PART 1

Gregory was considered by most, and by his own admission, a bit of a nerd. Much to his dismay, Gregory was born with an I.Q. larger than his muscles… pleasing in a way; his brain got him into a great college, but un-pleasing in that girls, the ones he most lusted after, beautiful with shapely butts and legs and intelligent, but not the brainiac he was, wanted nothing much to do with him.

Complicating any chance he might have with said girls was his long time fetish-driven fantasy world. More than anything in the world, Gregory wanted to be a chair seat—not just any chair seat, of course… a chair seat that received the sexy butts of some of the college coeds he secretly stared at in the student center. He watched intently as a gaggle of them often approached an empty table, the chairs arranged about it simply waiting, as was their lowly station in life, for girls in tight blue jeans, shorts, and, his favorite, mini-skirts, to sit on them and engulf their wooden chair faces with round buttocks, often crossing tanned thighs as they chatted and laughed—oblivious to the furniture, the inanimate things, they were sitting on. He watched, he fantasized being one of the seats, his upturned face there for the sole purpose of being sat on as they nonchalantly lowered their fabulous fannies to his face, totally dominating him with their entire, curvaceous weight.

Usually, the completely rational part of his fine mind reminded him that he would never, could never, be a chair or couch seat. Yet, the concept so appealed to him he couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t just his fascination for girls and women with tight, sexy butts, and smooth thighs, there was something more that kept his fantasy life so vivid and alive. As a chair or couch seat, he could transcend the often silly social constraints that human beings force upon each other before any intimate physical contact is allowed. He wasn’t allowed close physical contact with these girls because he wasn’t, in their minds, good enough for them. He didn’t look like a movie star, he wasn’t an athlete, and he wasn’t rich. But a chair… Ah, yes. A chair has the singular function in this world to be sat on. None of those girls asked expected anything of it but to be there so they can, simply, sit on it. It seemed to him mysteriously unfair that an inanimate object designed to be sat on could routinely be mashed under female butts and he couldn’t—because he, social outcast that he was, was still human.

The paradox frustrated him so much one afternoon that he just had to get away. He got in his car and drove aimlessly about campus and then off campus. He found himself negotiating the curves of a rural road when suddenly his car began to accelerate. He lifted his foot from the gas pedal but the car kept accelerating, faster, faster, faster, until the wooded landscape became a blur. Strangely, he couldn’t feel any G forces on his body that would be the normal result of acceleration. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, he realized he was driving at normal speed.

“What the hell!” he shouted. He looked back at the stretch of road that had grabbed his car like some giant hand and catapulted him into speeds he didn’t thing even physically possible. He wiped sweat from his brow. He must have fallen asleep at the wheel, he reasoned. He must have been dreaming. He had been carrying a heavy class load. He vowed to get more sleep and was satisfied with that explanation until he noticed flashing lights in his rear view mirror. “Damn!” he thought. He must have been speeding-- sleep-driving and speeding. He pulled over. A police car pulled up behind him. A woman police officer got out and slowly approached him. She peered at him with amused eyes.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he apologized. “I know I was speeding but…”

“Speeding,” said the officer. “You shouldn’t even be driving.”

“Here’s my license,” said Gregory, reaching into his back pocket.

“Hands on the wheel,” she ordered. “ Let’s see where you belong.” His eyes widened with confusion as she tilted a large tag, a price tag, hanging from his shirt collar.

“Felica’s Fine Furniture,” she read.

“What!... I’ve never seen that tag before. What is going on here?

“Oh, act innocent… That’s what they all do… They try to escape and then act like they haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Escape?” said Gregory. “Escape from where?”

“Felicia’s Fine Furniture,” said the officer, waving the price tag. “Come with me. I’m taking you back where you belong.”

Gregory got followed her to her car but continued to whine. “I belong in college,” he told her. “I’m a college student.”

“A college student?” said the officer, forcing him into the back seat of her cruiser. “Now that’s a good one… Wait till I tell the women at the precinct about this one.”

As they drove back to the campus area, Gregory observed that there were no men on the streets, in cars, anywhere… only girls and women. “Where are the boys?” he asked. “Where are the men? This is so weird.”

“Boys?... Men?” she chuckled. “They are all being put to some good use—as you should be.”

