The Wives Inner Thighs Crush Husbands Institute.
By barbunny3111@yahoo.com


The WITCH Institute teaches wives, squeeze by squeeze,
how to crush husbands out of eating disorders. Part
four. 

Comments, feedback and criticism will be gladly
appreciated: barbunny3111@yahoo.com 

And then, without notice, it happened. In a one swift,
unthinkable motion, Dr. Cory raised her
extraordinarily powerful calves, his still-in-place
head is conveniently located in the middle of the
upward movement, getting the lion's share of huge
calves slamming into the back of his head. It was
devastating. His poor-positioned head smashed against
her waiting thighs, the tremendous intensity of her
calves' whisk took his reprehensible head by surprise.
It had to be seen to be believed. "When I'm just
squeezing a customer between my noteworthy thighs" Dr.
Cory softly said, her broad calves slowly returning to
the starting position, as she unbent her superior legs
from his abused head "it must be done without haste
for maximum enjoyment. I enthighcingly squeeze them
down there, my leg-endary thighs play host to their
impotent heads while I pulverize them beyond a
reasonable crush, and two or three squeezes later,
it's all over. If they're lucky, they are still alive
when my cheerful thighs decide to open up, and they
can hear me saying my 'Don't cry over Squeezed Head'
slogan" Dr. Cory declared, as she was offhandedly
resting on the machine, her undiscriminating thighs
are savoring the contours of Richard's face.

"But when you smash their enervated heads with the
extensive help of your calves" Barbara declared,
wedging her own husband's head into the expectant line
between Dr. Cory's thighs and bottom, amazed how
appropriate it was for his emaciated head to
recuperate right on the bottom line, the very same
spot that accepted his head so powerfully only seconds
ago. "It's a totally different thightmare. They find
out how hard your thighs are the hard way, or rather
the smashing way. So how does it feel Richard? Aren't
Dr. Cory's thighs a sight to behold? What? What did
you say? A thigh to behold? Yea, more like a thigh to
besqueeze. I'm telling you, my loved hubby, the
wonders of the female thigh are generous. We both know
how desperate you were, to explore my feminine bottom"
Barbara smiled at him from the side of his face,
jamming his head vigorously into Dr. Cory's bottom
muscles, and gyrating his face around the vast
majority of her ruling butt, making sure there was no
spot that was left untouched by his face on her
refined bottom. "It took us five years to get to the
bottom of it, Richard" Barbara said, pressing his face
brutally into Dr. Cory's butt, while she was
emphasizing the word bottom, "but I think I'm gonna
take matters into my own thighs from now on, matters
being your own head. And remember, Richard, the thigh
is mightier than the Sword".

"Oh please Barbara, please, let me go. She is crazy,
this Dr. Cory. I'm telling you, she'll kill me. Her
presumptuous legs are capable of removing my
unassuming head in a second. It's unconstitutio ..."
Richard's statement was discontinued, literally, in
mid-sentence, as her gigantic calves went up again in
the speed of a U.S Open tennis ball, only now it
certainly was a U.S Close. Closing thighs, that is.
The ease with which those rippling calves smacked the
back of his imprisoned head was so convincing, that
Richard knew he had to do something immediately, or
it's going to be too late. Every jail has a weak spot
where inmates can escape through. It's a rule of
thumb. There wasn't any weak spot on that huge rule of
thighs. But as always, when there's a squeeze, there's
a way. Walls have ears, the saying goes, but the only
ears those feminine walls have are mine, Richard
thought to himself. Those walls could close in on his
inferior head any moment now. The writing is on the
thigh now. He had to escape. But how?      

"I had a customer once called Jack" Dr. Cory smilingly
said. "We used to play Jack-in-the-box. Whenever I
opened my admirable thighs after a good, friendly
squeeze, his crush-experienced head would spring out
of there like a puppy. He used to call the space
between my dreadful thighs home-sweet-home, though he
made clear that he doesn't want to put all his eggs in
one crush. But I think this game is much better" Dr.
Cory smiled, deliberately easing her swelling calves
from Richard's humble head, preparing her
well-mannered legs for the ensuing slam that was about
to follow. "I think we should call it
Richard-in-the-thighs" she articulated, raising the
weights again, while lying comfortably on the machine,
her motivated calves hammering his nape, sending his
overwhelmed head once more into the accommodating
thighs that await him so anxiously. "And besides, who
said it's unconstitutional? I believe my philanthropic
thighs have the right to squeeze whatever object
happens to be unfortunate enough to place itself in
the surroundings of their peril. It's what the first
amendment is all about, the freedom of squeeze, isn't
it? And besides, even Rome wasn't squeezed in one day.
It wasn't easy for them too, Richard, to force all
thighs to lead to Rome. But since then, when I'm in
Rome, I do as the Romans do, I squeeze".  

