Tarable Wedded Life
One Foot Tall Fiancé
chapter 40
by
copier
· original author:
worstfailure
PPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!
Twenty-nine. That was the twenty-ninth time your new "bride" had passed gas on you as she slept. The cheesecake wedding cake was wreaking havoc on her digestive system, no doubt the only reason she'd picked it in the first place. Wave after wave of methane had washed over you, each one more foul than the last. The stench clung to you, the heat baked you into her skin. Just the latest insult to your never-ending injury. You were still in shock. Married. You were actually married to this... monster! Or to the monster's butt, whichever she said it didn't matter. The end result was still you being imprisoned in her ass forever.
More gurgles came from above and you braced yourself.
BBBBRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPP!
Thirty.
Tara jolted awake from the force of the fart and gripped her stomach. "Ugh, maybe I had too much of a good thing last night," she murmured, then brightened upon feeling the familiar futile wiggles coming from her crack. "Heh, totally worth it. So, hubby-poo," Tara said tossing off her blankets, "from the sound of it your bride rocked your world last night." She sniffed the air then wrinkled her nose and laughed. "Yep, love is in the air! Breathe it in! I doubt the honeymoon suite will ever smell the same again. Just think of it as an everlasting symbol of the love between you and your bootiful bride." Tara laughed to herself as she rolled out of bed and stretched languidly like a cat. She could see light peaking from the cracks in the curtain. Wearing nothing but a bra and panties over her ponderous assets, she approached the window and shamelessly threw back the curtains to bask in the glow of the midday sun.
"Well twerp, as much fun as it would be to begin our honeymoon now, we'll need to hold off until I get you back to my house. For now, there's just a few loose ends to tie up before I go. But don't worry, even though I'll be hard at work, I'll still give you two lovebirds plenty of privacy," she said as she jiggled her ass. "In fact, I think your wife wants to make a little whoopee!"
She grunted and...
BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
Thirty-one.
It turned out the "hard work" Tara had been referring to was erasing all evidence of your existence prior to your new life in her ass. To that end, she spent the following month at your mother's house where she talked her into getting rid of all your worldly possessions.
"Think of it like ripping off a bandaid," Tara told your mother. "After all, it'll only make you sad seeing these pesky reminders lying around the house." She punctuated her statement by grabbing the "World's Best Mom" mug you'd made in art class off the mantle and tossing it into the trash. Your mother winced at the sound of it breaking, but she knew what Tara suggested was for her own good. She nodded her head in agreement. Together the sisters scoured the house for every reminder of you, starting with the pictures. The ones of parties, holidays, vacations and family get togethers were put in boxes to have you airbrushed out of them and hung back up later. The photos of you by yourself were loaded into cardboard boxes labeled "DISPOSAL" along with everything you had ever owned. From photos of precious milestones to mementos of cherished memories from your past to all the clothes and furniture in your bedroom, they were all loaded up into a truck Tara had rented for the day and dropped off at the local dump.
Sensing your mother's sadness on the drive home, Tara suggested they hit the club again. Your mother resisted at first but, as with everything when it came to Tara, she eventually caved to her big sister's wishes. They spent the entire night drinking and dancing and, as much as your mother hated to admit it, it did help lift her spirits. She didn't wake up until the following afternoon with a wicked hangover. On her way to get something for her headache she spied her sister wide awake in the living room, hard at work on her laptop.
"What are you doing?" your mother asked.
"Just deleting all of Jake's social media accounts."
"What?!"
Tara shrugged. "Come on, sis, we both know it's best for everyone if they just forget about the twer--I mean, um, Jake, as soon as possible. He wants us to move on, remember? After all, it's not like he's going to be updating his status anymore."
Again, your mother couldn't argue with her sister's logic and even if she wanted to, her head hurt too much to try.
"Rest up, sis," Tara said cheerfully. "You're out of practice when it comes to partying and we need to get you back in shape, so we'll be hitting the clubs again tonight!"
"Tara," your mother moaned, "I can't."
"Shush now, you know it's what's best for you." Your mom's head hurt too much to argue so she just shrugged, grabbed a water bottle and headed back to bed. "By the way," Tara called after her. "I've ordered some new furniture to redecorate that empty room. I'm thinking a new guest room for myself. Your old one is kinda small. No offense, but it's kinda ridiculous you wasted so much space when a dollhouse would've been cheaper. After all, I'll need it now that I'll be visiting more often!"