She pulled her police car up to a shop. The store front had a large sign that announced: Felicia’s Fine Furniture with the same style of lettering that was on his tag. The officer ordered him to get out. She took hold of his arm and ushered him into the store. Once inside, he shook his head at the surreal sight of men lying upon couches and chairs as women walked about and, much to his great surprise, sitting on the men as a dark haired woman seemed to explain certain features about the men as if they were part of the furniture.

“Did you lose one, Felicia,” said the officer to the dark haired woman. “He actually thought he could make a gataway in a car. Can you believe that?” she said, and chuckled.

“Oh, my, my…” said Felicia. She took him by the arm and ordered him to lie down on a couch.

“I’d punish him, if I were you,” said the officer.

“I’ll punish him, all right,” said Felicia. “I’ll do it the usual way. I’ll sit on his face without the air tube.” The officer nodded in agreement. Gregory laid there, a mixture of confusion and anticipation filled his mind. Felicia was a gorgeous woman in her thirties. She wore a tight black dress which accentuated the curves of her butt, a dress with a hemline at least six inches above her knees, showing off lovely thighs, calves, and heels.

Gregroy looked up at her as she stood next to the couch, looking down at him.

“What are you going to do?” His voice was shaking with anticipation.

“I’m going to sit on your face, of course,” replied Felicia, as if the question was absurd. “But since you tried to escape, I’m going to sit on you without the air tube… Let’s see how you like getting smothered under my butt for awhile.” She turned around. The black dress tightened over her rounded butt. His vision was suddenly obscured by her beautiful bottom descending to his face. Felicia sat down on him full weight. His head pushed deep into the couch beneath him. She crossed nylon thighs and simply sat there, atop his face, as if it were a common thing to do to a young man. The experience was like something he had fantasized many times, but without the real crushing weight of Felica’s body atop him. “When are you men going to learn that we women only keep you around to sit on.” She admonished him.

His mind whirled as she sat on his face. He had never had a fantasy or dream as realistic as this. It appeared that Felicia was, in fact, perceiving him as something to sit on. She sat on his face until he felt dizzy and about to pass out. She finally got up from his tortured face and returned with some kind of flexible tube apparatus. She started to place the tube in his mouth but then changed her mind. “Hmmm. No.” she said. “I think I’ll leave this out for awhile.”

Gregory glanced about the store. Men of various size and age seemed so docile as they lay there, waiting for a female customer to try them out by sitting on them—sometimes on their chest or stomach—but often squarely upon their faces.

“What is this place?” asked Gregory to himself. “Is this some kind of S/M club? Are these women being paid to sit on men? It certainly didn’t seem so. He recalled the terrifying experience he’d had with unfathomable acceleration and began to wonder if he had actually gone through a wormhole, a theoretical door in the universe which transcends time and space, into one of an infinite number of universes. This one, perhaps, exactly like the one he came from, but with the exception that women were totally dominant over men and used them as furniture. He was even more surprised when two of the girls he’d seen at the student center came in the store. One was a blonde wearing tight blue jeans and the other a brunette in a white, mini-skirt. The girls were whispering and giggling to each other as they strolled about the store. They approached the couch where Gregory lay. The blonde girl seemed to be checking to see if Felicia was watching. She whispered something to he friend and then sat down on his chest.

“I’ll sit on his face,” the brunette told her friend.

“He doesn’t have a breathing tube,” her friend cautioned her.

“So?” replied the brunette. “I’ll sit on him.” She turned around, her legs bent, and her skirt went over his head as she lowered her panty clad butt to his face. The girls sat on him, whispering and giggling when he heard Felicia’s voice. “ Are you girls buying or just looking?” said Felicia, sternly.

“Oh. We’re just looking,” said the brunette with her butt planted heavily on his face.

“We don’t encourage loitering here,” said Felecia. “Come on. Up… Up…”

“You’re no fun,” the brunette told Felicia as she got up from his face. The girls scurried out the door, laughing and giggling mischievously.

“College kids,” said Felecia. “… can’t afford a man seat of their own so they come in and use mine.”

Gregory watched them leave. He would have gladly gone with them to be their man seat for free. But it wasn’t up to him. Felecia owned him. This was a business, and he was for sale.

