” she exclaimed. “ Hang on, does that say… Lentils?  OOo noodles made of lentils and beans? How does…. that sounds genius,” she exclaimed and shoved her way in. 
	Sam felt himself plastered firmly over the sides of her thighs as she barged through the crowd, her protruding hips grinding against pedestrians and kneading him into the warm gluted skin, his body squeaking and squealing together as she made her way through, his muffled grunts muted in the bustle of the crowd. 
	“Mm, I didn't even know they had this many flavors,” Venol mumbled, before grabbing one of each and marching back out through the crowd with her winnings, slurping each one down like a shot glass and smacking her lips “Mmf, prawns, fmms, cabbage, buttoncheese~” she mused in joy.
	And as she enjoyed, she spotted a girl nearby, with two cups. The girl proceeded to dump the contents of one cup into the other. Venol's jaw dropped. 
	“You, … you can do that, …?” 
	Sam fell to the onslaught of another battering of Venol barging through the crowd, his sides smeared back, sticky and bubbling over the smeared perspiration underneath, mires in the vinaigrette stench of her musk along with the tainted tints of the crowd's jeans, leather, and suede pants, grinding between bodies to flatten under the reek of strangers. All as Venol went in for round two, three, four… 
	“Phaa, …” Venol emerged satisfied, patting her stomach as she sauntered down the streets. “Dunno what they did to make beans into pasta, but I'm all for it. See, I was gonna, ooh, …” Up next, Venol's attention was grabbed by a bookstore, leafing through magazine after magazine and ending up not buying anything. Where she stood with her thighs scrunched together as her eyes scanned the pages, Sam was squeezed like a louffa between her thighs, bundled over her crotch and melding into himself, folding in the layers of sweat and musk it his own body, kneaded and malformed whilst Venol got distracted with a couple more, risqué articles. When she relaxed his body was drawn out back over her crotch and hips in a smear of fresh bubblegum -Schhrrllrsththaa- crinkling with droplets of fishy nectar simmering with the slop and sweat of his surroundings .


When she passed by a bridge she spotted a mother duck and her flock in tow crossing the waterways below. Clamping her arms into the railing and leaning forwards not to miss a moment of the cute critters. The hefty lean tensing the back of her rear, smothering the fabric of her workout gear into Sam with her buttocks filling it out below him, stretching him across the canvas of her buns with a soft putter and patter of humid pepper spiced lard marinating into his body. His frame crawling along the cusp of her booty as she swayed and wiggled it to lean further, hearing the squelch of his own form sprawling over her -Sqqpllrlrsg- -Grrlsltsh-. He squeaked like a chewed halloumi, fried against the sun-baked ass of his girlfriend's roommate… 
	She passed by a street performer, enthralled by the act of someone juggling filled teapots, then a number of stores where she leisurely browsed, all as Sam cooked in her flanks, and the heat getting so potent, Sam was having difficulty keeping his thoughts strained, searing in the greasy booty oil and his thoughts steaming of pungent girl ham. 


~ 3 ~


“Mm, … Pha, …” Venol sighed, sitting back on a bench in Jylf park and delighting in the sunlight. “I should really get out more, just to clear my head a bit,” she mused. 
	-Scpplwrutha- Below Sam got a reminded that a gaming chair had a considerably cushier seating than a wooden bench, his body smeared flat against her backed up ass, the weight was so prominent it felt like he was balancing a boulder on his head. With the clustered grime of dirt, sweat strengthened by lint gumming him down. He wondered if this is what a brick felt like in a wall, the hard bottom plastered against the plush, drooping booty, giving a bizarre contrast of texture, like wrapping a metal bar in a chiffony cloth. 
	“Ah, the bench wasn't exactly clean, … a tinge of tobacco and cheap ale seeped through the lycra tracksuit coiling his mind in the atmosphere of an unkempt service locale. 
	“Hmm, … But, that, wasn't,” Venol mumbled, scratching her chin, “That wasn't the only reason she was out, was it? I was, … supposed to do, something,” she mumbled, peering down her noodle broth stained workout gear. “Oooh, right.” 
	Sam let out a whimpering sigh. Finally, she remembered. 
	“I was gonna get some training in, hah, really have been couped up a bit too long if I'm forgetting things like that.” 
	Sam winced. 
	“Yeeah, I can rest later, let’s get these thighs pumping,” she declared and rose, sauntering out off the park with her hips bobbing her protruding bottom in her wake, each jostle and bounce stirring Sam through the collected slobber of sweat drooling down her hips. A faint outline just beneath the suite in the muddled form of panties whimpered to itself, wheezing pleads that fell on the deaf ears of a woman delighting in a summer's day.