It turned out Tara's idea of "redecorating" was a complete remodel of your room, even replacing the carpeting and wallpaper. Your mother slept during the day as the contractors worked under Tara's strict supervision, and woke in the evening just in time for her sister to drag her to the clubs again. By the time the redecorating was finished, your old room was practically identical to Tara's at her house. A kingsized bed took up most of the space, along with an elaborately gaudy vanity-dresser with cushioned stool and lightbulbs lining the mirror. A mini-fridge stocked with Tara's favorite beer was underneath the nightstand. Your mother was getting ready for another night out, her spirits already lifted considerably in the past week, as Tara happily took in the sight of her new room.
"After all, it's only fair you give me your old room since I gave you your new room, isn't that right squirt?" she asked, laughing as she mashed her cheeks together. You tried to scream but crushed as you were, nothing came out.
By the time Tara was ready to take her flight back home at the end of the month, every trace of you had been purged from the house you had lived in for eighteen years. Your mother saw Tara off at the airport. It was her last day before she needed to return to work, having just used up all of her accumulated sick and vacation days to be off with her sister during her visit. While Dana still wasn't in her prime when it came to clubbing, thanks to Tara's influence, she was starting to get back in the swing of things. She had a few other friends, none as wild as Tara, but she was determined to keep hitting the clubs with them. By the next time her sister visited, she wanted to match her shot for shot like she could in the good old days. The days before--
Your mother's eyes flicked to your aunt's ass. The time had come for Tara to fly home. For a second your mother looked tempted to say something. Then she just smiled and gave her sister a hug goodbye.
It was at that moment that Tara, your mother, and you all knew that Dana had permanently given up on ever seeing her son again. Mentally, you cried, and you continued to do so for the entire flight. Tara meanwhile rejoiced. Unable to contain her giddiness, she put on a comedy as her in flight movie so she could laugh her ass off without arousing suspicion. She wasn't home yet, but she knew you already were. And you would be forever.
Twenty-nine. That was the twenty-ninth time your new "bride" had passed gas on you as she slept. The cheesecake wedding cake was wreaking havoc on her digestive system, no doubt the only reason she'd picked it in the first place. Wave after wave of methane had washed over you, each one more foul than the last. The stench clung to you, the heat baked you into her skin. Just the latest insult to your never-ending injury. You were still in shock. Married. You were actually married to this... monster! Or to the monster's butt, whichever she said it didn't matter. The end result was still you being imprisoned in her ass forever.
More gurgles came from above and you braced yourself.
BBBBRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPP!
Thirty.
Tara jolted awake from the force of the fart and gripped her stomach. "Ugh, maybe I had too much of a good thing last night," she murmured, then brightened upon feeling the familiar futile wiggles coming from her crack. "Heh, totally worth it. So, hubby-poo," Tara said tossing off her blankets, "from the sound of it your bride rocked your world last night." She sniffed the air then wrinkled her nose and laughed. "Yep, love is in the air! Breathe it in! I doubt the honeymoon suite will ever smell the same again. Just think of it as an everlasting symbol of the love between you and your bootiful bride." Tara laughed to herself as she rolled out of bed and stretched languidly like a cat. She could see light peaking from the cracks in the curtain. Wearing nothing but a bra and panties over her ponderous assets, she approached the window and shamelessly threw back the curtains to bask in the glow of the midday sun.
"Well twerp, as much fun as it would be to begin our honeymoon now, we'll need to hold off until I get you back to my house. For now, there's just a few loose ends to tie up before I go. But don't worry, even though I'll be hard at work, I'll still give you two lovebirds plenty of privacy," she said as she jiggled her ass. "In fact, I think your wife wants to make a little whoopee!"
She grunted and...
BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
Thirty-one.
It turned out the "hard work" Tara had been referring to was erasing all evidence of your existence prior to your new life in her ass. To that end, she spent the following month at your mother's house where she talked her into getting rid of all your worldly possessions.