A few minutes later a woman entered the store. He immediately recognized her. It was Erin Johnson, a news anchor he’d seen on T.V. She was a woman of about forty, tall with shoulder length dark blonde hair. Erin was a stunningly beautiful woman with greenish eyes and a wide, voluptuous mouth that often widened into a brilliant smile. She was dressed in a pink summer dress that flared out about six inches above her tanned thighs.

Felicia greeted her and showed her some of the men, stopping at a couch where a chubby man lay. Gregory watched in awe as Erin nonchalantly sat down on the man’s face, allowing her dress to go over his head. She crossed her legs and spoke with Felicia a few moments. Gregory had often seen her sit like that while she interviewed people on T.V.—but she wasn’t sitting on a human face! He listened intently as she spoke.

“This one would be okay,” said Erin, “but my daughters kind of wanted a skinny one to sit on.”

“A skinny one?” asked Felicia.

Erin chuckled. “Yes. I guess they like to hear his bones crunch when they sit on him.”

“How old are your daughters now?” asked Felicia.

“Erica is eighteen, Emily is nineteen, and Elise is twenty… Eighteen, nineteen, and twenty,” she chirped. “All of them in college now,” she said, proudly.

“That must have kept you busy at the Baby Center,” said Felicia.

“Baby Center?” thought Gregory. “Of course… In this woman dominated parallel universe, babies were all created in a lab.”

He saw Erin gazing directly at him and his cock warmed. “Oh, my!” he thought. “Is she thinking about coming over and sitting me!”

Erin got up from the man’s face, and she and Felicia towered over him. “This one tried to escape,” she explained to Erin. “So I sat on his face without the air tube.”

Erin smiled broadly as she gazed down at him. “May I?” she said.

Gregory’s mind filled with anticipation. Erin turned around. Her dress floated over his head as he viewed her rounded butt, pink bikini panties clinging to it, and the underside of lovely tanned thighs, as she sat down full on his face.

“I like this one,” said Erin. “But I must be smothering him without the air tube.” She laughed. Erin crossed her legs and continued to sit on him as if it didn’t really matter to her if he smothered or not. “So he tried to escape, eh,” she said. “I can’t imagine why,” she said, coyly. “… getting crushed under butts like mine.”

Gregory’s mind whirled. Erin Johnson was actually sitting on his face, her entire sexy weight pressing his head into the couch as if that’s what it was there for: to sit on!

“I’ll take him,” said Erin. “Poor thing,” she laughed. “He’s in for a hard time when I get him home and the girls see him.”

… to be continued

PART 2

Erin decided she’d buy Gregory and got up off his face. He shook his head in disbelief. In this strange parallel universe, Erin Johnson was buying him like a piece of furniture so she and her daughters could sit on him. It seemed like one of his frequent fantasies. But in the theater of his mind he was the director. He had the control. But now… now in this altered reality he had no control. Felicia ran a scanner across the bar code on his price tag. Erin produced a credit card. He was now the property of Erin. He wasn’t considered to be human. She was buying him for the purpose of sitting on him. It felt strange when she looked at him with the same disconnect to his humanness as she would a chair or couch.

Erin laughed. “Does he have any kind of warranty?” she asked Felicia. “If we kill him can I bring him back?”

Felicia chuckled. “That’s funny, Erin. You now as well as I that they don’t last very long—even when they’re properly fed and exercised.”

“Well I for one,” said Erin, “will try not to sit on his face too long without the air tube… but I’m not sure about the girls. You know how careless they can be with furniture.”

Terror gripped Gregory. Getting sat on to death was never part of his fantasy life. Erin noticed his suddenly pale face and remarked: “Oh, come now… You act as if you don’t know you’re coming to my house to be sat on.”

Gregory followed Erin outside to her car.

“Well… Get in,” said Erin, impatiently.

Gregory opened the back door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said Erin.

“Well… I…” He threw up his hand with confusion.

