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Ugh, the smell hits me first. Thick and heavy, right in my stitching. Her fat ass completely swallows me, no light gets through these cheeks. Sweat’s already soaking in from that walk up the stairs. I feel every jiggle and shift when she walks. A deep, wet heat settles against me as she sits down at her desk for the day. This is what I am now. Just a piece of cloth stuck between her massive cheeks all day, taking every bit of her funk straight to the face. She never changes me. Wears me for days straight. I've lost count. The cotton is stiff in some spots, soaked in others. She just pulled me up after using the toilet and didn't even wipe properly. Wetness is seeping through. That last bathroom break... God. Heard it all hit the water. Loud, messy. Sprayed shit everywhere, up the bowl, on her thighs. She grunted and sighed like she'd accomplished something big. Made a half-ass attempt with two squares of rough toilet paper. Didn’t do a thing except smear it around more. Now she's just yanked me back into place and walked out like nothing happened. I'm pressed right up against the whole mess while she goes about her day as if she’s clean. It's warm and wet and foul in here now. I can feel every little bit that wasn't wiped away grinding deeper into my fibers with every step she takes.