A Tale Of The Tape

By T.J. MacAllister


I haven't always been only five inches tall. Once, I was a strapping six-foot, 175 pound man. But that was before I bought that damned tape recorder. I picked it up at Keyne's Curiosity Shoppe, this little junk store I know just off Hollywood Boulevard.

I was making one of my frequent collecting runs, scouring the pawn shops and junk stores along the boulevard for movie and TV memorabilia for my collection. I wasn't having much luck. I'd hit every place between Vine and Highland and hadn't found squat. Only Keyne's was left. I liked to save it for last because old "Honest" Abe Keyne always had something for me.

Abe was a stout, red-faced man who looked old enough to have witnessed the birth of Moses. He'd been a prop man way back when Clara Bow was still giving guys hard-ons and he still had a few connections at the studios. Every once in while, he'd get his hands on some props, or movie posters and would set them aside for me.

Abe greeted me with an exuberant "Halloo" as I entered the shop. "Been hoping you'd come in Mr. MacAllister," he said. "Got something special for ya."

With a flourish of his hands, Abe produced an ancient reel-to-reel tape recorder from behind the battered wooden counter.

"Okay, it's a tape recorder."

"Not just any tape recorder," Abe beamed, "do you remember that old TV show, Tales from Beyond the Outer Limits Zone?"

"Yeah, the one Ron Sterling used to host?"

"That's the one. There's was one episode, 'bout a writer like yourself, it was. He had this magic tape recorder. All he had to do was talk into it, see, and whatever he said, well, it happened, ya know?"

I nodded. The episode was one of my favorites.



"Well, this here's the tape recorder they used. A buddy of mine over in the prop department at Unreversal Studios found it when he was cleanin' out a closet. I can't say if'n it's got magical abilities, mind you, but this here is the genuine article."

I picked up the recorder and turned it over. "Property of Unreversal Studios" was stamped on the bottom. It was an odd contraption. The reels were larger than most I'd seen. The tape it used was about a half inch thick. And, along with the normal play, record, fast-forward and rewind buttons, it had a red switch marked "erase."

"Does it work?" I asked.

"Course it works. I wouldn't sell ya no piece of junk."

I doubted that, but let it go.

"How much?"

"Well," Abe drawled, rubbing his chin like he was pondering the meaning of life, "most collectors'd pay quite a bit for it. But, seein' as you're such a good customer an' all, I'll cut my own arm off and let ya have it for a hunnerd."

"I'll give you a saw buck for it."

"Twenny dollars, you must be jokin'. Sevendy-five."

"Twenty-five bucks, it's all I got on me, Abe."

"Well, I like ya son, so, I'll let ya slide on this one."

I handed him a twenty and five ones, grabbed the tape recorder and headed home. Now, don't think I'm a sucker or anything. I knew Abe was putting me on, but I'd been planning to get a tape recorder to record notes for my stories anyway. Besides, there was always the chance that Abe was on the level. I mean, not every writer has a tape recorder from Beyond the Outer Limits Zone.



At the time, I was working on a story for one of the "Gentlemen's" magazines. It was about a group of beautiful Earth women astronauts who land on Venus and something in the atmosphere makes their tits grow to enormous proportions. To spice it up a bit, I decided to throw in a Venusian monster to chase them around, rip off their clothes and try to mate with them.

I switched on the recorder, picked up the mike and started on my notes for the story.

"The Venusian monster is ten feet tall," I said, letting my imagination race. "It looks like a giant purple jello salad with eleven green eyes and eight slimy tentacles sprouting from its head."

I hit the rewind button. Then pushed "play." The description sounded pretty silly and I was about to erase it when I heard Lucifer, my black cat, howl. I turned to see what was bugging him and came eye-to-eye, well, eye-to-eyes, with something that looked like a giant purple jello salad with eleven green eyes and eight slimy tentacles sprouting from its head.

The dripping, oozing monstrosity slithered toward me. A long tentacle snaked at my head. I jumped back and my arm smashed into the recorder. I must've hit the erase switch because the reels started turning and the Venusian dessert platter faded into oblivion.

It took me a few seconds to figure out what had happened. Of course, Abe had been right. It really was the magic tape recorder from Beyond the Outer Limits Zone. I got an idea . . . I hit the record button. "Her name is Krystal," I said, the reels spinning slowly as I spoke. "She is five-feet, seven-inches tall. She has long blond hair that cascades over her shoulders and hangs down to her ripe, muscular ass. Her skin is bronze and smooth as marble. She has dark blue eyes that shimmer like cold steel. Her measurements are 45DDD-24-36."

I stopped the recorder and thought for a second.

"Make that 55DDD," I corrected. "And, she's horny as hell."

I rewound the tape and played it back. As my tinny voice floated out of the speaker, the air began to crackle with static electricity. Shimmering waves, like the kind you see hovering over an asphalt road on a sweltering summer day, rose from the floor. Then, with a sudden flash of light, Krystal appeared before me in all her buck-naked glory.