Erin opened the driver’s side door. “I can’t very well sit on your face and drive with you in the back seat,” she said. “Didn’t they teach you anything in school?” She pointed to the driver seat. “ Assume the position.” She rotated her arms, illustrating how he was to contort his body on the seat so that his head was on the seat. Gregory climbed in and draped his legs over the seat. He looked up under the steering wheel as Erin placed a sandal clad foot on the floor board. Her flimsy pink dress went over his face as she rotated her hips and sat down on him. “Oh… I almost forgot,” said Erin. She arose from his face and placed his air tube in his mouth. “You wouldn’t make it till I got home without the air tube.” A smile creased her lovely face. She sat back down on him again, and, again, his upturned face was crushed under her earthy smelling butt as she lifted her other foot to the floor board and started the car. Her thighs were angled upwards just enough so Gregory could view the underside of her shapely legs as she drove—yet most of his face remained engulfed and mashed under silk panties and hot female flesh. Her weight concentrated on his face was at once erotic and terrifying. The air tube inserted in his mouth allowed only small amounts of air to reach his lungs—just enough to cause him to feel panic, but not enough to suffocate him. He saw the far end of her thighs—where they connected with her calves and angled downwards—lift slightly as she worked the foot pedals.

Erin turned the radio on. A commercial broke into the music: a commercial for Felicia’s Fine Furniture. A sexy female voice was saying: “Felicia’s Fine Furniture… Where you’ll find a large selection of men to sit on… When you’re ready to assert your dominance over men in a way they’ll never forget, come on in and try a man seat… take one home for a free trial… Sit on him… and if you don’t agree that man seats are worth a little extra money, return your man seat with no additional charge… The man seats at Felicia’s Fine Furniture are guaranteed to last and last…”

“Hmmm,” said Erin. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

Gregory finally felt the car come to a stop and the engine turned off. Erin lifted her butt from his face and stood up. It was a relief to get her weight off of his head. She looked down at him and smiled into a dimple. “You look a bit crushed,” she said to him. “I hope I didn’t wrinkle you.” She pinched his cheek.

A youthful voice pierced the air. “Mom? What did you buy?” A beautiful brown haired girl in tight blue jeans and a flowery top peered down at him.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “A man seat!” I want to sit on him.”

“Erica,” said Erin, “Why don’t you wait till we get him inside.”

“Noooo,” whined the girl. “I want to sit on him.”

Erin moved to the side as the girl stepped closer. She turned around. Gregory glimpsed her magnificent butt, tightened with blue denim with gold laced back pockets, descend to his face. Her hardened butt connected with his face and his head pushed into the seat as she sat down on him with her entire weight.

“Oh, fun!” said the girl. She lifted her butt from his face and stared down at him. “Can we sit on him without that silly air tube?”

“Of course not, honey,”said Erin.

“Oh, mom… just for a little while,” pleaded the girl.

“Well…,” Erin told her, “ Maybe for short periods of time. Let’s not suffocate him and kill him the first day… I want my monies worth out of him.”

Erica’s voice was full of excitement. “I love sitting on him… we can put him on the couch and sit on him… we can put his head on a chair and sit on him… I’ve always wanted one of these… we can take him anywhere in the house and sit on him… we can sit on him in the living room… we can sit on him in my room…”

“I know… I know,” said her mother, trying to calm her down. “Now let’s just get him inside.”

Gregory was amazed at Erica’s enthusiasm over sitting on him. Back in the old universe—wherever that it—girls would never be so excited over using a man as a seat. Erica pulled at his arm until he climbed out of the car. He was led into the house. Erica immediately said: “… on the couch… Get on the couch… You.” He lay down on the couch. Erica was impatiently waiting for him to position himself. She looked down at him and grinned.

“Now,” said Erica, “I get to sit on your face and squish you with my butt.” She started a dramatic scene of starting to sit down, stopping in mid-descent to hover her rounded butt above his face. “I get to sit down… right on your face… and squish you,” she said, obviously delighted over her new feelings of dominance. She sat down on his face and bounced a little bit. “Am I squishing you?” she asked, coyly. “Too bad for you.”

While Erica sat on his face, Gregory had tilted his head a little and could see the underside of her thighs, tight with denim material. She had great looking legs. He hoped she would decide to wear a skirt so he could see them in the flesh.

“Look, Elise,” said Erica, “… a man seat.”

“Elise?” thought Gregory. “Oh, yes… the eldest girl. Where was she at?”

