Double-D Moran's platinum haired pussy slit hovered over Fallon's lips just out of tongue reach. The bearded, raw-boned soldier of fortune gulped and sucked in her musky scent. Ambrosia dribbled from the pink, softly puffed lips of her twat. She bowed her head and playfully nibbled the knobbed tip of his throbbing hard cock. All that kept him from creaming right then was knowing that Double-D was a federal agent. More exactly, a spy.

The small but ripely built platinum blonde worked for military intelligence, Special Operations Branch, acronymed S.O.B. Her voluptuous figure, luscious big boobs and passionate cock-sucking lips belonged more to Uncle Sam than to him. Double-D was a living doll... but she never gave something for nothing. Moran was code named Double-D for her lush pair of 48 inch bra-busters that sheathed Fallon's stiff cock in a soft cleft warmer than cunt flesh when she hunched forward and pressed them together. She bobbed up and down with a slow, seductive rhythm, tit-fucking Fallon's raging hot prick while her mincing soft lips and flicking tongue teased its bulbous head. "Fallon," she purred, "how would you like to try sucking a nipple the size of a watermelon?" "Hmmmm?" he sighed curiously. "What's the catch?" "No catch, just the chance of a lifetime for a tit lover like you. Imagine a pair of jugs so big you couldn't reach all the way around one with your arms outstretched." "Why do I imagine that you're setting me up for something beside orgasm?" he asked, wary but raptured by the rhythmic rise and fall of her prick squeezing tits.

Double-D did not answer directly. She wiggled her tongue tip into the narrow, tingling cum slit of his cockhead. "Have you heard of Amlakhan?" "Yeah, it's a little country near Afghanistan... or Tibet." "Between them actually. Like your cock is between my tits, heated by friction from both sides." "The Russians have taken Afghanistan. The Chinese communists hold Tibet," he recalled, now having some idea what Double-D wanted beside a gushing hot dick in her mouth. "No way in hell would I walk into the middle of that," he said flatly. "Not walk, Fallon. Fly... with a plane load of arms and ammunition for the freedom fighters in Amlakhan." "You want to make me a little white duck in a shooting gallery?" he asked wryly. "I'd have Russian surface-to-air missiles coming at me from one side, communist Chinese from the other --" "Not if you're flying a plane too small to be detected by radar," she cooed, sealing her snug lips on his cockhead again. "Unnngh! I won't fit in a plane that small." "You will, Fallon. You will --" Double-D dropped on him with a gurgling moan, hilting his cock in her sleek throat. Soft waves of platinum blonde hair spread over his loins. Her lips sucked and her luscious tits mauled themselves almost flat around his dick root.

She squatted on his craggy face at the same time, sighing choked cries of delight when Fallon's beard and mustache tickled her crotch. He tongued into Double-D's honey-dripping cunt, thrusting and flailing her clit with his raspy wet tongue. Her hands cupped his churning ball sac, palms layered with waves of silky, silver-blonde hair as soft and enticing as cerulean mink. Fallon came with a grunting deep roar, gushing jism in creamy hot blasts... that for some reason made him think of fiery-tailed anti-aircraft missiles streaking skyward. Both drained and sated, they lounged on a luxurious fur covered round bed in one of Special Operations' specially outfitted seduction suites. Sexy S.O.B. dolls like Double-D had been known to lure enemy agents into shamefully compromising positions while video cameras stared down through the mirrored ceiling over the bed. Tapes made in that specially rigged hotel suite had been used to blackmail foreign spies who posed as diplomats and news reporters, turning them to double-agents. But Fallon's reputation was not so polished that he could be worked on that way. He grinned at his relection in the three foot round mirror over the bed, then at the delicious, ripe-bodied platinum blonde lying naked beside him. "I wouldn't care if they ran that tape on the network TV news tonight," Fallon said, "so what's the big deal about sucking me off on camera?" "Nothing big, Fallon." Double-D rolled off the bed and began brushing her tousled platinum hair, swelling her lush breasts with an anxious gasp. "Nothing BIG at all. Have you heard of the SMART system?" "Unh, no... I'm freelance, remember? Uncle Sam doesn't share all his secrets with me. Just his sexiest agent --" Double-D cut him off with an oddly cool grin, languidly brushing her long, sheening hair silky smooth. "SMART stands for Solid Molecule Amplitude Reduction Technology. It's a particle beam that reduces things to one-tenth normal size." "You're shitting me," Fallon said. "Not shitting... SHRINKING." Double-D flipped a wall switch, wincing as a blinding glare of blue-white light blazed down from the mirrored one-way glass over the bed.