She was just as I'd described her, even better. Everything about her was perfect. Long sleek legs. Full, rounded hips. Svelte, waspish waste. Flat firm stomach. And what tits. Those glorious gazombas jutted out a good foot and half in front of her. They surged from the sides of her chest like over-inflated basketballs and her protruding, thumb-thick nipples nearly brushed the furry blond triangle between her legs.

"Hi, I'm Krystal," she said in a soft purring voice. "And, I'm horny as hell."

She came toward me with her lips puckered and her arms outstretched. With each step, her huge knockers rocked and swayed like twin bags of jello. (Hell, they even shimmied when she stood dead still.) Before I knew what was happening, her hot tongue probed my mouth and her delicate hands unsnapped the buttons of the jeans. She pushed me down on the floor and kissed her way down my chest and stomach to my rapidly hardening dick. With a soft moan of approval, she popped my rod into her mouth.

I'd been given blow jobs before, but never like this. She explored every of my dick with her tongue, starting at the base and slowly inching her way up. When she reached the top, she traced circles around the bulbous throbbing head until my dick was as hard as a baseball bat and felt twice as long.

I watched as she formed a perfect O with her lips and slid her mouth down my pole, over and over, sucking harder each time she went down. I could feel the spunk churning in my balls, ready to blow, and moaned loudly, trying not to cum too soon. After several minutes of agonizing pleasure Krystal suddenly stopped.

"We don't want you to lose it just yet," she said with a sinister smile. "I've got other plans for this magnificent meat of yours."

She lay down on the floor and cupped her left tit in her hands. The jiggling flesh overflowed her tiny fingers as she hoisted it to her mouth and took her thick nipple between her full lips. My dick jumped as she sucked and slurped at the engorged teat.

"Would you like to try?" she said, offering up other tit.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I was on her in a second, wrapping my lips around her huge nipple and sucking like a hungry babe. The rubbery nub seemed to grow impossibly large and fat in my mouth. She moaned and bucked, delicately caressing my cock with her soft hands I felt a gentle tug, on my iron-hard dick and instantly knew what she wanted. I straddled her chest, my legs shaking in anticipation, and she laid my schlong in her gaping cleavage chasm. She squeezed her tits around my dick and it disappeared into the expanse of soft, pillowy flesh. My cock was nicely lubricated with Krystal's own juices and slid in and out of the magnificently warm cavern with ease. Each time my cockhead popped out from between her mams, she flicked out her tongue like a snake and licked the head.

Krystal erupted in a beastly wail and with surprising force she pushed me off her chest and wrestled me to the floor.

"Enough fucking around," she snarled, "I want that beautiful fat cock of yours inside me." She impaled herself on my rigid spear and pumped furiously. I tried to join in, but couldn't keep up with her frenzied rhythm. Her pussy squeezed my dick like a fist, the smooth muscles milking my cock like a cow's udder. My head swam and my whole body quaked. I didn't know how long I'd last at that pace, but I prayed I wouldn't come too soon.

Nearly helpless, I gazed up at Krystal as she rocked back and forth on my cock. The half-crazed mask of pleasure she wore was more animal than human. Her tits bounced and wiggled, slapping loudly against her stomach. My breath came in gasps as she pumped, faster and faster, building to climax. The minutes seemed to stretch into hours, until finally, Krystal cried out as my body went rigid and my cock exploded.

Krystal convulsed, then crumpled onto my chest. As we lay there, cradled in each other's arms, I remember thinking that I had definitely gotten a deal on that tape recorder.

Over the next few days, we fucked and sucked each other every way imaginable, stopping only to grab a bite to eat and a few well-earned z's. But, believe it or not, after about two weeks, I got bored with Krystal. It was time to move on.

I felt kind of bad when I erased her. But, hell, I had more boner-popping fantasies running around my head than I could ever live in a dozen lifetimes. And, Krystal would have just gotten in the way.

After that, I guess I went wild. I've got a pretty fertile, if not slightly warped, imagination and that magic tape recorder had it churning along at full steam. I created and fucked a different woman nearly every day--tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones, white, black, Asian, hell, I even a had big green alien bitch like Captain Dirk screwed in the that one episode of Space Trek--and they all had one thing in common, big, bouncing watermelon-sized tits that just begged to be sucked and fucked.

It went on like that for almost six months. I'd tried just about everything I could think of, lived every sexual fantasy I'd had since my first wet dream. I kept creating women with bigger and bigger tits, but let's face, there's only so big you can get, and I figured I'd pretty much reached the limit with Megan, whose tits dragged on the floor even when she stood. There wasn't any further go. Or so I thought . . . The idea came to me while I was watching Movies Til Dawn. They were showing coming attractions and one was The Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. I ran to my room and fired up the tape recorder. I was about to speak into the mike when it struck me . . . how the hell was I going to fit a fifty-foot woman into my cracker box apartment? There was no fucking way. But, I wasn't going to give up that easily. Maybe I couldn't create fifty foot woman, but I could shrink myself so that regular-sized woman would seem as if she was fifty-foot tall.