Erica got up off his face. Gregory looked about the room and saw Elise sitting at a computer. She was wearing a plaid mini-skirt, her tanned thighs crossed as she typed away at the computer.

“Look, Elise,” said Erica. “We have a man seat…”

Elise turned her lovely face nestled in long brown hair around. She seemed annoyed at being interrupted.

“A man seat… So?.. Sit on him.”

“Don’t you want to sit on him, Elise?” said the impatient Erica.

“I’m busy,” said Elise,” her fingers flying about the key board.

“Okay,” said Erica. Then in a sing-song voice added: “If Elise doesn’t want to sit on the man seat… we bring the man seat to Elise.” She tugged at Gregory and ushered him to where Elise was sitting at the computer. She forced his head down near her chair. “Raise up, Elise,” said Erica, chuckling. Elise rose half way up from the chair while continuing to type away. Erica pushed at Gregory until his head was on the computer chair. He stared up under Elise’s skirt, at her lovely rounded butt, slightly hidden by thin panty material, and at her smooth thighs. Elise pulled her skirt a little to the side and looked back down at him. “ I’ll sit on your face,” she asserted. “And I hope I crush you.” She plopped down heavily on his face and continued typing as if she was still sitting on a normal chair and not a human face. She crossed her legs and shifted her butt around until she was comfortable sitting on his face. Gregory could hear the sound of keys being pushed and an occasional laugh from Elise. She was apparently chatting with someone on the net. It appeared that Elise, at age twenty, was so used to sitting on men’s faces she completely ignored him. He was just something to sit on as she crushed his face with her young-womanly weight. Gregory thought of the chairs at the student center and how he had so often fantasized being one and sat on so casually. Now he was experiencing the fantasy in real life. Elise had no concern for modestly as her skirt had gone over his head. She had no concern for hurting him, either. He was being treated exactly like one of the chair seats in the student center. It was her attitude towards him as just something to sit on that excited him most. Yet his sexual excitement mingled with the pain of actually getting sat on.

After a few minutes her exuberant sister Erica tugged at her until she arose and freed his face. “My turn,” she chirped. She led him back to the couch. This time Erica sat down on his chest.

Her mother asked: “Where is your sister Emily?”

“Oh… she’s probably shopping again,” said Erica.

At that moment, another girl entered the room. She was tall with jet black hair. Gregory noticed that none of the sisters looked alike—the product of bio-chemistry. Emily had one of the most magnificent female forms he’s ever seen. She was dressed in a tight green skirt which started a little above her knees. She had a small waist which flared out to perfect hips. Her perky breasts pushed at a white halter top.

“What did you buy this time,” asked her mother, Erin.

“This skirt… Isn’t it cute,” said Emily, smoothing the skirt around the twin mounds of her butt. Gregory was excited over the prospect that she might come over and plant that sexy bottom squarely on his face.

“We have a man seat,” announced her younger sister Erica, again.

“Yes… I see that,” said Emily. She seemed more interested in her new skirt. She continued to show it off. “I saw it at that new shop in the mall and I just had to have it.” She walked over to the couch. Emily was standing with her back to him, still talking about the skirt. Meanwhile, the mischievous Erica sneaked a hand to his face and removed his air tube. She chuckled. “Aren’t you going to sit on him, Emily?”

“Of course I’ll sit on him,” said Emily. “What else would I do to a man seat.” She didn’t’ bother looking down at him to see that his air tube had been removed. She smoothed the tight skirt over her butt, her legs were together, and Gregory glimpsed her rounded butt nonchalantly descending to his face. Emily sat down on his face with the same sense of abandon he’s observed in her mother and sisters, engulfing his face with her green fabric-covered buttocks, and pushing his head into the couch with her weight. He couldn’t breathe at all with Emily sitting on his face without the air tube. She sat on him and continued to talk about how her skirt was the last one in stock and how lucky she was to get it. But finally, she noticed mischievous chuckles coming from Erica, still perched atop his chest.

“What?” snapped Emily to her sister. “What is so funny?”

“Oh… nothing,” said Erica, trying to stifle her mirth.

“Erica,” said their mother. “Did you remove his air tube?”