Fallon's lean, bronze-tanned body twitched and jerked in the eerie glow, writhing in spasms of electrical shock. The glaring cone of light focused on him and narrowed as the sinewy soldier of fortune shrank to a stunned little figure flat on its back, stark naked and now precisely seven point four inches tall. He sank so deep in the fur spread that silvery wisps of blue fox swirled over his head. "Jeezus!" Fallon scrambled to his feet, stumbling in silky rich fur that came up to his waist. "My cock used to be bigger than this!" Double-D grinned lewdly and knelt beside the bed, reaching out to wrap a warm hand completely around him. "God damn it, put me down," Fallon raged like a helpless Lilliputian in Gulliver's giant hand. "Don't squirm," she warned, "I might drop you. Falling three feet now would be like falling 30 feet at normal size." "Holy shit! Don't squeeze so tight! You'll break every bone in what's left of my body." She laughed and said, "I can't help it, Fallon. You're so cute at this size!" The fingers coiled around him were nearly the length of his arm. "Your little dickie is adorable." Double-D delicately twiddled his miniature cock with her fingertip. Fully erect, it was now not quite three-quarters of an inch long. "Ungh," he groaned. In his shrunken state, her teasing finger seemed near the diameter of a telephone pole.

"You're going to fly that mission for us, Fallon," she said, holding his head close to her lips. Double-D's hot breath hit him like a hurricane. "Deliver the little plane load of arms to Princess Amara. She's on our side... and she has a SMART system to make the weapons normal size again." "What about me?" "Sorry, Amara's SMART system has been altered so it will only bring inanimate objects back to normal size. You have to stay small to fly the plane out... and so you don't break the strict moral code of our allies in Amlakhan. Their Crown Princess is a virgin, and they don't want her cherry torn until she marries a man with royal blood. Rogue knights in tarnished armor need not apply." "I couldn't break a toothpick," he complained. "To me it's a two by four." "Poor Fallon," she purred in mocking sympathy. "I've heard that Princess Amara has a really stunning pair of tits. Fifty inchers so lush and ripe, her bras have to be custom-made." "What good are tits like that to a guy seven inches tall?" "Not much... unless she likes playing with dolls." Moran flashed a warped grin, delighted by his predicament. On their last mission, Fallon snuck away with another woman... and two million dollars S.O.B. had signed out to Double-D. "All that money you took won't be much good either, Fallon. Now a dollar bill is the size of a blanket to you. Give the money back and complete this mission... then I'll think about making you normal size again." "Sonofabitch! You really got me this time." "Not the way I'd like to have you, Fallon." "How's that?" "Stuck in my cunt like a dildo! Head-first so I could tickle your feet and make you wiggle like crazy until I come." "Unngh... er, when do you want to pick up the money? And where's the little plane I'm supposed to fly?"

*

Fallon had no trouble avoiding Russian and communist Chinese anti-aircraft radar. the miniature single engine cargo plane they gave him to fly was made mostly of balsa wood and doped paper... like models he flew as a kid. It didn't reflect radar waves. He flew low and fast between towering mountain peaks, not making a visible blip on enemy radar screens. But he was damn near crunched by an attacker diving from above – a falcon that must have thought his small plane was a bird. Only a last second, gut-wrenching swerve to the right kept the raptor's talons from slashing through a thin plastic canopy over his head. Then on the runway at Amlakhan, his small plane was almost run over by a pickup truck sent to pick up the load of miniature weapons, soon to be made normal size again. Fallon could only hope he would be too when he returned. Climbing out of the cockpit, he stood no higher than the truck's hubcap. He'd been in a lot of hairy situations, first as a SEAL -- a member of the Navy's elite sea-air-land commando-style strike force, then as a freelance soldier of fortune. But never had he been threatened with death as he was by the devious Double-D, stuck headfirst in her silver-haired cunt slit to drown in simmering fuck-honey... or be crushed by her spasms of climax.