"Now I want you, Barbara, to pay close attention to
your husband's head" Dr. Cory said, this time clamping
Richard's head in the compressed space between her
imposing thighs and calves, leaving the machine in the
unprecedented level, her proud calves, in addition to
supporting the weight of the machine, grind
incessantly into the back of his mortified head. She
then began to grate his cowering head into the back of
her hazardous thighs, leaving thighprints on his face
as her profuse thighs acknowledged the fact that a
male head was crushed into them, responding the way
they always do, by flexing their proud muscles and
coordinating themselves with the subordinate head that
was lying so gently on them. Her superabundant thighs
were never wrong. She has always made sure that the
victim felt firstthigh the power of women, while she
squeezed the strength into consideration. "Can you see
how my enormous legs distort his incarcerated head,
it's like a stronghold-state-of-mind, or more
accurately, state-of-head. See how my penetrating
thighs bite his face, how your poor spouse' head is
subject to change without notice. Each thigh of mine
is a registered squeezemark, all bites reserved. Well,
I have introduced myself and my unrivaled thighs to
you as Dr. Cory Squeezerson, but the fact of the
batter is that Crush is my middle name, so feel
squeezed to call me Dr. Cory Crush Squeezerson"

Richard was on the brink of unconsciousness. His hands
were free to try and get the hell out of there, but
all he could do was grope the smoothness of the
womanly, huge thighs that were causing all his
torment. It suddenly struck him. The female thighs,
the object of his desires, the single and only entity
that he so wanted to put his hands on for so long, now
are swallowing his imbecile head alive, eating him up,
and his male individuality cannot do anything about
it. And yet, it was in between the calves and thighs
of this concrete woman, that he somehow wanted his
head to be the most. The mounting pressure of her
shrewd legs was stunning. He found it funny that he
felt such a majestic pleasure out of the intensifying
thighs' pressure. Even the two words sound alike,
pressure, pleasure ...  who knows maybe the guy who
invented those words hundreds of years ago was sitting
on the floor in front of a couch-leaning,
thigh-closing lady, his head is firmly stuck between
her pressure/pleasure-providing thighs, his hands
feeling the flex-ability of the ever expanding thigh
muscles. Maybe even that thighish position was his
only facial neighborhood where he could find words for
the new language. The intellect of a male's brain
could be so ironic at times. When things are calm, he
just can't think straight. But when the sides of his
preposterous head are pressurized by a strong pair of
female thighs, as they cause his cranium to lose
volume reserved to his physical existence, he starts
acting brilliant. Maybe that's because there's a
natural mechanism that tells you when things are
dangerous, when it could really be the end of your
life, while the feeling of the female thighs' power
that surround your masculine head is so persuasive,
you actually know what's her thighs' take on the
issue. Well, her thighs' take, to put it the same way
your head was put between her thighs, namely bluntly,
is your head. Her thighs take your head as if it was
theirs to begin with. Well, on a second squeeze, it
is. They strongly hold the viewpoint, in addition to
holding your intellectual head, that you squeeze
first, and only then ask questions. If there's still
somebody to answer, after the murderous thighs make
the male quarry pay thigh service to the crossroads of
their owner's legs. 

Her huge calf could fold his existence into pieces, he
felt like being crushed by a scalffold. He started to
see patches of black clouds running through his
thigh-vision, he felt her hard-as-a-rock calves
continue to slap his irresponsible head, it felt like
he was enjoying a Hard Rock Calfé meal. Thing was, his
own head was the squeeièce de résistance, and the
rock-hard thighs were refreshingly relishing the catch
of the day, namely his head. And still, it amazed him.
The simple fact that even though he was the man, she
could do whatever she wanted to him with her lower
limbs, and he couldn't stop her. Her horrendous thighs
felt like stones, bashing on his inconsiderable head
from all sides. It was amazingly befitting to call the
stone above his grave, the result of the stone-like
thighs' crushing of his head, a headstone. He felt Dr.
Cory's calves grind his skull harder still into the
back of her thighs, his vision slowly darkened, and he
prepared himself for the finale...