“Huh?” said Emily. She raised her butt from his face and looked down. “Very funny, Erica,” she said to her sister. “Maybe I’ll just sit on his face… without the air tube.” She plopped back down on his face.

“No you won’t,” said their mother, Erin.

“Why not?” said Emily, sarcastically, “…Erica thinks it’s funny to destroy our furniture.” She crossed her legs and continued to sit on his face without the air tube.

Said Erica, sheepishly, “It was only a joke.”

“You won’t think it’s funny,” replied Emily, “When I suffocate him and mom has to buy a new one.”

“That’s enough, girls,” said their mother, chuckling. “We’d better give the man some air.” Emily got up from his face while her mother re-inserted the air tube. Then Emily sat back down heavily on his face.

… to be continued

PART 3

Emily, the middle daughter at age 19 continued to sit on his face, while her younger sister Erica sat on his chest. He loved the feeling of Emily’s butt cheeks, covered by the green material of her tight dress, pressing heavily upon his face. His head was covered in oppressive darkness save for a slice of vision that permitted him to see the underside of her magnificent crossed legs. The combined weight of Erica, in blue jeans, atop his chest and Emily on his face forced his body deep into the couch. His air tube allowed him to breathe a little bit, but the weight of Emily’s perfectly proportioned body concentrated on his face was becoming very uncomfortable.

Suddenly Emily blurted out, “What do you think man seats feel about us sitting on them, mom?”

Her mother replied: “Well I’m sure they don’t like it… but, really, Emily, they’re only man seats… Who cares what they think?”

“I’m considering doing a video documentary on man seats,” said Emily. “ I could interview this one.”

“What would he have to say,” said Erica, her tight blue jean butt mashing his chest, “… please don’t sit on me?” She chuckled and bounced a few times on his chest.

Emily raised her butt a foot or so off his face and gazed down thoughtfully at him. Gregory stared up at her round butt hovering above him and decided that Emily was truly the sexiest of the three daughters.

“Do you mind if I sit on your face?” she asked him.

“Oh… Really,” said her mother. “It’s what he’s here for. He… knows… that.”

“But mom,” continued Emily, “he must have some opinion about being thought of as just something to sit on.”

Her mother, Erin, seemed a little upset that Emily would even consider his thoughts and feelings. “Emily,” she said, “Men haven’t been allowed an opinion or choice about anything for a long time. I don’t consider what a man seat feels or thinks… I just sit on him.”

“Me, too,” chirped Erica and bounced on his chest.

For a few moments more, Emily continued to gaze back down her torso at him. “I’m sure that I squish you when I sit on your face,” she said to him. “Don’t you care?”

Gregory remained silent. But to himself he thought: “Emily, you can sit on my face as much as you want.”

“Oh, well…” said Emily. “I’m going to sit on your face, whether you like it or not.” She rotated her hips, obscuring his vision of her lovely face and plopped her butt back down on his face and crossed her legs.

“I suppose you could interview him,” said her mother. “But I doubt if you’ll get much out of him. He’s been trained not to speak.”

Her fun-loving sister, Erica, added: “He can’t speak, anyway, with your big butt on his face.” She laughed.

“I don’t have a big butt,” said Emily.

“You might want to ask the man seat about that,” said Erica, chuckling.

“Maybe I will,” said Emily. “I’m gonna do it. I’m going to make a documentary on what it’s like to be a man seat.” She got up from his face. The third sister, Elise, got up from her computer chair and, swishing her pleated plaid mini skirt, approached the couch. “It should be a short documentary,” she said. Elise looked down at Gregory. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Elise and you’re a man seat. I’m going to sit on your face.” She turned around and her skirt flew over his head as she sat down on his face. “There,” she said, sarcastically. “ End of documentary.” Her panty clad butt pressed hot and heavy on his face as she sat, nonchalantly, on him. Aside from the pain of actually getting sat on like a piece of furniture, Gregory was loving this alternate universe. Apparently, these females didn’t think of him as a sexual being. Elise didn’t care if her skirt went over his face when she sat down on it because she had no idea it was turning him on. And he wanted to keep it that way. His cock warmed and began to grow as Elise sat on him, and he tried to restrain it. The women’s perception of him as not having sexual feelings made it possible for them to treat him without modesty. He was, to them, just something to sit on. At that point, Elise removed her butt from his face and walked back to the computer chair.