Amara, Crown Princess of Amlakhan, was a bountiful, sloe-eyed plumper with succulent curves and long waves of coal-black hair that streamed down from her crowned head to cover her luscious robed asscheeks. Normal size, Fallon would have been plotting a way to pop the royal cherry and swipe her weighty jeweled crown on the way out, but there wasn't much he could do with a three quarter inch dick... or with the crown jewels when the hundred or so diamonds in her golden crown were all bigger than his head. Fallon sat near her place at the table on a silver match box and drank Dos Equis beer served to him in a gold thimble. Double-D wasn't all bad, she had at least told the palace bartender of his preference for the dark, malty Mexican brew. Princess Amara smiled, amused by her ruggedly handsome but so tiny dinner guest. She giggled and tickled his chin with one of the black-tipped ermine tails dotting the white fur trim of her royal robe. Sized as he was, that was like being hit alongside the head with a mop. "I've never been left alone with a man before," she said with a sly little smile. Actually not such a little smile to him. Fallon's reduced scale made her full-lipped mouth look wider than a garage door. "Morals are most strict for the royal family in my country," she said with a mournful sigh that heaved her mountainous 50 inch bust. "I must remain pure until a suitable husband can be found. But now we're cut off by the Russians on one side, the communist Chinese on the other. Being a virgin princess is a real drag," she complained in a pout. Fallon could only shrug his little shoulders and sigh along with her. "My ancestors wrote the Kama Sutra," Amara told him, bending so near that her rushing warm breath almost blew him off the match box. "There are so many wonderful ways to make love... and I'm dying to try them all!" He shrugged and sighed longingly once again, thinking (and here I sit so damn small I'm half drunk on a thimble of beer). "Life's a real bitch," Fallon said stoically. "If I were normal size --" "If you were normal size, the palace guards would not leave you alone with me. they would have you beheaded just for staring at my breasts and licking your lips the way you are."

Fallon gulped, quickly dropping his eyes. Near his tiny boots there was a silver butter knife that looked five feet long to him. "I won't look again," he muttered. "I might lose my head on the butter plate." "It's all right," she said with a giggling rush of breath that ruffled his hair. "We'll go to my room where no one will see us." "Wha--" Amara picked him up and put Fallon in the pocket of her royal blue velvet robe. He tumbled into the satin-lined darkness and got tangled in a silk handkerchief the size of a parachute to him. The silken sheet was scented with an exotic and musky perfume, just a few normal size drops, but strong enough to send his small head spinning into blissful oblivion.

*

Fallon awoke lying naked on a satin pillow in Amara's royal bed chamber. Normally sleek, shimmering smooth satin felt coarse as canvas to one his size. He blinked and saw the adoring look in her enormous dark eyes. "Oooh, shit," he moaned. She bent over him, breathing hard, her lips working like the giant mouth of a steam shovel. "I've been taught 10,000 ways to delight a king or a prince when I marry," she said with her hot breath gushing at gale force. "But I've not been allowed to practice until now." Amara's hungry lips covered him from nervous stomach all the way to his knees. She sealed them on the upright shaft of his three-quarter inch cock, swirling her tongue as she applied gentle suction. But what seemed gentle to her sucked the blood from Fallon's fingers and toes. It felt like his eyeballs were sinking to the back of his skull. He gulped and thought his teeth might be sucked into his scrotum. Her flicking tongue was ridged like a wood rasp, but the teeth were soft was wet velvet and tantalized him with some magical moves. "Hunnngh," he groaned, coming longer and harder than ever before -- totally drained by the pull of huge lips that might have swallowed him whole. For all his orgasmic bucking and grunting, Amara got only a smaller than BB-size drop of jism... a tiny wet pearl she licked off her lips with a delighted lewd grin. She rolled on her back nude, lifted Fallon and pressed him face-down in the soft, narrow valley of warm flesh between her mountainous breasts. Her rapid breathing rocked him like an earthquake that would read 9.5 on the Richter Scale. Tits taller than he was shuddered and swelled, tumbling together in a fleshy embrace that covered him from the shoulder down to his knees. Amara sighed and pressed her lush breasts together with cupped hands, all but crushing and smothering her little companion in a straightjacket of sweaty warm breast.