# # # # # # # # #

"Put your hands in mine, sweetie" Dr. Cory smiled at
his face when he came to. Richard was standing in
front of her, his wife is holding his torso from
behind, supporting his body, Dr. Cory's hands are
invitingly reaching out for his, her fingers are
spread apart, waiting. "Come on honey, interlock your
fingers with Dr. Cory's, it's for your own
edification" Barbara said, standing behind her
husband, gently clasping his frame with her arms. He
slowly, involuntarily raised his hands, stretching his
fingers, watching how Dr. Cory interlocks her strong
fingers with his, intertwining their digits with each
other, gently closing hers onto the back of his hand
in away that made their hands mesh so naturally, they
looked like a bride and a groom. He felt so calm and
tranquil, a pair of female hands fondles and caresses
his, he looked into her eyes, and realized, for the
first time now, how attractive and beautiful she was. 

And then, without notice it happened. In a one swift,
unthinkable motion, Dr. Cory pushed her strong fingers
downwards, sending Richard to his knees, his face
meets those tremendous thighs, the very same thighs
that have abused his thoughtless head moments ago. He
could not believe the quickness of the movement, how
could she possibly be so strong? He felt her muscular
arms holding his pitiful hands like a vise, but it
wasn't her arms he was afraid of. The two pillars that
were presented in front of him said everything. One
squeeze is worth a thousand words. The gap between her
quintessential thighs looked like hell, he had good
intentions when he came here, but even the road to
hell is squeezed with good intentions. 

"Look at me, Richard" Dr. Cory softly said from above.
He couldn't. For some reason, he couldn't take his
eyes off of her magnificent thighs. They already
controlled him. Then he felt the pressure. She slowly
but deliberately forced his hands upwards a bit,
causing him to lift his knees off the floor to a
crouching position, but leaving him down at her
thighs, then casually twisting her fingers, along with
his, to make him look at her, all the while standing
proudly upright, gazing downwards at the paltry male
next to her understanding thighs.  
  
And then it came. She crushed his hands in a sudden,
unanticipated move, throwing his cloistered head with
violence straight into her awaiting crotch, his
bruised nose diving directly toward the expecting
shrine. "I've told you, Barbara, you are capable of
controlling your hubby as easily as you want. And
believe me, you can. 'The real squeeze of discovery',
wrote Marcel Proust, 'consists not in crushing new
landscapes, but in having new thighs'. Look how easily
I keep his nose inside my crotch, making him eat me
the way I want to by bending his fingers to my
crotch's whim. This way, I make him have my crotch,
and eat it too". 

It felt unbearable to Richard. She was rhythmically
revolving his deadheaded face all around her muscular
crotch with the strength of her arms, and there was
nothing he could do about it. And then, all of a
sudden, she began slamming his disfigured face into
her authoritarian crotch systematically, pounding his
poor head with the twitch of fingers, and causing him
for the third time to come close to blankness. His
physically challenged head became practically a moving
target. She started to gradually increase the pace of
the head-smashing, insatiable-crotch motions, her
eager slot consuming his face quicker than a slot
machine gobbles quarters. Smashing noses speaks louder
than words, but in his nose' case, blood is absolutely
not thicker than water. 
  
And then it all stopped. He glanced right in front of
him, looking at those thighs that encompass his whole
world now, and to his bewilderment, Dr. Cory started
to slowly open her measureless thighs apart, inviting
the male that has suffered all those mysterious,
fantastic ways of tormenting, to move his mishandled
head further, and unpretentiously place it in between
the dangerous thighs that stand in front of him,
waiting. It was the old fashion way, all he had to do
is just bend his manipulated head a little closer, and
stick it in the most appropriate place for male heads
to be. Between female thighs. And being squeezed.
"They used to say" Dr. Cory said, looking down at
Richard while parting her commendable thighs even
further to accommodate his dehydrated head "that you
can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him
drink. Well, sweetheart, I have certainly lead you to
my thighs, and I will make you drink my
pressure-producing thighs" she announced, gently
pushing her fingers down on his manly hands, and
spontaneously but expectedly forwarding his powerless
head into the enthusiastic abyss between her deserving
thighs. 

But then the astonishing, unimaginable happened. In a
rapid motion, Dr. Cory jumped high in the air, her
immense legs leaving the ground, Richard's fingers are
still immovably clasped in her powerful hands, her
massive thighs fly high above his shoulders, and
inevitably land around...

End of part four.


Part five is squeezed into softer, less fanatical
manner, sorry, unless convinced otherwise by fans.

Well Mr. Smith, I will be glad to see you. Is Dallas
o.k? 

Free, custom-made stories are available at
barbunny3111@yahoo.com just tell me what you like, and
I'll tailor a story.