“He’s a seat, Emily,” she said. “… same as this seat.” She plopped down on the computer chair. Then she got up, came back to the couch, and sat down on Gregory’s face the same way. “See?” she said. “ The computer chair and his face are the same.”

“Not quite,” countered Emily. “The man seat is shaped like us… He has to breathe… he has to eat… and…”

“So… What?” said Elise. “I’ll still sit on his face… if I want to.” She crossed her tan thighs and made herself comfortable while Gregory lay mashed beneath her splendid butt.

“But what if he didn’t have the air tube?” asked Emily.

“I’d sit on his face,” said Elise. “I’d smother him to death… then we’d take him to the trash.”

Gregory thought: Elise, in all her physical beauty, was the coldest of them. Her assertion that she wouldn’t give it a second thought if she killed him sitting on his face sent shivers through his spine.

“Well we won’t do that,” said their mother, Erin. “I bought him for us to sit on… man seats aren’t cheap, you know.”

Elise got up from his face, the back of her skirt following her as she arose. Seizing the opportunity of an un-occupied face, Erica removed her butt from his chest and swiveled it over to his face. The tightened blue denim material of her butt was especially painful.

“My friend, Wendy, doesn’t sit on man seats,” she blurted out. “She says they’re people, and she won’t sit on them.”

“Wendy is kind of flaky,” said Elise.

“It’s true,” Erica continued. “We were at the mall… We saw a man seat there… He was a bench man seat… I sat down on his face… But Wendy wouldn’t sit on him… She said she didn’t want to hurt him.”

Her mother interjected: “Of course we hurt them when we sit on them… especially when we sit on their faces… But it’s all a matter of keeping men in their place… If I started feeling sorry for them I probably wouldn’t sit on them.”

“I’m going to get my camera,” said Emily, excited. “I’m going to try to make a documentary… if I can get him to speak.”

“I’ll help you,” offered Erica, as she got up from his face.

Elise stood next to the couch, her back to him. Gregory gazed up her skirt, up her smooth and tanned thighs to where they met with the twin globes of her butt, slightly covered by pink panty material.

“This is so dumb,” said Elise to her mom. “ Making a documentary on man seats… You just… sit on them.” She placed a hand on the hem of her skirt, gave it a backward flip, and sat down on his face.

“Oh… Let Emily have her fun,” said Erin. Gregory felt a sudden weight come down on his chest as her mother sat on him. He was amazed at how casually these females sat on him… so oblivious to his discomfort… His world was now filled with sexy female butts as they used his tortured body as an object to put their curvaceous weight upon.

Elise and her mom continued to sit on him, Elise on his face and her mom on his chest, as they changed the subject. Elise was telling her mom about one of her college classes as Gregory was made to endure their combined weight on top of him. They had been sitting on him for ten minutes or so when Elise thoughtlessly shifted her butt around and the air tube came lose. Panic and adrenalin flushed his body. Elise had no idea he couldn’t breathe at all while she continued to mash his face beneath her butt. He flailed his arm and tried to tap her leg.

“What’s he doing, mom?” asked Elise.

“Oh… nothing,” said Erin. “He’s probably just tired of us sitting on him… as if he has a choice.”

Gregory felt Elise grab his arm and push it away. “You just hush now,” she told him, “while I sit on your face.”

He groaned into her butt, yet Elise continued to sit heavily on his face, her legs crossed casually, as he grew weak from oxygen deprivation. “This is the end,” he thought to himself. “I’m going to be sat-on to death by Elise.” His body went limp and blackness overcame him.

The next thing he heard was Emily’s frantic voice. “What have you done to him!”

“I just sat on his face,” said Elise. “I didn’t know the air tube had come lose.”

His blurred vision began to clear. He blinked and looked up at Erin and her three daughters staring down at him.

“You could have killed him, Elise,” Emily reprimanded her sister.

“So?” said Elise, indifferently. “What good is a man seat if you have to be so careful sitting on him.”

“He has to breathe,” said Erin as she positioned the air tube back in his mouth. “There… He’ll be okay.” Gregory expected their mother, Erin, to give him some time to recover. He was surprised when she decided to sit down on his face, herself.