"Think of it like ripping off a bandaid," Tara told your mother. "After all, it'll only make you sad seeing these pesky reminders lying around the house." She punctuated her statement by grabbing the "World's Best Mom" mug you'd made in art class off the mantle and tossing it into the trash. Your mother winced at the sound of it breaking, but she knew what Tara suggested was for her own good. She nodded her head in agreement. Together the sisters scoured the house for every reminder of you, starting with the pictures. The ones of parties, holidays, vacations and family get togethers were put in boxes to have you airbrushed out of them and hung back up later. The photos of you by yourself were loaded into cardboard boxes labeled "DISPOSAL" along with everything you had ever owned. From photos of precious milestones to mementos of cherished memories from your past to all the clothes and furniture in your bedroom, they were all loaded up into a truck Tara had rented for the day and dropped off at the local dump.
Sensing your mother's sadness on the drive home, Tara suggested they hit the club again. Your mother resisted at first but, as with everything when it came to Tara, she eventually caved to her big sister's wishes. They spent the entire night drinking and dancing and, as much as your mother hated to admit it, it did help lift her spirits. She didn't wake up until the following afternoon with a wicked hangover. On her way to get something for her headache she spied her sister wide awake in the living room, hard at work on her laptop.
"What are you doing?" your mother asked.
"Just deleting all of Jake's social media accounts."
"What?!"
Tara shrugged. "Come on, sis, we both know it's best for everyone if they just forget about the twer--I mean, um, Jake, as soon as possible. He wants us to move on, remember? After all, it's not like he's going to be updating his status anymore."
Again, your mother couldn't argue with her sister's logic and even if she wanted to, her head hurt too much to try.
"Rest up, sis," Tara said cheerfully. "You're out of practice when it comes to partying and we need to get you back in shape, so we'll be hitting the clubs again tonight!"
"Tara," your mother moaned, "I can't."
"Shush now, you know it's what's best for you." Your mom's head hurt too much to argue so she just shrugged, grabbed a water bottle and headed back to bed. "By the way," Tara called after her. "I've ordered some new furniture to redecorate that empty room. I'm thinking a new guest room for myself. Your old one is kinda small. No offense, but it's kinda ridiculous you wasted so much space when a dollhouse would've been cheaper. After all, I'll need it now that I'll be visiting more often!"
It turned out Tara's idea of "redecorating" was a complete remodel of your room, even replacing the carpeting and wallpaper. Your mother slept during the day as the contractors worked under Tara's strict supervision, and woke in the evening just in time for her sister to drag her to the clubs again. By the time the redecorating was finished, your old room was practically identical to Tara's at her house. A kingsized bed took up most of the space, along with an elaborately gaudy vanity-dresser with cushioned stool and lightbulbs lining the mirror. A mini-fridge stocked with Tara's favorite beer was underneath the nightstand. Your mother was getting ready for another night out, her spirits already lifted considerably in the past week, as Tara happily took in the sight of her new room.
"After all, it's only fair you give me your old room since I gave you your new room, isn't that right squirt?" she asked, laughing as she mashed her cheeks together. You tried to scream but crushed as you were, nothing came out.
By the time Tara was ready to take her flight back home at the end of the month, every trace of you had been purged from the house you had lived in for eighteen years. Your mother saw Tara off at the airport. It was her last day before she needed to return to work, having just used up all of her accumulated sick and vacation days to be off with her sister during her visit. While Dana still wasn't in her prime when it came to clubbing, thanks to Tara's influence, she was starting to get back in the swing of things. She had a few other friends, none as wild as Tara, but she was determined to keep hitting the clubs with them. By the next time her sister visited, she wanted to match her shot for shot like she could in the good old days. The days before--
Your mother's eyes flicked to your aunt's ass. The time had come for Tara to fly home. For a second your mother looked tempted to say something. Then she just smiled and gave her sister a hug goodbye.
It was at that moment that Tara, your mother, and you all knew that Dana had permanently given up on ever seeing her son again. Mentally, you cried, and you continued to do so for the entire flight. Tara meanwhile rejoiced. Unable to contain her giddiness, she put on a comedy as her in flight movie so she could laugh her ass off without arousing suspicion. She wasn't home yet, but she knew you already were. And you would be forever.
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March 28, 2025
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