Fallon was gasping and dizzy with eerie delight when she released the pressure so he could stand up. He stood dazed for a moment, bewildered by supple mounds of tit that towered over his head left and right. By craning his neck he could barely see the dark tips of her swollen nipples. Crazed with determined desire, Fallon jumped and struggled to climb the tit on his right. With arms outstretched he could barely reach the nubbed rim of her areola. To his small hands it felt like the tread of a snowtire. He pulled himself up and hugged all the nipple his two lanky arms could surround. Amara's excited gasp almost bucked him off her chest. Fallon squeezed her ruddy tit crown, holding on for dear life, spreading kisses across all the nipple he could reach. "Ohhh, Fallon!" the virgin princess moaned. "Go down on me! Please!" Still clinging to her nipple, he turned his head toward the distant jungle of glossy black cunt hair beyond the soft rise of her bounding belly plain. Laughing like a fool, he let go and slid down her tit, landing on hands and knees. He crawled toward her hairy Venus mound. The way Amara's rounded belly pitched and surged with excitement it was not safe to stand. The tremors caused by one little squeal of glee might toss him clear off on the bed... 40 of his feet to the floor. Fallon slithered to the rim of her belly-button and stuck his head into the rumpled pit, kissing the very bottom where the nerves are most tender. Her wailing cry of delight all but shattered his eardrums. Cautiously, he crept on to the edge of her black forest – enormous curls of cunt hair that he pawed his way through, drawn by the scent of pussy so strong that it weighted the air.

He found the quivering slit of her cunt, a fleshy soft cleft that took all of the strength in both of his arms to pry apart. Fallon burrowed in to her glossy pink clit nub – a bundle of exquisitely sensitive nerves the size of a tree stump to him. Fallon hugged and squeezed and smothered her clit with kisses, wildly lashing with a tongue that could never touch more than a small fraction of her love bud at one time. Amara yelped and whined into rapture, bucking and arching in orgasm. Her wild writhing tossed Fallon around like a man on a trampoline. He lost his grip on her clit and tumbled between her spread legs. He tucked and rolled, but still hit the satin sheet with a thud that knocked most of the wind out of him. Fallon stumbled to his feet between smoothly rounded thighs he could barely see over -- and ahead was a hairy cunt slit half his height. For a moment he thought about lunging into her feet first, about slithering into a sultry tunnel of rippling cunt flesh that would surround his whole body, not just his cock. But then he watched how the sleek undulating tube of moist flesh rippled inward with sucking waves. He'd be like a man caught in quicksand, sucked in over his head -- smothered by clinging cunt and wrung out like a wet towel when she came to climax. Fallon thought a moment and came up with a better idea.

"Amara, will your SMART system make people small?" he asked. "It will, but it won't bring them back to normal size. They fixed it that way." "Yeah, Double-D," he muttered under his breath. "She doesn't want me big enough to get into you." Then louder, "How would you like to come down to my size? Maybe take a little trip with me? We could spend a week or two on some deserted beach in Mexico, eat shrimp the size of hams... AND get to practice all 10,000 ways to pleasure you've been taught?" "Oooh, Fallon! That would be my dream come true!" "Let's hurry then. We'll get you down to about six inches tall and fly out of here at first light." "But how will I ever get back to normal size?" "Special Operations will do that for us both," he assured her. They couldn't leave a valuable ally only six inches tall. And they would grudgingly pay quite a ransom to get back the little Crown Princess... even if her crown and her cherry were both missing. Fallon kissed the blimp-like glistening lips of her giant cunt and tried to imagine it shrunken down to his size. Amara sighed longingly, stuffed him in the pocket of her royal robe and started down the hall to the room where the Amlakhan SMART system was kept.

He lounged naked in the luxurious folds of her scented silk handkerchief, legs crossed casually, hands clasped in back of his head. Fallon's lips curved upward in grinning anticipation and said in a voice too small for her to hear, "Not all problems in this life are solved by thinking big."