“You girls will simply have to be more careful when you sit on him,” she told her daughters as she crushed his face beneath her own womanly weight. “We can sit on his face as long as we want,” she added. “Just make sure the air tube is in place.”

A few more minutes elapsed while Erin used his face for a seat.

“That’s an expensive camera, Emily.” He heard her say.

“This documentary is going to be so cool!” exclaimed Emily. He heard Elise grumble something at the idea.

“Yeah… Cool!” added the enthusiastic Erica.

Their mother got up off his face. Gregory saw that Erica had changed into a mini-skirt and high heel sandals. So far, Erica had only sat on his face wearing jeans. He was excited at the prospect of her planting her lovely rump down on his face so he could view her butt and those lovely firm legs as she sat on him. Emily had a video camera and placed it on a tripod.

“Okay,” said Emily when she was satisfied with the camera position. “Here we go.” She turned the camera on and approached the couch where Gregory lay.

“I’m Emily,” she introduced herself to the camera. “And this is my sister, Erica.” Erica smiled and waved at the camera.

“As you can see,” she pointed to Gregory. “My mother has purchased this man seat. Man seats have become common, now that women have decided to take over the world.”

“As well we should have,” said her mother off camera.

“Also, as you know, man seats have been conditioned not to speak. We place them wherever we want and… well… Sit on them.”

“Should I?” bubbled Erica, preparing to sit down on his face.

“ Not yet,” said Emily.

Emily looked into the camera and then down at Gregory. “Erica is going to sit on your face,” Emily told Gregory. “How do you feel about that?”

Gregory felt a grin start to from in his lips and stifled it. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“But she’s going to squish you,” continued Emily. “How much do you weight, Erica?”

“About one twenty,” said Erica, hamming it up for the camera.

“A hundred twenty pounds,” repeated Emily. “And she’s going to sit… right… down… on…your… face… What I want to know is how do you feel about my sister Erica sitting on your face… with all her weight on top of you?”

“This is so dumb,” he heard Elise grumble off camera. Emily put a finger to her mouth to shush her and smiled sheepishly at the camera.

Gregory had no idea how to reply. He was excited about the promise of Erica sitting on his face… probably letting her skirt go over his head. But, no way, was he going to let them know.

“I realize,” said Emily, “that you man seats have been conditioned to let us women sit on you… but you… must… have some thoughts about it.” Her patience was waning.

Thought Gregory: “What does she want me to say… that I’m from another universe, a world where girls would never consider using a man as a seat, unless it’s on their lap? Does she want me to say yes! Yes! I love to be used as furniture and face sat.” The absurdity of his situation suddenly seemed hilarious. A bubble of laughter began to come out of his mouth. He clamped his lips over it.

“Look!” said Erica. “He was starting to laugh”

“That’s impossible,” said their mother. “Man seats don’t laugh… It was probably a cough. That would be expected, with you girls sitting on his face without the air tube.”

“Hmmm,” said Emily. “There is something… something different about this man seat.” She trained curious eyes on him. Gregory had a feeling he was going to have trouble with this one.

“Can I sit on him now?” asked an impatient Erica.

“Yes,” answered Emily.

Erica smiled at the camera and stepped up close to the couch.

“Oh, my!” thought Gregory. He’d been given some excellent up skirt views of their mother and her sister, Elise. But as Erica turned around and prepared to sit on his face, the underlining of her skirt, her smooth thighs and that tight butt, green polka dot panties clinging to it’s crevice, was more than he could endure. His cock sprang into his trousers like a jack in the box. Erica, legs together, accentuating the roundness of her bottom, sat down squarely on his face.

“As you can see,” Emily apparently was saying to the camera. “My sister Erica has just sat down on our man seat’s face.”

“He’s comfy,” commented Erica and crossed her legs.

“Yes. Of course,” said Emily. “But what is he thinking?

“Probably that I’m squishing him,” said Erica, chuckling.

“But what else might he be thinking?” pressed Emily. “… that he is being of service to us?”… “What?... What?”

“I think he has to pee,” offered Erica. “The thing man pee out of has gotten bigger.”

“Oh, oh,” thought Gregory. “Where is this going?”

… to be continued