I'd never tried the tape recorder on my self. And, I wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any nasty side effects. I needed to make a trial run.

"Lucifer," I called.

My cat lazily strolled into the bedroom and rubbed up against my legs.

"I've got a surprise for you little buddy."

I switched on the tape recorder, "My cat Lucifer is only five inches long," I said.

I played it back. There was a smell like burning matches, followed by a puff of smoke. When it cleared, Lucifer was no bigger than a mouse. Judging by the way he was yowling, he wasn't too happy about it either. I hit the erase button and one puff o smoke later Lucifer was back to normal.

It worked. Now, all I needed was woman. Since Krystal had been the first (and, I have to admit, the best, ) I decided to recreate her. It was good to see her again--her massive mams bursting from her chest like twin zeppelins.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

"You better believe it baby. You'll always be number one."

"So what did you have in mind today?"

I told her. Her face lit up with a devilish smile. I switched on the recorder and said "I'm only five inches tall," then played it back.

Nothing happened at first, then my whole body began to tingle. A sharp pain, as if someone was had stuck an ice pick into my ear, pierced my skull. I fell to the floor screaming and clutching my head, then blacked out. When I came to, I was staring up at the biggest tits I'd ever seen in my life. Krystal's gigantic knockers loomed above me like twin Matterhorns. Even flat on her back, her massive 55DDD breasts stood tall and firm, rising a good six or seven inches above my head.

I started my ascent of the left mammary mountain, scuttering up the warm, silky flesh until I'd reached the turgid nipple perched on top. Even by normal standards Krystal's saucer-sized areola was extraordinarily large. But, at my diminutive size, it looked like an enormous round bumpy pink blanket.

I tiptoed across the knobby flesh to her nipple, which, to me, was as big around as a telephone pole. I gently licked and nipped at the swollen nub, sending spasms of pleasure through Krystal's body. The behemoth breast swayed and shimmied under me like a giant waterbed and I wrapped my arms around the nipple and hung on for dear life.

When the spasms subsided, I slide down the back side of the breast, bounced across Krystal's firm stomach, nearly falling into her belly button, and landed deftly in the "V" between her legs.

The warm, musky scent of Krystal's muff filled my nostrils as I made my way through a forest of blond pubic hair to her swollen clitoris. With long, languorous strokes, I lapped at her love button which was nearly as big as my head. Krystal shuddered and squirmed with delight and I feared that she might crush me between her creamy thighs.

As I kneaded her cunt lips with my tiny hands, her pussy grew moist, then wet. Her sweet honey streamed over my hands and arms. I kept on twiddling her until she came in gushing sobs, drenching my body from head to toe with her love juice.

With a gentle hand she lifted me to her mouth and licked me clean.

"My, you have a big dick for such a tiny man," she said. "It looks like a little candy stick. And you know I have a sweet tooth."

She carefully took my minuscule member between her lips and began sucking. It felt like my dick was caught in a vacuum cleaner and it wasn't long before I blew my load between her sizable lips.

"Time for baby to rest," she purred, tenderly laying me down in the crevice between her towering tits. I spread out in that gaping cleavage chasm and fell asleep.

When I woke, I was in a Mason jar. And Krystal was staring at me with her menacing blue eyes.

"What the hell is this shit," I yelled, my voice echoing off the smooth glass walls.

"I figure I can keep you out of trouble in there," she said. "I wouldn't want you to escape."

"Cut the shit and get me out of here."

"I don't think so," Krystal said, her voice boomed in my ears like thunder. "You look cute in there. And, definitely harmless."

"I'm gonna erase your ass when I get out you get."

"I doubt it. You can't climb the walls, they're too slippery. Even if you could, you're too small to move the erase switch without my help. And, I'm certainly not going to help you. Not after what you did to me. That wasn't very nice what you did to me. Creating me like that then getting rid of me. I like being alive and I want it to stay that way."

I called her every dirty name I could think of. Not a smart move. She got pissed and screwed the lid shut.

"I'll let you out when you learn not to use such nasty language," she scolded.

That was three months ago and I'm still only five inches tall. Krystal's gotten tired of her "little lover," as she likes to call me. Sure, every once in a while she uses me as a living dildo, (trust me, it's not as great as it sounds, a guy could drown in there), but most of the time, she picks up guys in bars, brings them back the apartment and "does" things to them with the tape recorder.

She's a wicked one. She made one guy's tongue grow 12 inches. She gave another guy two dicks so he could fuck both her holes at the same time. And one poor guy she turned into a hermaphrodite with tits that rivaled her own.

When she's through playing with them, she shrinks them down to five inches and keeps them jars on a shelf in the bedroom. She's got quite a collection now. I'd say there's about fifty of us all together. And she's still going strong.

So, take my advice, if sometime, somewhere, you happen to meet a gorgeous blond named Krystal with tits like basketballs and a devilish gleam in her eye, think twice about going home with her. There's still room on the shelf for a few more jars.